DREAMLAND. By a route obscure and lonely, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, I have reached these lands but newly From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Bottomless vales and boundless floods, For the dews that drip all over ; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Their lone waters--lone and dead Their still waters-still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily. By the lakes that thus outspread Where dwell the Ghouls,- For the heart whose woes are legion But the traveller, travelling through it, By a route obscure and lonely, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, TO ZANTE. FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! No more no more upon thy verdant slopes! No more! alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no more— Thy memory no more! Accursed ground Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! EULALIE. I DWELT alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie Became my blushing bride Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie Ah, less-less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's Most unregarded curl Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's Most humble and careless curl. |