THE HEART OF BRUCE. Silent-save when early bird Sings where once the mass was heard; Comes through flowers or fretted stone; No! brave heart! though cold and lone, Is the noble Douglas nigh, Wins me from their splendours brief; 131 Dreams, yet bright ones! scorn them not, NATURE'S FAREWELL. "The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not." COLERIDGE'S Wallenstein. A YOUTH rode forth from his childhood's home, "Knew'st thou with what thou art parting here, Long would'st thou linger in doubt and fear; Thy heart's light laughter, thy sunny hours, Thou hast left in our shades with the spring's wild flowers. "Under the arch by our mingling made, On rode the youth-and the boughs among, Thus the free birds o'er his pathway sung: "Wherefore so fast unto life away? Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay! NATURE'S FAREWELL. 133 "Thou may'st come to the summer woods again, And thy heart have no echo to greet their strain; Afar from the foliage its love will dwell A change must pass o'er thee-farewell, farewell!" On rode the youth-and the founts and streams "Listen but once to the sound of our mirth! The peace it could once on thy heart bestow. "Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee, "Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part- "Farewell!-when thou comest again to thine own, And a something of gloom on his spirit weigh'd VOL. VI. 12 THE BEINGS OF THE MIND. "The beings of the mind are not of clay; And multiply in us a brighter ray, And more beloved existence; that which Fate Of mortal bondage." BYRON. COME to me with your triumphs and your woes, In the deep shadow of a voiceless thought; 'Midst the glad music of the spring alone, And sorrowful for visions that are gone! Come to me! make your thrilling whispers heard, That bursts from grief, like lightning from a cloud, Come to me! visit my dim haunt!-the sound Of hidden springs is in the grass beneath; Floats through the air, in rich and sudden streams, And the sweet kindness never, never dies; THE BEINGS OF THE MIND. Bright children of the bard! o'er this green dell Pass once again, and light it with your spell! Imogen fair Fidele! meekly blending 99 1 135 In patient grief, "a smiling with a sigh:' And thou, Cordelia! faithful daughter, tending That sire, an outcast to the bitter sky; Thou of the soft low voice!-thou art not gone ! Still breathes for me its' faint and flute-like tone. And come to me!-sing me thy willow-strain, > In thy beseeching glance, where still, though vain, And thou, too, fair Ophelia ! flowers are here And pansies for sad thoughts,2-but needed not! Come with thy wreaths, and all the love and light In that wild eye still tremulously bright. And Juliet, vision of the south! enshrining 1 "Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh.” Cymbeline. 2 "Here's pansies for you—that's for thoughts." Hamlet. |