XLVI.

MESSENA.

WHY, wedded to the Lord, still yearns my heart
Upon these scenes of ancient heathen fame?
Yet legend hoar, and voice of bard that came
Fixing my restless youth with its sweet art,
And shades of power, and those who bore their part
In the mad deeds that set the world in flame,
So fret my memory here,-ah! is it blame ?-
That from my eyes the tear is fain to start.
Nay, from no fount impure these drops arise;
'Tis but the sympathy with Adam's race,
Which in each brother's history reads its own.
So, let the cliffs and seas of this fair place
Be named man's tomb and splendid record-stone,
High hope pride-stained, the course without the prize.

XLVII.

TAUROMINIUM.

And Jacob went on his way, and the Angels of God met him.

Say, hast thou tracked a traveller's round

Nor visions met thee there,

Thou couldst but marvel to have found
This blighted world so fair?

And feel an awe within thee rise,

That sinful man should see Glories far worthier Seraph's eyes

Than to be shared by thee?

Store them in heart! thou shalt not faint
'Mid coming pains and fears,

As the third heaven once nerved a Saint
For fourteen trial-years.

S.

G

XLVIII.

CORCYRA.

I SAT beneath an olive's branches grey
And gazed upon the site of a lost town,
By sage and poet chosen for renown;
Where dwelt a Race that on the sea held sway,
And, restless as its waters, forced a way

For civil strife a thousand states to drown.
That multitudinous stream we now note down,
As though one life, in birth and in decay.
Yet, is their being's history spent and run,
Whose spirits live in awful singleness

Each in his self-formed sphere of light or gloom?
Henceforth, while pondering the fierce deeds then done,
Such reverence on me shall its seal impress

As though I corpses saw, and walked the tomb.

SAINTS DEPARTED.

XLIX.

"Wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes.

Job xlii. 6.

And dare I say,

"Welcome to me

The pang that proves thee near?" O words, too oft on bended knee

Breath'd to th' Unerring Ear.

While the cold spirit silently
Pines at the scourge severe.

Nay, try once more-thine eyelids close
For prayer intense and meek :

When the warm light gleams thro' and shows
Him near who helps the weak.

Unmurmuring then thy heart's repose
In dust and ashes seek.

But when the self-abhorring thrill
Is past, as pass it must,
When tasks of life thy spirit fill,
Risen from thy tears and dust,
Then be the self-renouncing will

The seal of thy calm trust.

L.

BURIAL OF THE DEAD.

7.

I THOUGHT to meet no more, so dreary seem'd
Death's interposing veil, and thou so pure,
Thy place in Paradise

Beyond where I could soar ;

Friend of this worthless heart! but happier thoughts Spring like unbidden violets from the sod,

Where patiently thou tak'st

Thy sweet and sure repose.