Now shadowy eve the fading woods hath crown'd,
And dew and darkness shed their spirit round;
Hark! o'er the hills what bugle-echoes play,
And die in many a fractured note away!
Behold! the MAIL in glimm'ring pomp appears;
And as it onward speeds, what smiles and tears,
What shades of time, or accident, or scene,
And memories for all that life has been,
It brings,—to sadden, sweeten, or beguile
The myriad hearts within our noble isle!
Perchance the morrow will an orphan hail,
A wife be weeping o'er some funeral tale,
A friend be doom'd in distant isles to roam,
And music cease in many a happy home!
THE NEGLECTED ARTIST.
In a lone chamber, on a tatter'd couch
A dying painter lies. His brow shows young
And noble; lines of beauty on his face
Yet linger; in his eye of passion gleams
A soul, and on his cheek a spirit-light
Is playing, with that proud sublimity
Of thought, that yields to death, but gives to time
A Fame that will avenge his wrongs, and write
Their hist'ry in her canonized roll
Of martyrs :—be it for his epitaph,
He lived for genius, and for genius died!
So sad and lone !-wall'd in by misery,
With none to smooth his couch, or shed the tear That softens pain,—uncheer'd, unwept, unknown, And famish'd by the want of many days,-Hither! Ambition; wisdom breathes in woe.
There are, to whom this elemental frame
Of wonders seemeth but an outward show,
To look upon, and aid the life of things :
But some in more ethereal mould are cast,
Who from the imagery of nature cull
Fair meanings, and magnificent delights;
Extracting glory from whate'er they view,
Making th' unbodied air a blessing, light
A joy, and sov'reign attributes of Earth
Enchanting ministers to sense and soul.-
And such was he. An orphan of the woods,
With Nature, in her ancientness of gloom
And cavern, dark-peak'd hill, and craggy wild,
Whose boughs waved midnight in the eye of Day,-
He dwelt; until he hung the wizard sky
With fancies, and with earth incorporate grew !
Nature and he, in one communion glow'd:
With all her moods, majestic, calm, or wild,
He sympathized. In glory did he hear
Ecstatic thunders antheming the storm!
And when the winds fled by him, he would take
Their dauntless wings, and travel in their roar !
He worshipp'd the great Sea;-when rocking wild,
Making the waters blossom into foam
With her loud wrath; or savagely reposed,
Like a dark monster dreaming in his lair,
No wonder then, by Nature thus sublimed, With all her forms and features at his soul,
The brain should teem with visions, and his hand
A glorious mimicry of Earth and Heaven
Perform! till lakes and clouds, and famish'd woods
In wintry loneness, crags and eagle-haunts,
And torrents in their mountain-rapture seen,
All dread, all high, all melancholy things,-
Full on his canvass started into life,
And look'd Creation !—To the capital
A parentless and unacquainted youth
He came, while many a prophecy still hung
About his heart, and made his bosom heave
With young expectancy.-Romantic fool!
To fancy genius and success were twins,
In such a sphere: how soon the dream was o'er !
Here Envy dogged him, Av'rice trampled down
His worth, and in the gloom of aidless want
His spirit bow'd,-but never was enslaved!
There was that haughtiness of proud despair,
That forward looking to avenging years
Which plucks the thorn from present woe, and drives
Adversity from out her darkest mood,-
To cheer him on, and buoy the spirit o'er
The indirection of opinion's tide:
He felt, as all the mighty ever feel,—
True greatness must o'erlook the living hour,
And task the future with her fame, alone.
Thus cherish'd he self-rev'rence; and the heart
Was faithful-from the hand, or voice of men,
No comfort came; but Nature was his own,
As ever! When the jarring city-roar
Woke round him, he could hush it in the calm
Of memory, and azure solitude
Of native skies: the weird-like tempest sound
O'er his dark chamber mutter'd, bade him dream
Of wilds, and whirlwinds havocking the night
Afar; and when a pilgrim sunset ray
Sat at his window, like a smile from home,
He scorn'd the present, and would think, how once
He loved to watch the bright farewell of day
Reflected o'er the roll of ocean waves,
Like sea-clouds rising in a gorgeous swell.-
Thus lived the victim of an art adored,
And perish'd in his passion!—On his name
A veil is hung; and his achievements lie
Forgotten; but a fame awaits them still!
THE LAST JUDGMENT.
HARK! from the deep of heaven, a trumpet sound Thunders the dizzy universe around;
From north to south, from east to west it rolls,
A blast that summons all created souls;
And swift as ripples form upon the deep,
The dead awaken from their dismal sleep!
The Sea has heard it; coiling up with dread,-
Myriads of mortals flash from out her bed!
The graves fly open, and with awful strife
The dust of ages startles into life!
All who have breathed, or moved, or seen, or felt; All they around whose cradles Kingdoms knelt;
Tyrants and warriors, who were throned in blood; The great and mean, the glorious and the good, Are raised from every isle, and land, and tomb, To hear the changeless and eternal doom.
As moonlight weaves a varied spell
O'er rock and mountain, grove and dell,
So love with his transforming beam
Hath colour'd each romantic dream,
As, stern or mild, the spirit lay
Beneath the spell-work of his ray.—
A sense of beauty,-it was thine,
As deep, as burning, and divine,
As ever fed with living fire
The passion of a poet's lyre,
Thou martyr! whom Alphonso's hate
Imprison'd for a madman's fate,
Because ere yet the lips could speak,
Emotion had betray'd thy cheek,
To tell him how a bard could dare
To love a princess--and despair!-
That love was like a blasting sun,
It sear'd the heart it shined upon!
But, oh! how much of Tasso's strain
Was born of his devoted pain;
When feelings in their hopeless strife
Contended with those clouds of life
That 'tween him and his idol grew,-
Till death alone could break them through.
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