diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/68531-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68531-0.txt | 3650 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 3650 deletions
diff --git a/old/68531-0.txt b/old/68531-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9346d4a..0000000 --- a/old/68531-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3650 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Elfin land: and other poems, by -Benjamin West Ball - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Elfin land: and other poems - -Author: Benjamin West Ball - -Release Date: July 15, 2022 [eBook #68531] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELFIN LAND: AND OTHER -POEMS *** - - - - - - -POEMS. - - - - - ELFIN LAND: - AND - OTHER POEMS. - - BY - BENJAMIN WEST BALL. - - BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE: - JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. - MDCCCLI. - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by - JAMES MUNROE & COMPANY, - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of - Massachusetts. - - THURSTON, TORRY & EMERSON, PRINTERS. - - - - - TO - D. S. H., - THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED, - AS A TESTIMONIAL - OF AFFECTIONATE REGARD. - - - - -TO D. S. H. - - - I. - - Ere thou wert seen, and ere I knew - Such loveliness on earth unfolded, - A morning dream revealed to view - That shape in perfect beauty moulded; - Around thy graceful waist, methought, - The fabled Zone of Love was glowing, - The cestus with enchantment fraught, - A charm, that vanquished all, bestowing— - The phantom fled, but evermore - Until thyself I might discover, - Its memory in my heart I bore, - Of shade impalpable the lover. - - II. - - When Eastward thou wert long sojourning, - From me divided and afar, - Though sunset in the West was burning, - I turned where shone my being’s star; - Beyond the woods, the village spires, - Adown the broadly flowing river - My glances winged by wild desires - To pierce the distance, would endeavor; - Each bickering train which eastward rolled, - Each trailing cloud that thither flew, - As long as eyesight could behold, - I followed, musing still of you;— - - III. - - Of you, the magnet of my heart, - The vision of my nightly slumber, - Of all my thoughts the central part, - And source of fancies without number. - The stars are not more dear to Night, - To scented winds the bursting blossom, - To Day its floods of golden light, - Than thou art, gentlest, to my bosom. - The beauty of the North is thine, - Its auburn tress, its eye of azure, - Its rose-hued cheek, whose freshness Time - Leaves blooming long without erasure. - - IV. - - Incarnate in thy graceful form, - I see that sweet Göthéan vision, - That dream of beauty soft and warm, - Which folded Faust in joy elysian. - Though clouds disturb the blue serene, - And storm and darkness round me lower, - Thy presence is a sunny gleam, - A bow of promise ’mid the shower; - Though from me fortune fall away, - By Hope itself disowned, forsaken, - Whilst thou art spared by pale decay, - I rest in peace, secure, unshaken. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PROEM 9 - - DISENCHANTMENT 12 - - ELFIN LAND. Part I. 17 - - Part II. 28 - - INSCRIPTION 37 - - THE TEUTONIC MINSTREL’S TOMB 38 - - INVOCATION 40 - - IONIA 41 - - THRENODY 46 - - CONCETTO 49 - - THE LAY OF THE CONDEMNED SPIRIT IN DANTE 50 - - LOVE’S LABOR LOST 51 - - THE PLAGUE IN SUMMER 55 - - EUTHANASIA 57 - - THE FORGOTTEN 58 - - TO W. P. R. 60 - - THE SONG OF ENEAS’ MEN 62 - - THE AUTHORESS OF THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO 64 - - MONODY OF THE COUNTESS OF NETTLESTEDE 65 - - CLOSE, CLOSE BY AIDENN 69 - - PAN AND LAÏS 71 - - ATHENS 76 - - ACHILLES’ SONG 77 - - ANASTASIUS 78 - - CYMINDIS 82 - - THE CEMETERY IN SUMMER 85 - - ALL HAIL, MY GENTLE, ETC. 88 - - THE SINGING MASONS AT CROCUSBURG 90 - - AGIMUR FATIS 92 - - A HERMITAGE 94 - - I SAW A SNAKE-GIRT, ETC. 95 - - LUCIFER REDUX 97 - - ANSALDO’S GARDEN 100 - - THE DYING MOSLEM 102 - - MDCCCXLVIII-IX 104 - - THE AUTUMNAL RIDE 110 - - TO —— 113 - - SUGGESTED BY A HEAD OF ACHILLES, IN SIR WM. GELL’S POMPEII 115 - - PSYCHE 117 - - THE SERAPH’S HOLIDAY 118 - - MORNING 121 - - AUTUMN 123 - - O POWER OF MUSIC 125 - - DREAMS 127 - - THE PENITENT 129 - - OCEAN, THOU ART DISENCHANTED 131 - - TWILIGHT IN EGYPT 133 - - ARIEL’S SONG 135 - - WHERE ABID’ST THOU, PROPHET MIGHTY 137 - - ON HER MONUMENTAL SCROLL 139 - - THE INDIAN SUMMER 141 - - HYMN TO PHOSPHOR 143 - - TO THE CRICKET 145 - - BOOTH’S RICHARD 147 - - L’ENVOI 149 - - - - -POEMS. - - - - -PROËM. - - - A gleaner in the fields of song, - I follow where the great have gone, - The wise, the beautiful, the strong, - An humble garland weaving. - Their harmonies enchant mine ears, - Unseal the fontal depths of tears, - And lift my spirit to the spheres, - Each sense of pain bereaving. - - Muse of the West! upon thy shrine - I lay this votive wreath of mine, - Though many an offering there may shine, - With brighter blossoms gleaming. - For, even now, though wild and young, - By cunning hands thy harp is strung, - And lips, with bees in clusters hung, - Thy fame are fast redeeming. - - But late thy heart was pierced with pain, - Still o’er thee flows of raven grain - A vestment dun; thine eyelids rain - Their tears o’er one departed. - The harp of Israfel no more - Is heard below—some brighter shore - Receives him, and his lost Lenore - He clasps, the fiery hearted. - - His were the wingéd words, that bear - Imaginations rich and rare, - As pinions’ seeds through all the air, - And sow them in each bosom. - Thoughts’ shadows lowered about his eye; - His forehead was a temple high, - Fit haunt for Dædal Poesy; - For flowers divine to blossom. - - His spirit stalked in joyless gloom - Through autumn wolds, where never bloom - Was seen. Above, a sullen moon - Through flying rack was beaming; - The sighing winds their dirges blew, - The withered leaves in eddies flew, - Upon his brow the nightshade’s dew - In venomed drops was gleaming. - - Sad heart, thy fiery throbs are o’er! - Thy soul has gained the eternal shore! - There mayst thou find the loved of yore, - Who went before thee thither! - Reknit to them by cords, which ne’er - The Parcæ dark again can shear, - Mayst thou enjoy ambrosial cheer - In regions of unclouded weather! - - - - -DISENCHANTMENT. - - - I. - - Glides the shadow round the dial, - Youth and Hope have almost flown, - Vainly fade my days like water, - On the sandy desert thrown. - On the Tree of Life the verdure, - Leaf by leaf decaying, dies; - And a low prophetic murmur - In its waving branches sighs. - At its roots the Nornas sitting, - Chant, by turns, their solemn hymn; - In its shadow dreams are brooding, - As at old Dodona dim. - - II. - - Once like trodden vintage foaming, - Through my veins the life-blood rolled, - Fiery visions flashed around me, - Such as blinded prophets old. - Cold and dark the golden mountains, - Which of yore environed me; - From the star its sheen has faded, - From the blossom and the tree. - Gazing westward in the sunset, - I no longer can descry - Tents of Paladins, in clusters, - Pitched against the darkening sky. - - III. - - They have furled their gorgeous banners, - And their oriflammes uprolled, - They have struck their far pavilions, - Rich with purple and with gold. - In the galley of Ulysses - I no more at random sail, - On each tenth returning sunrise - Sure some stranger port to hail. - Now the regions of the Lotos - O’er the waters disappear; - Now the meadows of the Sirens - Starred with blossoms glitter near; - - IV. - - Now the golden ether leaving, - We to lampless glooms descend, - Where the Shadows of the Weary - Through the umbered spaces wend. - With “the blind old man” I wandered - On the soft Ionian shore, - Danced at harvest feasts in autumn, - While the oak tree arched me o’er; - Through the streets of Asian cities, - Lit with nuptial tapers trod, - Where in star-light flamed the altars - Of the yellow-buskined god. - - V. - - All the dark-eyed tribes of Hellas - I could visit, one by one, - In their _agorai_ I gossipped - With the idlers in the sun; - At the school of old Crotona - Heard the Samian recite, - How the eternal Monad flowers - Into blossoms infinite; - How from shape to shape forever - Silent, serpent-like it glides, - On a starred, unresting circle, - In its pilgrimages rides. - - VI. - - At the city of Glaucopis, - ’Neath the olive trees I lay, - While the bird of Itys warbled - Through the livelong summer day, - And at moon-rise, decked with garlands, - Lay reclined in that alcove, - Where harangued the Man-Silenus - On the genesis of Love. - Fast the wine and wit were flowing, - Mid the banquet’s joyous din; - At the door, the son of Clinias, - Crowned and drunken, gazing in. - - VII. - - Or at morning, in some _stoa_, - Heard the Sage, as in his toils - He immeshed the wordy sophists - Come to dazzle from the Isles. - In the house of Thespis sitting, - On upæthric seats of stone, - Saw the tribes of birds collected - In a kingdom of their own; - In a quaint ethereal city, - Full of many-tinted plumes, - Which in mid-air intercepted - Jove’s refection, altar-fumes. - - VIII. - - But the portals of Athenæ - I no longer wander through, - To her Owl and to her _Bema_ - I have bid a long adieu. - Cities thronged with breathing beings— - Not the pavements of the dead— - For the future I must frequent, - For the future I must tread. - Though their streets have not the glory, - Which the towns of Hellas wore, - In them I must toil and battle, - Till the fret and din are o’er. - - IX. - - Till the clamor of the Present - In the eternal silence dies, - And my frame, but dust and ruin, - In its final chamber lies, - With the vanished and forgotten, - With the lovely and the brave, - Who have sunken through the Ages, - To the quiet of the grave. - There the eye of love shall vainly - Through the red earth seek to pry, - There the grass and night winds only - True to sorrow ever sigh. - - - - -Elfin Land - -PART I. - - - _Into the fabled Fairy land_ - _My portals open wide,_ - _Where life is all a holiday_ - _From morn till eventide._ - - A soft and dreamy atmosphere - Above its plains is hung, - A summer noon and twilight fused - And mingled into one. - - From all its bounds the turbaned cock - Is banished far away, - As erst he was from Sybaris, - Where drowsy people lay, - Indulging drowsy phantasies, - Long after break of day. - - The cricket’s wiry song by night, - By day the humblebee’s, - The loudest noises are, that float - Upon the Elfin breeze. - - The Welsh king, Arthur, and his court - Have dwelt long ages here— - Sir Launcelot still whispers sly - To faithless Guenevere. - - Here Jacques and his gay compeers - In forests still carouse, - Pavilioned by a network green - Of melancholy boughs. - - Removed beyond the Sabbath chime, - Far in the shady wold, - Unvexed by care they fleet the time, - As in the Age of Gold. - - Still in the limpid runnels’ waves, - Which round their lodges wind, - And in the stones and in the trees, - Monitions deep they find. - - That merry knot is also here - Of fabling Florentines, - Who revelled while the Avenger hung - O’er Arno and its vines. - - The love of story, dance, and song, - They had in Tuscan land, - Still warms their breasts, though ferried o’er - Unto the Fairy strand. - - Here too La Mancha’s cavalier - Reposes ’neath