Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 22 1828.pdf/11

 And smites the heart, till all its chords reply, As leaves make answer when the wind sweeps by.

Come to me! visit my dim haunt!—the sound Of hidden springs is in the grass beneath, The stock-dove's note above, and all around The poesy that with the violet's breath Floats through the air, in rich and sudden streams, Mingling, like music, with the soul's deep dreams.

Friends, friends!—for such to my lone heart ye are,— Unchanging ones! from whose immortal eyes The glory melts not as a waning star, And the sweet kindness never, never dies, Bright Children of the Bard! o'er this green dell Pass once again, and light it with your spell.

Imogen, fair Fidele! meekly blending In patient grief, "a smiling with a sigh,"* And thou, Cordelia! faithful daughter, tending That sire, an outcast to the bitter sky, Thou of the soft low voice!† —thou art not gone! Still breathes for me its faint and flute-like tone.

And come to me! sing me thy willow-strain, Sweet Desdemona! with the sad surprise In thy beseeching glance, where still, though vain, Undimm'd, unquenchable affection lies— Come, bowing thy young head to wrong and scorn, As a frail hyacinth by showers o'erborne.

And thou too, fair Ophelia! flowers are here, That well might win thy footstep to the spot— Pale cowslips, meet for maiden's early bier, And pansies for sad thought‡ —but needed not. Come with thy wreaths, and all the love and light In that wild eye still tremulously bright!

And Juliet, vision of the South! enshrining All gifts that unto its rich Heaven belong. The glow, the sweetness, in its rose combining, The soul its nightingales pour forth in song; Thou, making death deep joy—but couldst thou die? No! thy young love hath immortality!

From Earth's bright faces fades the light of morn, From Earth's glad voices drops the joyous tone; But ye, the Children of the Soul, were born Deathless, and for undying love alone; And oh! ye Beautiful! 'tis well, how well, In the soul's world with you, where change is not, to dwell! F. H.