154 THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. 



In blushes deep as morn's, in sighs and whispers, 



And broken murmurs, that, like childhood's lispings, 



Plead more than eloquence. Their loving eyes 



Sometimes were fastened on each other's faces ; 



Sometimes they shrunk from the dear glance they sought, 



Abashed at their own daring; while between 



Came tones more passionate than the nightingale's, 



When first she loves. It was a happy sight, 



To see that twain so young, so innocent, 



So lovely, and so trusting. As I caught 



The wild-dove murmurs of their hearts in meeting, 



I almost envied them their human clay, 



And felt the pure divinity of that, 



Which, if it make not, fits to be immortal." pp. 35, 36. 



The following is beautifully pathetic. 

 " Happy most happy that the Destiny, 

 Which reigns above, and works around us, shuts 

 With adamantine seals the scroll of doom. 

 I low should we brook it, think ye, could we see 

 The gradual misting of those fair young eyes, 

 The clouds that dim all mortal stars, the pangs 

 That wait upon the cradle, and the t 

 That gleam with desolate light on the mute urn ? 

 Were we to see all this at once, drawn out 

 in drear distinctness on our boding souls, 

 How should we wish the spectral mirror broken! 

 Oh what were then this everlasting breath, 

 But unoblivious pain ?" p. 37. 



The next quotation isa portion of one of the Choruses, 

 (Chorus of Nymphs), we have not room for the whole. 

 " Thou Immemorial One, 



Who, as the sun 



Lights this green star, lightest infinity ; 

 \\ ho wert, when nothing was, 

 Who wilt be, though the laws 

 ( )t' Order fail, and Being cease to be ! 



Thou, to whose spirit-ear 



Sang forth each sphere, 

 Launched at its birth along the trembling sky; 



W ho rolledest forth the stars 



On their melodious cars, 

 Fixing their barriers and their goal on high ! 



Thou, who dost fill alone 



Creation's throne, 

 Light of all Space, and Fountain of all Time ; 



Whose awful Presence broods 



O'er heaven's dread solitudes, 

 Where never Chaos heard thy voice sublime! 



