MUSE. A vision of remembered joy Reveals itself to thee once more; Why fearest thou to live it o'er, Retracing it without annoy? Wouldst thou confide the truth to me, And yet those golden days disprove? If fate has been unkind to thee, Do thou no less, my friend, than she, And smile upon thine early love. POET. Rather I dare to smile upon my woe. Muse, I have said it, I would fain review My crosses, visions, frenzy,--calmly show The hour, place, circumstance, in order due. 'T was an autumnal evening, I recall, Chill, gloomy; this one brings it back again. The murmuring wind's monotonous rise and fall Lulled sombre care within my weary brain. I waited at the casement for my love, And listening in the darkness black as death, Such melancholy did my spirit move That all at once I doubted of her faith. The street wherein I dwelt was lonely, poor, Lantern in hand, at times, a shade passed by, When the gale whistled through the half-oped door. One seemed to hear afar a human sigh. I know not to what omen, sooth to say, My superstitious spirit fell a prey. Vainly I summoned courage--coward-like I shuddered when the clock began to strike. She did not come! Alone, with downcast head, I stared at street and walls like one possessed. How may I tell the insensate passion bred By that inconstant woman in my breast! I loved but her in all the world. One day Apart from her seemed worse than death to me. Yet I remember how I did essay That cruel night to snap my chain, go free. I named her traitress, serpent, o'er and o'er, Recalled the anguish suffered for her sake, Alas! her fatal beauty rose once more, What grief, what torture in my heart to wake! At last morn broke; with waiting vain outworn, I fell asleep against the casement there. I oped my lids upon the day new born, My dazzled glance swam in the radiant air. Then on the outer staircase, suddenly, I heard soft steps ascend the narrow flight. Save me, Great God! I see her--it is she! Whence com'st thou? speak, where hast thou been this night? What dost thou seek? who brings thee here thus late? Where has this lovely form reclined till day, While I alone must watch and weep and wait? Where, and on whom hast thou been smiling, say! Out, insolent traitress! canst thou come accurst, And offer to my kiss thy lips' ripe charms? What cravest thou? By what unhallowed thirst Darest thou allure me to thy jaded arms? Avaunt, begone! ghost of my mistress dead, Back to thy grave! avoid the morning's beam! Be my lost youth no more remembered! And when I think of thee, I'll know it was a dream!