TO THE LADY *

I.

THE Lay hath ceased: the labour of long years: The latest Vision born from it is fled :

No more the ardent hope inspiring cheers, That drew erewhile unconscious Fancy's tread Where paths of Song to heights untrodden led; Still doth Fame sit on her immortal shrine, While Memory points the rays around her spread; But my heart answers not that faith divine: Those aspirations now no more, as once, are mine.

II.

Yet I would twine one wreath around the Song,

Even though its leaves should yield no fruit to me!

To bloom unfading: yea, its life prolong
Enduring as this line; for Poesy

Speaks with the solemn Voice of Prophecy,
And tells it shall endure, when thou, so dear,
So hallowed by my heart, shalt cease to be:
Passed-like a shade, or leaf of Autumn sear;
Even as the Beautiful, for aye, decayeth here!

III.

Then by that face which still Youth's roses tinge
With their last hues that fade upon thy cheek :
By those dark eyes beneath whose shadowy fringe
The star-like lights of thy pure Spirit break
Forth from the Temple of the Mind, that speak
Expression caught through their reflected glow;

And feeling, such as Hope doth vainly seek :
And by that open brow whose tablets show

Thought, deepening to sadness-here thy glance bestow :

IV.

Accept this homage, for it is as pure

As that which Seraphs offer to their God!
All else may pass : but this shall aye, endure
Till he, whom look or word of thine had awed,
Shall be forgotten-buried in the sod;

But the deep feeling thrilling in me now
Shall live beyond me, and perchance record
Its memories of thee; nay-blame not thou-
It is thy fame, not mine, I proudly thus avow!

V.

And, as in happiest hours, when thou and I

Were, even as one; while thou, apart enshrined,
Didst lend me something of thy purity;

So be for ever with this verse entwined.
ASTARTE's name inseparably joined:

And this frail record be the monument

To that all unforgotten past consigned,

O'er which shall eyes and hearts approving bent Applaud this tribute given-so rude-so impotent!

VI.

Life is a fleeting moment, snatched-and given Again to Yesterday's eternity!

But I could smile at fame, the phantom heaven

Of my enthusiast boyhood, so that I

Might near thee live, and, dearer, near thee die:
So in my failing grasp thy hand might be:
Thine the last form to meet my closing eye;
So I might feel my Spirit could not flee

Away-its life, and love, existing still in thee!

CANTO I.

B