What generous beliefs console

The brave whom Fate denies the goal!

If others reach it, is content;

To Heaven's high will his will is bent.

Firm on his heart relied,

What lot soe'er betide,

Work of his hand

He nor repents nor grieves,

Pleads for itself the fact,

As unrepenting Nature leaves
Her every act.

Fell the bolt on the branching oak; The rainbow of his hope was broke ; No craven cry, no secret tear,

He told no pang, he knew no fear;
Its peace sublime his aspect kept,
His purpose woke, his features slept;
And yet between the spasms of pain
His genius beamed with joy again.

O'er thy rich dust the endless smile

Of Nature in thy Spanish isle

Hints never loss or cruel break

And sacrifice for love's dear sake,

Nor mourn the unalterable Days

That Genius goes and Folly stays.

What matters how, or from what ground,

The freed soul its Creator found?

Alike thy memory embalms

That orange-grove, that isle of palms,

And these loved banks, whose oak-boughs bold

Root in the blood of heroes old.

ELEMENTS.

EXPERIENCE.

HE lords of life, the lords of life,

THE

I saw them pass,

In their own guise,

Like and unlike,

Portly and grim, —

Use and Surprise,

Surface and Dream,

Succession swift and spectral Wrong,

Temperament without a tongue,

And the inventor of the game

Omnipresent without name;

Some to see, some to be guessed,

They marched from east to west: