With spirit vanish'd, beauty waned,
And hardly yet a glance, a tone,
A gesture-anything-retain'd

Of all that was my Marguerite's own?

I will not know!-for wherefore try

To things by mortal course that live
A shadowy durability,

For which they were not meant, to give?

Like driftwood spars which meet and pass Upon the boundless ocean-plain,

So on the sea of life, alas!

Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.

I knew it when my life was young!

I feel it still, now youth is o'er!
The mists are on the mountains hung,
And Marguerite I shall see no more.

URANIA.

HE smiles and smiles, and will not sigh,

SHE

While we for hopeless passion die;

Yet she could love, those eyes declare,
Were but men nobler than they are.

Eagerly once her gracious ken
Was turn'd upon the sons of men;

But light the serious visage grew—

She look'd, and smiled, and saw them through!

Our petty souls, our strutting wits,

Our labour'd, puny passion-fits

Ah, may she scorn them still, till we

Scorn them as bitterly as she!

Yet show her once, ye heavenly Powers,

One of some worthier race than ours!
One for whose sake she once might prove

How deeply she who scorns can love.

His eyes be like the starry lights

His voice like sounds of summer nights

In all his lovely mien let pierce

The magic of the universe!

And she to him will reach her hand,
And gazing in his eyes will stand,
And know her friend, and weep for glee,
And cry: Long, long I've look'd for thee.

Then will she weep -with smiles, till then,
Coldly she mocks the sons of men.
Till then her lovely eyes maintain

Their pure, unwavering, deep disdain.

I

EUPHROSYNE.

WILL not say that thou wast true,

Yet let me say that thou wast fair! And they that lovely face who view, They should not ask if truth be there.

Truth-what is truth? Two bleeding hearts Wounded by men, by Fortune tried, Outwearied with their lonely parts,

Vow to beat henceforth side by side.

The world to them was stern and drear,
Their lot was but to weep and moan;
Ah, let them keep their faith sincere,
For neither could subsist alone!

But souls whom some benignant breath
Has charm'd at birth from gloom and care,
These ask no love, these plight no faith,

For they are happy as they are.

The world to them may homage make, And garlands for their forehead weave; And what the world can give, they takeBut they bring more than they receive.

They smile upon the world! their ears
To one demand alone are coy;

They will not give us love and tears-
They bring us light, and warmth, and joy.

On one she smiled, and he was blest!

She smiles elsewhere-we make a din!

But 'twas not love which heaved her breast, Fair child-it was the bliss within.