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LIKE a lone Arab, old and blind
Some caravan had left behind
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,

Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell ;
And now he hangs his aged head aslant,
And listens for a human sound-in vain !
And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant,
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain ;-
Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour,
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant,
With brow low bent, within my garden bower,
I sate

the couch of camomile;
And—whether 'twas a transient sleep, perchance,
Flitted across the idle brain, the while
I watched the sickly calm with aimless scope,
In my own heart; or that, indeed a trance,
Turn’d my eye inward—thee, O genial Hope,
Love's elder sister! thee did I behold,
Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold,
With roseless cheek, all pale and cold and dim

Lie lifeless at my feet!
And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim,

And stood beside my seat;
She bent, and kiss'd her sister's lips,

As she was wont to do ;-
Alas ! 'twas but a chilling breath
Woke just enough of life in death

To make Hope die anew.


In vain we supplicate the Powers above;
There is no resurrection for the Love
That, nurst in tenderest care, yet fades
In the chilled heart by gradual self-decay.


RESEMBLES life what once was deemed of light,
Too ample in itself for human sight ?
An absolute self—an element ungrounded-
All that we see, all colours of all shade

By encroach of darkness made ?-
Is very life by consciousness unbounded ?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling life and death ?



Now! it is gone.-Our brief hours travel post,
Each with its thought or deed, its Why or How :
But know, each parting hour gives up a ghost
To dwell within thee-an eternal Now!


O'ER wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule,
And sun thee in the light of happy faces;
Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
For as old Atlas on his broad neck places
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it,-s0
Do these upbear the little world below
Of Education,-Patience, Love, and Hope.
Methinks, I see them grouped, in seemly show,
The straightened arms upraised, the palms aslope,
And robes that, touching as adown they flow,
Distinctly blend, like snow embossed in snow.
O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie,

Love too will sink and die.
But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive
From her own life that Hope is yet alive;
And bending o’er with soul-transfusing eyes,
And the soft murmurs of the mother dove,
Woos back the fleeting spirit and half-supplies ;
Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love.
Yet haply there will come a weary day,

When overtasked at length
Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way.
Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength,
Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth,
And both supporting does the work of both.

Beareth all things.—2 Cor. xiii., 7.
GENTLY I took that which ungently came *
And without scorn forgave:-Do thou the same.
A wrong done to thee think a cat's eye spark
Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own heart dark.
Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin,
Fear that-the spark self-kindled from within,
Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare,
Or smother'd stifle thee with noisome air.
Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds,
And soon the ventilated spirit finds
Its natural daylight. If a foe have kenn'd,
Or worse than foe, an alienated friend,
A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side,
Think it God's message, and in humble pride
With heart of oak replace it ;---thine the gains---
Give him the rotten timber for his pains !

-E coelo descendit yrõbe riavròy.-JUVENAL.

Γνώθι σεαυτόν!-and is this the prime

And heaven-sprung adage of the olden time!--
Say,canst thou make thyself ?-Learn firstthat trade;
What hast thou, Man, that thou dar’st call thine own?-
What is there in thee, Man, that can be known?
Dark flusion, all unfixable by thought,
Vain sister of the worm,-life, death, soul, clod-

A phantom dim of past and future wrought,
Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God!

* See Note.


Quæ linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea

sordes Do morti ;-reddo cætera, Christe! tibi.



KASYER! to whom, as to a second self,
Nature, or Nature's next-of-kin, the Elf,
Hight Genius, hath dispensed the happy skill
To cheer or soothe the parting friend's, alas !
Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass,
That makes the absent present at our will ;
And to the shadowing of thy pencil gives
Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.
Well hast thou given the thoughtful Poet's face !
Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind
A more delightful portrait left behind-
Ev'n thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace,
Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee!

Kayser farewell!
Be wise! be happy! and forget not me.


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