his bays, - Who roamed the wilds of tawny Spain - In quest of knightly praise. - - O’er river, vale, and mountain lone, - He ne’er shall wander more,— - His steed is in the self-same stall - With Roland’s Brigliadore. - - Stretched on the banks of Elfin streams, - With antique knights he lies, - And talks through all the livelong day, - Of many an old emprize. - - Here sages dwell, whose names adorn - The mediæval time, - In lonely turrets, whence at night - Their ruddy tapers shine. - - Aquinas, dialectic sage, - Endowed with subtlest wits— - Beneath a cobweb canopy - The saintly sophist sits. - - And he, who in his wizard glass - To Surry’s eye displayed - His gentle lady o’er the sea, - With lilied pallor spread. - - Brave Surry, knightly bard, who cull’d, - Where Tuscan summers shine, - Ambrosial flowers of heavenly song - To deck a colder clime. - - Those cloistral lovers far renowned, - The sage and nun, are here, - Whose quenchless passion yielded not - To penances austere. - - In vain the serge, the flinty bed, - The eremital glooms— - The boy-god flashed his fire-tipt reed - Athwart the censer’s fumes. - - Ficino, mighty Platonist, - Hath here his dwelling-place; - No sphingal countenance more calm - Than his majestic face. - - Among the starry flock was he, - Whose holy toils unsealed - The fountains of Hellenic lore, - And all their wealth revealed. - - From Plato’s thoughts their Attic dress, - To charm an era rude, - He tore away, and in its stead - A meaner garb indued. - - But unto eyes, o’er which no film - By ignorance is thrown, - His dreams those garments only grace - In which at birth they shone. - - Of bright Cadmean rune he wove - A rich asbestic web; - Sometimes its woof like sunset glows, - Of gold and purple thread; - - Sometimes with rosy spring it vies— - Then flowers inwoven shine; - Sometimes diaphonous as oil; - Than Coan gauze more fine. - - And thus each imaged thought, that sprung - From his sciential brain, - A fluent drapery received, - To make its beauty plain. - - Here pilgrims dwell, strange sights that saw - On many a foreign strand— - He born beneath the Doge’s rule, - Beloved of Kubla Khan, - - And Mandeville, who journeyed far - Against the Eastern wind, - The sacred Capital to see, - And miracles of Ind. - - None ever wore the sandal shoon - More marvellous than he; - For then the world had far away - Its realms of mystery. - - The giant Roc then winnowed swift - The morning-cradled breeze, - And happy islands glittered o’er - The Occidental seas. - - Upon Saint Michael’s happy morn - How throbbed his glowing brow, - When towards the ancient Orient - His galley turned her prow! - - Already in the wind he smells - Hyblæan odors blown - From isles invisible, afar - Amid the Indian foam. - - The turbaned millions, dusky, wild, - Already meet his eyes— - The domes of Islam crescent-crowned - In long perspective rise, - - Mid waving palms, o’er level sands, - With skyey verges low, - Where from his eastern tent, the Sun - Spreads wide a saffron glow. - - The golden thrones of Asian kings, - Their empery supreme, - Their capitals Titanic, laved - By many a famous stream; - - The cities, desolate and lone, - Where desert monsters prowl, - Where spiders film the royal throne, - And shrieks the nightly owl; - - Enormous Caf, the mountain wall - Of ancient Colchian land— - Where dragon-drawn Medea gave - The Argonaut her hand; - - Nysæan Meros, mid whose rifts - The viny God was born,— - The empyreal sky its summit cleaves, - In shape a golden horn; - - And o’er its top reclining swim - In zones of windless air - The slumbrous deities of Ind, - Removed from earthly care; - - The Ammonian phalanx round its base - In festal garments ranged, - Their brows with ivied chaplets bound, - Their swords to _thyrsi_ changed; - - The ravenous gryphons, brooding o’er - The desert’s gleaming gold, - The auroral Chersonese, that shines - With treasures manifold; - - The groves of odorous scent, that line - The green Sabæan shore, - Whence wrapped in cerements dipt in balm, - His sire the Phœnix bore; - - The Persian valley famed in song, - Where gentle Hafiz strayed; - The Indian Hollow far beyond, - By mountains tall embayed; - - Whose virgins boast a richer bloom - Than peaches of Cabool, - And nymph-like fall their marble urns - With fountain-waters cool; - - Whose looms produce a gorgeous web, - That with the rainbow vies, - So delicate its downy woof, - So deep its royal dyes. - - The motionless Yogee, who stands - In wildernesses lone, - His sleepless eye forever fixed - On Brahma’s airy throne, - - In blue infinity to melt - His troubled soul away, - And of the sunny Monad form - A portion and a ray. - - The tales, Milesian-like, that charm - The vacant ear at eve, - Wherein the Orient fabulists - Their marvels interweave; - - Of wondrous realms beyond the reach - Of mortal footstep far, - Whose maidens, winged with pinions light, - Outstrip the falling star; - - Whose forests bear a vocal fruit, - With human tongues endowed, - That mid the autumn-laden boughs - Are querulous and loud; - - Of sparry caves in musky hills, - Which sevenfold seas surround, - Where ancient kings enchanted lie, - In dreamless slumber bound; - - Of potent gems, whose hidden might - Can thwart malignant star; - Of Eblis’ pavement saffron-strewn - ’Neath fallen Istakhar; - - All these in long succession rose, - Illumed by fancy’s ray, - As swiftly towards the Morning lands - His galley ploughed her way. - - - - -Elfin Land. - -PART II. - - - But far the greatest miracle - Which Elfin land can show, - A hostel is, like that which stood - In Eastcheap long ago. - - Before the entrance, in the blast - There swings a tusky sign; - And when at night the Elfin moon - And constellations shine, - - A ruddy glow illumes the panes, - And looking through you see, - With merry faces seated round, - A famous company. - - Prince Hal the royal wassailer, - And that great fount of fun, - Diana’s portly forester, - The merry knight Sir John, - - With all their losel servitors, - Mirth-shaken cheek by cheek; - Cambysean Pistol, Peto, Poins, - And Bardolph’s fiery beak. - - A grove there is in Elfin land, - Where closely intertwine - The Grecian myrtle’s branches light - With Gothic oak sublime. - - Beneath its canopy of shade, - Their temples bound with bays, - Are grouped the minstrels, that adorn - The mediæval days. - - The laurelled Ghibelline, who saw - The Stygian abyss, - The fiery mosques and walls, that gird - The capital of Dis; - - The realms of penance, and the rings - Of constellated light, - Whose luminous pavilions hold - The righteous robed in white; - - Uranian groves and spheral vales, - Saturnian academes, - Where sainted theologues abide, - Discoursing mystic themes; - - The Paradisal stream, that winds - Through Heaven’s unfading bowers, - And on its banks the beauteous maid, - Who culled celestial flowers. - - Him next the sweet Vauclusian swan, - Love’s Laureate, appears, - Who bathed his mistress’ widowed urn - With Heliconian tears; - - Certaldo’s storied sage,—a bard, - Though round his genius rare - The golden manacles of verse - He did not choose to wear. - - Those rosy morns, that usher in - Each festal-gladdened day, - His prose depicts in hues as bright - As could the poet’s lay. - - His ultramontane brother, born - In Albion’s shady isle; - Dan Chaucer, of his tameless race - Apollo’s eldest child; - - The Medecean banqueter, - Whose Fescennines unfold - The deeds of heathen Anakim - Restored to Peter’s fold; - - Ferrara’s Melesigenes, - Who o’er a wide domain - Of haunted forests, mounts, and seas, - Exerts his magic reign; - - A glowing Mœnad, with her locks - Dishevelled in the wind, - His fancy wantons far and near, - From Thule unto Ind; - - Now from her griffin steed alights - Alcina’s palace near, - Now in the Patmian prophet’s car - Ascends the lunar sphere; - - Or with Rinaldo wanders through - The Caledonian wood, - Amid whose shades and coverts green - Heroic trophies glowed; - - Or paints the mighty Paladin - Transformed to monster gross, - Whose mistress drank in Ardennes lone - The lymph of Anterōs. - - Next hapless Tasso, pale and wan, - Released from dungeon grates; - The sacred legions of the cross - His genius celebrates; - - Armida’s mountain paradise - Amid the western seas; - Her dragon-yoke, whose nimble hooves - Could run upon the breeze. - - The sombre forest, where encamped - Dark Eblis’ minions lay, - With shapes evoked from Orcus’ gloom - To fright his foes away. - - Lo, marble pontifices spring, - To arch illusive streams, - And swans and nightingales rehearse - Their moist melodious threnes! - - The centuried trees are cloven wide, - And forth from every plant - A maiden steps, whose tears might melt - A heart of adamant. - - A sudden darkness veils the sky, - And fortresses of fire, - With ruddy towers of pillared flame, - Above the woods aspire. - - Transfigured in the morning beam. - On Zion’s holy height - Rinaldo puts the dusky swarms - Of Erebus to flight. - - Nor absent from the shining throng - That dainty bard, I ween, - Who hung the maiden empress throne - With garlands ever green. - - The Elfin Court’s Demodocus, - His lay he carols light, - His fancy’s unexhausted urns - Still brimmed with waters bright. - - Far distant from the minstrel’s bower, - Another group is seen, - Who ruled of yore a sylvan race - In western forests green. - - Manhattan’s sleepy potentates— - Of ox-like girth are they; - In ages gone the Hudson rolled - Beneath their gentle sway. - - A hazy _nimbus_ sleeps about - Their smooth unwrinkled brows; - Like ripened melon through its folds - Each mottled visage glows. - - The ponderous Twiller dozes still, - Benignant, voiceless, deep; - His council-board, rotund and grave, - Unbroken silence keep. - - And still Van Winkle snores and dreams - Upon the mountain side, - Unwakened by the ebbless flow - Of time’s unwearied tide. - - And Sleepy Hollow’s pedagogue, - In smoky autumn air, - Lies musing of his faithless love, - His Katarina fair. - - Those knights are here who wandered through - The forests of the south, - And vast savannas green and lone, - To find the fount of youth. - - The towers and fanes they likewise sought - Of Eldorado bright; - Amid magnolian woods and palms - Uprose its turrets light. - - Glittered its roofs with golden tiles— - All things of gold were wrought; - Its burghers wore a jaundiced hue - From yellow pavements caught. - - But who shall number all that haunt - King Oberon’s domains? - His lieges are the airy shapes - Conceived in poet’s brains. - - Their limbs are cast in fairer mould - Than those of common earth; - Their ladies are more beautiful - Than dames of mortal birth. - - This work-day world perchance will show, - In epochs yet to be, - As goodly men and lovely maids - As those in Faërie. - - - - -INSCRIPTION. - - - Lithe ivy, let thy gliding foliage shade - This urn, where Shelley’s sacred dust is laid, - Whose fire was quenched beneath the angry sea, - That laves the sunny shores of Italy! - The Elements did moan around his bier. - In him they lost their best interpreter— - For his most subtile, sympathizing frame - Was as a sweet melodious instrument, - Through all whose pores and million channels went - The Universe into his heart and brain - In musical influxes, that ebbed amain - From out his lips, in verse of power to tame - A tiger’s heart, or suage an angel’s pain. - Through his well-jointed reeds the