A FRAGMENT ON THE DEATH OF EVE.
Eve sat, her wintry tresses falling o'er
Sorrow's wan visage, like the snowy wreaths
O'er the dismantled birch on Oby's bank,
Hanging a soft and pensive loveliness.
Serene as Lapland winter, calm and fair
As dewy night, that o'er the azure arch
Walks stilly forth, the days wild fever o'er,
Studded with stars and coldly beautiful.
And she sat gazing on the silent moon
With eyes suffused with tears, that silent spoke
Peaceful communion, as when 'neath the lake
The fountain deeps are stirring, but scarce move
The glassy surface calm.
Sleeps placidly beneath thy silvery gleam,
The crown-bent palm stands stirless; tranquil
Moon,
I love thee more than that bright orb of day,
For thou art more like gentle hope, and joy
That stood so fair on his meridian tower,
To me shall rise no more. But often thus
When it is all like night around my soul,
Methinks I see those rocks that sleep in light
Beyond yon sylvan avenue; yet still
Along the lengthening vista of dark years
I travel on and on, at each remove
Dropping whate'er was left of Paradise.
Winter is on my brow, and in my heart;
Still nearer yet, methinks, and nearer still
I hear that unseen Thing that dwells in night
His coming in the wailing wind I hear;
I hear him in the thunder; with dark tread Shaking the mountains, shuddering, breathless, cold His icy hand I feel upon my heart;
In sheeted lightning his form I see,
Glaring upon me. Nature then walks forth
Mournfully smiling thro' her shattered robes,
And puts on hues of Paradise; the Moon
Is in the noonday heavens, serenely fair,
Looking upon the sunny earth, but yet
I see that dismal shape lurking behind,
Lifting the curtains from some silent realm,
The bodiless hand put forth from out the cloud.
Or art thou but a shadowy thing of night,
Leagued with the elements and Nature's ills
To pray unseen on being? Still I drag
The weary chain of life, like some wild weed
That lives and blooms around the wither'd trunk
Its own embrace hath blasted. Could but aught,
Long Prayer, and long Repentance' bitter tear,
Recall what once hath mounted on the wing
Of the fast fleeting hour! Yet all in vain
E'en could time's ceaseless footsteps wear away
One stain, yet dark Corruption darker grows,
And round the Holy Altar wreaths its weeds
With subtle snaky wiles. But Thou wilt still
Receive our offerings, and from out Thy shrine
And all enfolding cloud Thy flame breaks forth,
Telling us Thou art near, in pity near.
1 see Thee not, I hear Thee not, around
I feel for Thee, and find Thee not; but wrapt
Within Thy cloud of wonders, as a veil,
Move darkling; surely Thou art with us still,
Within us and around us, surely Thou
Art in these gleams that visit my sad heart,
When evil things of youth have o'er me come
Blending with dreams of age. I seem'd to rove
In happy groves o'erhung with golden fruits,
I ate, and found all ashy bitterness.
I dream'd of struggling in a mortal fray,
To save one from a deadly grasp, when, lo,
We seem'd all suddenly within the coil
Of a strange serpent, horrible, and huge,
We and our children. Then came sweet relief,
Methought I sat beside a silent tomb,
When the grave oped, and from the rending rock There came One clad in an unearthly light,
And all behind was full of glorious forms.
Thus on the clouds that hid me gleams have come
From far, beyond the chambers of the Moon,
Beyond the dwelling of the Western wind
So beautiful at even. I have stood
Listening, at fall of night, and heard afar
Strains as in Eden bowers, till o'er me woke
A world of recollections, link by link,
Most melancholy; then methought they sung
Of Him who comes to drive that fiery throng,
Where darkly gleams yon midnight dawn afar,
Unearthly sweetness! then my heart o'errun
And Eden in the desert seem'd to bloom."
She ended, as one waken'd by the touch
Of soft heart-moving Pity: as what time
In veils of Heav'n-wrought woof Iris descends,
Fair messenger of mercy: fallen earth
Acknowledging the token with bright dews
And fragrant-breathing incense, greenly dight,
Looks tearfully to Heav'n, and grateful smiles.
Still would thy blameless soul in pity bleed
For those that wound thee! Peace be with thy
And earthly wrongs but wings that bear to Heav'n!
Spirit of gentleness, thou wast not made
To wrestle with an evil world, 'mid clash
Of Passion's steely mail, and the loud din
Of spirits framed in iron mould; but He
Who bid thee sojourn here, hath haply sent
To shew awhile in live reality,
The loveliness of natures train'd for Heav'n,
And fit thee by thine earthly pilgrimage
For thine enduring home. Spirits of Heav'n
Be with thee and around, while from the gall
Of this world's bitterness thy gentle soul
Shall gather sweetness. Still on Him that died
Thine eye shall dwell; thy feet may totter 'neath
Thy daily cross of sufferings, yet on Him,—
On that calm brow with death's cold damps be-
dew'd,-
That peaceful eye glazed with keen agony
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