The light of Life is o'er!
"No more-no more-no more!—"
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams-
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.
Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless-
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
, by no wind are stirred those trees nat palpitate like the chill seas round the misty Hebrides!
n, by no wind those clouds are driven
at rustle through the unquiet Heaven
neasily, from morn till even,
ver the violets there that lie
myriad types of the human eye—
ver the lilies there that wave
nd weep above a nameless grave!
ney wave:—from out their fragrant tops
ernal dews come down in drops.
ney weep:-from off their delicate stems erennial tears descend in gems.
Death has reared himself a throne strange city lying alone
down within the dim West,
ere the good and the bad and the worst and the best
e gone to their eternal rest.
r shrines and palaces and towers
e-eaten towers that tremble not!)
emble nothing that is ours.
und, by lifting winds forgot,
gnedly beneath the sky
melancholy waters lie.
ays from the holy heaven come down
-he long night-time of that town;
But light from out the
Streams up the turret
Gleams up the pinnacl
Tp domes-up spires-
fanes-up Babylon
Up shadowy long-forg
Of sculptured ivy and
Up many and many a
Whose wreathed friez
The viol, the violet, a
Resignedly beneath th
The melancholy wate
So blend the turrets a
That all seem pendul
While from a proud t
i Death looks gigantica
There open fanes and
Yawn level with the
But not the riches th
In each idol's diamon
Not the gayly-jewele
Tempt the waters fro
For no ripples curl, a
Along that wildernes
No swellings tell tha
Upon some far-off ha
No heavings hint tha
On seas less hideous!
But lo, a stir is in th
The wave-there is a
As if the towers had
In slightly sinking,
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently—
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes-up spires-up kingly halls-
Up fanes-up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvelous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gayly-jeweled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass—
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave-there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide
if their tops had feebly given void within the filmy Heaven. e waves have now a redder glowe hours are breathing faint and lowd when, amid no earthly moans, wn, down that town shall settle hence, ll, rising from a thousand thrones, all do it reverence.
Ar midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin molders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!-and lo! where lies
Her casement open to the skies,
Irene, with her Destinies!
Oh, lady bright! can it be right—
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, fro Laughingly through The bodiless airs, a Flit through thy cha And wave the curtai So fitfully-so fearf Above the closed an "Neath which thy slu That, o'er the floor a Like ghosts the shad Oh, lady dear, hast Why and what art Sure thou art come A wonder to these g Strange is thy pallo Strange, above all, t And this all solemn
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop-
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully-so fearfully
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress!
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!
The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she
may lie Forever with unopened eye,
While the dim sheeted ghosts go by!
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold
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