circling gyres - Of planets poured in song their soft desires, - And glad ovations, while their vernal dreams - The leaves did whisper, and the clouds and streams - And winds their fluent exultations pour, - With sky-pavilioned ocean’s organ-roar. - - - - -THE TEUTONIC MINSTREL’S TOMB. - - - Far north they say there lies a wizard land, - Which has above it all the changeless year, - A silver-shining, milk-warm atmosphere, - Amid whose windless calm the forests stand - As still as clustered obelisks. A bland - Delight is shed o’er all who enter here; - And by a lonely path their way they steer - Through dreamy hollows, under forests grand - Of larch and fir, round many a placid mere, - O’er silver streams and level barrens drear. - At length they come unto a mossy gate, - And find within a city desolate; - Its streets knee-deep with yellow leaves are strown, - And stiller than the Ephesian Sleeper’s cave. - The watchman’s horn at midnight lies unblown,— - The ivy-muffled bells hang dumb, and save - The noise of summer flies, sound there is none. - Wide open stands the Kaiser’s palace door, - And here and there, upon the dusty floor, - Swords, helms, and spears, and empty wine-cups lie - Between whose golden lips black spiders ply - Their filmy looms in bright security. - Within this city, reared by Elfin hands, - A huge and mouldering mausoleum stands. - These words are graved upon its portals gray,— - _The Singer of the Nibelungen Lay_. - - - - -INVOCATION. - - - O, placid Death! O, lotos-circled king! - Parent of rest and endless slumbering! - With downy-sandalled pace approach me now, - And bathe my lips and palpitating brow - From flagons full of cool Lethean spray, - For I am weary of the light of day. - Or call to Sleep, thy mild dejected twin, - And when the rosy-fingered Morn shall rise, - Will ye aloft upon the healthy wind, - That blows from out her dewy balconies, - Waft me to those calm isles, whose tribes obey - Sky-fallen Saturn’s ever peaceful sway? - - - - -IONIA. - - - Ye lands and immemorial isles, that bear - The name of Ion, who with besom made - Of laurel-boughs the Sun-god’s temple swept— - Ye golden climes, to poesy and love - Most dear, oases mid the wastes of Eld, - Where, in her lonely retrospective flight, - Bright-haired Mnemosyne delights to pause, - By matchless shapes of loveliness beguiled! - Within your bounds the plastic hand of art - First made the mountain’s marble entrails teem - With images of beauty, lining all - Your sea-washed strand with fair columnar cities, - Built high of glossiest sun-enamelled stone. - Forever o’er your myrtle-shaded vales, - Reclined on summer clouds, did Aphrodite - And golden Eros lean, kindling the air - With passion’s rosy glow. In all the earth - Beside, did visible nature never wear - Robes so resplendent. Through the luminous folds - Of your transparent atmosphere appeared - Unequalled prospects to enchant the eye; - Marmorean cities rising o’er the verge - Of halcyon seas, and promontories crowned - With tombs heroical, or glistening shrines; - And breezy mountains swathed with silver clouds, - The watchtowers blue of broad-eyed Jove; whence he - The limitless low-lying earth surveyed, - The towns of mortal men, their fights and toils. - Oft from your shore the fisherman descried - The smoke of conflagration climbing slow, - In graceful spires, far up the summer air, - From some beleaguered city of the isles; - And white-robed argosies from wealthy Tyre, - Rising and falling on the sparkling waves, - Voyaging with orient merchandise to towns, - Whose turrets glittered in the western beam. - Within your cities, villages, and fields, - Abode a graceful populace, with rites - And manners beautiful as e’er adorned - The imagined landscape of a poet’s dream; - The captive maid, descending with her urn - To shady spring, or cistern scooped from stone, - And flowing with cool water to the brim; - The royal virgin, seated far within - Some gorgeous recess of the kingly dome, - Plying with busy hand her dædal loom; - The wandering minstrel, slumbering fast at noon - By fountain-side or stream, or harping loud - In palace hall, and crowded market-place; - The frequent song of Hymen, saffron-robed, - Resounding through the torchlit street, what time - The star of love, thrice welcome Hesper, rose - Above some immemorial mountain’s brow; - The youthful vintagers, by moonlight pale - Bearing the grapes in osier talarisks, - While on his lute some beardless minstrel played - The Lay of Linus, regal boy, of all - The sons of men most musical, whose bloom - Was scorched and withered by the solar beam; - The rustic temple, hidden deep in groves - And pleasant solitudes, beneath whose dome - The village youth their glowing pæans sang; - And over all the dark blue heavens sublime, - Where from their sky-pavilions brightest shone - The ancient stars and constellations, hymned - By eldest bards—the sworded Titan named - Orion, with the starry sisterhoods, - Hyads and Pleïades in clusters bright. - Cradled amid your kindly influences, - The soft Ionian fancy wantoned wild - In warm voluptuous dreams of loveliness, - Pouring its inspirations in a tongue - Inimitable—a honeyed dialect— - Protean, flexible, all various, - Whose vowelled cadences could flow as smooth - As amber streams, or raise and modulate - Their intonations to the ocean’s deep - Sonorous surges chafing with the strand. - Indelible and burning Rune, its words - Upon the scroll of blind Meonides - Survive, and with their fluent numbers shame - The harsher languages of later days. - Nor in the Carian’s golden chronicle, - Though not arranged in metrical array, - Sound they less sweet. Alas! the glorious tribes, - Over whose chiselled lips they wont to roll - In honeyed song and fiery eloquence, - Have vanished. Hushed the lyres of Ibycus, - Bacchylides, and Sappho[1] starry-eyed, - And that delicious lute the Teian played - Within the halls of King Polycrates, - While round him, bound with leafed and roseal wreaths, - Mid fountain spray and snowy columns, danced - Ionia’s raven-tressed voluptuous girls. - Minstrel of beauty, love, and vinous joy, - Thy festal spirit yet survives on earth, - Clad in a garment of enduring verse, - The asbestine robe of all-immortal song! - -[1] Sappho was an Æolian, but she is commonly included in this cluster -of poets. - - - - -THRENODY. - - - Though my boyhood scarce is over, - Yet the dark Plutonian tide - Many a friend and loyal lover - From my bosom doth divide. - - In the cypress-shaded valleys - Of the solemn nether realm, - They in draughts from Lethe’s chalice, - Every mortal memory whelm. - - While above, the pensive willow - Droops forever o’er their urns, - And around their earthy pillow - Glide the many-footed worms. - - In the race with me they started - From the East with visions gay, - Vehement and hero-hearted, - Fearless of the coming fray. - - Brightly flowed their golden tresses - In the soft auroral wind, - And, like falcons from their jesses, - Upward bore they unconfined. - - Bathed their spirits in the splendor - Of the Scian bard sublime, - And of Maro’s lay more tender - Heard the symphony divine. - - Felt their hearts with love unbounded - For their country running o’er, - While they read the words that sounded - In the Attic Pnyx of yore. - - But the frosts of death descended, - Ere was gone the morning’s dew, - And their joyful being ended, - While the world was fresh and new. - - Though the rose and lily wither - On their garden beds awhile, - Soon the gentle vernal weather - Shall restore their former smile. - - But for man august and splendid, - Than the angels little lower, - When his dreamlike life is ended, - Blooms his withered frame no more. - - Shades of friendship, gliding slowly - On Cocytus’ farther brink, - In this cup of nectar holy - Once again to you I drink. - - Ye have crossed the languid river, - Ye have paid the last obole; - Day for you has set forever, - Ye have won the mystic goal! - - - - -CONCETTO. - - - Ammon’s solar fount congeals - In the heat and glare of noon; - But its waters it unseals - ’Neath the kisses of the moon. - So the heart is often found - In the smiles of fortune cold; - But afflictions lowering round, - All its charities unfold. - - - - -THE LAY OF THE CONDEMNED SPIRIT IN DANTE. - - —— nel dolce mondo.—_Inferno._ - - - When o’er the threshold of the drear abyss, - Whose portals stern shall never ope for me, - Thy feet regain that upper world of bliss, - These shadowy orbs may never hope to see; - - Wilt thou to kindred hearts, that linger yet - By Arno’s stream, my hapless name recall? - For mortals soon the dearest face forget, - When blanched by death it lies beneath the pall. - - An exile in the realms of endless pain, - In dreams I see my pleasant earthly home; - Oh, bid them there resyllable my name, - Forgetful of the sins that make me moan! - - Sweet world of bliss, forever lost to me, - For your blue heavens and pleasant sun I pine! - For grass, and flower, and stream, and rustling tree, - I mourn forever in the nether clime! - - - - -LOVE’S LABOR LOST. - - - I. - - This royal gate, thou quivered sprite, - Shall ope to thee no more! - Mere Hymen’s torch is quenched and cold, - His burning lay is o’er. - The potentate, whose sceptre bright - This goodly realm obeys, - An anchoret in scholar’s weeds - Has vowed to pass his days. - - II. - - His palace is an academe, - As hushed as summer noon; - No festal sound is heard therein, - Beneath the sun or moon. - The palace-yard with rankest weeds - Is thickly overgrown, - And moss begins to carpet o’er - Each long untrodden stone. - - III. - - Bees swarm within the rifted walls, - And store their golden dew; - The livelong day with drowsy hum - They cleave the ether blue. - The yellow beams of summer sleep - In silence on the floors; - A muffled tread is sometimes heard - Along the corridors. - - IV. - - Within a vast and shady room, - With antique volumes piled, - In studious mood the monarch sits, - From passion’s lures exiled. - A skylight in the roof is made, - Through which at night are seen - The ancient stars in clusters bright, - Amid the blue serene. - - V. - - Around the king three famous lords, - Bound by the self-same vow, - In silence sit, and o’er the scrolls - Of starry Plato bow. - Above them gaze from lofty stands - The high-browed kings of thought, - Their furrowed lineaments divine - In placid marble wrought. - - VI. - - Beyond the blazoned window lies - A far-stretched prospect grand; - Lakes, emerald lawns, and rustling woods - O’erlooking all the land. - There in the sunshine, to and fro - Slow stalks a solemn wight, - Attended by a tiny page, - A pert and saucy sprite. - - VII. - - A blue pavilion farther on - Is pitched beneath the trees; - Begirt by tents, whose pennons float - And dally with the breeze. - A bevy fair of dark-eyed girls - Beneath their folds abide; - Unto the vows of yonder lords - What fortune will betide! - - VIII. - - Sometimes they scour the flowery meads, - On nimble palfreys white; - Sometimes they dance beneath the shade - Through all the balmy night. - Their merry songs, their jocund notes, - Are borne from grove to grove; - Fill up your ears with molten wax, - Ye enemies of love! - - IX. - - Short was the siege those damsels laid— - The king has gone away, - In lonely woods his lady’s wrath - By penance to allay. - The famous lords, who round him sat, - Each, at his maid’s command, - Attend a year the couch