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FROM THE ARABIC.
My faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;
For the brooks, my love.
Bore thee far from me;
Did companion thee.
Ah ! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,
Or the death they bear,?
With the wings of care;
Shall mine cling to thee,
It may bring to thee.
ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
For thee to disdain it.
For prudence to smother, And Pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
And the Heaveus reject not,
Of the night for the morrow,
From the sphere of our sorrow !
I Pant for the music which is divine,
My heart in its thirst is a dying flower; Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine,
Loosen the notes in a silver shower ; Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain, I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.
Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound,
More, O more,-) am thirsting yet,
Upon my heart to stifle it;
As the scent of a violet withered up,
Which grew by the brink of a silver lake ; When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup,
And mist there was none its thirst to slakeAnd the violet lay dead while the odour flew On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue
As one who drinks from a charmed cup
Of foaming, and sparkling, and inurmuring wine, Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up,
Invites to love with her kiss divine.
The cold earth slept below;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black,
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Which the frost had inade between.
Thine eyes glowed in the glare
As a fen-fire's beam,
On a sluggish stream,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, beloved ;
The night did shed
Ont:y dear head
Might visit thee at will.
Death is here and death is there,
Death has set his mark and seal
First our pleasures die-and then
All things that we love and cherish,
When passion's trance is overpast,
It were enough to feel, to see
After the slumber of the year
PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES.
LISTEN, listen, Mary mine,