Demons of Vengeance! ye at whose command
I grasp'd the sword with more than woman's hand,
Say ye, did Pity's trembling voice control,

Or horror damp the purpose of my soul?
No! my wild heart sat smiling o'er the plan,
Till Hate fulfill'd what baffled Love began!

Yes; let the clay-cold breast that never knew
One tender pang to generous Nature true,
Half-mingling pity with the gall of scorn,
Condemn this heart, that bled in love forlorn!

And ye, proud fair, whose soul no gladness warms, Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms! Delighted idols of a gaudy train,

Ill can your blunter feelings guess the pain,
When the fond faithful heart, inspired to prove
Friendship refined, the calm delight of Love,
Feels all its tender strings with anguish torn,
And bleeds at perjured Pride's inhuman scorn!

Say, then, did pitying Heaven condemn the deed, When Vengeance bade thee, faithless lover! bleed? Long had I watch'd thy dark foreboding brow, What time thy bosom scorn'd its dearest vow! Sad, though I wept the friend, the lover changed, Still thy cold look was scornful and estranged, Till from thy pity, love, and shelter thrown,

I wander'd hopeless, friendless, and alone!

Oh! righteous Heaven! 'twas then my tortured soul First gave to wrath unlimited control!

Adieu the silent look! the streaming eye!

The murmur'd plaint! the deep heart-heaving sigh!
Long-slumbering Vengeance wakes to better deeds;
He shrieks, he falls, the perjured lover bleeds!
Now the last laugh of agony is o'er,

And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more!

'Tis done! the flame of hate no longer burns: Nature relents, but, ah! too late returns! Why does my soul this gush of fondness feel? Trembling and faint, I drop the guilty steel! Cold on my heart the hand of terror lies, And shades of horror close my languid eyes!

Oh! 'twas a deed of Murder's deepest grain! Could B- -k's soul so true to wrath remain ? A friend long true, a once fond lover fell!— Where Love was foster'd could not Pity dwell?

Unhappy youth! while yon pale crescent glows To watch on silent Nature's deep repose, Thy sleepless spirit, breathing from the tomb, Foretells my fate, and summons me to come! Once more I see thy sheeted spectre stand, Roll the dim eye, and wave the paly hand!

Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame Forsake its languid melancholy frame ! Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close, Welcome the dreamless night of long repose! Soon may this wo-worn spirit seek the bourne Where, lull'd to slumber, Grief forgets to mourn!

19

HALLOWED GROUND

WHAT S nallow'd ground? Has earth a cle
Its Maker meant not should be trod

By man, the image of his God

Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod

To bow the knee?

That's hallow'd ground-where, mourn'd and miss'd,
The lips repose our love has kiss'd :—
But where's their memory's mansion? Is't

Yon churchyard's bowers?

No! in ourselves their souls exist,

1

A part of ours.

A kiss can consecrate the ground

Where mated hearts are mutual bound:

The spot where love's first links were wound,

That ne'er are riven,

Is hallow'd down to earth's profound,
And up to Heaven!

For time makes all but true love old;
The burning thoughts that then were told
Run molten still in memory's mould;
And will not cool,

Until the heart itself be cold

In Lethe's pool

What hallows ground where heroes sleep?
'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap!
In dews that heavens far distant weep
Their turf may bloom;

Or Genii twine beneath the deep
Their coral tomb:

But strew his ashes to the wind

Whose sword or voice has served mankind-
And is he dead, whose glorious mind
Lifts thine on high?-

To live in hearts we leave behind,
Is not to die.

Is't death to fall for Freedom's right?
He's dead alone that lacks her light!
And murder sullies in Heaven's sight
The sword he draws:-

What can alone ennoble fight?

A noble cause!

Give that! and welcome War to brace

Her drums! and rend Heaven's reeking space!

The colors planted face to face,

The charging cheer,

Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase, Shall still be dear.

And place our trophies where men kneel
To Heaven!-but Heaven rebukes my zeal!
The cause of Truth and human weal,

O God above!

Transfer it from the sword's appeal
To Peace and Love.

Peace, Love! the cherubim that join

Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine,

Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine,

Where they are not

The heart alone can make divine
Religion's spot.

To incantations dest thou trust,

And pompous rites in domes august?
See mouldering stones and metal's rust
Belie the vaunt,

That men can bless one pile of dust

With chime or chaunt.

The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man! Thy temples-creeds themselves grow wan! But there's a dome of nobler span,

A temple given

Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban—
Its space is Heaven!

Its roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
Where trancing the rapt spirit's feeling,
And God himself to man revealing,

The harmonious spheres

Make music, though unheard their pealing
By mortal ears.

Fair stars! are not your beings pure?
Can sin, can death your worlds obscure?
Else why so swell the thoughts at your
Aspect above?

Ye must be Heavens that make us sure
Of heavenly love:

And in your harmony sublime

I read the doom of distant time;

That man's regenerate soul from crime

Shall yet be drawn,

And reason on his mortal clime

Immortal dawn.