"WEAK is the will of Man, his judgment blind;

Remembrance persecutes, and Hope be trays;

Heavy is woe;-and joy, for human-kind,
A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze ! "
Thus might he paint our lot of mortal days
Who wants the glorious faculty assigned
To elevate the more-than-reasoning Mind,
And color life's dark cloud with orient rays,
Imagination is that sacred power,
Imagination lofty and refined:

'Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of Faith, and round the Sufferer's temples bind

Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower,

And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

FAIR Prime of life! were it enough to gild With ready sunbearns every straggling shower;

And, if an unexpected cloud should lower, Swiftly thereon a rainbow arch to build For Fancy's errands,―then, from fields halftilled

Gathering green weeds to mix with poppy flower,

Thee might thy Minions crown, and chant thy power,

Unpitied by the wise, all censure stilled. Ahl show that worthier honors are thy due;

Fair Prime of life! arouse the deeper heart; Confirm the Spirit glorying to pursue Some path of steep ascent and lofty aim; And, if there be a joy that slights the claim Of grateful memory, bid that joy depart.

VI.

I WATCH, and long have watched, with calm regret

Yon slowly-sinking star-immortal Sire (So might he seem) of all the glittering quire!

Blue ether still surrounds him-yet-and yet;

Ir the whole weight of what we think and feel,

Save only far as thought and feeling blend With action, were as nothing, patriot Friend! From thy remonstrance would be no appeal ; But to promote and fortify the weal

Of our own Being is her paramount end;
A truth which they alone shall comprehend
Who shun the mischief which they cannot
heal.
[bliss:
Peace in these feverish times is sovereign
Here, with no thirst but what the stream
can slake,

And startled only by the rustling brake,
Cool air I breathe; while the unincumbered

Mind

By some weak aims at services assigned
To gentle Natures, thanks not Heaven amiss.

See the Phædon of Plato, by which this Sonnet was suggested.

"they are of the sky,

And from our earthly memory fade away!" THOSE Words were attered as in pensive mood

We turned, departing from that solemn sight:

A contrast and reproach to gross delight, And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed! But now upon this thought I cannot brood: It is unstable as a dream of night;

Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright, Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food. Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome,

Though clad in colors beautiful and pure, Find in the heart of man no natural home: The immortal Mind craves objects that endure:

These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam,

Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.

TO LADY BEAUMONT.

LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove

And these perennial bowers and murmuring pines

Be gracious as the music and the bloom
And all the mighty ravishment of spring.

XIX.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Whom could the Muses else allure to tread
Which only Poets know;-'twas rightly said
Their smoothest paths, to wear their light
chains?

When happiest Fancy has inspired the strains,

How oft the malice of one luckless word
Haunts him belated on the silent plains!
Pursues the Enthusiast to the social board,
Yet he repines not, if his thought stand clear,
At last, of hindrance and obscurity,
Fresh as the star that crowns the brow of
morn;

Bright, speckless, as a softly-moulded tear
The moment it has left the virgin's eye,
Or rain-drop lingering on the pointed thorn.

XX.

THE Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,

'Bright is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread bright!' She cast away, and showed her fulgent head And penetrated all with tender light, Uncovered; dazzling the Beholder's sight As if to vindicate her beauty's right, Her beauty thoughtlessly disparagèd. Meanwhile that veil, removed or thrown aside,

Went floating from her, darkening as it went; And a huge mass, to bury or to hide, Approached this glory of the firmament; Who meekly yields, and is obscured-con

tent

With one calm triumph of a modest pride. XXI.

wove

The dream, to time and nature's blended powers

I gave this paradise for winter hours,
A labyrinth, Lady! which your feet shall

rove.

Yes! when the sun of life more feebly shines, Becoming thoughts, I trust, of solemn gloom Or of high gladness you shall hither bring;

Survive, and Fortune's utmost anger try; Like these frail snow-drops that together cling,

And nod their helmets, smitten by the wing Of many a furious whirl-blast sweeping by. Observe the faithful flowers! if small to

great