I call upon thee! and compel
Thyself to be thy proper Hell!

And on thy head I pour the vial
Which doth devote thee to this trial;

Nor to slumber, nor to die,
Shall be in thy destiny;

Though thy death shall still seem near

To thy wish, but as a fear;

Lo! the spell now works around thee, And the clankless chain hath bound thee; O'er thy heart and brain together

Hath the word been pass'd-now wither!

HINK'ST thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffused in tears, implore to stay;
And heard unmoved thy plenteous sighs
Which said far more than words can
say?

Though keen the grief thy tears exprest,
When love and hope lay both o'erthrown,
Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast

Throbb'd with deep sorrow as thine own.

But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,
When thy sweet lips were joined to mine,

E

The tears that from my eyelids flow'd
Were lost in those which fell from thine.

Thou couldst not feel my burning cheek,

Thy gushing tears had quench'd its flame; And as thy tongue essay'd to speak,

In signs alone it breathed my name.

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,
In vain our fate in sighs deplore;
Remembrance only can remain,—
But that will make us weep the more.

Again, thou best beloved, adieu !

Ah! if thou canst, o'ercome regret ; Nor let thy mind past joys review,Our only hope is to forget!

WHENE'ER I VIEW THOSE LIPS OF THINE.

(TO M. S. G.)

HENE'ER I view those lips of thine,
Their hue invites my fervent kiss;
Yet I forego that bliss divine,

W

Alas! it were unhallow'd bliss.

Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,
How could I dwell upon its snows!
Yet is the daring wish represt,

For that would banish its repose.

A glance from thy soul-searching eye
Can raise with hope, depress with fear

Yet I conceal my love:-and why?
I would not force a painful tear.

I ne'er have told my love, yet thou
Hast seen my ardent flame too well;
And shall I plead my passion now,

To make thy bosom's heaven a hell?

No! for thou never canst be mine,
United by the priest's decree :

By any ties but those divine,

Mine, my beloved, thou ne'er shalt be.

Then let the secret fire consume,

Let it consume, thou shalt not know : With joy I court a certain doom, Rather than spread its guilty glow.

I will not ease my tortured heart

By driving dove-eyed peace from thine; Rather than such a sting impart,

Each thought presumptuous I resign.