20

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 25
Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

30

TO NIGHT

SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!

Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear,-
Swift be thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Star-inwrought!

Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand
Come, long-sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn,

I sighed for thee;

5

10

15

When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest.
Lingering like an unloved guest,

I sighed for thee.

20

1824

A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last,

5

Was Time long past.

20

Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed

Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone, where all things wise and fair Descend; oh, dream not that the amorous

Deep

25

Will yet restore him to the vital air;
Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs

at our despair.

Most musical of mourners, weep again! Lament anew, Urania! He died,

30

Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride,

The priest, the slave, and the liberticide, Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite

Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,
Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite 35
Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the
sons of light.

Most musical of mourners, weep anew!
Not all to that bright station dared to climb;
And happier they their happiness who knew,
Whose tapers yet burn through that night of