of death, - Ere he can win her hand. - - - - -THE PLAGUE IN SUMMER. - - - Oh golden hours! Elysian day, - Adorned with all things bright and gay; - Green boughs, and winds, and summer beams, - Lovely as Eden’s transient gleams! - But ah! the glorious robes ye wear - Deride the depths of man’s despair, - Since, lurking mid your gladsome rays, - The Plague of Ganges stalks and slays. - For he from Indian vales has come, - Following the circle of the sun; - Through Balk, and over Oxus’ stream, - Gliding as soundless as a dream, - Into the cities of the West, - That quail before the giant pest. - The stir of life in silence dies, - Where’er the mighty vampyre flies; - The voice of mirth is hushed and mute; - The viol shrill, the festal lute; - Alike o’er towns and hamlets brood - Silence, and Death, and Solitude; - While in the shadow of the pall - The busy worms hold carnival! - - - - -EUTHANASIA. - - - In the dawn of her life and the bloom of her spring, - Dark Asrael fanned her to sleep with his wing; - And her form, when the spirit had flown from its shrine, - Lay like marble, that’s moulded by chisel divine. - - Oh, why was she garnered in life’s early bloom - To grace with her beauty the clods of the tomb? - There were victims for death, who were weary and old, - And who longed for the slumber unbroken and cold. - - But her loveliness lives, for escaped from its urn, - In blossoms and odors her dust shall return— - And the Hesper-like glory, that shone in her eye, - To-night will be beaming a star in the sky. - - - - -THE FORGOTTEN. - - - Many a sword hath nobly wrought, - Many a warrior bravely fought, - Whose name the lyre hath never taught - To swell his nation’s minstrelsy. - In lonely woods their ashes sleep, - Whose dewy leaves above them weep, - And wild birds chant their dirges sweet— - But none e’er list their melody. - - Oh, when we pledge our father’s fame, - One flowing goblet let us drain - To those, the long forgotten slain - Whose relics moulder silently; - And o’er their foes, the warriors red, - Who for their fenceless acres bled, - Let none a tear refuse to shed— - ’Tis due to Nature’s chivalry. - - What more becomes a noble foe, - Than o’er the brave, his sword laid low, - To let the tears of sorrow flow? - They glorify his victory. - No deathless bard their valor blest, - Or Paugus, Ajax of the West, - And Philip had not sunk to rest, - Enfolded in obscurity. - - - - -TO W. P. R. - - - The links of amity that bind - Our souls together evermore, - Are forged as strong as those that joined - The brave and beautiful of yore. - - Though many a valley-darkening hill - And ocean billow may divide, - My heart retains thine image still, - Through every change of time and tide. - - Though lapsing years are friendship’s bane, - And absence brings forgetfulness, - Yet these exert their might in vain, - They cannot make our love the less. - - Across the billows of the sea, - Where rolls the legend-haunted river, - My dreaming spirit flies to thee, - Like arrow drawn from Phœbus’ quiver. - - About thy hearth-stone, dim and cold, - Forsaken Lares droop and moan; - They miss the faces, that of old - Within their joyous precincts shone. - - Full soon the halls of Dis shall hide - Both thee and me and all we love, - For, bubbles on a rushing tide, - Our evanescent beings move. - - While yet the stars above us shine, - And youth and hope and love remain, - O, pilgrim seek thy natal clime, - And glad my heart and eyes again! - - - - -THE SONG OF ENEAS’ MEN. - - - Joy to us, for yonder river - Opens up a pathway calm - To the green and silent inland, - Under forests dropping balm. - Wandering Lares, ye shall nestle - In the hearth-light once again— - Ye shall drift no more at random, - Sport of tempest and of rain. - Though the gentle household voices, - Wont of old your ears to thrill, - By the banks of far Scamander - Are forever hushed and still; - - Kindred hands shall heap your altars, - Kindred knees before you bow, - In the country of the stranger, - Into which we enter now. - Woodland carols bid us welcome - From the Siroc and the foam; - Safe escaped from moaning surges - We at length have found a home. - Shepherds’ fires on mountain headlands, - We shall watch your gleams no more, - Gazing wildly from the billows, - To the wished-for, tranquil shore. - - Twins of Leda, on our quarters - Ye shall never flame again; - We shall bow to rustic altars, - Not the trident of the main. - Softly rolls the yellow river - Eddying to the briny sea, - Soon upon his waves to carry - Battle-ship and argosy; - Soon to change his rippling murmur - Into ocean’s clangor wild, - And be mingled with the waters - In which nations are inisled. - Joy to us, his gentle current - Opens up a pathway calm - To the green and silent inland, - Under forests dropping balm. - - - - -THE AUTHORESS OF THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO. - - - Her genius had its dwelling in the light - Of setting suns, and the deserted halls - Of ivy-clad chateaux, where, undisturbed, - Arachne plies her gossamer loom, filming - The sumptuous tapestries, embroidered o’er - With flowers and gay Ovidian phantasies, - And the refulgent mirrors, long ago - Wafted in argosies from the lagunes - Of wealthy Venice. Through the silent night, - The rippling shadows of the ancient trees - Dapple the floors, and ’neath the fireless hearths, - The crickets chirrup shrill—while from the walls - The painted semblance of some Lady Blanche, - Or rose-lipped Maude, or Eleanore looks down, - Long since enveloped in the robes of death. - In summer, when the luscious peach is ripe, - Through the great windows opening westward lie - Delicious prospects; lawns and wooded slopes, - Orchards of grapes—and o’er the tree-tops high - The glittering ocean backed by sunset skies, - With gold and amethystine vapors hung. - - - - -MONODY OF THE COUNTESS OF NETTLESTEDE. - - - Oh vernal sun, how cold thy beams to me! - Since they can never more illume - His face, my heart’s idolatry, - That now, alas! immersed in urnal gloom, - Far, far below thy golden glances lies, - Wrapt from these yearning arms and weeping eyes! - In vain for me, sweet flowers, ye reassume - Your vestments rare of oriental dyes; - Your subtle fragrance and your glorious bloom - But call to mind a sweeter far than you— - My Prince and Lord, my Beautiful and True, - Whose cheek was burnished with as bright a hue - As decks your leaves, whose eyes were wont to shine - Upon my glowing face like stars benign. - Again I hear the South wind’s murmurs low - Making the earth with life and beauty glow, - But now more icy than the Sarsar’s breath, - In deserts old the minister of death, - Around my worn and wasted frame it sighs, - Recalling soft Elysian memories. - How oft engraven in the oaken rind, - My hapless name with his I see entwined. - Dear hand, that carved these love knots, ’neath the mould - Thou now alas! art shrunken, pulseless, cold! - And has he left the world forevermore, - That still contains his ill-starred paramour? - Oh, woe is me! Oh sickening, keen distress! - Oh solemn, strange, and mighty loneliness! - That makes to issue from my riven breast - Sob after sob of anguish unrepressed - And irrepressible, till, nerveless down - My cold limbs sink upon the sun-warm ground.— - Thence up aloft I gaze with yearning eyes - Into the vast and azure-flowing skies, - Far, far beyond whose airy curtains stand - The many mansions of the angel land. - There, girt with seraphs sits the mother mild, - And there in glory reigns her sinless child. - Oh, Holy One! Thy countenance benign - Unto thy weary worshipper incline! - My lonely spirit quickly call away - From earth, and its pale tenement of clay! - The sunlit hills, woods, vales, and waters clear, - And home and household faces once so dear— - All these fair sights since his departure seem - Mournful and strange,—a vision and a dream. - Oh, Saviour merciful! whate’er his fate - Beyond the grave, let me participate. - If garmented in light, he walks serene - By thy still waters, through thy pastures green, - My soul make pure so long by sin defiled, - And, raised to heaven, acknowledge me thy child! - But if, Erinnys-like, the bloody Doom, - That here on earth pursued him to the tomb, - Lured by his sins relentless pass beyond, - And hunt him to the gulfs of woe profound, - Together let our erring sprites be hurled - Afar into some sad autumnal world— - Some land of withered leaves and sighing winds, - Where twined in one we may bewail our sins! - Father in Heaven, forgive this impious prayer! - Thou know’st it rises from my deep despair, - Be merciful unto my wretched state— - Indeed, indeed, I am unfortunate! - Far, far from me the loved one buried lies— - His sepulchre unknown to these dim eyes— - In that sad chapel, whose dark aisles contain - Full many a haughty heart and guilty brain, - Beauty and strength resolved to dust again. - There languish now henceforth in dull decay - Those eyes, that glistened with a star-like ray. - From his blanched lip and cheek forevermore - Fades the fresh rose which blossomed there before. - Gory and dank, bereft of all their grace - His tresses hang about his marble face— - Not as of old, when flowing unconfined, - Their odors wooed the amorous summer wind. - Livid and blue those beauteous lips, whose kiss, - The seal of love, imparted perfect bliss. - The rosy twilights and the moons of May, - Beneath whose beams we loved the hours away, - Are gone—and gone the ruddy ember-gloom, - That filled with lurid light our silent room, - When o’er our hall the wintry tempest flew, - And love our yearning hearts together drew. - My stay, my life, my hope, my star is gone— - And I am left in sorrow and alone; - The oak is stricken from the vine’s embrace, - And on the earth its tendrils run to waste! - - - - - Close, close by Aidenn’s happy portals - My tent is pitched forevermore,[2] - Through which to join the bright immortals, - My loved and lost have gone before. - - In noontide trance and starry dream - Their forms transfigured oft I see; - Though Death’s cold river flows between, - Their gentle whispers come to me. - - And Aidenn’s walls I see in dreams, - Its shining turrets golden-tiled; - But swiftly fade their lovely gleams, - And leave behind a longing wild. - - There cleansed and pure from earthly stain, - Full many a martyred spirit dwells, - Through fire and wrong that did attain - Those far celestial citadels. - - Ye white-robed warders, strong and bright, - That on those shining summits stand, - Entreat for me the Prince of Light, - That I may reach his happy land. - -[2] The idea in the first four lines of this piece was borrowed from -a beautiful passage occurring in a biographical sketch of a late -distinguished poet. - - - - -PAN AND LAÏS. - - - I. - - Once on a time, grown tired of shepherd’s fare, - From hilly Arcady with swift descent, - Rough Pan in tunic wove of subtile air, - Invisible to sacred Corinth went; - Through his aerial vesture vision-proof, - No mortal eye could see or horn or hoof. - - II. - - With soundless tread he passed from street to street, - Through which as arteries the sea-winds blew; - And gorgeous shows the mighty rustic greet, - Where’er from right to left his glance he threw; - Poor seem his pastoral hills and forests all, - Matched with the Isthmus’ peerless capital. - - III. - - For now its rampires, palaces, and shrines, - Lit up by morning’s golden glances stood; - A