"A mother too!" these self-same words Did Edward mutter plain; His face was drawn back on itself, Both groaned at once, for both knew well He sat upright; and ere the dream “O God, forgive me! (he exclaimed) I have torn out her heart." Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burst Into ungentle laughter; And Mary shivered where she sat, And never she smiled after. Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. To morrow! and To-morrow! and To-morrow! ODES AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. DEJECTION: AN ODE. Late, late yestreen I saw the new moon And I fear, I fear, my master dear! We shall have a deadly storm. BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENCE. I. WELL! If the bard was weather-wise, who made For lo! the new-moon winter-bright! The coming on of rain and squally blast. And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they And sent my soul abroad, [awed, Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give, Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! II. A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, O lady! in this wan and heartless mood, Those stars, that glide behind them or between, In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue ; I see them all so excellently fair, 1 see, not feel how beautiful they are! III, My genial spirits fail; And what can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? It were a vain endeavour, Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. IV. O lady! we receive but what we give, Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! And from the soul itself must there be sent V. O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, Joy, virtuous lady! joy that ne'er was given, Life, and life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Joy, lady! is the spirit and the power, A new earth and new heaven, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud— And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, VI. There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, For not to think of what I needs must feel, From my own nature all the natural man- |