Works

i.

Oh, smile on me, thou syren of my soul!
That I may curb my thoughts to some control
And not offend thee, as in truth I do,
Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue...

Ah, fair Lord God of Heaven, to whom we call, -
By whom we live, - on whom our hopes are built, -
Do Thou, from year to year, e'en as Thou wilt,
Control the Realm, but suffer not to fall...

I.

Oh, give me light, to-day, or let me die, -
The light of love, the love-light of the sky, -
That I, at length, may see my darling's face
One minute's space.


II.
...

I knew thee first as one may know the fame
Of some apostle, as a man may know
The mid-day sun far-shining o'er the snow.
I hail'd thee prince of poets! I became
Vassal of thine, and warm'd me at the flame...

Beethoven At The Piano.


I.

See where Beethoven sits alone - a dream of days elysian,
A crownless king upon a throne, reflected in a vision -...

I.

O mesto bambino col capo chinato,
Rispondi; rispondi. Che fece Renato?
Fu vinto Morello? Fu salvo Lindoro?
Rispondi; rispondi! - Son padre di loro.


II.
...

I.

Ti saluto, Margherita
Fior di vita, ... ti saluto!
Sei la speme del mattino,
Sei la gioja del giardino.


II.

Ti saluto, Rosignolo
Nel tuo duolo, ... ti saluto!...

I.

Dimmi, dimmi, o trovatore,
Tu che canti sul l'uto,
Bello e bruno e pien d'amore
Dalla valle in su venuto,
Non ti fermi sull' altura
Per mostrar la tua bravura?...

Letter I. Prelude.


I.

Teach me to love thee as a man, in prayer,
May love the picture of a sainted nun,
And I will woo thee, when the day is done,...

I.

Who comes, to-day, with sunlight on his face,
And eyes of fire, that have a sorrow's trace,
But are not sad with sadness of the years,
Or hints of tears?


II.
...

Lo, as a minstrel at the court of Love,
The nightingale, who knows his mate is nigh,
Thrills into rapture; and the stars above
Look down, affrighted, as they would reply....

IV.

Probation.


Could I, O Love! obtain a charter clear
To be thy bard, in all thy nights and days,
I would consult the stars, from year to year,...

["We have not, alack! an ally to befriend us,
And the season is ripe to extirpate and end us.
Let the German touch hands with the Gaul,
And the fortress of England must fall.
...