POSTHUMOUS POEMS FINGAL'S CAVE. OT Aladdin magian "What is this? and what art thou? "I am Lycidas,” said he, Here, by turns, his dolphins all, Each a mouth of pearls must strew! Such a taint, and soon unweave So saying, with a Spirit's glance W ΤΟ HAT can I do to drive away Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen! In my old liberty? When every fair one that I saw was fair, When, howe'er poor or particolour'd things, And ever ready was to take her course Unintellectual, yet divine to me; Divine, I say!-What sea-bird o'er the sea Winging along where the great water throes ? How shall I do To get anew Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more Above, above The reach of fluttering Love, And make him cower lowly while I soar? Foisted into the canon law of love; No, wine is only sweet to happy men; Seize on me unawares, Where shall I learn to get my peace again? Whose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods, blind, Would fright a Dryad; whose harsh herbaged meads Make lean and lank the starv'd ox while he feeds; There bad flowers have no scent, birds no sweet song, And great unerring Nature once seems wrong. O, for some sunny spell To dissipate the shadows of this hell! Say they are gone, with the new dawning light Steps forth my lady bright! O, let me once more rest My soul upon that dazzling breast! Let once again these aching arms be placed, The tender gaolers of thy waist! And let me feel that warm breath here and there To spread a rapture in my very hair, O, the sweetness of the pain! Give me those lips again ! Enough! Enough! it is enough for me Go HYMN TO APOLLO. OD of the golden bow, Where Of the patient year, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath, Thy laurel, thy glory, The light of thy story, Or was I a worm too low crawling, for death? O Delphic Apollo ! The Thunderer grasp'd and grasp❜d, The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd; The eagle's feathery mane For wrath became stiffen'd-the sound Went drowsily under, O why didst thou pity, and for a worm Till the thunder was mute, Why was not I crush'd such a pitiful germ? The Pleiades were up, The seeds and roots in the Earth To tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow, And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now? UN LINES. NFELT, unheard, unseen, Her languid arms in silver slumber ly- Ah! through their nestling touch, Who - who could tell how much There is for madness — cruel, or complying? Those faery lids how sleek! Those lips how moist! they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: Into my fancy's ear Melting a burden dear, How "Love doth know no fulness, and no bounds." |