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The pair inspired by rosy love,
They tread a soft enchanted path.
They reck not the fate of its bursting wrath.
Alas! if Love do not reveal
Far off upon his trembling wing ;
THE SAILOR'S FAREWELL.
Farewell ! Farewell ! the voice
hear, Has left its last soft tone with you, Its next must join the seaward cheer,
And shout among the shouting crew.
The accents which I scarce could form
Beneath your frown's controlling check, Must give the word, above the storm,
To cut the mast and clear the wreck.
The timid eye I dared not raise, –
Thé hand that shook when press'd to thine, Must point the guns upon the chase,
Must bid the deadly cutlass shine.
To all I love, or hope, or fear,
Honour, or own, a long adieu ! To all that life has soft and dear,
Farewell I save memory of you !
Love, like the grave, levels earth’s vain distinctions,
THE RETREAT OF LOVE.
By heavenly feet thy paths are trod, Undying Love's, who here ascends a throne To which the steps are mountains; where the god
Is a pervading life and light, — so shown
Not on those summits solely, nor alone In the still cave and forest ; o'er the flower
His eye is sparkling, and his breath hath blown, His soft and summer breath, whose tender power Passes the strength of storms in their most desolate
All things are here of him ; from the black pines
That are his shade on high, and the loud roar Of torrents, where he listeneth; to the vines Which slope his green path downward to the
shore, Where the bow'd waters meet him, and adore, Kissing his feet with murmurs ; and the wood,
The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar, But light leaves, young as joy, stands where it stood, Offering to him and his a populous solitude.
A populous solitude of bees and birds,
And fairy-form'd and many-colour'd things, Who worship him with notes more sweet than words.
And innocently open their glad wings,
Fearless and full of life: the gush of springs, And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend
Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings The swiftest thought of beauty, here extend, Mingling, and made by Love, unto one mighty end.
He who hath loved not, here would learn that lore,
And make his heart a spirit; he who knows
For this is Love's recess, where vain men's woes,
He stands not still, but or decays, or grows Into a boundless blessing, which may
vie With the immortal lights, in its eternity.
THE LOVE OF LATER YEARS.
They err who deem Love's brightest hour in bloom
ing youth is known : Its purest, tenderest, holiest power in after life is
shown, When passions chasten'd and subdued to riper years
are given, And earth and earthly things are view'd in light that
breaks from Heaven.
It is not in the flush of youth, or days of cloudless
mirth, We feel the tenderness and truth of Love's devoted
worth; Life then is like a tranquil stream which flows in
sunshine bright, And objects mirror'd in it seem to share its sparkling
'Tis when the howling winds arise, and life is like
Whose mountain billows brave the skies, lash'd by
the storm's commotion, When lightning cleaves the murky cloud, and thun
derbolts astound us, 'Tis then we feel our spirits bow'd by loneliness
Oh! then, as to the seaman's sight the beacon's
twinkling ray Surpasses far the lustre bright of summer's cloudless
day, E'en such, to tried and wounded hearts in manhood's
darker years, The gentle light true love imparts, mid sorrows, cares,