W XV. HY did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell ; Deigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell: And the world's gaudy ensigns see in shreds; Verse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed, But Death intenser - Death is Life's high meed. A XVI. ON A DREAM. S Hermes once took to his feathers light, When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept, So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright, So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies, Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day, But to that second circle of sad Hell, Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw Of rain and hailstones, lovers need not tell Their sorrows: pale were the sweet lips I saw, Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form I floated with, about that melancholy storm. 1819. IF XVII. F by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd, Let us find out, if we must be constrain'd, Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress Than Midas of his coinage, let us be Jealous of dead leaves in the bay-wreath crown : So, if we may not let the Muse be free, She will be bound with garlands of her own. TH XVIII. HE day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, Bright eyes, accomplish'd shape, and lang'rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight: 1819. XIX. I ay, love! CRY your mercy — pity O! let me have thee whole, without a blot ! - all-all- be mine! That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest Of love, your kiss, those hands, those eyes divine, That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, Yourself - your soul in pity give me all, |