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Lethargic dost thou lie?
With Athens, old ally!
That chief of ancient song,
The terrible! the strong!
In old Thermopylæ,
To keep bis country free;
The battle, long be stood,
Sons of Greeks, &c.
TO THYRZA. WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what Truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot,
Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future fled to thee
To bid us meet-10-be'er again! Could this have been a word, a look
That softly said, “ we part in peace, Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.
And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee bere?
Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear,
When silent Sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more
'Twas thine to reck of buman wo, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had flow'd as fast-as now they flow. Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance kone saw beside;
The smile none else might understand; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss so guiltless and refined
That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,
Even passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine; The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but tbine; The pledge we wore~ I wear it still,
But where is thine!-ah, where art thou: Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom
The cup of wo for me to drain : If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mide anguish hero. Teach metoo early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven: On earth thy love was such to me;
It fain would form my hope in beaven!
1. war, away, ye notes of wo!
Be silent thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days
But lull the chords, for now, alas! I must not think, I may not gaze
On what I am, on what I was.
2. The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled; And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead! Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!
3, 'Tis silent all!--but on my ear
The well-remember'd echoes thrill;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still, Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake:
Even slumber owns its geotle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
4. Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream; A star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam. But be, who through life's dreary way
Must pass, when heaven is veil'd in wrath, Will long lament the vanish'd ray
That scatter'd gladness o'er his path.
1. One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain; One last long sigh to love and thee,
Then back to busy life again. It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before: Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief cap touch me more?
2. Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not form’d to live alone: I'll be that light unmeaning thing That smiles with all, and weeps with none. It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou Hast fled, and left me lonely bere;
Thou’rt nothing, all are nothing now,
3. In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that sorrow fain would wear
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
The heart-the heart is lonely still!
4. On many a lone and lovely night
It sooth'd to gaze upon the sky; For then I deem's the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye: And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the Ægean wave, “Now Thyrza gazes on that moon–
Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave!
5. When stretch'd fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, 66 'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,
“ That Thyrza cannot know my pains:" Like freedom to the time-worn slave,
A boon 'tis idle then to give, Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!