"But thou, though capable of sternest deed, Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave; And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed Thou should'st elude the malice of the grave: Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair As when their breath enriched Thessalian air.
"No Spectre greets me-no vain Shadow this; Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side! Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss To me, this day, a second time thy bride!
Jove frowned in heaven: the conscious Parce threw Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.
"This visage tells thee that my doom is past: Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys Of sense were able to return as fast
And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains: Calm pleasures there abide-majestic pains.
"Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control Rebellious passion for the Gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; A fervent, not ungovernable, love.
Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn When I depart, for brief is my sojourn―"
"Ah, wherefore ?-Did not Hercules by force Wrest from the guardian Monster of the tomb Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom? Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, And Eson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.
"The Gods to us are merciful-and they Yet further may relent; for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is love, though oft to agony distrest,
[breast. And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's
"But if thou goest, I follow." "Peace!" he said— She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered; The ghastly colour from his lips had fled ; In his deportment, shape, and mein, appeared Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away-no strife to heal- The past unsigh'd for, and the future sure; Spake of heroic arts in graver mood Revived, with finer harmony pursued ;
Of all that is most beauteous-imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams; Climes with the sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey..
Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned That privilege by virtue-"Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discerned, Who from ignoble games and revelry
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, While tears were thy best pastime, day and night.
"And while my youthful peers before my eyes (Each hero following his peculiar bent) Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise By martial sports-or, seated in the tent, Chieftains and kings in council were detained; What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained.
"The wished-for wind was given-I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be The foremost prow in pressing to the strand- Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved Wife! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life- The paths which we had trod-these fountains, flowers;
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.
"But should suspense permit the Foe to cry, 'Behold they tremble !-haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die?' In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred-but lofty thought In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.
"And thou, though strong in love, art all too weak In reason, in self-government too slow;
I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
Our blest reunion in the shades below.
The invisible world with thee hath sympathised; Be thy affections raised and solemnised.
"Learn by a mortal yearning, to ascend- Seeking a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven- That self might be annulled: her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love."
Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears! Round the dear Shade she would have clung-'tis vain :
The hours are past-too brief had they been years; And him no mortal effort can detain ;
Swift, toward the realins that know not earthly day, He through the portal takes his silent way, And on the palace floor a lifeless corse She lay.
Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, She perished; and, as for a wilful crime, By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved, Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, Apart from happy Ghosts, that gather flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.
-Yet tears to human suffering are due: And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes. Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died: And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits withered at the sight: A constant interchange of growth and blight!
And, MARY! oft beside our blazing fire, When years of wedded life were as a day
Whose current answers to the heart's desire, Did we together read in Spenser's Lay How Una, sad of soul-in sad attire,
The gentle Una, of celestial birth,
To seek her Knight went wandering o'er the earth.
Ah, then, Beloved! pleasing was the smart, And the tear precious in compassion shed For Her, who, pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart, Did meekly bear the pang unmerited; Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart
The milk-white Lamb which in a line she led - And faithful, loyal in her innocence,
Like the brave Lion slain in her defence.
Notes could we hear as of a faery shell
Attuned to words with sacred wisdom fraught; Free Fancy prized each specious miracle, And all its finer inspiration caught; Till in the bosom of our rustic Cell, We by a lamentable change were taught That" bliss with mortal Man may not abide : How nearly joy and sorrow are allied!
For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow, For us the voice of melody was mute.
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