What is there in thee, Man, that can be known?

Dark fluxion, all unfixable by thought, A phantom dim of past and future wrought,

Vain sister of the worm,-life, death, soul, clod

Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God! 1832.

FORBEARANCE

Beareth all things.-2 COR. xiii. 7.

GENTLY I took that which ungently

came,

And without scorn forgave :-Do thou the same.

A wrong done to thee think a cat's-eye spark

Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own heart dark.

Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin,

Fear that the spark self-kindled from within,

Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare,

Or smother'd stifle thee with noisome air. Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds,

And soon the ventilated spirit finds
Its natural daylight. If a foe have
kenn'd,

Or worse than foe, an alienated friend,
A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side,
Think it God's message, and in humble
pride

With heart of oak replace it ;—thine the gains

Give him the rotten timber for his pains! 1832.

LOVE'S APPARITION AND EVANISHMENT

AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE

LIKE a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind,

In my own heart; or that, indeed a trance,

Turn'd my eye inward--thee, O genial Hope,

Love's elder sister! thee did I behold, Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold,

With roseless cheek, all pale and cold and dim,

Lie lifeless at my feet!

And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim,

And stood beside my seat;
She bent, and kiss'd her sister's lips,
As she was wont to do ;-
Alas! 'twas but a chilling breath
Woke just enough of life in death
To make Hope die anew.

LOVE'S BURIAL-PLACE

Lady. If Love be deadPoet. And I aver it!

Lady. Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried?

Poet. Love lies buried where 'twas born: Oh, gentle dame! think it no scorn If, in my fancy, I presume

To call thy bosom poor Love's Tomb.
And on that tomb to read the line :-
'Here lies a Love that once seem'd
mine,

But took a chill, as I divine,
And died at length of a Decline.'

1833.

TO THE YOUNG ARTIST

KAYSER OF KASERWERTH

KAYSER! to whom, as to a second self,

Nature, or Nature's next-of-kin, the Elf,

Hight Genius, hath dispensed the happy skill

To cheer or soothe the parting friend's 'Alas!'

Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass,

That makes the absent present at our will;

And to the shadowing of thy pencil

gives

Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.

Well hast thou given the thoughtful

Poet's face!

Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind

A more delightful portrait left behindEven thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace,

Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee! Kayser! farewell!

Be wise! be happy! and forget not me. 1833.

P

cheaply, rather

EPITAPHIUM

TESTAMENTARIUM

Τὸ τοῦ ̓ΕΣΤΗΣΕ τοῦ ἐπιθανούς Epitaphium testamentarium αὐτόγραφον.

call

The Holy One, the Almighty God, my

Father?

Father in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee

Eternal Thou, and everlasting we. The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death:

In Christ I live in Christ I draw the breath

Of the true life -Let then earth, sea, and sky

Make war against me! On my front I show

breath

Found death in life, may here find life in death!

Mercy for praise-to be forgiven for fame He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!

9th November 1833.

And wild of head to work their own destruction,

Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet - hunting Tallien?

Enter ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST. JUST, and ROBESPIERRE Junior.

Robespierre. What? did La Fayette fall before my power?

And did I conquer Roland's spotless

virtues?

box? Him,

Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish

slumbers!

St. Just. I cannot fear him-yet we must not scorn him.

Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70 The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies

The thick black sediment of all the factions

It needs no magic hand to stir it up!

Couthon. O we did wrong to spare them-fatal error !

Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died?

And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes?

I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured

To make of Lyons one vast human shambles,

Compared with which the sun-scorcht wilderness

Of Zara, were a smiling paradise.

80

St. Just. Rightly thou judgest, Cou-
thon! He is one

Who flies from silent solitary anguish,
Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar
Of elements. The howl of maniac up-

roar