Page:The-knickerbocker-gallery-(knickerbockergal00clarrich).djvu/160

Let me try what magic slumbers,
 Lyre, in thy melodious chords,
When to music's sweetest numbers
 Sorrow lends still sweeter words:
See! the Furies lean to listen,
 Atropos relenting hears;
Nay, e'en Pluto's stern eyes glisten;
 Proserpine's are drowned in tears!

Oh! how sweet your answer falleth
 On my spirit, rapt and still!
"Fate thy loved one's doom recalleth,
 Mortal, thou shalt have thy will:
She for whom thy soul is yearning,
 Sunward shall thy steps retrace;
But beware, the while, of turning
 Once to gaze upon her face!"

Shall I, then, again behold her,
 As in days so fondly blest?
Shall these widowed arms enfold her,
 These lorn lips to hers be prest?
Oh! the sad yet sweet confession
 Of a rapture so intense!
Silence were its best expression,
 Tears its truest eloquence!

See, yon golden gate discloses
 Glimpses of the blissful bowers,
Where immortal youth reposes,
 Crowned with amaranthine flowers;
And as SHE the threshold crosses,
 From the fields of asphodel
Comes a swell of spirit-voices,
 Softly murmuring, Fare thee well!

Kindly ones, your parting blessing
 Fate shall tenderly fulfill!
In my arms, caressed, caressing,
 She shall find Elysium still;