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Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all, 10
Shall it survey, shall it recall:
So darkly of departed years,
And all. that was, at once appears.
Before Creation peopled earth,
Its eye shall roll through chaos back;
The spirit trace its rising track. 90
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,
It lives all passionless and pure:
Its years as moments shall endure.
O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly, 3°
Forgetting what it was to die.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 20
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
STANZAS FOR MUSIC
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
Is thy sweet voice to me:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep; 10
Whose breast is gently heaving,
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE A ROVING
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
By the light of the moon.
STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;
What are garlands and crowns to the brow that
Oh Fame !—if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;
SONG OF THE SOUTH-SEA ISLANDERS 1.
How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,
When summer's sun went down the coral bay!
Come, let us to the islet's softest shade,
And hear the warbling birds! the damsel said:
The wood-dove from the forest-depth shall coo,
Like voices of the gods from Boolotoo:
We'll cull the flowers that grow above the dead,
For these most bloom where rests the warrior's head;
And we will sit in twilight's face, and see
The sweet moon glancing through the tooa tree, 10
The lofty accents of whose sighing bough
Shall sadly please us as we lean below;
Or climb the steep, and view the surf in vain
Wrestle with rocky giants o'er the main,
Which spurn in columns back the baffled spray.
How beautiful are these! how happy they,
Who, from toil and tumult of their lives,
Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives!
Even he too loves at times the blue lagoon,
And smooths his ruffled mane beneath the moon. so
Yes—from the sepulchre we'll gather flowers,
And, wet and shining from the sportive toil,
Anoint our bodies with the fragrant oil,
And plait our garlands gather'd from the grave,
And wear the wreaths that sprung from out the brave.
But lo! night comes, the Mooa woos us back,
The sound of mats are heard along our track; 3"
Anon the torchlight dance shall fling its sheen
In flashing mazes o'er the Marly's green;
And we too will be there; we too recall
The memory bright with many a festival,
Ere Fiji blew the shell of war, when foes
For the first time were wafted in canoes.
Alas! for them the flower of mankind bleeds:
Alas! for them our fields are rank with weeds:
Forgotten is the rapture, or unknown,
Of wandering with the moon and love alone. 40
But be it so:—they taught us how to wield
The club, and rain our arrows o'er the field:
Now let them reap the harvest of their art!
But feast to-night! to-morrow we depart.
Strike up the dance! the cava bowl fill high!
Drain every drop !—to-morrow we may die.
In summer garments be our limbs array'd,
Around our waists the tappa's white display'd;
Thick wreaths shall form our coronal, like spring's,
And round our necks shall glance the hooni strings; so
So shall their brighter hues contrast the glow
Of the dusk bosoms that beat high below.
But now the dance is o'er—yet stay awhile;