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Five times the earth swam round the sun,
For then the heart's door stands ajar,
gleam, Drowned roses through a crystal stream, But oh! those eyes, those wondrous eyes! Whose hue all mimic art defies ;
Dark gray their tint by nature given,
will, Her haughty heart was woman's still; And 'neath the tempest lay asleep A well of feeling, pure and deep, O'errunning when the storm was gone, To soothe the harms her wrath had done; As though the very storm that rushed, Had fed and filled the fount that gushed. Else had I never learned to love, Whom gentleness alone can move : And oh I 't was in that tender hour, She swayed me with resistless power ; How could she lift, and with a frown As deeply, darkly cast me down! How like a dog my mistress' will I faithful watched, and followed still ! Content ii only at her feet, For even rebuke from her was sweet. But pleasing more than outward sense, She sparkled with intelligence; Her mind 80 rare, her wit so smart, She won my brain as well as heart": Enough: the journal of my breast, Kept at the time, must tell the rest.
'Tis flowery land ; but oh! beware!
praise A thousand grateful voices raise, The heart unfolds its portals wide, Unconsciously, to join the tide: Whatever passion opes the door, Love, ever watchful, stands before, Still seeking, in his strife to win, Sly rogue ! to slip unnoticed in. I caution others; as for me, My heart once seared, is safely free: Yet thrilled I when her eyes like day Would rest on mine though turned away; For there are glances felt, not seen, That burn as deep, and pierce as keen. To-morrow I can meet her too — A walking party; shall I go, And stir the tide now calmly clear ? Pshaw ! nonsense! what havel to fear ? The scars of previous wounds o'ergrow, And make my bosom love-proof now!
A truce to your arts, pretiy maidens!
Your cunning I now can withstand : No more bite the lip till it reddens,
Nor press the pale cheek with the hands I know what a bloom it discloses,
But ah! ye entice me in vain;
They never shall tempt me again.
As surely as the week rolls round,
No more hang your long drooping lashes,
So modestly bent to the ground; No more with a start shoot your flashes
So boldly and brilliantly round: I know that the motion is brightening,
But ah! it assails me in vain; My heart is so scarred with the lightning,
It shuns the encounter again.
No more, when the summer oppresses,
Uncover the light of the brow; No more let the streams of your tresses
Run down on your shoulders of snow : I know that the contrast is pleasing,
But ah! it allures me in vain; I've suffered so sadly from freezing
I'll ne'er brave the snow-storm again
So close we grouped that tree beneath,
August 28. Over the hills, a sun-bright day, Our party took their rambling way: Now the rough quarry's depihs pervade, And now the cooling woodland shade : Now following brooks through deep ra
vines, Now climbing steeps for distant scenes ; And fair that eastern view appeared, Which oft my boyhood's eye had cheered, By fairer landscape never blest ; White clouds in motion, hills at rest, By passing shadows overrun! Passaic basking in the sun; Far city-spires that task the eye, Pricking like needle-points the sky: Beneath our feet our native town, Though humble, bright, because our own. Still westward lay our course again ; At length a grass-green, winding lane Through sheltering woods our footsteps
brings, To one of Nature's bounties, springs : Here sit we down for rest and breath, A knotty, spreading oak beneath, Whose roois drank from the fount, and
Returning, would her arm recline,
From Julia's side I kept aloof,
O'er heaven now warning vapors dun Crept darkling, and put out the sun : Wrangled the clouds, and fell the fire, Struck from their rude collision, nigher. Escaping from the shower, we reach The sheltering tent of sloping beach : There gathered close, we list the strain Played on the leaves by pattering rain, At times by voice of thunder drowned, When his treinendous bass rings round.
Hence, Love! thou tempting friend, beThat still through flower-fields lead'st me Whose serpent-charm my bosom draws To venomed ruin in its jaws : I'll shun her, for it cannot be Such eyes could ever smile on me; Nor wake those passion-waves again, To rack my heart with sickening pain : Yet sweetly could I yield me still, With closing eyes and passive will, In ravishing delight to ride Upon that bounding, sparkling tide, Borne onward by the mastering flood, To port or breakers, where it would ! It must not be; no ! from this hour I'U save me, while I have the power :
Yet I this very night agreed
September 2. 'Twas not, dear maid ! thy noontide light That won me with its flashings bright; But thy sweet twilight hue that shone Softly on me, and me alone ! 'Twas not thy song of music clear, That rings to ravish all that hear; But ohl ihy gently breathing tone Murmured to me and me alone! All force, all dazzling, fails to move, For softness is the soul of love.
