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THOU thing of years departed!
What ages have gone by,

Since here the mournful seal was set

By love and agony!

Temple and tower have moulder'd,

Empires from earth have pass'd,

And woman's heart hath left a trace

Those glories to outlast!

* The impression of a woman's form, with an infant clasped to the bosom, found at the uncovering of Herculaneum.

And childhood's fragile image
Thus fearfully enshrin'd,

Survives the proud memorials rear'd
By conquerors of mankind.

Babe! wert thou brightly slumbering
Upon thy mother's breast,
When suddenly the fiery tomb
Shut round each gentle guest?

A strange dark fate o'ertook you,
Fair babe and loving heart!
One moment of a thousand pangs-
Yet better than to part!

Haply of that fond bosom,

On ashes here impress'd,
Thou wert the only treasure, child!
Whereon a hope might rest.


Perchance all vainly lavish'd,

Its other love had been,

And where it trusted, nought remain'd

But thorns on which to lean.

Far better then to perish,

Thy form within its clasp,

Than live and lose thee, precious one!
From that impassion'd grasp.

Oh! I could pass all relics
Left by the pomps of old,

To gaze on this rude monument,
Cast in affection's mould.

Love, human love! what art thou?
Thy print upon the dust

Outlives the cities of renown

Wherein the mighty trust!

Immortal, oh! immortal

Thou art, whose earthly glow

Hath given these ashes holiness

It must, it must be so!


"Well may I weep to leave this world-thee-all these beautiful woods, and plains, and hills."

Lights and Shadows.

Go to the forest-shade,

Seek thou the well-known glade,

Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie,
Gleaming thro' moss-tufts deep,

Like dark eyes fill'd with sleep,

And bath'd in hues of summer's midnight sky.

Bring me their buds, to shed

Around my dying bed,

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