T

The dear dead fancies of the days of Jove,

Why were they bann'd? Oh, why in Reason's name,

Were they abolished? They were good to claim,

And good to dream of, and to crown with bays,

Far-seen of men, far-shining in the haze

Of withering doubts. They were the world's elect,

As thou art mine, to bow to and to praise.

xiii.

Night after night I see thee, in my dreams,

N

N

N

As fair as Daphne, with the morning beams

Of thy bright locks about thee like a cloak,—

Fair as the young Aurora when she woke

At Phæthon's call, athwart the mountain-heights.

I see thee radiant in the summer nights,

And, bosom-pack'd with frenzies unrepress'd,

I thrill to thee in Slumber's soft delights.

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