With solemn step bencath each giant arch;
And hark! from far, now swelling loud,
Now fading low and dim,

I hear a chant burst from that angel crowd,
In the full burden of a heaven hymn.

Mourn, Nature! mourn, ye fields and woods,
Ye forests vast, and tangled solitudes,
Ye rocky steeps, and flower-spotted vales,
And sigh for her your sweetest dirge sad gales;
Ye fringe-hung trees, with reddest buds,
Beneath the buckeye's glass-green cone,

Whose roots, washed by blue water floods,

And wind swept boughs where doves do moan, Droop now each flowered head,

And rain your blossoms fast

For hark! the passing angel said "Amelia's dead!"

And then outsped the blast.

Ye musky groves, where wild grapes bloom,
And sweet-knots grow, exhaling rare perfume,
And catch upon your leafy emerald shields,
The golden shafts which fall from morning's fields,
And ward them from the shrinking daisy's head,
Who in green moss doth make her velvet bed—
Ye night-shades! with your berries black,

Distil around your mystic dews of death,

In those lone vales where midnight leaves her track, And chills the air of morning with her breath

No more invite into your secret bowers

The minstrel thrush, who wooes the passing hours
With such alluring strain, that Solitude

Herself doth smile, despite her mournful mood.

Ye lilies! fold your snowy eyes,

And weep,

As, when a maiden dies,

Her white lids close in sleep;
And you, ye purple fox-gloves, press
Your hands upon your hearts,
As some chaste nun, who kneels to bless
In prayer, while forth the tear-drop starts.
Ye herbs and plants with aromatic bloom,
Close ye each painted vase,

Wherein ye hold your rare perfume,

In little lakes, where Fairy sees her face,

Or in the dew-drop ocean, sweet,

Lit by a beam warm from the morning sun, The Elfin boatmen sail their tiny fleet,

And o'er the scarce-seen waves their shadow shallops

run.

Weep Earth! O Earth, with thy sad portion weep !
For on thy bosom thou did'st see her sleep,
Till angels stooped, and up her form they bore-
Till like grey clouds on heaven's furthest shore,
Their figures faded from all earthly eyes,
And, lost in light, they entered Paradise.
Ah me! how lone my crape-clad Soul doth wait,

With upturned gaze upon high heaven's gate;
Then droops her head, heart-sick, and desolate.
Alas! what blindness falls upon my sight:
The very sunshine loses half its light!

And objects which her presence did illume,
(As when a glow-worm's lamp is seen
Under a leaf of green),

Now lose themselves in gloom.

Oh, she was gentle as the deep,

Where in calm sunshine halcyons fall asleep;
And, like the sea, her mind's deep treasury
Held hidden kingdoms, rare in purity,

And rich as cities paved with gems and gold,
Which the deep caverns of the ocean hold—
Where peris dwell, in palaces of pearl,
Around whose base the golden waters curl,
Lit by a sun which shines not on earth's face.
So shone her mind, resplendent in its grace-
Catching from heaven her light celestial flood,
As the young pelican which drinks its mother's blood;
Her glowing genius mantled her in rays,

As seraph's presence sets the air a-blaze;

And goodness from her glances, like a charm,
Fell e'en on frozen hearts, and they grew warm;
Her speech was ever liquid on the tongue,
But Music stood enraptured when she sung,
And sounds like pearls fell from her mouth in song,
Or rained like roses when the breeze is strong.

Alas! in vain the traveller shall seek,
Sweet child of Song, beside broad Chesapeake,
Thy childhood's home, to find thee now!
And where Ohio's bright blue waters flow,
Bearing the sunshine's gold upon his breast,
Through the green valleys of the woody west;
There vainly shall the eye which reads thy lays,
Look for thy form, to bless thee, and to praise.
Alas! the thought of thee hath made me weak,
And, from o'er fulness of the heart, I cannot speak.
Oh! if thy gentle spirit now doth ken
The hidden feelings in the souls of men,
Thou seest emotions trembling in my heart,
And dost behold my silent tears that start,
For I did cleave to thee, as one of those
Who rob this world of half its weight of woes.

Alas! I'm like an orb whose sun has gone
And left it in the universe alone,

All hid in night and chaos wide,

Lost in the gloom, and mourning for its guide,-
Where shall I turn me now, to meet
That sympathetic vision sweet,

Whose presence turned the very night to day,
And whose retreat bore half my heart away!
Oh, I could sit me down alone and sigh-
Turn all my soul to tears, and weeping die.
But I did promise thee, in life, that when thy brow
Should wear its halo where the angels bow,

I still would think of thee, and bless

Thy memory, if I were left to press

The leaves in pathways through earth's wilderness: And now that day hath come, and I am lone,

Deserted as a sea bird on a rock,

Where ocean billows with incessant shock

The white-chafed foam for ever toss
Around a wounded albatross !

Friend of my soul, farewell! I feel the rod
Which chastens all of earth-and bow to God.
I have no fear or doubt upon thy state;
Beatitude was foreordained thy fate;
The bitter part to mortals sole is left-
A loss too great for words of thee bereft.
And now I wander through this vale of tears,
More sad at heart, and older many years.