Here on this mouldering tomb
We'll con that noblest truth,
The Flesh and Spirit's doome-
Dust and Immortall Youthe.

XX.

I AM NOT SAD!

I AM not sad, though sadness seem
At times to cloud my brow;
I cherished once a foolish dream-
Thank Heaven, 'tis not so now.
Truth's sunshine broke,

And I awoke

To feel 'twas right to bow

To Fate's decree, and this my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I grieve not, though a tear may fill
This glazed and vacant eye;

Old thoughts will rise, do what we will,
But soon again they die;

An idle gush,

And all is hush,

The fount is soon run dry:

And cheerly now I meet my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I am not mad, although I see
Things of no better mould
Than I myself am, greedily

In Fame's bright page enrolled,

That they may tell

The story well,

What shines may not be gold. No, no! content I court my doom, The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

The luck is theirs-the loss is mine,
And yet no loss at all;
The mighty ones of eldest time,
I ask where they did fall?
Tell me the one

Who e'er could shun

Touch with Oblivion's pall?
All bear with me an equal doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

Brave temple and huge pyramid,
Hill sepulchred by art,

The barrow acre-vast, where hid
Moulders some Nimrod's heart;
Each monstrous birth
Cumbers old earth,

But acts a voiceless part,

Resolving all to mine own doom,

The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

Tradition with her palsied hand,
And purblind History, may
Grope and guess well that in this land
Some great one lived his day;
And what is this,

Blind hit or miss,

But labour thrown away,

For counterparts to mine own doom,

The darkness of a Nameless Tomb?

I do not peak and pine away,
Lo! this deep bowl I quaff;
If sigh I do, you still must say
It sounds more like a laugh.
"Tis not too late

To separate

The good seed from the chaff;
And scoff at those who scorn my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I spend no sigh, I shed no tear,
Though life's first dream is gone;
And its bright picturings now appear
Cold images of stone;

I've learned to see

The vanity

Of lusting to be known,

And gladly hail my changeless doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb !

XXI.

THE JOYS OF THE WILDERNESS.

I HAVE a wish, and it is this, that in some uncouth glen, It were my lot to find a spot unknown by selfish men ; Where I might be securely free, like Eremite of old, From Worldly guile, from Woman's wile, and Friendships brief and cold ;

And where I might, with stern delight, enjoy the varied

form

Of Nature's mood, in every rude burst of the thundering

storm.

Then would my life, lacking fierce strife, glide on in dreamy gladness,

Nor would I know the cark and woe which come of this

world's madness;

While in a row, like some poor show, its pageantries would pass,

Without a sigh, before mine eye, as shadows o'er a glass:

Nonentity these shadows be,—and yet, good Lord! how

brave

That knavish rout doth strut and flout, then shrink into the grave!

The Wilderness breathes gentleness;-these waters bubbling free,

The gallant breeze that stirs the trees, form Heaven's own melody;

The far-stretched sky, with its bright eye, pours forth a tide of love

On every thing that here doth spring, on all that glows

above.

But live with man,-his dark heart scan,-its paltry selfishness

Will show to thee, why men like me, love the lone Wilderness!

XXII.

A SOLEMN CONCEIT.

STATELY trees are growing,
Lusty winds are blowing,
And mighty rivers flowing

On, for ever on.

As stately forms were growing,
As lusty spirits blowing,

K

And as mighty fancies flowing
On, for ever on ;

But there has been leave-taking,
Sorrow and heart-breaking,

And a moan, pale Echo's making,
For the gone, for ever gone!

Lovely stars are gleaming,
Bearded lights are streaming,
And glorious suns are beaming
On, for ever on.

As lovely eyes were gleaming,
As wondrous lights were streaming,
And as glorious minds were beaming
On, for ever on ;—

But there has been soul-sundering,
Wailing, and sad wondering;

For graves grow fat with plundering
The gone, for ever gone!

We see great eagles soaring,
We hear deep oceans roaring,
And sparkling fountains pouring
On, for ever on.

As lofty ones were soaring,

As sonorous voices roaring,

And as sparkling wits were pouring

On, for ever on ;—

But, pinions have been shedding,
And voiceless darkness spreading,
Since a measure Death's been treading
O'er the gone, for ever gone!

Every thing is sundering,

Every one is wondering,

And this huge globe goes thundering

On, for ever on.