English

Venus, ruler of the waves,
Who the storm-tossed seaman saves,
As a helper by me stand,
For I shipwreck make on land.

I hate Dan Cupid; he is cruel found
And ever aims his shafts my heart to wound.
'Twere better for him raging beasts to fight —
Why should a god set mortal hearts alight?
What glory will he win by slaying me?
My life, methinks, a paltry prize will be.

Three times she swore that she would come,
And called the lamp to hear her oath;
Now with another doth she roam
Inconstant to us both.

Bring to my aid thy power divine,
And when she greets her friend to-night
And fain before his eyes would shine
Put out, dear Lamp, thy light.

Pour in the oil, our lamp must drink to-night,
The silent witness of Love's secret rite.
Then go, Philaenis, and shut close the door,
Men's prying eyes young Cupid doth abhor.
And when she's gone, dear Xantho, you and I —
But hush! for us alone Love keeps his mystery.

Gone are the gray mists, Chrysilla, of morning,
Long have we heard chanticleer's jealous cry,
Sending to lovers his message of warning,
Herald of envious dawn in the sky.

Curses upon thee, thou creature remorseless,
Thou shalt not banish me thus from my bliss;
Back to my comrades so dull and resourceless,
Chattering ever of that or of this.

Nay but, Tithonus, thy vigour is waning;
Why dost thou drive fair Aurora away?
Still it is early: thy manhood regaining,
Give one hour more to your marital play.

She sets the town ablaze;
Each eager gallant flies,
His hard-won treasure pays
And — Sthenelais — cries;
Nor recks the price if he may take
The girl who soon his life will break.

Ah, happier I than they!
No gold of mine she took,
But with me she did stay
Until the red dawn broke.
The dream-god brought her to my side
In all the pomp of beauty's pride.

Yes, then in sleep revealed
She gave me joys unbought,
My bed did pleasures yield
Which prayers in vain besought.

DEDICATION OF THE PHISFIELD CEMETERY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1850

Angel of Death! extend thy silent reign!
Stretch thy dark sceptre o'er this new domain!
No sable car along the winding road
Has borne to earth its unresisting load;
No sudden mound has risen yet to show
Where the pale slumberer folds his arms below;
No marble gleams to bid his memory live
In the brief lines that hurrying Time can give;
Yet, O Destroyer! from thy shrouded throne
Look on our gift; this realm is all thine own!

The curtain rose; in thunders long and loud
The galleries rung; the veteran actor bowed
In flaming line the telltales of the stage
Showed on his brow the autograph of age;
Pale, hueless waves amid his clustered hair,
And umbered shadows, prints of toil and care;
Round the wide circle glanced his vacant eye, —
He strove to speak, — his voice was but a sigh.

Year after year had seen its short-lived race
Flit past the scenes and others take their place;
Yet the old prompter watched his accents still,

When o'er the street the morning peal is flung
From yon tall belfry with the brazen tongue,
Its wide vibrations, wafted by the gale,
To each far listener tell a different tale.
The sexton, stooping to the quivering floor
Till the great caldron spills its brassy roar,
Whirls the hot axle, counting, one by one,
Each dull concussion, till his task is done.
Toil's patient daughter, when the welcome note
Clangs through the silence from the steeple's throat,
Streams, a white unit, to the checkered street,

READ AT THE DINNER GIVEN TO THE AUTHOR BY THE MEDICAL PROFESSION OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK, APRIL 12, 1883.

Have I deserved your kindness? Nay, my friends,
While the fair banquet its illusion lends
Let me believe it, though the blood may rush
And to my cheek recall the maiden blush
That o'er it flamed with momentary blaze
When first I heard the honeyed words of praise;
Let me believe it while the roses wear
Their bloom unwithering in the heated air;
Too soon, too soon, their glowing leaves must fall,