Then fly, my days, on rapid wing, Till Love the viewless treasure bring; While I, like conscious Athens, own A power in mystic silence sealed, A guardian angel unrevealed, And bless the “Name Unknown!” SONG. Withdraw not yet those lips and fingers, Whose touch to mine is rapture’s spell; Life’s joy for us a moment lingers, And death seems in the word—farewell. The hour that bids us part and go, It sounds not yet,—oh! no, no, no! Time, whilst I gaze upon thy sweetness, Flies like a courser nigh the goal; To-morrow where shall be his fleetness, When thou art parted from my soul? Our hearts shall beat, our tears shall flow, But not together,—no, no, no! HALLOWED GROUND. What’s hallowed ground? Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by superstition’s rod To bow the knee? That’s hallowed ground—where mourned and missed The lips repose our love has kissed;— But where’s their memory’s mansion? Is’t Yon churchyard’s bowers? No! in ourselves their souls exist, A part of ours. A kiss can consecrate the ground Where mated hearts are mutual bound: The spot where love’s first links were wound, That ne’er are riven, Is hallowed down to earth’s profound, And up to Heaven! For time makes all but true love old; The burning thoughts that then were told Run molten still in memory’s mould; And will not cool, Until the heart itself be cold In Lethe’s pool. What hallows ground where heroes sleep? ’Tis not the sculptured piles you heap! In dews that heavens far distant weep Their turf may bloom; Or Genii twine beneath the deep Their coral tomb. But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has served mankind— And is he dead, whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high?— To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die. Is’t death to fall for Freedom’s right? He’s dead alone that lacks her light! And murder sullies in Heaven’s sight The sword he draws:— What can alone ennoble fight? A noble cause! Give that! and welcome war to brace Her drums! and rend Heaven’s reeking space! The colours planted face to face, The charging cheer, Though Death’s pale horse lead on the chase, Shall still be dear. And place our trophies where men kneel To Heaven!—but Heaven rebukes my zeal! The cause of Truth and Human weal, O God above! Transfer it from the sword’s appeal To Peace and Love. Peace, Love! the cherubim that join Their spread wings o’er Devotion’s shrine— Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine, Where they are not— The heart alone can make divine Religion’s spot.