Both groaned at once, for both knew well He sat upright; and ere the dream "O God, forgive me! (he exclaimed) Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burst Into ungentle laughter; And Mary shivered, where she sat And never she smiled after. Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. To morrow! and To-morrow! and To-morrow! DEJECTION: AN ODE. Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, And I fear, I fear, my Master dear! We shall have a deadly storm. BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENCE. I. WELL! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made Which better far were mute. For lo! the New-moon winter-bright! (With swimming phantom light o'erspread But rimmed and circled by a silver thread) I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling The coming on of rain and squally blast. And oh! that even now the gust were swelling, And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed, And sent my soul abroad, Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give, II. A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, In word, or sigh, or tear— O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, And its peculiar tint of yellow green: And still I gaze-and with how blank an eye! |