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A Thought of the Future.

To watch, in dying hope, affection's wane,
To see the beautiful from life depart,
To wear impatiently a secret chain,

To waste the untold riches of the heart-
No more!

Through long, long years to seek, to strive, to yearn
For human love-and never quench that thirst;

To pour the soul out, winning no return,
O'er fragile idols, by delusion nursed-
No more!

On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean,

To mourn the changed, the far away, the dead;
To send our troubled spirits through th' unseen,
Intensely questioning for treasures fled-
No more!

Words of triumphant music! Bear we on
The weight of life, the chain, th' ungenial air;
Their deathless meaning, when our tasks are done,
To learn in joy,-to struggle, to despair-
No more!

A THOUGHT OF THE FUTURE.

D

REAMER! and wouldst thou know

If love goes with us to the viewless bourne? Wouldst thou bear hence th' unfathomed source of woe In thy heart's lonely urn?

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A Thought of the Future.

What hath it been to thee,

That power, the dweller of thy secret breast?
A dove sent forth across a stormy sea,
Finding no place of rest:

A precious odour cast

On a wild stream, that recklessly swept by;
A voice of music uttered to the blast,

And winning no reply.

Even were such answer thine,

Wouldst thou be bless'd? Too sleepless, too profound, Are the soul's hidden springs; there is no line

Their depth of love to sound.

Do not words faint and fail

When thou wouldst fill them with that ocean's power? As thine own cheek before high thoughts grows pale, In some o'erwhelming hour.

Doth not thy frail form sink

Beneath the chain that binds thee to one spot,
When thy heart strives, held down by many a link,
Where thy beloved are not?

Is not thy very soul

Oft in the gush of powerless blessing shed,
Till a vain tenderness, beyond control,
Bows down thy weary head?

And wouldst thou bear all this-
The burden and the shadow of thy life-
To trouble the blue skies of cloudless bliss

With earthly feelings' strife?

The Death-Song of Alcestis.

Not thus, not thus-oh, no!

Not veiled and mantled with dim clouds of care,
That spirit of my soul should with me go

To breathe celestial air.

But as the skylark springs

To its own sphere, where night afar is driven,
As to its place the flower-seed findeth wings,
So must love mount to heaven!

Vainly it shall not strive

There on weak words to pour a stream of fire;
Thought unto thought shall kindling impulse give,
As light might wake a lyre.

And oh! its blessings there,

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Showered like rich balsam forth on some dear head, Powerless no more, a gift shall surely bear,

A joy of sunlight shed.

Let me, then let me dream

That love goes with us to the shore unknown;
So o'er its burning tears a heavenly gleam
In mercy shall be thrown!

THE DEATH-SONG OF ALCESTIS.

HE came forth in her bridal robes arrayed,

Shedding the calm of their celestial mien,
Stood pale yet proudly beautiful as they :

hall

I22

The Death-Song of Alcestis.

Flowers in her bosom, and the star-like gleam
Of jewels trembling from her braided hair,
And death upon her brow!--but glorious death!
Her own heart's choice, the token and the seal
Of love, o'ermastering love; which, till that hour,
Almost an anguish in the brooding weight
Of its unutterable tenderness,

Had burdened her full soul. But now, oh! now,
Its time was come-and from the spirit's depths,
The passion and the mighty melody

Of its immortal voice in triumph broke,

Like a strong rushing wind!

The soft pure air

Came floating through that hall—the Grecian air,
Laden with music-flute-notes from the vales,
Echoes of song-the last sweet sounds of life
And the glad sunshine of the golden clime
Streamed, as a royal mantle, round her form-
The glorified of love! But she-she looked
Only on him for whom 'twas joy to die,
Deep-deepest, holiest joy! Or if a thought
Of the warm sunlight, and the scented breeze,
And the sweet Dorian songs, o'erswept the tide
Of her unswerving soul-'twas but a thought
That owned the summer loveliness of life
For him a worthy offering! So she stood,
Wrapt in bright silence, as entranced awhile;
Till her eye kindled, and her quivering frame
With the swift breeze of inspiration shook,
As the pale priestess trembles to the breath
Of inborn oracles! Then flushed her cheek,
And all the triumph, all the agony,

Borne on the battling waves of love and death,

The Death-Song of Alcestis.

All from her woman's heart, in sudden song,

Burst like a fount of fire.

"I go, I go!

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Thou sun! thou golden sun! I go
Far from thy light to dwell:

Thou shalt not find my place below,
Dim is that world-bright sun of Greece, farewell!

"The laurel and the glorious rose
Thy glad beam yet may see;
But where no purple summer glows,

O'er the dark wave, I haste from them and thee.

"Yet doth my spirit faint to part?

-I mourn thee not, O sun!
Joy, solemn joy o'erflows my heart :
Sing me triumphal songs!-my crown is won!

"Let not a voice of weeping rise—
My heart is girt with power!
Let the green earth and festal skies
Laugh, as to grace a conqueror's closing hour!

"For thee, for thee, my bosom's lord!
Thee, my soul's loved! I die;
Thine is the torch of life restored,

Mine, mine the rapture, mine the victory!

"Now may the boundless love, that lay
Unfathomed still before,

In one consuming burst find way—
In one bright flood all, all its riches pour!