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How gracefully she now advances ! see
Her lovely limbs-no effort hers to please!
The grace and energy of life reveal'd;
While sylph and sylphid, beauteous girl and boy,
Hover around her, prodigal of joy.
This union of repose and power combined
Once co-existed in the Sculptor's mind,
When at his call divinities awoke
From marble, and to hearts, though silent, spoke.
A SUN impurpled glow
Is on the waveless sea,
And not a breeze doth blow,
And not a sail I see.
Like heaven's own pavement bright,*
Is now the placid deep, On which the farewell light
Of sunset loves to sleep.
Thus beautiful in death
Is youth's departing flush;
And lovely is the wreath
Where latest roses blush.
* Impurpled, like a sea of jasper shone.
TO A LARK.
THE hymeneal chant
While youthful hearts do pant,
Rising like incense rich around a bridegroom king,
Its strains cannot compare
With thine for notes so rare,
That from thy joyous heart exultingly do spring.
Thy music is thine own;
A soul-enchanting tone,
By ecstacy inbreathed, when thou wast born, to be A soaring song of Love
Embodied, that above
Mocks our most vivid joys with its aërial glee.
THE FALL OF THE LEAVES.
THEY lie commingling with the earth that late
Others will be as beautiful, and sear.
My friends around me fall, by death's rude blast Blown rapidly away; and some in prime
Of verdant youth. And are they lost amid
The common dust? No. This most lovely eve,
That they shall be again as flourishing
As e'er on earth, in heaven, and happier far.
I hail the omen, sorrow for the loss
Of dearest friends, but joy that they are blest.
*"A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view."-MILTON.
My good old mansion, shall resound no more
And head-ache, and the “numerous ills that flesh
Smiling with wonted cheerfulness on me :
I know that manly form, but, Oh! how pale
Those cheeks, that once with health's rich colour glow'd! Mild as the moon in the deep blue of heaven
Looks gentleness above the quiet grove,
He looks, dear
I'll remember thee
And thy society,-alas, how brief!
And hope for thy companionship again
In worlds which here conjecture vainly strives