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, concealed¹ within my soul, That light lies hid from men； Yet glows unquenched——though shadows roll, Its gentle ray cannot control

    -About the sullen² den³. Was I not vexed⁴, in these gloomy ways To walk alone so long？ Around me, wretches⁵ uttering praise, Or howling o'er their hopeless days, And each with Frenzy's tongue；

    A brotherhood⁶ of misery⁷, Their smiles as sad as sighs； Whose madness daily maddened me, Distorting into agony The bliss⁸ before my eyes！

    So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun, And in the glare of Hell； My spirit drank a mingled⁹ 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 savage¹⁰ heart grows meek¹¹, For other token do not seek, But let the tear upon my cheek Evince my gratitude¹²！

    THE OLD STOIC¹³.

    Riches I hold in light esteem¹⁴, And Love I laugh to scorn； And lust¹⁵ 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 implore¹⁶ ； In life and death a chainless soul, With courage to endure.