Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 54, No. 334, August 1843. Various

me thy Laura—give me her whom Love

      To thy heart's core endears;

      The usurer, Bliss, pays every grief—above!"

      I tore the fond shape from the bleeding love,

      And gave—albeit with tears!

      "What bond can bind the Dead to life once more?

      Poor fool," (the scoffer cries;)

      "Gull'd by the despot's hireling lie, with lore

      That gives for Truth a shadow;—life is o'er

      When the delusion dies!"

      "Tremblest thou," hiss'd the serpent-herd in scorn,

      "Before the vain deceit?

      Made holy but by custom, stale and worn,

      The phantom Gods, of craft and folly born—

      The sick world's solemn cheat?

      What is this Future underneath the stone?

      But for the veil that hides, revered alone;

      The giant shadow of our Terror, thrown

      On Conscience' troubled glass—

      Life's lying likeness—in the dreary shroud

      Of the cold sepulchre—

      Embalm'd by Hope—Time's mummy—which the proud

      Delirium, driv'ling through thy reason's cloud,

      Calls 'Immortality!'

      Giv'st thou for hope (corruption proves its lie)

      Sure joy that most delights us?

      Six thousand years has Death reign'd tranquilly!—

      Nor one corpse come to whisper those who die,

      What after death requites us!"

      Along Time's shores I saw the Seasons fly;

      Nature herself, interr'd

      Among her blooms, lay dead; to those who die

      There came no corpse to whisper Hope! Still I

      Clung to the Godlike Word.

      Judge!—All my joys to thee did I resign,

      All that did most delight ne;

      And now I kneel—man's scorn I scorn'd—thy shrine

      Have I adored—Thee only held divine—

      Requiter, now requite me!

      "For all my sons an equal love I know,

      And equal each condition,"

      Answer'd an unseen Genius—"See below,

      Two flowers, for all who rightly seek them, blow—

      The Hope and the Fruition.

      He who has pluck'd the one, resign'd must see

      The sister's forfeit bloom:

      Let Unbelief enjoy—Belief must be

      All to the chooser;—the world's history

      Is the world's judgment doom.

      Thou hast had Hope—in thy belief thy prize—

      Thy bliss was centred in it:

      Eternity itself—(Go ask the Wise!)

      Never to him who forfeits, resupplies

      The sum struck from the Minute!"

      The Gods Of Greece

1

      Ye in the age gone by,

      Who ruled the world—a world how lovely then!—

      And guided still the steps of happy men

      In the light leading strings of careless joy!

      Ah, flourish'd them your service of delight!

      How different, oh, how different, in the day

      When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright,

      O Venus Amathusia!

2

      Then, through a veil of dreams

      Woven by Song, Truth's youthful beauty glow'd,

      And life's redundant and rejoicing streams

      Gave to the soulless, soul—where'er they flow'd.

      Man gifted Nature with divinity

      To lift and link her to the breast of Love;

      All things betray'd to the initiate eye

      The track of gods above!

3

      Where lifeless—fix'd afar,

      A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,

      Phœbus Apollo, in his golden car,

      In silent glory swept the fields of heaven!

      On yonder hill the Oread was adored,

      In yonder tree the Dryad held her home;

      And from her Urn the gentle Naiad pour'd

      The wavelet's silver foam.

4

      Yon bay, chaste Daphnè wreathed,

      Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell,

      Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed,

      And through those groves wail'd the sweet Philomel;

      The tears of Ceres swell'd in yonder rill—

      Tears shed for Proserpine to Hades borne;

      And, for her lost Adonis, yonder hill

      Heard Cytherea mourn!—

5

      Heaven's shapes were charm'd unto

      The mortal race of old Deucalion;

      Pyrrha's fair daughter, humanly to woo,

      Came down, in shepherd-guise, Latona's son.

      Between men, heroes, Gods, harmonious then

      Love wove sweet links and sympathies divine;

      Blest Amathusia, heroes, Gods, and men,

      Equals before thy shrine!

6

      Not to that culture gay,

      Stern self-denial, or sharp penance wan!

      Well might each heart be happy in that day—

      For Gods, the Happy Ones, were kin to Man!

      The Beautiful alone, the Holy there!

      No pleasure shamed the Gods of that young race;

      So that the chaste Camœnæ favouring were,

      And the subduing Grace!

7

      A palace every shrine;

      Your very sports heroic;—Yours the crown

      Of contests hallow'd to a power divine,

      As rush'd the chariots thund'ring to renown.

      Fair round the altar where the incense breathed,

      Moved your melodious dance inspired; and fair

      Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed

      Sweet leaves round odorous hair!

8

      The lively Thyrsus-swinger,

      And the wild car the exulting Panthers bore,

      Announced the Presence of the Rapture-Bringer—

      Bounded the Satyr and blithe Fawn before;

      And Mænads, as the frenzy stung the soul,

      Hymn'd, in their madding dance, the