THE DIVER. Tell of the brightness parted, Melt from the woods, my spirit, melt When the days of hope are past, Triumphantly, triumphantly! The sky's transparent azure, And the greensward's violet breath, No more, no more sing mournfully! THE DIVER. 'They learn in suffering what they teach in song."-Shelley. THOU hast been where the rocks of coral grow, Thy cheek is pale, and thy heart beats low, Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old, And wrecks where the brave have striven: The deep is a strong and a fearful hold, VOL. II.-23 965 A wild and weary life is thine; Though treasure-grots for thee may shine A weary life! but a swift decay In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek, None!-as it gleams from the queen-like head, "A life hath been like a rain-drop shed, For that pale quivering ray." Woe for the wealth thus dearly bought! Who win for earth the gems of thought? Down to the gulfs of the soul they go, From many a buried urn: Wringing from lava-veins the fire, But, oh! the price of bitter tears, That throws at last o'er desert years, A darkly glorious dower! Like flower-seeds, by the wild wind spread, -The soul whence those high gifts are shed, And who will think, when the strain is sung Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd, What life-drops, from the minstrel wrung, None, none !-his treasures live like thine, -Thon, that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine, THE REQUIEM OF GENIUS. 267 THE REQUIEM OF GENIUS. "Les poetes dont l'imagination tient à la puissance d'aimer et de souffrir, ne sont ils pas les bannis d'une autre region ?" MADAME DE STAEL-De L'Allemagne. No tears for thee!-though light be from us gone They that have loved an exile, must not mourn All the high music of thy spirit here, And strange, though sweet, as 'midst our weeping skies Hast thou been answer'd? thou, that from the night And from the past, Hast thou been answer'd ?-thou, that through the gloom, So passionate and deep? to pierce, to move, From buried friend! And hast thou found where living waters burst? Are the true fountains thine for evermore? Speak! is it well with thee ?-We call, as thou, On the departed! Art thou bless'd and free? -Alas! the lips earth covers, even to thee, Were silent all! Yet shall our hope rise fann'd by quenchless faith, Freed soul of song; yes, thou hast found the sought; On morning's wings. And we will dream it is thy joy we hear, No tears for thee! the lingering gloom is ours- TRIUMPHANT MUSIC. "Tacete, tacete, O suoni trionfanti ! Risvegliate in vane 'l cor che non può liberarsi." WHEREFORE and whither bear'st thou up my spirit, Be still, triumphant harmony! be still! Thine are no sounds for earth, thus proudly swelling To mount so high yet find on high no dwelling, No sounds for earth ?-Yes, to young chieftain dying With his freed country's banner o'er him flying, Well might'st thou speak of fame's high guerdon won. No sounds for earth ?-Yes, for the martyr leading For patriot by his rescued altars bleeding, But speak not thus to one whose heart is beating Be hush'd, or breathe of grief!-of exile yearnings Breathe of deep love-a lonely vigil keeping Or pass as if thy spirit-notes came sighing SECOND SIGHT SECOND SIGHT. "Ne'er err'd the prophet heart that grief inspired, Though joy's illusions mock their votarist." -Maturin. A MOURNFUL gift is mine, O friends! A murmur of the soul which blends An eye that through the triumph's hour And dwells upon the faded flower Ye smile to view fair faces bloom I see the wither'd garlands lie While the lamps yet burn, and the dancers fly I see the blood-red future stain On the warrior's gorgeous crest; The thunder of the seas I hear, The shriek along the wave, When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer Salute the parting brave. With every breeze a spirit sends To me some warning sign : A mournful gift is mine, O friends! A mournful gift is mine! Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power, To all deep souls belong; The shadow in the sunny hour, The wail in the mirthful song. Their sight is all too sadly clear- Their piercing thoughts repose not here, 269 |