Laura, see how joyousness embraces E'en the overflow of sorrows wild! How e'en rigid desperation kindles On the loving breast of Hope so mild. Sisterly and blissful rapture softens Gloomy Melancholy's fearful night, And, deliver'd of its golden children, Lo, the eye pours forth its radiance bright! Does not awful Sympathy rule over E'en the realms that Evil calls its own? For 'tis Hell our crimes are ever wooing, While they bear a grudge 'gainst Heaven alone! Shame, Repentance, pair Eumenides-like, Weave round sin their fearful serpent-coils: While around the eagle-wings of Greatness Treach'rous danger winds its dreaded toils. Ruin oft with Pride is wont to trifle, Envy upon Fortune loves to cling; On her brother, Death, with arms extended, Lust, his sister, oft is wont to spring. On the wings of Love the future hastens In the arms of ages past to lie; And Saturnus, as he onward speeds him, Long hath sought his bride--Eternity! Soon Saturnus will his bride discover,-- So the mighty oracle hath said; Blazing worlds will turn to marriage torches When Eternity with Time shall wed! Then a fairer, far more beauteous morning, Laura, on our love shall also shine, Long as their blest bridal-night enduring:-- So rejoice thee, Laura--Laura mine! TO LAURA AT THE HARPSICHORD. When o'er the chords thy fingers stray, My spirit leaves its mortal clay, A statue there I stand; Thy spell controls e'en life and death, As when the nerves a living breath Receive by Love's command! [1] More gently zephyr sighs along To listen to thy magic song; The systems formed by heavenly love To sing forever as they move, Pause in their endless-whirling round To catch the rapture-teeming sound; 'Tis for thy strains they worship thee,-- Thy look, enchantress, fetters me! From yonder chords fast-thronging come Soul-breathing notes with rapturous speed, As when from out their heavenly home The new-born seraphim proceed; The strains pour forth their magic might, As glittering suns burst through the night, When, by Creation's storm awoke, From chaos' giant-arm they broke. Now sweet, as when the silv'ry wave Delights the pebbly beach to lave; And now majestic as the sound Of rolling thunder gathering round; Now pealing more loudly, as when from yon height Descends the mad mountain-stream, foaming and bright; Now in a song of love Dying away, As through the aspen grove Soft zephyrs play: Now heavier and more mournful seems the strain, As when across the desert, death-like plain, Whence whispers dread and yells despairing rise, Cocytus' sluggish, wailing current sighs. Maiden fair, oh, answer me! Are not spirits leagued with thee? Speak they in the realms of bliss Other language e'er than this?