As then to me he seemed to fly.
And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled-and would fain
I had not left my recent chain;
And when I did descend again,
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a heavy load. . . .
And yet my glance, too much oppressed,
Had almost need of such a rest.
It might be months, or years, or days-
I kept no count-I took no note,
I had no hope my eyes to raise,
And clear them of their dreary moteAt last men came to set me free,
I asked not why, and recked not where ;
It was at length the same to me
Fettered or fetterless to be—
I learnt to love despair.
And thus when they appeared at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage-and all my own!
And half I felt as they were come
To tear me from a second home.
With spiders I had friendship made,
And watched them in their sullen trade,
Had seen the mice by moonlight play,
And why should I feel less than they?
We were all inmates of one place,
And I, the monarch of each race,
Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell,
In quiet we had learned to dwell.
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are,-even I
Regained my freedom with a sigh !
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING
When coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah, whither strays the immortal mind?
It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darkened dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way?
Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecayed,
A thought unseen, yet seeing all-
All, all in earth or skies displayed,
Shall it survey, shall it recall;
Each fainter trace that memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all that was at once appears.
Before creation peopled earth,
Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth, The spirit trace its rising track.
And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
While sun is quenched or system breaks,
Fixed in its own eternity.
Above or love, hope, hate, or fear,
It lives all passionless and pure ; An age shall fleet like earthly year ; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly, A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe, as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
The tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's high places his prey;
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
Were scattered all weeping away.
While sadly we gazed on the river,
Which rolled on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the stranger shall know !
May this right hand be withered for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe !
On the willow that harp is suspended,-
Oh, Salem ! its sound should be free ;
And the hour when thy glories were ended
But left me that token of thee;
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler, by me!
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I saw thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew:
I saw thee sinile—the sapphire's blaze
Beside thee ceased to shine,
It could not match the living rays
That filled that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart ;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind,
That lightens o'er the heart.
Howe'er we gaze with admiration
On eyes of blue or lips carnation
Still fickle we are prone to rove,
These cannot fix our souls to love ; .
But wouldst thou see the secret chain
Which binds us in your humble train,
To hail you queens of all creation-
Know, in a word, 'tis Animation.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean! . . Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure browSuch as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Not all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
While, chance, some scattered water-lily sails
Down where the shallower wave still tells its bub-
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