"Four skeletons the coal-black coursers stride;
With flamy fingers four direct the way;
A winding-sheet so white, distended wide,
Dabbled in blood, the coffin doth array :
Four hideous urchins at the corners play,
And, in quaint gambol, shift from side to side;
Meanwhile, the thrice-repeated groan severe
Smites the expiring sinner's closing ear.
"Less fearful pranks befit the merry fays:
By the trim margent of some huddling stream,
To revel in the pale moon's tremulous rays;
To prompt the doting nurse's idle dream;
Or lure the mutt'ring carl with wanton gleam;
Yet oft some ouphe malign in cradle slays
The slumb'ring babe, then sucks his flowing gore,
And, grinning, leaves him strangled on the floor.
"Some, mounted on a butterfly's pied wing,
In imitative turnay dare advance,
Arm'd with the sullen hornet's desperate sting,
Or proudly on a mailed beetle prance,
Trusting their quarrel to chivalrous chance.
Others, quick-bounding in the tiny ring,
Trip to an humble-bee's melodious drone,
More for their courtesy than valour known.
"Some, on the glossy surface of a lake,
In hazel-nut, their little pinnace, swim;
Some their deep thirst from acorn-goblet slake,
Then slily o'er the misty meadow skim,
To pinch the beldame on return from wake;
Some to the river side their course betake,
And mournful pour a melancholy scream;
Some, rattling mischievous mid charnel-bones,
Mimic the dreadful mandrake's nightly moans.
"But such low mockery, like thee, I scorn,
Averting thence, in ire, my sullied sight;
In yon ethereal groves of amaranth born,
Nurtur'd by streams of intellectual light
From the Great Spirit emanating bright,
Superior orbs my sister train adorn,
Whom beatific visions still inspire;
Though fall'n, coeval with th' angelic quire.
"Some in the halo's humid circle play,
What time the pale-ey'd moon is faintly seen;
Some o'er the beauteous lunar-rainbow stray,
Shifting their checquer'd change of colours sheen,
Better to grace their silver-shafted queen;
And sometimes, more irregularly gay,
Portentous, in the glowing north they rise,
And wave their borcal banners o'er the skies.
"Some the refulgent chariot of the sun
Pursue, descending to its western goal;
Some, courier-like, from distant planets run;
Some the huge comet's fiery wonder roll ;
Some patient sentry keep at either pole;
And others, by harmonious witch'ry won,
All heav'n responsive to the dulcet sound,
Turn the smooth spheres on tuneful axis round.
"In every twinkling star, serenely shine
Those white-robed ministers of placid bliss ;
Important is their toil, more pleasing mine ;—
To point the transport of the thrilling kiss,
Ne'er known the maiden's throbbing heart to miss ;
T'anneal the drop that falls on feeling's shrine ;
To soothe the lover's soul when frenzy-fraught;
Or lift sublime the poet's towering thought.
"Arise! arise! do not thy pulses beat
More lively marches, to forego thy lot?
Feels not thy breast a more exalted heat,
Loos'd from mortality, and yon dim
spot?
Surpassing joys, beyond conception wrought,
In my embrace thy purer sense await."-
Embay'd in ecstacies, my humil head
I rear'd; and lo! the fair phantasma fled.
And now, dank-seething from the dewy earth,
The vaporous exhalation stole away;
The faggot blaz'd upon the cottage-hearth;
And palmer Twilight, clad in amis gray,
Resign'd to ebon Night his shadowy sway.
Musing on descant high, whose future birth
Haply may not my humble name abase,
Homeward I bent my desultory pace.
AVAUNT, ye scowling cares, of hideous brow! Whilere that brooded on my joyless breast: No more beneath your baneful sway I bow, No more your terrors haunt my tranquil rest. In blooming bow'rs of fond idea blest, White-handed Hope, with seraph-smile divine, And Peace, emerging from her halcyon-nest, And all the beauteous race of Mind, are mine, While polished Moira lends a lustre to my line.
There are, the witching verse who basely slight,
Intent on vulgar arts I loath to share;
There are who feel no exquisite delight
In aught sublimely grand, or sweetly fair;
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