HYMN TO INTELLECTUAL BEAUTY. I. THE awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats tho' unseen amongst us, visiting This various world with as inconstant wing As summer winds that creep from flower to flower, — Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, It visits with inconstant glance Each human heart and countenance; Like hues and harmonies of evening,— Like aught that for its grace may be 2. Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? Ask why the sunlight not for ever Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river, Such gloom,-why man has such a scope 3. No voice from some sublimer world hath ever Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, Remain the records of their vain endeavour, Frail spells-whose uttered charm might not avail to sever, From all we hear and all we see, Doubt, chance, and mutability. Thy light alone-like mist o'er mountains driven, 4. Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart Man were immortal, and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. Thou messenger of sympathies, That wax and wane in lovers' eyes— Thou- that to human thought art nourishment, Like darkness to a dying flame! Depart not as thy shadow came, Depart not- lest the grave should be, Like life and fear, a dark reality. 5. While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed, When musing deeply on the lot Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! 6. I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine have I not kept the vow? With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now I call the phantoms of a thousand hours Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers Of studious zeal or love's delight That thou-O awful LOVELINESS, 7. The day becomes more solemn and serene Which thro' the summer is not heard or seen, Descended, to my onward life supply Its calm-to one who worships thee, And every form containing thee, Whom, SPIRIT fair, thy spells did bind To fear himself, and love all human kind. THE SUNSET. THERE late was One within whose subtle being, There now the sun had sunk, but lines of gold |