Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 25 1829.pdf/5



"Nay, these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind As it has lower'd of late, so keenly cast, Unsuited seem and strange." "O nothing strange! Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast Winging the air beneath some murky cloud In the sunn'd glimpses of a troubled day, Shiver in silvery brightness? Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake? O gentle friend! Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday, And may be so to-morrow!"

met at the stately feasts of old, When the bright wine foam'd in sculptured gold,