Majestic steep! Ah yet I love
With many a lingering step to rove
Thy ivied rocks among :

Thy ivied, wave-beat rocks recall
The former pleasures of my soul,
When life was gay and young.

Enthusiasm, Nature's child,

Here sung to me her wood-songs wild,
All warm with native fire;
I felt her soul-awakening flame,

It bade my bosom burn for fame,
It bade me strike the lyre.

Soft as the morning sheds her light
Thro' the dark azure of the night
Along the tranquil sea,

So soft the bright-eyed Fancy shed

Her rapturing dreams around my head,

And drove my cares away.

When the white moon with glory crown'd

The azure of the sky around,

Her silver radiance shed;

When shone the waves with trembling light,

And slept the lustre palely-bright,

Upon thy tower-clad head.

Then BEAUTY bade my pleasures flow,
Then BEAUTY bade my bosom glow
With mild and gentle fire!

Then mirth, and cheerfulness, and love,
Around my soul were wont to move,
And thrill'd upon my lyre.

But when the Dæmon of the deep
Howl'd around thy rocky steep,

And bade the tempests rise,

Bade the white foaming billows roar,
And murmuring dash the rocky shore,
And mingle with the skies;

Ah, then

my soul was rais'd on high,

And felt the glow of ecstacy,

With great emotions fill'd;

Thus joy and terror reign'd by turns,

And now with Love the bosom burns,

And now by FEAR IS

chilled.

Thus to the sweetest dreams resign'd,
The fairy FANCY ruled my mind,
And shone upon my youth;
But now to awful reason given,
I leave her dear ideal heaven,

To hear the voice of TRUTH.

She claims my best, my

loftiest song,

She leads a brighter maid along

Divine PHILOSOPHY,

Who bids the mounting soul assume

Immortal Wisdom's eagle plume,
And penetrating eye.

To a LOCK of HAIR.

Relick of her whom most of all I love,
Why ever thus my bitterest grief renew?
Why when a secret joy my soul would prove,
Must grateful memory sicken at thy view
Yet thou and I, dear relick, will not part,
For I will ever wear thee next my heart.

How oft revert my thoughts to that past day,
When gazing on the charms of her I loved,
With eager hand I bore my spoil away,

As o'er her neck the auburn ringlets roved;
In memory of that day we will not part,
For I will ever wear thee next my heart.

How fondly have I gazed on thee, when woe Has waked the throbbing tumult in my breast; And loath were I thy presence to forego,

Tho' that loved presence robb'd me of my rest. No, dear memento, no, we will not part, For I will ever wear thee next my heart.

M