is eye of fire,
And burning lips, that tremble with desire,
Pale sunken cheek:--and as he staggered by,
The trumpet-blast was hush'd, and there arose
A melting strain of such soft melody,
As breath'd into the soul love's ecstacies and woes.
Loudly again the trumpet smote the air,
The double drum did roll, and to the sky
Bay'd War's bloodhounds, the deep artillery;
And Glory,
With feet all gory,
And dazzling eyes, rushed by,
Waving a flashing sword and laurel wreath,
The pang, and the inheritance of death.

He pass'd like lightning--then ceased every sound
Of war triumphant, and of love's sweet song,
And all was silent--Creeping slow along,
With eager eyes, that wandered round and round,
Wild, haggard mien, and meagre, wasted frame,
Bow'd to the earth, pale, starving Av'rice came:
Clutching with palsied hands his golden god,
And tottering in the path the others trod.
These, one by one,
Came and were gone:
And after them followed the ceaseless stream
Of worshippers, who, with mad shout and scream,
Unhallow'd toil, and more unhallow'd mirth,
Follow their mistress, Pleasure, through the earth.
Death's eyeless sockets glared upon them all,
And many in the train were seen to fall,
Livid and cold, beneath his empty gaze;
But not for this was stay'd the mighty throng,
Nor ceased the warlike clang, or wanton lays,
But still they rush'd--along--along--along!

SONNET.

To a Lady who wrote under my likeness as Juliet, "Lieti giorni e felice."

Whence should they come, lady! those happy days
That thy fair hand and gentle heart invoke
Upon my head? Alas! such do not rise
On any, of the many, who with sighs
Bear through this journey-land of wo, life's yoke.
The light of such lives not in thine own lays;
Such were not hers, that girl, so fond, so fair,
Beneath whose image thou hast traced thy pray'r.
Evil, and few, upon this darksome earth,
Must be the days of all of mortal birth;
Then why not mine? Sweet lady! wish again,
Not more of joy to me, but less of pain;
Calm slumber, when life's troubled hours are past,
And with thy friendship cheer them while they last.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.

Merciful spirit! who thy bright throne above
Hast left, to wander through this dismal earth
With me, poor child of sin!--Angel of love!
Whose guardian wings hung o'er me from my birth,
And who still walk'st unwearied by my side,
How oft, oh thou compassionate! must thou mourn
Over t