pillared labyrinth, through which there winds - With ceaseless flow a various multitude. - Nobles and merchants swiftly roll along, - On radiant cars by Thracian coursers drawn. - - IV. - - And hoary priests, in robes of purest white, - Lead slowly up the pomp of sacrifice - To stately fanes, where wreaths of incense light - From fuming altars climb the purple skies; - While slender pipes by youthful minions blown, - With softest melodies the rites make known. - - V. - - From foam-born Aphrodite’s voluptuous seat - On Acrocorinth’s lofty summit pour, - Their raven tresses dropping unguents sweet, - Her thousand handmaids to the busy shore, - Where they entangle in their wanton wiles - The voyagers come from continents and isles. - - VI. - - As on he passed, the Arcadian god admires, - Between tall sculptured piles that line the way, - Cool lymph in crystal jets, and sheaf-like spires, - From marble gorges spouted ceaselessly; - Whose myriad drops with charmed eyes he sees, - Bestrode by interwoven Irides. - - VII. - - Weary at length of wandering here and there, - His eyes sore dazzled by the eternal gleam - Of sun-kissed marbles, on a shady stair, - Near which uprose a fountain’s liquid sheen, - Pan sought repose, and heard a minstrel tell - In plastic verse of Here’s potent spell; - - VIII. - - Which, on a mountain-couch of vernal flowers, - Lulled by its might the Thunderer to sleep, - Who lay, regardless of the ebbing powers - Of Ilion’s champion, locked in swoonings deep. - Here, while he sat, a sudden silence fell - On all the street, that, quiet as the cell - - IX. - - Of Indian saint by Ganges’ marge afar, - Within a moment’s interval became; - For on a rose-ensanguined ivory car, - Of swanlike shape, and lovelier than the wain - Of Dawn, came Laïs, Eros’ idol fair, - Delicious, soft, and warm as vernal air. - - X. - - A golden tiar begirt her forehead white, - Which flashed with many an orient amethyst, - With jacinth, pearl, and opal’s fire-red light; - Each gem the guerdon of a burning kiss - On Asian lords bestowed, who wore the crowns - Of those voluptuous Ionian towns— - - XI. - - Miletus, Smyrna, and the rest, that line - The eastern margin of the central sea; - Whence many a burnished galley o’er the brine - To Corinth crosses, drawn by witchery - Of laughter-swimming eyes and rosy lips, - Wherein she doth all other towns eclipse. - - XII. - - Slow rolled proud Laïs’ wheels—while here and there, - On warrior, bard, and sage, who spell-bound stood, - She showered familiar smiles, that flushed the air, - And thrilled each heart in all the multitude; - Her partial glances raised a prouder glow - Than all the wreaths that glory could bestow. - - XIII. - - Pan, at her presence, felt his cloud-robe turn - Fire-red, like vapors round the sinking sun; - Not thus for dreamy Dian did he burn; - And how a kiss might from her lips be won, - He of his horn-clad brain assistance sought, - Which, full of schemes, struck out a subtle thought. - - XIV. - - For swift as light, from some far river’s meads, - A hornet flying drove his venomed sting - Into the foreheads of her glossy steeds; - They, bolting upward, made a sudden spring, - That snapped, like gossamer threads, each leathern trace, - And dashed the chariot on a statue’s base. - - XV. - - By arms invisible the falling dame - Was held unwounded in the yielding air; - And on her brow there fell a fiery rain - Of kisses, caught from lips in ambush there; - Then gently to the earth her form declined, - While rose a reed-like murmur on the wind. - - - - -ATHENS. - - - She sits in glory on her eyrie high, - Far seen, the Pharos of antiquity; - And, through the dusky-woven veil of time, - She vents her sun-bright shafts, that pierce and shine - Like lightning, from the golden quivers drawn - Of high philosophy and Sophoclean song. - Around her feet in lucid currents wind - Two streams, through marble-paven channels, lined - By temples pillar-propt, whose snowy sheen - Glistens like silver through the olive’s green. - - - - -ACHILLES’ SONG. - - - I. - - Glory is in the balance laid, - An early doom and endless praise; - ’Gainst these in adverse scale are weighed - The joys of peace and length of days. - Give me the grave—the glory give, - The field of honor, and the tomb! - What boots it like a hind to live, - And sink at last in lampless gloom? - - II. - - The soft embrace of love I yield, - The pleasures of the Sybarite; - And, rushing to the gory field, - With battle’s carnage feast my sight. - Though meteor-like my course may be, - Through blood and slaughter quickly run; - A growing fame remains to me, - While rivers flow, and shines the sun. - - - - -ANASTASIUS. - - - Lands of the burning East, adieu! - I bid your Sun farewell! - To colder climates, strange and new, - My bark the winds impel. - From olives of the Grecian vale - To northern firs I go; - To darkness, snow, and rain, and hail, - From skies that ever glow. - - There memories gloomy as the clime, - Like vulture-beaks will gnaw; - The ruined maid, the plundered shrine, - The violated law— - The life-blood, which my gory hand - From friendship’s bosom drew— - These drive me from my native land, - To regions cold and new. - - Isle of my birth, I never more - Will seek thee o’er the wave; - For fast beside thy lovely shore - Is Helen’s early grave. - The billows of the ocean roll, - And murmur softly there; - To Mary Mother for her soul - Is uttered many a prayer. - - Old Stamboul’s halls I ne’er again - In pleasure’s train shall tread, - Nor sauntering view, with slackened rein, - Her City of the dead; - Nor o’er the yellow desert far - The dome of Ali spy, - Which in the distance, like a star, - Salutes the pilgrim’s eye. - - Sole solace of my dark career, - A lovely boy is left; - My ruthless lust his mother dear - Of home and joy bereft. - Her phantom hovers ever nigh, - In sunshine and in shade, - Forevermore her gentle sigh - My bosom doth upbraid. - - She loved me long, she loved me true, - I trampled on her heart, - My cold neglect the sweet one slew, - Like Asrael’s venomed dart. - Ah! white-robed saint, bend down on me - Thy features sad and mild; - My life a flowerless desert see, - All save thy gentle child. - - The haughty Scian’s heart is riven, - His buoyant spirits flown; - For him there is no hope in heaven, - Below, no rest nor home. - Forgive me, O my slighted love! - Wert thou on earth again, - Believe me, thou shouldst not reprove— - My heart would own thy reign. - - Already in my breast I feel - The immedicable ill, - The fell disease no art can heal, - Beyond the leech’s skill. - Sapped by its power my frame shall lie, - Mixed with its parent mould; - Once with those statues it could vie, - Which Hellas loved of old. - - Its day of splendor and of power - Even in my youth is past; - Its Phidian symmetry no more - Shall beauty’s promise blast. - Apostate to my father’s creed, - I from their heaven am banned; - How o’er Jehennan shall I speed, - By light Al Serat spanned? - - The infernal surge, which moans below - Its gossamer arches frail, - Me, plunging to the gulfs of woe, - Will whelm in endless bale. - Would that my soul might share a part - Of perfect bliss with thee! - O, dark-eyed Smyrniote of my heart, - My wronged Euphrosynè! - - - - -CYMINDIS. - - Ορνιθι λιγυρη εναλιγκιος, ην τ’ εν ορεσσι - Χαλκιδα κικλησκουσι Θεοι, ανδρες δε Κυμινδιν.—_Homer._ - - - Beside my lattice cool at dead of night, - As I sat musing on unnumbered things, - With startled glance I saw a figure bright, - - No larger than a star, on luminous wings - Borne towards me with a swift continuous flight, - From some green island in the Occident. - - At first, methought that Hesper from his throne - Upon the forehead of the firmament - Had parted, and was gliding o’er the foam - - Of ocean towards me; but my error soon - Became apparent—for a gorgeous bird, - Apparelled in full many a splendid plume - - Of green, and gold, and purple, came and stirred - An olive’s foliage with its flutterings; - Where, perching on a slender flexile bough, - - It stayed its flight and furled its weary wings. - Voiceless awhile, against a dark green spray - It leaned its breast; then making prelude low, - - From its dim throat poured out a lengthened flow - Of moist Memnonian melody—a lay - More soft and sweet than ancient Pan could play - - Through all the wild Circean realm of sound, - Did range this feathered minstrel’s dulcet tongue; - So that no note, or high or low is found, - - That by its tuneful throat was left unsung. - Sometimes I heard a flute’s low silvery plaining, - And then anon a shepherd’s reed was blown; - - And then a far-off clarion’s exclaiming - Aroused my spirit with its martial tone; - Which died ere long into a tender moan— - - The wail of Indian lover, languishing - Beneath a guarded princess’ lattice high. - This ceased; and next a music rivalling - - The spheral chime that fills the starry sky, - An intervolved Æolian harmony, - Stole through the porch of sound into the hall - - Where my delighted spirit sat enthroned, - And from their cells the loftiest thoughts, that woned - Therein, rapt into ecstasy, did call— - - A sudden shriek of keenest anguish broke - My breathless rapture, and the silver chain - Of that wild song, alas! Cymindis’ note - - (Such was that Iris-feathered warbler’s name) - Was stilled forever. Him within the beak - Of a relentless vulture dead I saw, - - That, swooping from the clouds, his descant sweet - Had hushed to silence, to appease the maw - Of famine in his eyrie on the steep. - - - - -THE CEMETERY IN SUMMER. - - - The west wind in the piny bough - A low eternal threne - Weaves o’er the dead that sleep below - The sleep without a dream. - The night-leaved cypress’ shadow glooms, - The flexile willow sighs, - While gorgeous summer glows and blooms - In florid earth and skies. - - On marble shaft and urnal stone - Glimmers the sunny beam, - And squirrels chirp and wild bees drone - About the alleys green. - Through leafy vistas, long and dim, - Where slanting sunlights fall, - I see a troop of spectres thin, - In cerement, shroud, and pall. - - Shades insubstantial gliding slow, - The harvest of the years, - Above whose narrow dwellings flow - Bereaved affection’s tears. - The din of life from yonder towers - Is but a murmur here; - A bee-like hum amid the flowers, - It falls upon mine ear. - - Ye tranquil sleepers, stretched below, - How pleasant is your rest! - Your pulseless hearts no longer know - The cares which life infest. - The silent Hours no longer bring - Or good or ill to you; - And slander’s shaft no more can sting - The slumberer ’neath the yew. - - In cool seclusion dark and deep, - Beneath the teeming mould, - Ye reck not of the summer’s heat, - The sleety winter’s cold. - The constellated stars at night - Through waving branches gleam, - And Titan’s arrows, swift and bright, - Across your couches stream. - - Sepulchral Eros, mourning here - Forgetful of thy bow, - With torch reversed and falling tear, - And pinion-shaded brow! - The eyes are dim beneath your tread, - That sunned you with their light; - The lips, where you on kisses fed, - Are cold and lily-white. - - - - - All hail, my gentle household Lar! - My silent mansion ’mid the trees! - My devious steps have wandered far, - O’er lands of Eld beyond the seas. - - Amid thine autumn fields I hear, - Prophet of rain, the whistling quail; - While from its sheaf the wheaten ear - Is beaten by the sounding flail. - - In other climes this quiet home - Has risen star-like to my view, - When tired, dejected, and alone, - No friendly heart my sorrows knew. - - ’Twas years ago the passion came, - A vague desire, a longing wild - To visit lands, whose wondrous fame - Had charmed my fancy when a child. - - When dreamy south winds softly blew - In spring time o’er the misty glebe, - And birds of passage wedge-like flew - To distant lake and arctic mead, - - I felt the longing uncontrolled, - The yearning wish to be away, - Where splendid cities rich and old - In happier climates glittering lay. - - Their towers have filled my sated eyes, - Their sins and follies all are known, - With quickened step the pilgrim hies - To greet once more his long-left home. - - O silent house! O breezy shade! - Haven of rest and refuge sweet! - The great world’s din can ne’er invade - Thy lonely courts, my green retreat! - - Like Sirmio’s minstrel travel-worn, - My own soft couch at length I press, - And thinking o’er the toils I’ve borne, - Forget in sleep my weariness. - - - - - The singing masons - Building roofs of gold.