| In these stanzas a louder
gale has roused the sleeper on her pillow: the wakened soul struggles to
blend with the storm by which it is swayed:--
Ay--there it is! it wakes
to-night
Deep feelings I thought
dead;
Strong in the blast--quick
gathering light--
The heart's flame kindles
red.
"Now I can tell by thine
altered cheek,
And by thine eyes' full
gaze,
And by the words thou scarce
dost speak,
How wildly fancy plays.
"Yes--I could swear that
glorious wind
Has swept the world aside,
Has dashed its memory from
thy mind
Like foam-bells from the
tide:
"And thou art now a spirit
pouring
Thy presence into all:
The thunder of the tempest's
roaring,
The whisper of its fall:
"An universal influence,
From thine own influence
free;
A principle of life--intense--
Lost to mortality.
"Thus truly, when that breast
is cold,
Thy prisoned soul shall
rise;
The dungeon mingle with
the mould--
The captive with the skies.
Nature's deep being, thine
shall hold,
Her spirit all thy spirit
fold,
Her breath absorb thy sighs.
Mortal! though soon life's
tale is told;
Who once lives, never dies!" |
