Powerless and mute beneath thy mighty spell, My heart was lost within itself and thee, As when a pearl is melted in its shell, And sunken in the sea! I sunk, and sunk beneath thy song, but still I thirsted after more, the more I sank; A flower that drooped with all the dew it drank, But still upheld its cup for Heaven to fill; My inmost soul was drunk with melody, Which thou didst pour around, To crown the feast of sound, And lift to every lip, but chief to me, Whose spirit uncontrolled, Drained all the fiery wine and clutched its cup of gold! Would I could only hear thee once again, But once again, and pine into the air, And fade away with all this hopeless pain, This hope divine, and this divine despair! If we were only Voices, if our minds Were only voices, what a life were ours! My soul would woo thee in the vernal winds, And thine would answer me in summer showers, At morn and even, when the east and west Were bathed in floods of purple poured from Heaven, We would delay the Morn upon its nest, And fold the wings of Even! All day we’d fly with azure wings unfurled, And gird a belt of Song about the world; All night we’d teach the winds of night a tune, While charméd oceans slept beneath a yellow moon! And when a-weary grown of earthly sport, We’d wind our devious flight from star to star, Till we beheld the palaces afar, Where Music holds her court. Entered, and beckoned up the aisles of sound, Where starry Melodies are marshaled round, We’d kneel before her throne with eager dread, And when she kissed us, melt in trances deep, While angels bore us to her bridal bed, And sung our souls asleep! Oh, Queen of Song! as peerless as thou art, As worthy as thou art to wear thy crown, Thou hast a deeper claim to thy renown, And a diviner music in thy heart; Simplicity and Goodness walk with thee, Beneath the wings of watchful Seraphim; And Love is wed to whitest Chastity, And Pity sings its hymn. Nor is thy goodness passive in its end, But ever-active as the sun and rain— Unselfish, lavish of its golden gain— Not Want alone, but a whole nation’s—Friend! This is thy glory, this thy noblest fame; And when thy glory fades, and fame departs, This will perpetuate a deathless name, Where names are deathless—deep in loving hearts! * * * * * BLANCHE OF BOURBON.