—SHAKESPEARE. - - - Pilgrim! within the hollow of this oak - Once hummed and toiled a commonwealth of bees. - And in all honeydom there were no folk, - Of swifter wing or sharper sting than these. - The waxen fragments, round the fountain strown, - With more than dædal artifice ywrought, - Once formed the structures of their fragrant town, - Which hung embosomed in this oaken grot. - Its name was Crocusburg. ’Twas built, they say, - By queen Iophile, whose early home - Was in a mountain cleft of Attica. - She with her bees was often wont to roam - The Ægean isles, in quest of flowery prey; - And so it fell one summer afternoon, - As she led thence her train, each wing and thigh - Clogged with the sweets of many an island-bloom, - Just off Mount Sunium’s marble forehead high, - A sudden rain-gust blew them all awry - A thousand leagues into the western sky. - Beneath their flight, a waste of surges wild, - Shoreless and gray the vast Atlantic rolled; - And o’er its waves no Tyrian galley toiled, - Whereon they might their gauzy pinions fold. - But they escaped, a saffron-scented wind, - Which blew from meads below the horizon’s rim, - Into this blossom-tessellated vale - They swiftly traced, a thin aerial clue - By their keen muzzles in the trackless blue - Of heaven detected, and they builded here - A honey mart, that grew without a peer. - Its cells and waxen magazines ran o’er - With brimful floods of lucent yellow dew, - The choicest sweets of every gold-eyed flower, - That on the earth’s green bosom ever grew. - Whether its leaves and scented buds expand, - At morn and eve by spicy breezes fanned, - Above the tropics’ hot volcanic mould, - O’er sunless magazines of gems and gold; - Or nature weaves it with less gaudy dyes, - In moister looms, upon a colder shore— - Each flower-clad vale beneath the purple skies - Its tribute yielded to their fragrant store. - - - - -AGIMUR FATIS. - - - We are as wrecks upon a stormy sea, - The winds and currents bear us where they will; - Or dry leaves, that before the tempest flee, - Borne on to good or unevaded ill. - - Ere weeping through the gates of life we came, - Our lots were fixed, each act and thought decreed: - In vain we strive—we stem the tide in vain;— - Alike the idiot’s brain, the sage’s rede. - - Powerless before the unimpassioned Doom - The form of beauty and the lofty mind; - The shuttle speeds athwart the fatal loom— - Our lots are woven as the threads unwind. - - Sorrow and gladness intertwined are ours, - Or woe unmixed, or pleasure undefiled; - Exult not, though thy path be strewn with flowers, - Oft mid their bloom the venomed asp lies coiled. - - On the dark billows of the sea of fate - Full many a glorious shape floats wrecked and pale; - While meaner beings, haughty and elate, - A festal throng before the zephyrs sail. - - And star-like eyes and lovely cheeks are dewed - With ceaseless tears, an unextinguished rain; - And youth and strength, and kingly fortitude - With dotard weakness struggle oft in vain. - - - - -A HERMITAGE. - - - A Saxon eremite of old did rear - My mossy walls beneath this pine-clad slope; - From learned Iona, armed with clerkly lere, - He went in youth, and dealt a deadly stroke - Through all the lonely Arctic Cyclades - On Pagan creeds; and o’er the misty seas - In Suevia with Odin’s might did cope, - The chief of blue Valhalla’s deities; - Nor ceased, till from his forest temple dark - Had fled each white-stoled oaken hierarch. - His mission done, beneath my lowly roof - His days he passed, from all the world aloof. - - - - - I saw a snake-girt embryon, crowned and dumb, - Its rigid finger, pointed towards the sky; - From whence the fiery breath of life must come, - That kindles unborn lip and rayless eye. - - I saw a demon beagle dark as night, - A shadowy maiden, hounding through the air; - And as she fled she shrieked with wild affright, - And, Mœnad-like, behind her streamed her hair. - - The bridal couch of sad Proserpina - In grim Hephæstus’ realm mine eyes beheld; - The ravished bride bewailed her home afar— - Her temples bound with Stygian asphodel. - - I saw the vast Plutonian gardens, where - That cursed pomegranate shed its deadly bloom, - Whose fatal fruitage, banned from upper air - Sad Ceres’ daughter till the seventh moon. - - I saw the Pleiads, in their skyey tent, - Bemoan their starry sister, dead and cold; - His bow against her fierce Orion bent— - Orion zoned with belt of fretted gold. - - I saw the Avengers with viperean hair - Above the palace roofs at Argos fly; - The matricide Orestes shuddered there, - Obscene with matted locks and haggard eye. - - I saw the loaded tables of the Sun, - By ancient Nilus’ orbëd fountains spread; - Where wont of old the happy gods to come, - Twelve days by long-lived Ethiops richly fed. - - Phantoms of air exhaled by dark madjoon, - And visionary fabrics dim and vast; - Like vapors gliding o’er the autumnal moon, - Before imagination’s eye they passed. - - - - -LUCIFER REDUX. - - - Prince of the fallen stars, - Thy front shall lose its scars! - The fires shall cease to burn, - Thy legions shall return! - - A ray shall pierce the gloom, - A voice dissolve the doom; - The victor shall relent, - The brazen chains be rent! - - The demon’s crown of woe - No more shall gird thy brow; - The fires shall cease to burn. - Thy legions shall return. - - The dark pavilions spread - Within thy kingdom dread; - The palaces of pain, - Like dreams, shall melt and wane. - - And Eden’s flag unrolled, - Again thy helm enfold; - The fires shall cease to burn, - Thy legions shall return! - - The mystic feud shall end, - Thy willing knees shall bend; - Once more the central throne - Thy homage bright shall own. - - In heaven thy starred domain - Shall greet its chief again; - The fires shall cease to burn, - Thy legions shall return! - - Thine ancient halls of state, - So long left desolate, - Shall ring with joy once more, - Shall bloom with wreath and flower. - - The constellations bright, - The torches of the night, - Around thy steps shall chant - A pæan jubilant. - - The wheels that o’er thee drove, - The sword thy mail that clove, - Shall lead thy glad return, - Before thy march shall burn! - - - - -ANSALDO’S GARDEN. - - - Beautiful the hearts that keep - ’Neath the frosts of age - Something of their youthful heat, - Tempered in its rage. - - Teian-like, they laugh and sing, - Though the shadows gather; - For they feel the warmth of spring - In the wintry weather. - - Minstrels ’neath the snows of time - Feel their bosoms glowing, - With a fervor as sublime - As when flowers were blowing. - - Like to tomb-lamps’ beams, that spread - Lustre round decay, - To the last their hearts will shed - Sunlike haloes, fancies gay. - - Thus Ansaldo’s garden bloomed, - June in January set, - While the frosty stars illumed - Orange leaf and mignonette. - - - - -THE DYING MOSLEM. - - - Jannat al Aden’s towers I see, - I know my fate is nigh— - The Hûr al Oyun beckon me, - Their waving arms I spy. - - Sweet maids of Heaven, I come, I come! - Mine eyes in darkness swim— - The chills of death my heart benumb, - And creep through every limb. - - My trophies see around me piled— - The unbeliever’s blood - My dripping garments has defiled, - Has slaked my falchion good. - - More soft to me than beds of flowers - The gory battle plain; - For thence I mount to Eden’s bowers, - And joys immortal gain. - - The Houri’s kiss is sweeter far - Than whispers of the South; - Her eyes are like the evening star, - Her lot eternal youth! - - - - -MDCCCXLVIII-IX. - - - O torrid August—sun-emblazoned asp! - Reluctantly thy days, like coils, unclasp - And leave the worn and heat-enfeebled frame - Its wonted strength in cooler hours to gain. - - O months with ruin fraught! O years of fate! - What stars malign o’er you predominate! - The seals of death are broke—the wide earth moans, - A lazar-house of pain through all her zones. - - The seeds of swift decay broadcast impregn - The wave, the air, the land, the summer beam; - Is there no Tuscan garden as of old, - Where, to beguile the heart, sweet tales are told? - - Where youth and beauty, weaving fables gay, - With dance and music keep the cares at bay? - No pangless isolation, green and fair, - Above whose fields are charms of taintless air? - - O, vaunted Epoch! that look’st back with scorn - Upon thy brother ages elder-born— - That mak’st the lightning’s withering glance thy scribe, - And on the hissing cauldron’s breath dost ride— - - With all thy boasted sciences, must thou - Before the sworded angel veil thy brow? - Art _thou_, too, vulnerable with all thine arts? - Hast _thou_ no shield to ward the lethal darts? - - No potent balm, whose virtues can expel - The lurking venom from its citadel? - Must _thou_, too, pray for some Araunah’s floor, - Whereon the wasting vengeance may give o’er? - - Cease, then, to vaunt—for know that ages gone - Have had a wisdom mightier than your own. - The globe, a ruined palace, still will be - To Death, Disease, and War, a mansion free,— - - A mighty park, wherein, Orion-like, - The ghastly hunters unevaded strike; - Their hounds, the passions, which no arts can tame— - The ruthless beagles still pursue their game. - - No sop, that puny science can devise, - Will hush their yells, or drowse their dragon eyes; - The melancholy Asia mourns afar, - Drooping in sorrow ’neath the Plague’s red star. - - Beneath her palms the giant mother see, - Her turret-girded brow upon her knee! - The elephantine tusk, that stays her hand, - Lies unregarded in the yellow sand. - - Not thus she mourned, when Iran’s king forlorn - Fled pale and vanquished towards the realms of morn. - The mystic Brahmin, roofed by groves sublime, - Lies grovelling before his pagod shrine; - - In vain adores the monstrous shapes, that fill - The peaks of Meru’s golden-hornëd hill; - Poisoned with death the stream of Indus flows, - The baleful air a lurid furnace glows. - - The spotted pard in sultry jungle cowers, - His nerves unstrung and withered all his powers; - The glistering scales, which clothe the serpent, wane, - Their splendors darkened by the touch of pain; - Flickers no more his tongue like cloven flame; - - His crushing coils and horrent length unrolled, - Cumber the heated dust relaxed and cold. - On Himmalaya’s topmost summit lone - The Plague’s Red Fiend ascends his mountain