THE DEAD MARCH. 256 



Smiles are oft 

 Assumed when there is misery 

 Sitting within the heart, and the sad soul 

 Broods over desolate thoughts — these smiles are like 

 The summer flowers that bloom above a grave. 



There are yet other smiles, like the red ray 

 Of the volcano, in night's darkness gleaming. 

 Upon a lonely pile of ruined splendour ; 

 Smiles like to these are on the maniac^s brow. 

 When incoherent thought pictures a crowd 

 Of vagrant fantasies, burlesque and rare. 

 Before his shattered mind. 



THE DEAD MARCH. 



They drew near, 

 Winding their instruments with such sad power. 

 That Pity heard the sounds and sighing came 

 To weave her breathings in the long, low strains : 

 And so her wild mysterious measures fell 

 Most mournfully on the heart until they spoke 

 Exquisite sorrow ! — sad as the moaning sea — 

 Sad as the voice of Night, tremulous, borne 

 O'er desolate places — sad as Memory's dream 

 When through Pain's shroud she sees the lovely past. 



THE EDDYSTONE LIQHTHOUSE. 



O ! beautiful — most beautiful — alone, 



With the hushed tempests round about thee lying 

 Thou lookest, from thy wave-girt island throne, 



On the wide ocean's waters softly sighing, 



And we repose, as in a radiant dream. 



To gaze upon thee in thy graceful pride. 

 Illumined with the Summer's softest beam 



Like Hope's fair figure imaged on the tide ; 

 Cheering the seamen with the thoughts of home 



When, from the perils of the Ocean free. 

 The lithe wings of their gliding vessels come 



Directed to their wished-for rest by thee. 

 O ! mayest thou yet, for long — long time, remain 

 The beauty and the pride of Britain's sea domain. 



Franz. 



