SONGS

OF

THE AFFECTIONS.

They tell but dreams-a lonely spirit's dreams—
Yet ever through their fleeting imagery

Wanders a vein of melancholy love,

An aimless thought of home:-as in the song
Of the caged skylark ye may deem there dwells
A passionate memory of blue skies and flowers,
And living streams-far off!

(11)

SONGS OF THE AFFECTIONS.

A SPIRIT'S RETURN.

This is to be a mortal,

And seek the things beyond mortality!

Manfred.

THY Voice prevails; dear Friend, my gentle Friend!
This long-shut heart for thee shall be unseal'd,
And though thy soft eye mournfully will bend
Over the troubled stream, yet once reveal'd
Shall its freed waters flow; then rocks must close
For evermore, above their dark repose.

Come while the gorgeous mysteries of the sky
Fused in the crimson sea of sunset lie;

Come to the woods, where all strange wandering sound
Is mingled into harmony profound;

Where the leaves thrill with spirit, while the wind
Fills with a viewless being, unconfined,

The trembling reeds and fountains; -Our own dell,
With its green dimness and Æolian breath,
Shall suit th' unveiling of dark records well-
Hear me in tenderness and silent faith!

Thou knew'st me not in life's fresh vernal noon

I would thou hadst !-for then my heart on thine (13)

VOL. VI.

2

Had pour'd a worthier love; now, all o'erworn
By its deep thirst for something too divine,
It hath but fitful music to bestow,
Echoes of harp-strings, broken long ago.

Yet even in youth companionless I stood,
As a lone forest-bird 'midst ocean's foam;
For me the silver cords of brotherhood
Were early loosed; the voices from my home
Pass'd one by one, and Melody and Mirth
Left me a dreamer by a silent hearth.

But with the fulness of a heart that burn'd
For the deep sympathies of mind, I turn'd
From that unanswering spot, and fondly sought
In all wild scenes with thrilling murmurs fraught,
In every still small voice and sound of power,
And flute-note of the wind through cave and bower,
A perilous delight!-for then first woke
My life's lone passion, the mysterious quest
Of secret knowledge; and each tone that broke
From the wood-arches or the fountain's breast,
Making my quick soul vibrate as a lyre,
But minister'd to that strange inborn fire.

'Midst the bright silence of the mountain-dells,
In noontide hours or golden summer-eves,

My thoughts have burst forth as a gale that swells
Into a rushing blast, and from the leaves
Shakes out response; -O thou rich world unseen!
Thou curtain'd realm of spirits!-Thus my cry
Hath troubled air and silence-dost thou lie
Spread all around, yet by some filmy screen