throne,— - - In shape an Afrite, or a gloomy Djinn, - Where, underneath the brows of Heaven, begin - The Ganges’ waters, that devolving pour - Through gates of ice and starlit arches hoar. - - His bow is bent—the viewless arrows fall - On desert, ocean, vale, and capital; - The lonely ship, that ploughs the barren sea, - Is filled with shapes of writhing agony. - - The desert trains of turbaned merchants wail - From rear to van, with anguish smitten pale; - Cabool and eldest Balk are resonant - With shriek, and dolorous sigh, and Koran chant; - - And Persia’s rosy vales are thickly strewn - With lethal shafts that blight her spicy bloom, - And, through the palace of the Caliphate, - At blazing noontide speeds the wingëd fate; - - And over all the fields of ancient Roum - Settles a cloud of pestilential gloom; - The keen shafts leave the shrouded East behind, - Thridding like light the mazes of the wind. - - Onward their course they hold, nor once relent - Until they reach the shrill-tongued Occident. - The crash and roar of crowded cities cease, - And o’er their bulwark broods the desert’s peace. - - The clanging enginery forgets to move, - Where luxury’s gauds by jaded hands are wove; - The wail, the dirge, the unextinguished moan, - In streets, in fields, in ships are heard alone. - - Unknelled, unshrived, in yawning trenches deep, - The bursting corses fall a livid heap; - Death, at the growing carnage, laughs elate, - While round his throne Sesostres shrouded wait. - - Athwart Atlantic’s troubled waters fly - The arrowy fates, and fill the western sky; - Fair Erie’s queen is stricken with distress— - Named for the herd that graze the wilderness. - - And all the nascent states and cities young, - By forest, lake, and stream, with grief are wrung; - Till spent at length, beneath the sinking day - The red shafts quench their rage, and cease to slay. - - - - -THE AUTUMNAL RIDE. - - - October glittered brazen-hued - Beneath the keen autumnal sun; - Their leaves the ash and maple strewed - Like fiery coals of martyrdom. - - The mountains reared their granite cones - Through veils of ether opaline; - Their bases cinctured round with zones - Of giant beech and Delphic pine. - - We sucked the air with Ariel’s greed, - And chest and nostril ampler grew; - Mile after mile rushed by with speed— - We felt the freshness of the dew; - - While dimpled laughter soon began - To loosen up the heart and brain; - The blood inebriated ran, - Quicksilver-like, through every vein. - - We saw Monadnoc cleave the sky, - The eagle’s perch a peak sublime; - Aerial pasturages high, - Where grazed and lowed the mountain kine. - - Majestic hill, thy might is sung - In strains that with thy cliffs shall last! - As long as Night her mantle dun, - And Day his beams shall o’er thee cast. - - In radiant verse thy summit shines - Henceforth to all men evermore; - The lulling murmur of thy pines - Is audible on every shore. - - From morn till noontide on we rode— - The day grew summery awhile; - The mountain vapors throbbed and glowed, - But soon they wore a pensive smile. - - The sky, a magazine of hues, - Its amethystine glories rained; - That richer colors still diffuse, - The more the dying sunbeam waned. - - O, day forever marked with white, - With Eva passed among the hills! - A year has flown—its keen delight - In memory yet my bosom thrills. - - - - -TO ——. - - - I. - - Thou mortal Belial! thee I name - The mightiest sophist known to fame. - In the old Hellenic isles, - Rich in rhetoric’s winning wiles, - ’Mongst their most persuasive dead, - None like thee was ever bred; - E’en the Ithacensian’s lips - Thou couldst cast into eclipse; - Nor serpent’s eye, nor siren’s lute, - Nor Coptic Lotos’ magic fruit, - Could bewilder and entrance, - Like thy honied utterance. - - II. - - Shadowed thick with jetty hair, - Flowing like acanthus fair - Over pillared capital, - Towers aloft thy kingly brow; - While from sunken eyes below - Gleams a fiery southern glance, - Keener far than keenest lance. - - III. - - These, with that Ionic form, - And Asiatic fancy warm, - Assembled and conjoined in one, - Make the Forum’s paragon! - - - - -SUGGESTED BY A HEAD OF ACHILLES IN SIR WILLIAM GELL’S POMPEII. - - - The swift Pelides from a Goddess’ loins, - Like lightning from a summer cloud was born; - Ambrosial youth incarnadined his limbs - With roseal lustre and Hebean bloom; - Yet in their marble smoothness lay enshrined - A Titan’s energy—and his large eyes, - That dreamed and languished like Endymion’s, - When, vine-like, round his neck the lucent arms - Of Lycomedes’ daughter were entwined, - Glowed like a pard’s in fight. A glossy wealth - Of sunny Apollonian tresses loosely rolled - Adown his ivory shoulders. In his breast - A fiery-blooded heart throbbed fiercely—now - In sorrow unappeased venting itself - Above his fallen friend; and now in ire - Unquenchable, that withered all his foes, - When vengeance called him to the ensanguined field. - The hero’s sword not only he could wield; - The heroic lyre he also strung, and oft - At eve, in his pavilion by the sea, - His melancholy spirit soothed with song. - - - - -PSYCHE. - - - In vigils lone she hears the chimes - Of voices from diviner climes, - And sees entranced the statures grand, - That throng her lofty fatherland. - Unwonted odors, strange and rare, - Float round her on the midnight air, - From gardens where her youth was spent, - Beyond the dark blue firmament. - - The fleshly walls are white and thin, - Which close her yearning spirit in— - Celestial footfalls she can hear, - Inaudible to grosser ear. - She mourns her lot like one exiled, - Her songs are filled with longings wild - For home, and that serener day - Which lights the angels far away. - - - - -THE SERAPHS’ HOLIDAY. - - - There is a year when all the stars, which throng - The blue abysses of eternity, - Back to the stations, whence their march began, - Have rolled. The wondrous season passes not - In Heaven uncelebrated; but with pomp, - And dance, and song, and gorgeous festivals, - The happy people mark its slow return. - Then all the mighty Seraphim, who rule - By Allah’s will the starry satrapies - Of the Universe, with joyful hearts receive - Permission to revisit once again - The golden streets of Paradise, the groves, - And fields, and streams, and shady palaces - Of their nativity. Upon the morn - Of their return, soon as the eastern wind - Begins to fan the innumerable palms, - Amid whose waving branches glittering stand - The beatific mansions, straight the walls, - Smaragdine domes and minarets, which grace - Or fortify the blest metropolis, - Are thickly lined with eager faces, set - With dark angelic eyes, whose glances pierce - Interminably far the rosy veils - Of pure celestial air, wherein no mote - Or vapor floats to intercept the view. - Ere long, above the horizon’s verge appears - The expected pomp. East, West, and North and South, - Along the ancient thoroughfares, which lead - From Paradise through spaces infinite, - Besprinkled o’er with starry Cyclades, - Down to the fiery palaces, wherein - The solar Seraphs hold their sway, it comes— - A long array of chariots superb, - Harnessed to sun-engendered steeds, whose veins - Are filled with fluid fire, the succulence - Of the Heliacal pastures where they graze. - Proudly the planetary Sultans rein - Their haughty yokes, which underneath the shade - Of solar gonfalons advance, their feet - Unto the sound of lordly harmonies - Uplifting. Within the eternal gates, - Through wingëd throngs, o’er star-paved streets they ride, - And by the Stream of Life, shadowed with palms, - Unyoke their steeds, fettered with links of gold - Infrangible and bright, to graze the banks; - Then laving in the flood their giant limbs, - They haste unto the glad festivities. - - - - -MORNING. - - - All hail, thou blessed light of morn! - At length I feel thy cheering ray— - Through all the darksome night forlorn, - Yearning for thee I sleepless lay. - The Roman in his palace porch, - On the Parthenopean isle, - To dim his red nocturnal torch, - Ne’er prayed more fervently thy smile. - The dripping trees in verdure drest, - The rosy light, and eastern wind, - Dispel the larvæ, which infest - The slumbers of the troubled mind. - - O Power divine! my spirit keep - From deeds of darkness ever clear, - Lest unto me the realms of Sleep - Should be beset with phantoms drear; - For Conscience to the wicked is - A demon-evocator pale, - And summons from the soul’s abyss - Forms, which must make the stoutest quail. - - Bear witness, purple Eremite, - Who reared amid translucent seas - A gorgeous palace of delight, - A refuge from the Eumenides; - Colossal spectres nightly strode - Through portal, corridor and hall, - The Sea impersonated stood, - His dreaming spirit to appal. - - Fronting the portals of the Sun, - His lurid torches burning low, - How oft amid the shadows dun - He waited for the morning’s glow. - Bringer of pleasant thoughts, all hail! - Thy touch dissolves the guilty dream. - And Orcus’ shapeless legions quail, - Flying before thy rosy beam. - - - - -AUTUMN. - - - When yellowing woods let fall their sapless leaves, - And, breathing softly from the mild South-west, - The Indian Summer mitigates the air, - Me it delights, leaving the towers of men, - With devious feet, and void of fixed intent, - To wander far into the country still; - My path, some grassy road untrodden lone, - Which leads the steps through woods of dwarfish pines, - Where dwells unscared the solitary jay, - And sings the cricket, sole inhabitants. - In these sweet solitudes the soul becomes - Tranquil as seas mid happy isles embayed; - Here weary hearts a balsam for their woes, - In whispering boughs and silent skies can find. - - And here, amid the calm and liberal air, - The heated brain grows cool from contact free; - How sweet to live a sylvan eremite, - By some sequestered lake in forests hid, - Or pebble-paven urn, the cradle cool - Of tiny brook, or gently lapsing stream. - Legends there are of fallen kings, who held - Their exiled courts beneath the forest boughs; - Better their faded state in such pure haunts, - Than when it shone in haughty palaces! - - - - - O power of Music! whence thy spell - On man and brute, on soul and heart? - What spirit haunts the chorded shell, - Whose murmurs every passion start? - The silent tenants of the sea, - The brinded pard and serpent, own - Thy sway—their fierceness tamed by thee, - They cower and writhe about thy throne. - - Thy lordly breath to war can yield - A glory wild, a nameless charm; - The sworded ranks, the embattled field - Thou fill’st with bosoms high and warm; - The gorgeous palaces of old - Thy magic numbers cause to rise, - And faces, which the valley’s mould - Has hidden long from weeping eyes. - - The depths of love, its wild despair, - By thee are told, are breathed by thee, - And while thy whispers fill the air, - A better world we seem to see; - Some happier region undefiled, - Where youth and beauty aye abide— - Where sin the spirit ne’er beguiled, - And joy fills up the circuit wide. - - - - -DREAMS. - - - The magic of a dream how great! - To us it gives a might divine, - Whereby our souls annihilate - The power of death, and space, and time. - - The forms which lie recumbent, cold, - In tombs and charnel-houses lone, - In dreams our eyes again behold, - As they in life were loved and known. - - We enter through the gates of sleep, - Into a neutral interspace, - Most