A bold pilot I trow,
Who should follow us now,"
Shouted He —

And she cried : "Ply the oar !
Put off gaily from shore!" -
As she spoke, bolts of death
Mixed with hail, specked their path

O'er the sea.

And from isle, tower and rock,
The blue beacon cloud broke,
And though dumb in the blast,
The red cannon flashed fast

From the lee.

III.

"And fear'st thou, and fear'st thou? And see'st thou, and hear'st thou?

And drive we not free

O'er the terrible sea,

I and thou?"

One boat-cloak did cover
The loved and the lover

Their blood beats one measure,
They murmur proud pleasure

Soft and low;

While around the lashed Ocean,
Like mountains in motion,
Is withdrawn and uplifted,
Sunk, shattered and shifted

To and fro.

IV.

In the court of the fortress
Beside the pale portress,
Like a blood-hound well beaten,
The bridegroom stands, eaten
By shame;

On the topmost watch-turret,
As a death-boding spirit,
Stands the grey tyrant father,
To his voice the mad weather
Seems tame;

And with curses as wild
As e'er clung to child,
He devotes to the blast
The best, loveliest and last
Of his name!

SONG.

I.

RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight !

Wherefore hast thou left me now

Many a day and night?

Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away.

II.

How shall ever one like me

Win thee back again?

With the joyous and the free

Thou wilt scoff at pain.

Spirit false! thou hast forgot

All but those who need thee not.

III.

As a lizard with the shade

Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismayed ;
Even the sighs of grief

Reproach thee, that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.

IV.

Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure,

Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure.

Pity then will cut away

Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

V.

I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight !

The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,

And the starry night;

Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

VI.

I love snow, and all the forms

Of the radiant frost;

I love waves, and winds, and storms,

Every thing almost

Which is Nature's, and may be

Untainted by man's misery.

VII.

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society

As is quiet, wise and good;

Between thee and me

What difference? but thou dost possess

The things I seek, not love them less.

VIII.

I love Love - though he has wings,
And like light can flee,

But above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee

Thou art love and life! O come,

Make once more my heart thy home.

TO

MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory

Odours, when sweet violets sicken,

Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.