MY COMFORTER.
Well hast thou spoken, and yet not taught A feeling strange or new； Thou hast but roused a latent thought, A cloud-closed beam of sunshine brought To gleam in open view.
Deep down, concealed within my soul, That light lies hid from men； Yet glows unquenched——though shadows roll, Its gentle ray cannot control
-About the sullen den. Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways To walk alone so long？ Around me, wretches uttering praise, Or howling o'er their hopeless days, And each with Frenzy's tongue；
A brotherhood of misery, Their smiles as sad as sighs； Whose madness daily maddened me, Distorting into agony The bliss before my eyes！
So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun, And in the glare of Hell； My spirit drank a mingled tone, Of seraph's song, and demon's moan； What my soul bore, my soul alone Within itself may tell！
Like a soft, air above a sea, Tossed by the tempest's stir； A thaw-wind, melting quietly The snow-drift on some wintry lea； No： what sweet thing resembles thee, My thoughtful Comforter？
And yet a little longer speak, Calm this resentful mood； And while the savage heart grows meek, For other token do not seek, But let the tear upon my cheek Evince my gratitude！
THE OLD STOIC.
Riches I hold in light esteem, And Love I laugh to scorn； And lust of fame was but a dream, That vanished with the morn：
And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear, And give me liberty！"
Yes, as my swift days near their goal： 'Tis all that I implore ； In life and death a chainless soul, With courage to endure.