Isabel, a Dramatic Poem. Agnes. Preserve me, Saints! is that a living form Lin, Agnes. Lin. Woman-woman,— Fill not my blasted sight with that worn frame,— My Lord, My Lord, What mean those words? Again!-Again !-No more- Her voice is on the wind-her curse on me 1 come-I come→ [He flings himself from the window on the terrace—Agnes screams, and, endeavouring to save him, sinks to the ground. Scene changes.] SCENE 2d. The ruins of an ancient Abbey.-Moonlight.-At one end an inhabited part of the building, the rest presents the remains of an old Monastery. The Hymn of the Monks within: 'Tis midnight, and the stars are waking- 'Tis midnight, and the Abbey bell Hath tolled to mark the hour of prayer, All nature joins the holy choir, One gen'ral thought pervades the whole, As if one ray of heav'nly fire Had spread its flame from soul to soul. [Isabel rushes in-she looks as if pursued by some one whom she is anxious to avoid.] Isabel. Hide me, ye caverns of the earth-roll, roll, Great mountains from your base and bury me. Isabel, a Dramatic Poem. A pause-Lindenberg appears- he looks earnestly round—at length he discovers Isabel Lin. Ha!-near me-Sorceress art thou hither come To blight my happiness?-has the grave yawned, The dying curse is hovering round thee now- Nay, start not at that name-there was a time O holy virtue! had I loved thee yet, I had not now been scorned-my child-my child I gazed on her to-day,-I gazed on her Off, monster-off-delirium 's in my brain She draws from her bosom a dagger-Lindenberg attempts to seize it, but she plunges it into her side. Lin. Oh! Heaven, she's dead What ho!-within-within Perhaps these Monks may offer her some aid He knocks at the convent gate-lights appear at the windows, and in a few moments some Monks enter from a low postern door. Lindenberg points to Isabel who lies on the earth at his feet-they raise her and support her in their arms, and Lindenberg continues to gaze on her without speaking-as they carry her into the monastery the scene closes. SONNET TO Thou hast departed,-like a beauteous cloud But now I see thee human,-faithless-wed !- Sonnet to Spring--Beaty. SONNET TO SPRING. I see thee-feel thee-life-renewing Spring! A young creation springs, and the sweet sun The earth with gladness-and the joyous birds Ah, Spring! there is a season of the heart BEAUTY. O Beauty! words are poor and idle all, Hath wak'd my harp-unused to glowing theme! Hail minister of bliss! whose balm can heal The poison'd arrow that hath rankled long No treasons, Beauty, mar thy boundless reign. To worship thee. All loyalty may wane, Save that which burns for thee through all mankind; Or lull'd in pleasant vales by Zephyrs mild, Song. Without thee life were vain-Elysium cold; O Woman! Beauty's softer, tenderer name, Mid Sorrow's gloom we hail thy soothing beam, Of doubtful cadence-for to thee 'tis given The language of the Stars-that speaks of Heaven! The Heathen decks his paradise with thee, And blooming Houries light his blissful dream; O Time! thou stand'st alone-cold, and unmoved, Whose lips seem almost opening to complain, And fancy, sorrowing, through a thousand years, Mourns o'er thy favour'd Rome's extinguished race, Or drops for long-remember'd Greece her tears! But let me gaze once more upon the sky; Fast by the font of light, and quaffed its ray, SONG. In the days of my childhood, unfetter'd and free Lines to There was sunshine above me-the sunshine of skies Which the darkness of earth never turned into tears, Yet oh! even that was less bright than the eyes That sparkled around me-like stars in the spheres! II. Those scenes of my boy-hood are far, far away, With the friends that I loved-and the hearts I ador'd; Yet oft will the spirit of memory stray, To mingle with souls that can ne'er be restored; And falsehood must dim the pure lustre of truth, And feeling and passion no longer must be, Ere I cease to remember those days of my youth, And the hearts that once made them so precious to me. III. From the smile of contempt-and the frown of disdain, Which the world ever flings on the friendless and lone, I have turn'd with a spirit no ills could restrain, To those days of my childhood-now faded and gone : And as darkly and sad on their fleetness I dwelt, And thought of the friends that could never return, On the tomb of my hopes and enjoyments I knelt, And sweet were the tears that I pour'd on each urn! ΤΟ I. I loved thee in times Of resentment and wrong, In joy and in sadness, In silence and tears,- There was light in that smile, There was truth in that eye, That could sorrow beguile, |