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XIV.

A COMPLAINT.

THERE is a change — and I am poor;
Your Love hath been, nor long ago,
A Fountain at my fond Heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.

What happy moments did I count !
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for this consecrated Fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden WELL.

A Well of love - it may be deep-
I trust it is, - and never dry:
What matter? if the Waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.

Such change, and at the very door Of my fond Heart, hath made me poor.

ΤΟ

XV.

LET other Bards of Angels sing,
Bright Suns without a spot;
But thou art no such perfect Thing;
Rejoice that thou art not!

Such if thou wert in all men's view,

A universal show,

What would my Fancy have to do,
My Feelings to bestow?

The world denies that Thou art fair;

So, Mary, let it be

If nought in loveliness compare

With what thou art to me.

True beauty dwells in deep retreats,

Whose veil is unremoved

Till heart with heart in concord beats,

And the Lover is beloved.

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XVI.

How rich that forehead's calm expanse !

How bright that Heaven-directed glance !

Waft her to Glory, winged Powers,

Ere Sorrow be renewed,

And intercourse with mortal hours
Bring back a humbler mood!

So looked Cecilia when she drew

An Angel from his station;

So looked-not ceasing to pursue
Her tuneful adoration!

But hand and voice alike are still;
No sound here sweeps away the will
That gave it birth; in service meek
One upright arm sustains the cheek,
And one across the bosom lies

That rose, and now forgets to rise,

Subdued by breathless harmonies
Of meditative feeling;

Mute strains from worlds beyond the skies,

Through the pure light of female eyes
Their sanctity revealing!

To

XVII.

O DEARER far than light and life are dear,
Full oft our human foresight I deplore ;
Trembling, through my unworthiness, with fear
That friends, by death disjoined, may meet no more!

Misgivings, hard to vanquish or control,

Mix with the day, and cross the hour of rest;
While all the future, for thy purer soul,
With "sober certainties" of love is blest.

If a faint sigh, not meant for human ear,
Tell that these words thy humbleness offend,
Cherish me still- - else faltering in the rear
Of a steep march; uphold me to the end.

Peace settles where the Intellect is meek,

And Love is dutiful in thought and deed;

Through Thee communion with that Love I seek;
The faith Heaven strengthens where he moulds the creed.

XVIII.

LAMENT

OF

MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS,

ON THE EVE OF A NEW YEAR.

"Smile of the Moon! - for so I name
That silent greeting from above;

A gentle flash of light that came
From Her whom drooping Captives love;
Or art thou of still higher birth?

Thou that didst part the clouds of earth,
My torpor to reprove!

"Bright boon of pitying Heaven-alas!
I may not trust thy placid cheer!
Pondering that Time to-night will pass
The threshold of another year;
For years to me are sad and dull;
My very moments are too full
Of hopelessness and fear.

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