VI.

Now never more, oh! never, in the worth
Of its pure cause, let sorrowing love on earth
Trust fondly-never more!—the hope is crush'd
That lit my life, the voice within me hush'd
That spoke sweet oracles; and I return
To lay my youth, as in a burial-urn,

Where sunshine may not find it.—All is lost!
No tempest met our barks—no billow toss'd;
Yet were they sever'd, ev'n as we must be,
That so have lov'd, so striven our hearts to free
From their close-coiling fate! In vain-in vain!
The dark links meet, and clasp themselves again,
And press out life.-Upon the deck I stood,
And a white sail came gliding o'er the flood,
Like some proud bird of ocean; then mine eye
Strained out, one moment earlier to descry
The form it ached for, and the bark's career

Seem'd slow to that fond yearning: It drew near,

Fraught with our foes!-What boots it to recall

The strife, the tears? Once more a prison-wall Shuts the green hills and woodlands from my sight, And joyous glance of waters to the light,

And thee, my Seymour, thee!

I will not sink!

Thou, thou hast rent the heavy chain that bound

thee;

And this shall be my strength-the joy to think

That thou mayst wander with heaven's breath

around thee,

And all the laughing sky! This thought shall yet
Shine o'er my heart, a radiant amulet,

Guarding it from despair. Thy bonds are broken,
And unto me, I know, thy true love's token
Shall one day be deliverance, tho' the years

Lie dim between, o'erhung with mists of tears.

VII.

My friend, my friend! where art thou? Day by day,

Gliding, like some dark mournful stream, away,

My silent youth flows from me.

Spring, the while,

Comes and rains beauty on the kindling boughs

Round hall and hamlet; Summer, with her smile,

Fills the

green

forest;-young

hearts breathe their

VOWS;

Brothers long parted meet; fair children rise

Round the glad board; Hope laughs from loving eyes:

All this is in the world!-These joys lie sown,

The dew of every path-On one alone

Their freshness may not fall-the stricken deer,
Dying of thirst with all the waters near.

VIII.

Ye are from dingle and fresh glade, ye flowers!

By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent;

O'er the oak shed down the summer showers, you

And the lark's nest was where your bright cups bent,

Quivering to breeze and rain-drop, like the sheen
Of twilight stars. On you Heaven's eye hath been,
Thro' the leaves, pouring its dark sultry blue
Into your glowing hearts; the bee to you

Hath murmur'd, and the rill.-My soul grows faint
With passionate yearning, as its quick dreams paint
Your haunts by dell and stream,-the green, the free,
The full of all sweet sound,-the shut from me!

IX.

There went a swift bird singing past my cell

O Love and Freedom! ye are lovely things! With you the peasant on the hills may dwell, And by the streams; but I—the blood of kings, A proud, unmingling river, thro' my veins

Flows in lone brightness,-and its gifts are chains! Kings !-I had silent visions of deep bliss,

Leaving their thrones far distant, and for this

I am cast under their triumphal car,

An insect to be crush'd.-Oh! Heaven is far,—
Earth pitiless!

Dost thou forget me, Seymour? I am prov'd
So long, so sternly! Seymour, my belov'd!
There are such tales of holy marvels done
By strong affection, of deliverance won
Thro' its prevailing power! Are these things told
Till the young weep with rapture, and the old
Wonder, yet dare not doubt,-and thou, oh! thou,
Dost thou forget me in my hope's decay?—

Thou canst not!-thro' the silent night, ev'n now,
I, that need prayer so much, awake and pray
Still first for thee.-Oh! gentle, gentle friend!
How shall I bear this anguish to the end?

Aid!-comes there yet no aid ?—the voice of blood Passes Heaven's gate, ev'n ere the crimson flood