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.Both groaned at once, for both knew wellWhat thoughts were in his mind;When he waked up, and stared like oneThat hath been just struck blind.He sat upright; and ere the dreamHad had time to depart,»O God, forgive me! (he exclaimed)I have torn out her heart.«Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burstInto ungentle laughter;And Mary shivered, where she sat,And never she smiled after.Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum.To-morrow! and To-morrow! and To-morrow! –[1798-1809]Odes and Miscellaneous PoemsDejection: an OdeLate, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,With the old Moon in her arms;And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!We shall have a deadly storm.Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.IWell! If the Bard was weather-wise, who madeThe grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,This night, so tranquil now, will not go henceUnroused by winds, that ply a busier tradeThan those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakesUpon the strings of this Eolian lute,Which better far were mute.For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!And overspread with phantom light,(With swimming phantom light o'erspreadBut rimmed and circled by a silver thread)I see the old Moon in her lap, foretellingThe coming on of rain and squally blast.And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,And sent my soul abroad,Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!IIA grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,In word, or sigh, or tear –O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,All this long eve, so balmy and serene,Have I been gazing on the western sky,And its peculiar tint of yellow green:And still I gaze – and with how blank an eye!And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,That give away their motion to the stars;Those stars, that glide behind them or between,Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:Yon crescent Moon as fixed as if it grewIn its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;I see them all so excellently fair,I see, not feel how beautiful they are!IIIMy genial spirits fail;And what can these availTo lift the smothering weight from off my breast?It were a vain endeavour,Though I should gaze for everOn that green light that lingers in the west:I may not hope from outward forms to winThe passion and the life, whose fountains are within.IVO Lady! we receive but what we give,And in our life alone does nature live:Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!And would we aught behold, of higher worth,Than that inanimate cold world allowedTo the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloudEnveloping the Earth –And from the soul itself must there be sentA sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,Of all sweet sounds the life and element!VO pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of meWhat this strong music in the soul may be!What, and wherein it doth exist,This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,This beautiful and beauty-making power.Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given,Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower,Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower,A new Earth and new Heaven,Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud –Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud –We in ourselves rejoice!And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,All melodies the echoes of that voice,All colours a suffusion from that light.VIThere was a time when, though my path was rough,This joy within me dallied with distress,And all misfortunes were but as the stuffWhence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.But now afflictions bow me down to earth:Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth,But oh! each visitationSuspends what nature gave me at my birth,My shaping spirit of Imagination
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