Softness, sure though gentle power,
Even ihe rudest breast can sway: As the mildly-dropping shower
Wears the rigid ice away. Cupid knows, so binds together
Plume with barb upon his dart, Never shaft without the feather
Found the quick within the heart : All the ways of passion prove Softness is the soul of love.
Words that win, come softly flowing,
Like the lulling song of streams. Vows of love and truth devoted,
Vainly at the bosom cast,
Ever reach their port at last !
vain! I'll quaff the luscious poison now, And leave to sober hours the pain !
September 6. I WENT ; fair crowds my sight surprise : The room was starry with their eyes; But she was all surpassing fair : One calla-flower ran round her hair, And wreathed it like a hunter's horn: The chaste, the only jewel worn. Pure was her robe of virgin white, Her eyes flashed round consuming light; Yet oft on those she favored well, Softly as mellow moonlight fell. But scarce a solitary glance Would light on me, unless by chance Amid the flood she showered around, Some straggling ray my features found, And brilliant shone; but cold to me As flash of phosphorescent sea : Alas! those eyes with homage vain, On others showered their sparkling rain. Supreme my rival stood ʼmid these, Nor left untried all arts to please; She sang - his voice the praise supplied : She danced — and he was by her side In pride of form and grace of limb : What could I do to cope with him? Hurt at the sight, but not depressed, For trial roused, not sunk my breast; I sought her hand when he resigned, But she through feigned fatigue declined : I told her, stung, I craved no more Than others had received before : Piqued, she replied all proudly then, She danced with whom she pleased, and
when : Rushed to my brow the burning blood Fired with revenge and shame I stood One maddening moment, then withdrew, And to the open garden flew; How changed the scene to which I fled ! Cool was the night-air to my head;
The moon sailed high, and flowers and
trees Bent listening to the whispering breeze : Dear Nature! ever pure as fair, How soothing came thy gentle air! Thy light, how chaster than the glare, Thy murmuring voices, than the din Of noisy mirth - I left within!
September 7. Oe'r thy bosom's trackless snow
Love's light foot has never trod; And should he once essay to go,
Its cold would freeze the little god. Fool! fool! with all my previous pain, To rush into the trap again, But now, farewell to love and thee! The world has nobler aims for me: Enough,enough; henceforth we part -I'll close my journal, and my heart; Resolved no more to be beguiled By such a wayward, peevish child.
September 14. In vain ! - six days of bitter pain Have driven me back to love again : Despite my stern resolve to burst A bond so sweet, yet so accursed. Alas! our eyes at church did meet ; Oh! glance too ravishingly sweet! My soul leaped to my eyes to see One gaze of kindness bent on me : It told of sorrow for my pain It told of wish for peace again; lt told beside of pride misused That eyes might speak what lips refused.
I must return though doubly curst; Though all thy lightnings scathe my
brain, I care not - I have known the worst For absence owns no master-pain.
September 15. WITH a cold eye, and burning brain, I stiffly soughi her doors again : My presence smiles of favor sweet, And kindly words resistless greet ; And though our quarrel and my pain She ventured not to touch,'t was plain She saw, and strove with smiles io heal The wounds her pride had made me feel : She begged me join, in her sweet way, A party for the Falls to-day : And did I yield ? oh! yes – oh! yes ! She smiled, and could'I then do less ? Dear eyes! be cruel as ye will, One kindly gaze secures me still!
It told enough to bring me back;
The heart no deeper gloom can know
Than absence' tomb-like solitude : I better bore thine anger's glow,
Than the dull peace which has ensued.
Oh! those tones of silver sweetness,
Though reproachful or perverse, Who that listens would not freely
For their music bear their curse? When with bitter taunt they spurn me,
Till, with heart upon the rack, From the cruel sound I turn me,
One kind word will bring me back.
Give back mine eyes thy form again Give but mine ears thy quickening
voice, And though thy glances flash disdain,
And words speak daggers, I 'll rejoice.
Oh! those eyes of sunny brightness !
Oft, alas ! 'too dazzling bright; Still, who would not bear their burning,
For the glory of their light ? When with stormy wrath they lighten,
And my wincing spirit gall, With a flame whose torture maddens,
One soft tear will quench it all.