I have wrought mountains, seas, waves, and clouds, In the dark space of interstellar air. A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate's fate, leads, in a mysterious manner, the lady of his love to the Enchanted Isle. She is accompanied by a youth, who loves her, but whose passion she returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place between them on their arrival at the Isle. INDIAN YOUTH AND LADY. Indian. And if my grief should still be dearer to me Than all the pleasures in the world beside, Why would you lighten it? Lady. I offer only That which I seek, some human sympathy Indian. My sister, my beloved! Oh! my friend, What do I say? scarce know whether Peace, perturbed heart! I am to thee only as thou to mine, The passing wind which heals the brow at noon, Yet cannot linger where it soothes the most, Or long soothe could it linger. Indian. You also loved? Lady. But you said Loved! Oh, I love. Methinks This world of love is fit for all the world, And that for gentle hearts another name Would speak of gentler thoughts than the world owns. I have loved. Indian. And thou lovest not? If so Young as thou art, thou canst afford to weep. I loved, I love, and when I love no more Under the green pavilion which the willow While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes of crimson snow, Showered on us, and the dove mourned in the pine, Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own. Indian. Your breath is like soft music, your words are The echoes of a voice which on my heart Sleeps like a melody of early days. But as you said— Lady. He was so awful, yet So beautiful in mystery and terror, Calming me as the loveliness of heaven More need that I should be most true and kind; And much more need that there should be found one And all the ills that wait on those who do The tasks of ruin in the world of life. He fled, and I have followed him. Indian. Such a one Is he who was the winter of my peace. But, fairest stranger, when didst thou depart From the far hills, where rise the springs of India, How didst thou pass the intervening sea? Lady, If I be sure I am not dreaming now, I should not doubt to say it was a dream. A SONG. A WIDOW bird sate mourning for her love The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound. THE INVITATION. BEST and brightest, come away, Which like thee to those in sorrow, The brightest hour of unborn spring, Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, And bade the frozen streams be free; Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. Away, away, from men and towns, I leave this notice on my door To take what this sweet hour yields;— You with the unpaid bill, Despair, To-day is for itself enough; Hope in pity mock not woe With smiles, nor follow where I go; Long having lived on thy sweet food, Radiant Sister of the Day, THE ISLE. THERE was a little lawny islet Like mosaic, paven : And its roof was flowers and leaves Which the summer's breath en weaves, Where nor sun nor showers nor breeze Pierce the pines and tallest trees, Each a gem engraven. Girt by many an azure wave With which the clouds and mountains pave A lake's blue chasm. THE RECOLLECTION. Now the last day of many days, For now the Earth has changed its face, L We wandered to the Pine Forest The whispering waves were half asleep, And on the bosom of the deep, It seemed as if the hour were one II. We paused amid the pines that stood The giants of the waste, Tortured by storms to shapes as rude And soothed by every azure breath, Now all the tree tops lay asleep, III. How calm it was !-the silence there The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. |