pleasant to the eyes that weep, - For Life and Death can there embrace. - - There absence ceases to divide; - Though seas and mountains intervene, - Friend unto friend can swiftly glide, - And reck not of the space between. - - There I last night thy form beheld, - My ancient comrade, tried and true! - Tears from my eyes profusely welled, - And tears as freely fell from you! - - - - -THE PENITENT. - - - Sorrowful, weak, dejected, and in fear, - Most Merciful, I fall before thy throne! - The world through wickedness is dark and drear, - Peace and content are found in Heaven alone. - - A retrospect of sin behind me lies, - A peccant youth all spent at Belial’s shrine! - The meek Judæan beckoned from the skies; - I heeded not, seduced by powers malign. - - The scales are fallen from my darkened sight, - A potent euphrasy is poured therein; - I look around with terror and affright, - Behold the world is vanity and sin! - - With labor infinite, the race of men - Their ruined mansion struggle to restore; - By their own might they think to make again - The Earth a happy Eden as of yore. - - This task no mortal skill can execute, - All Archimedean subtleties are vain; - Invention, sciences, and minds astute, - Are baulked, like those of old on Shinar’s plain. - - Though unto us the elements become - Obsequious helots to our wills subdued; - Though, Ariel-like, the glittering lightning run, - To do our errands over land and flood; - - All is in vain—a doom—a deadly blight - Is on us, and our space-embosomed home; - Our fallen natures can be made upright - By meek contrition and by faith alone. - - - - - Ocean, thou art disenchanted! - And the mariner no more - Anchors under islands haunted, - Off a silver-sanded shore; - - Where he sees some Fairy’s palace - Glitter through the boscage green; - Hears the glancing of her shuttle, - And the wizard chant between. - - Once the galley steering westward, - Toward the throne of Saturn sailed, - Toward the Islands of the Happy, - Where the summer never failed; - - Where along the beach elysian, - Heroes born in better days - Wandered, fanned by winds eternal, - Blowing inland from the bays. - - Ocean, thou art disenchanted! - And the mariner no more - Sees the sunken city glimmer, - Leagues away from any shore. - - Where are Helice and Buris? - Leaning o’er the galley’s side, - Once the voyager saw them waver - With the motions of the tide. - - Argosies condemned to wander - Havenless from clime to clime, - With ensanguined ingots laden,— - All have faded from the brine! - - And the Triton’s shell no longer - Over yesty waves is blown; - And Poseidon’s burnished axle - Drifts a wreck upon the foam. - - These are gone—but still thy surges - Kiss and girdle isles of balm, - Clasping beaches beryl-paven, - Latitudes of endless calm! - - - - -TWILIGHT IN EGYPT. - - - Round the City of the Sun, - And Mokattan mountains dun, - Fast the woof of Night is spun, - Planets through it gleaming; - Vista’d columns stretch in rows, - On whose tops with massive brows, - Sphinxes lion-limbed repose, - In the twilight dreaming. - - Shines Canopus high and calm - Over sand and waving palm, - While the sea-winds, strewing balm, - Make the Lotos quiver; - Limned upon the rising Moon, - Sculptured demons frown and gloom, - Pedestalled amid the spume - Of the Coptic river. - - Valè to the dying day - Memnon’s lips of marble say, - Darkling mid the shadows gray, - Which around it gather; - Girdled by the swelling stream, - Island-like the cities gleam, - O’er their imaged temples lean - In the blue that waver. - - Gilded by the lunar disc, - Pyramid and obelisk - Towering stand, their bases kissed - By the gulfing water; - Lakelike spreads the fertile tide, - Veiling all the valley wide— - To and fro the shallops glide, - Filled with mirth and laughter. - - - - -ARIEL’S SONG. - - - I’ll quarry the sapphire sunset - For blocks of purple air, - And over the floor of ocean - I’ll build me a palace rare; - The South wind through its chambers - By day and night shall blow, - Fanning my brow with odors, - With lovesick whispers low. - - Eolian lutes shall murmur - Their breezy notes to me, - And amber-tressed merwomen - My servitors shall be; - By showery sunbeams paven - With tessellated light, - My ivory floors shall glitter - A marvel to the sight. - - And when my lids are heavy, - With slumber’s dews oppressed, - A pale-lipped shell shall circle - My limbs reclined in rest; - The pillars of my mansion - Full proudly shall aspire, - Their corbels wrought and woven - Of opalescent fire. - - My torches shall be kindled - At wells of Naptha fine, - And myrrhine urns shall bubble - With draughts of Elfin wine; - Those gardens, which the daughters - Of Hesper sow and till, - With golden-rinded melons - My fragrant board shall fill. - - The vaunted barge of Cydnus - My shallop shall outvie, - With silken cables furnished, - With sails of purple dye; - Its deck in halcyon weather - Shall bear me o’er the main— - Its argent beak shall follow - Apollo’s sinking wain. - - - - - Where abid’st thou, prophet mighty? - Whom the fiery horses drew - Skyward from the Jordan’s rivage, - Till they faded from the view,— - Past the sceptre of Uriel, - Regent of the solar fire, - Past the starry Lion couchant, - And the planet-chorded Lyre; - - Till the citadels of Heaven - O’er the Sea of Jasper flamed, - And thy wingëd yoke in triumph - At its golden gates was reined; - Thou hast clomb the grades of splendor, - As the ages rolled away, - Till at length cherubic legions - Thee as hierarch obey. - - But thy fatherland has fallen - From the might of other days; - The anathemas of Ebal - Blight and wither all its race. - Gone the ivory house of pleasure, - Where the Syrian cedars grew, - Where the minions of Astarte - Could a monarch’s heart subdue; - - Gone the carven lion-warders - From that monarch’s jewelled throne— - But the genii malignant - Still his mighty signet own; - Still his song instinct with passion, - Like a string of rubies glows; - Than the vaunted lays of Teïos - With a sweeter cadence flows. - - - - - On her monumental scroll - Let these syllables be seen; - Meek Griselda was no dream, - No ideal of the soul. - - Softly slumbers one below, - Who an equal worth could claim - With that visionary dame, - Drawn by poet long ago. - - Face more beautiful and mild - Than the buried maiden bore, - Never blessed the earth before, - Never sorrow’s sigh beguiled. - - Through her lineaments of white - Blushed the morning’s healthy hue, - And her eye of tender blue - Was with softest lustre bright. - - Like the Mother sad and fair, - The Madonna in the skies, - She was patient, sinless, wise, - And of gentleness most rare. - - In the mansion where she died, - All is silent, drear and lone; - In the yard the lindens moan— - Through the chambers shadows glide. - - - - -THE INDIAN SUMMER. - - - Now the sweet autumnal Summer which the Indian loved so well, - Over mountain, plain, and hollow sheds the glory of its spell. - - Softer breathe the gentle zephyrs, and like visitants they seem - From a latitude benigner, from a climate more serene. - - Dream the heavens warm and glowing, shining veils of tepid haze, - Nimbus-like investing nature, through the long celestial days. - - Cities, hamlets, russet woodlands, saintly halos seem to wear, - All transfigured in the splendor of the mild October air. - - Such perchance the lenient ether, such as these the tranquil skies, - Spread above the fields of heaven, arching over Paradise. - - Brief their beauty, transient, fleeting—soon the north wind’s trump - is blown, - Whirl the leaves in gusty eddies, and the rainy tempests moan. - - - - -HYMN TO PHOSPHOR. - - - Radiant Phosphor! thou art fashioned - Like some beardless minion young, - And before the giant Mithra - Do thy wingëd sandals run. - - Morning’s herald, urn of splendor! - From thy stellar fountains flow - Purer lustres, fires intenser - Than thy brother stars can show. - - When their beams begin to darken - And the bird Alectryon sings, - Still thy torch’s tresses sparkle, - Still thine orb its radiance flings. - - Once the Dawn adored thy beauty; - Thee her acolyte she made, - Waiting in her saffron porches, - While the world was wrapt in shade. - - Kissed she oft thy beamy temples, - And from anemonies fair - Shook the dew-drops to besprinkle - Thy redundant yellow hair. - - With her arms about thee folded, - Oft thy fragrant mouth she prest, - That exhaled a sweeter odor - Than the cassia-scented West. - - Hail, thou silver-shielded planet, - Whom undying beams adorn! - Hail, thou firmamental leader! - Dewy sentinel of morn! - - - - -TO THE CRICKET. - - - Flourishes in song immortal - The Cicada famed of old; - On the brows of Attic women - Was its likeness worn in gold. - - But my Cricket! none have praised thee, - Insect full of dulcet mirth! - Singing in the August moonlight, - Minstrel of the country hearth! - - Sharded rhapsodist of Autumn, - When the year begins to wane, - In the grass and in the hedges - Trillest thou thy wiry strain. - - Harp with clasps of ivory strengthened, - Unto thee does not belong; - Thine own body is a cithern, - Its pulsations make thy song. - - In the midnight weird and holy, - When the moon is in eclipse, - Feedest thou on leaves of moly— - Honeydew-drops steep thy lips. - - - - -BOOTH’S RICHARD. - - - The sceptred Gorgon of the Isles, - The fiercest of the kingly brood, - Weaves o’er again his deadly wiles, - Again appears with flesh indued. - - Promethean will uncrushed and calm, - His blighted sinews nerved and strung, - All foes he met without alarm— - At fiend or god his gauntlet flung. - - His spirit was a dark abyss, - Its surface glassed with summer smiled; - But deep below the dragon hissed, - And thoughts like hydras lurked and coiled. - - The bright-haired shadows drenched in blood, - The stifled Princes sweet and pale, - Athwart his dim pavilion strode— - His heart of iron did not quail. - - Though from beneath Gehenna stirred, - And sent its legions to the fray, - The war-cry from his lips was heard, - Like blast of bugle far away. - - Girt lion-like with countless foes— - On earth, in heaven, without a friend— - With clenching teeth and gathered brows - He battled bravely to the end. - - - - -L’ENVOI. - - - ’Neath the rainy Equinox, - Flooding her dishevelled locks, - Lies the Summer dead and cold, - With her shroud about her rolled, - Like the drowned Ophelia fair, - Dripping from the oozy mere; - O’er her bleaching corse complain - Sighing winds and chilling rain. - - Withered fillets, garlands sere, - Bind her brow and deck her bier— - Urnlike lilies, violets frail, - Faded blossoms of the vale, - Thickly strew her loosened hair. - - Sorrowing o’er his daughter fair, - Sadly bends the stricken Year, - To her lips applies his ear; - For the voice which long ago - Cheered him with its music low, - Hearkens he, and for the smile - Wont his dotage to beguile, - Lifts her drooping lids in vain,— - She will never smile again. - - Ravished from their mistress pale, - Fly her tresses on the gale; - Driving North winds pipe and rave - Threnodies about her grave. - Bird and leaf forsake the tree— - Sinks to rest the yellow bee; - All his labors in the sun, - All his airy voyages done; - While the squirrel gathers fast - Largess of the bough and blast. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELFIN LAND: AND OTHER -POEMS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |