XII.

And all my feelings, well thou knowest,
Go with thee, Lady, where'er thou goest;
And my wayward spirit bows to thee,
Its first and last idolatry!

ΤΟ

I.

IN such a time as this, when every heart is light, And greetings sound more welcome, and faces smile more bright,

Oh, how wearily-how wearily my spirit wanders back

Among the faded joys that lie on Memory's ruined track!

Where art thou, best and fairest? I call to theo in vain;

And thou art lone and distant far, in sickness and in pain!

II.

Beloved one, if anguish would fall where fall it

may,

If sorrow could be won by gifts to barter prey

for prey,

There is an arm would wither, so thine revived

might be;

A lip which would be still and mute, to make thy music free;

An eye which would forget to wake, to bid thy morning shine;

A heart whose very strings would break, to steal one pang from thine.

III.

If this be all too wild a wish, it were an humbler

prayer

That I might sit beside thy couch, watching and weeping there;

Alas, that grief should sever the hearts it most endears,

That friends who have been joined in smiles, are parted in their tears,

That when there's danger in the path, or poison in the bowl,

Unloving hands must minister, unloving lips console !

IV.

Yet in the twilight hour, when all our hopes

seem true,

And Fancy's wild imaginings take living form

and hue,

I linger, and thou chidest not, beside thy lonely

bed,

And do thy biddings, dearest, with slow and noiseless tread,

And tremble all the while at the feeblest wind that blows,

As if indeed its idle breath were breaking thy

repose.

V.

To kiss thine eyelids, when they droop with heaviness and pain,

To pour sad tears upon thy hand, the heart's most precious rain,

To mark the changing colour as it flits across thy

cheek,

To feel thy very wishes ere the feverish lip can

speak,

To listen for the weakest word, watch for the lightest token,

Oh bliss, that such a dream should be! oh pain, that it is broken!

VI.

Farewell, my best beloved; beloved, fare thee

well!

I may not mourn where thou dost weep, nor be where thou dost dwell;

But when the friend I trusted all coldly turns

away,

When the warmest feelings wither, and the dearest hopes decay,

To thee to thee-thou knowest, whate'er my

lot may be,

For comfort and for happiness, my spirit turns to thee.

THE PARTING.

"Alla prigione antica

Quell' augellin ritorna

Ancorchè mano amica

Gli abbia disciolto il piè."

Metastasio.

I.

FAREWELL; I will not now

The wasted theme renew;
No cloud upon my cheek or brow
Shall wake one pang for you;

But here, unseen, unheard,

Ere evening's shadows fly,

I will but say that one weak word,
And pass unwelcomed by.

II.

Farewell-but it is strange,
As round your towers I roam,
To think how desolate a change
Has come o'er heart and home;

Where stranger-minstrels throng,
Where harsher harps are cherished,
The very memory of my song
Is, like its echo, perished.

III.

The bird your gold has brought
From its own Orient bowers,
Where every wandering wind is fraught
With the sweet breath of flowers,

Will never murmur more

A note so clear and high

As that which he was wont to pour
Beneath his native sky.

IV.

Yet 'twere a cruel thing,

If Pity's tears and sighs

Could give the breezes to his wing,

The daylight to his eyes;

His vision is the night,

His home the prison, now,

He could not look upon the light,
Nor sleep upon the bough.

V.

Lady, when first your mirth

Flung magic o'er my way,
Mine was the gayest soul on earth

When all the earth was gay;