----Methought I saw Life swiftly treading over endless space; And, at her foot-print, but a bygone pace, The ocean-past, which, with increasing wave, Swallow'd her steps like a pursuing grave. Sad were my thoughts that anchor'd silently On the dead waters of that passionless sea, Unstirr'd by any touch of living breath: Silence hung over it, and drowsy Death, Like a gorged sea-bird, slept with folded wings On crowded carcases--sad passive things That wore the thin gray surface, like a veil Over the calmness of their features pale. And there were spring-faced cherubs that did sleep Like water-lilies on that motionless deep, How beautiful! with bright unruffled hair On sleek unfretted brows, and eyes that were Buried in marble tombs, a pale eclipse! And smile-bedimpled cheeks, and pleasant lips, Meekly apart, as if the soul intense Spake out in dreams of its own innocence: And so they lay in loveliness, and kept The birth-night of their peace, that Life e'en wept With very envy of their happy fronts; For there were neighbor brows scarr'd by the brunts Of strife and sorrowing--where Care had set His crooked autograph, and marr'd the jet Of glassy locks, with hollow eyes forlorn, And lips that curl'd in bitterness and scorn-- Wretched,--as they had breathed of this world's pain, And so bequeathed it to the world again, Through the beholder's heart in heavy sighs. So lay they garmented in torpid light, Under the pall of a transparent night, Like solemn apparitions lull'd sublime To everlasting rest,--and with them Time Slept, as he sleeps upon the silent face Of a dark dial in a sunless place. TO AN ABSENTEE. O'er hill, and dale, and distant sea, Through all the miles that stretch between, My thought must fly to rest on thee, And would, though worlds should intervene. Nay, thou art now so dear, methinks The farther we are forced apart, Affection's firm elastic links But bind the closer round the heart. For now we sever each from each, I learned what I have lost in thee; Alas, that nothing else could teach How great indeed my love should be! Farewell! I did not know thy worth; But thou art gone, and now 'tis prized: So angels walk'd unknown on earth, But when they flew were recognized! LYCUS THE CENTAUR. FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS. THE ARGUMENT. Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her to break off in the midst, he becomes a Centaur.