"Through hall, and court, and porch, Glides on the pitiless torch; The swift avengers faint not in their toil: Vain now the matron's sighs; Vain now the infant's cries; Look, sisters, look, who leads them to the spoil? "Not Pyrrhus, though his hand Is on his father's brand; Not the fell-framer of the accursed Steed; Not Nestor's hoary head; Nor Teucer's rapid tread; Nor the fierce wrath of impious Diomede. "Visions of deeper fear To-night are warring here;— I know them, sisters, the mysterious Three; Minerva's lightning frown, And Juno's golden crown, And him the mighty ruler of the sounding sea. "Through wailing and through wo, Silent and stern they go; So have I ever seen them in my trance! Exultingly they guide Destruction's fiery tide, And lift the dazzling shield, and poise the deadly lance. "Lo! where the old man stands, Folding his palsied hands, And muttering with white lips, his querulous prayer: My best, my bravest one, Troy's hope and Priam's,-where is Hector, where?" "Why is thy falchion grasped? Why is thy helmet clasped? Fitter the fillet for such brow as thine! The altar reeks with gore; Oh sisters, look no more! "And ye, alas! must roam Far from your desolate home, Ye may not from those bowers Gather the trampled flowers, To wreathe sad garlands for your brethren's grave. "Away, away! the gale Stirs the white bosomed sail; Hence !-look not back to freedom or to fame; Labor must be your doom, Night-watchings, days of gloom, The bitter bread of tears, the bridal couch of shame. "Even now some Grecian dame Beholds the signal flame, And waits expectant the returning fleet; 'Why lingers yet my lord? Hath he not sheathed his sword Will he not bring my handmaid to my feet?' "Me too the dark Fates call; Their sway is over all, Captor and captive, prison-house and throne;- They hear me, heed me not! Hide, angry Phœbus, hide from me mine own." SONNET TO ADA. THE touching pathos of thy low sweet voice Thrilling sweet agony: nor know I well MY LITTLE COUSINS. E voi ridete ?-Certo ridiamo. Cosi fan tutte. LAUGH on, fair cousins, for to you All life is joyous yet; Your hearts have all things to pursue, And nothing to regret; And every flower to you is fair, And every month is May; You've not been introduced to Care, Laugh on, laugh on, to-day! Old Time will fling his clouds ere long Upon those sunny eyes; The voice whose every word is song, Your quiet slumbers,-hopes and fears Will chase their rest away; To-morrow, you'll be shedding tears, Oh Laugh on, laugh on, to-day! yes; if any truth is found In the dull schoolman's theme,— If friendship is an empty sound, And love an idle dream, If mirth, youth's playmate, feels fatigue At least he'll run with you a league,— Perhaps your eyes may grow more bright You may be lovelier to the sight, You may be sinless still, and see O'er me have many winters crept, But I have learned, and toiled, and wept,— I am no more a boy! I've never had the gout, 't is true, My hair is hardly gray; I used to have as glad a face, I once could run as blithe a race. And though I look so very grave, |