Like a loose blossom on a gusty night He flitted from me--and has left behind (As if to them his faith he ne'er did plight) Of either sex and answerable mind Two playmates, twin-births of his foster-dame:-- The one a steady lad (Esteem he hight) And Kindness is the gentler sister's name. Dim likeness now, though fair she be and good, Of that bright boy who hath us all forsook;-- But in his full-eyed aspect when she stood, And while her face reflected every look, And in reflection kindled--she became So like him, that almost she seem'd the same! IV Ah! he is gone, and yet will not depart!-- Is with me still, yet I from him exiled! For still there lives within my secret heart The magic image of the magic Child, Which there he made up-grow by his strong art, As in that crystal orb--wise Merlin's feat,-- The wondrous "World of Glass," wherein inisled All long'd for things their beings did repeat;-- And there he left it, like a Sylph beguiled, To live and yearn and languish incomplete! V Can wit of man a heavier grief reveal? Can sharper pang from hate or scorn arise?-- Yes! one more sharp there is that deeper lies, Which fond Esteem but mocks when he would heal. Yet neither scorn nor hate did it devise, But sad compassion and atoning zeal! One pang more blighting-keen than hope betray'd! And this it is my woeful hap to feel, When, at her Brother's hest, the twin-born Maid With face averted and unsteady eyes, Her truant playmate's faded robe puts on; And inly shrinking from her own disguise Enacts the faery Boy that's lost and gone. O worse than all! O pang all pangs above Is Kindness counterfeiting absent Love! ?1811 THE VISIONARY HOPE Sad lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling He fain would frame a prayer within his breast, Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing, That his sick body might have ease and rest; He strove in vain! the dull sighs from his chest Against his will the stifling load revealing, Though Nature forced; though like some captive guest, Some royal prisoner at his conqueror's feast, An alien's restless mood but half concealing, The sternness on his gentle brow confessed, Sickness within and miserable feeling: Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, And dreaded sleep, each night repelled in vain, Each night was scattered by its own loud screams: Yet never could his heart command, though fain, One deep full wish to be no more in pain.