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Or haply, from a lone, dim shrine,

'Mid forests of the Apennine,

Whose breezy sounds of cave and dell
Pass like a floating anthem-swell,
Thy soft eyes o'er the pilgrim's way
Shed blessings with their gentle ray.

Or gleaming through a chestnut wood,
Perchance thine island-chapel stood,
Where from the blue Sicilian sea,

The sailor's hymn hath risen to thee,

And bless'd thy power to guide, to save, watcher of the wave!


Oh! might a voice, a whisper low,
Forth from those lips of beauty flow!
Couldst thou but speak of all the tears,
The conflicts, and the pangs of years,
Which, at thy secret shrine reveal'd,
Have gush'd from human hearts unseal'd !

Surely to thee hath woman come,

As a tired wanderer back to home!

Unveiling many a timid guest,

And treasured sorrow of her breast,

A buried love—a wasting care—

Oh! did those griefs win peace from prayer ?

And did the poet's fervid soul

To thee lay bare its inmost scroll?

Those thoughts, which pour'd their quenchless fire

And passion o'er th' Italian lyre,

Did they to still submission die,
Beneath thy calm, religious eye?

And hath the crested helmet bow'd
Before thee, 'midst the incense-cloud?
Hath the crown'd leader's bosom lone,
To thee its haughty griefs made known?
Did thy glance break their frozen sleep,
And win the unconquer'd one to weep?

Hush'd is the anthem-closed the vow

The votive garland wither'd now;

Yet holy still to me thou art,

Thou that hast soothed so many a heart!

And still must blessed influence flow
From the meek glory of thy brow.

Still speak to suffering woman's love,
Of rest for gentle hearts above;

Of Hope, that hath its treasure there,
Of Home, that knows no changeful air!
Bright form, lit up with thoughts divine,
Ave! such power be ever thine!


THESE Sonnets, written in the months of April, May, and June, were intended, together with the Records of the autumn of 1834, to form a continuation of the series, entitled " Sonnets Devotional and Memorial," which appeared in the Author's last published volume," Scenes and Hymns of Life."



O FESTAL Spring! 'midst thy victorious glow
Far-spreading o'er the kindled woods and plains,

And streams, that bound to meet thee from their chains,
Well might there lurk the shadow of a woe

For human hearts, and in the exulting flow

Of thy rich songs a melancholy tone,

Were we of mould all earthly; we alone,

Severed from thy great spell, and doomed to go
Farther, still farther, from our sunny time,
Never to feel the breathings of our prime,
Never to flower again!-But we, O spring!
Cheered by deep spirit-whispers not of earth,
Press to the regions of thy heavenly birth,

As here thy Flowers and Birds press on to bloom and sing.

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