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النشر الإلكتروني

XVIII.

THE HUMAN SEASONS.

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

There are four seasons in the mind of man : He has his lusty spring, when fancy clear

Takes in all beauty with an easy span : He has his Summer, when luxuriously

Spring's honeyed cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high

Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things

Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

XIX.

ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER.

Come hither, all sweet maidens soberly,

Down-looking aye, and with a chastened light,

IIid in the fringes of your eyelids white, And meekly let your fair hands joined be, As if so gentle that ye could not see,

Untouched, a victim of your beauty bright,

Sinking away to his young spirit's night, Sinking bewildered ’mid the dreary sea: 'Tis young Leander toiling to his death;

Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips
For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile.

O horrid dream ! see how his body dips
Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile
He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!

XX.

TO AILSA ROCK,

HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid !

Give answer from thy voice, the sea-fowl's screams!

When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams ! When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid ? How long is't since the mighty power bid

Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams?

Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams?
Or when gray clouds are thy cold coverlid ?
Thou answer’st not, for thou art dead asleep!

Thy life is but two dead eternities-
The last in air, the former in the deep;

First with the whales, last with the eagle-skiesDrowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep

Another cannot wake thy giant size.

THE END.

C. SHERMAN, PRIXTER.

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