GENIUS SINGING TO LOVE.
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Might seem to gush from Sappho's fervent heart,
Over the wild sea-wave;—at times the strain
Flowed with more plaintive sweetness, as if born
Of Petrarch's voice, beside the lone Vaucluse;
And sometimes, with its melancholy swell,
A graver sound was mingled, a deep note
Of Tasso's holy lyre;—yet still the tones
Were of a suppliant;—"Leave me not!" was still
The burden of their music; and I knew
The lay which Genius, in its loneliness,
Its own still world amidst th' o'erpeopled world,
Hath ever breathed to Love.
They crown me with the glistening crown,
Borne from a deathless tree;
I hear the pealing music of renown—
O Love! forsake me not!
Mine were a lone dark lot,
Bereft of thee!
