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Shall I nestle near thy side?

Wouldst thou me ?-and I replied,
No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon;

Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night.
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!

FROM THE ARABIC.

AN IMITATION.

My faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;

It panted for thee like the hind at noon
For the brooks, my love.

Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight,
Bore thee far from me;

My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,
Did companion thee.

Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,
Or the death they bear,

The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
With the wings of care;

In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,
Shall mine cling to thee,

Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,
It may bring to thee.

TO E*** V***.

MADONNA, wherefore hast thou sent to me
Sweet-basil and mignonette?

Embleming love and health, which never yet
In the same wreath might be.

Alas, and they are wet!

Is it with thy kisses or thy tears?
For never rain or dew

Such fragrance drew

From plant or flower-the very doubt er dears

My sadness ever new,

The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed for thee.

TIME.

UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears!

Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality,

And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore: Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea?

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II.

"Our boat has one sail,
And the helmsman is pale;—

A bold pilot I trow,

Who should follow us now,"
Shouted he;

And she cried, "Ply the oar;
Put off gayly from shore!"
As she spoke, bolts of death
Mixed with hail, specked their path

O'er the sea.

And from isle, tower, and rock,
The blue beacon-cloud broke;
Though dumb in the blast,
The red cannon flashed fast

From the lee.

III.

"And fearst thou, and fearst thou? And seest thou, and hearst thou? And drive we not free

O'er the terrible sea,

I and thou?"

One boat-cloak did cover

The loved and the lover;

Their blood beats one measure,

They murmur proud pleasure
Soft and low;

While around the lashed Ocean,
Like mountains in motion,
Is withdrawn and uplifted,
Sunk, shattered, and shifted.
To and fro.

IV.

In the court of the fortress
Beside the pale portress,

Like a bloodhound well beaten

The bridegroom stands, eaten
By shame.

On the topmost watch-turret, As a death-boding spirit, Stands the gray tyrant father; To his voice the mad weather Seems tame;

And with curses as wild

As e'er clung to child,

He devotes to the blast

The best, loveliest, and last
Of his name!

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