love, what sufferings intense,
What ravings wild, what savage impulses,
Thou didst arouse in me; nor will the time
E'er come when thou could'st understand them. So,
Musicians, too, are often ignorant
Of the effects they with the hand and voice
Produce on him that listens. Dead is _that_
Aspasia, that I so loved, aye, dead
Forever, who was once sole object of
My life; save as a phantom, ever dear,
That comes from time to time, and disappears.
Thou livest still, not only beautiful,
But in thy beauty still surpassing all;
But oh, the flame thou didst enkindle once,
Long since has been extinguished; _thee_, indeed,
I never loved, but that Divinity,
Once living, buried now within my heart.
Her, long time, I adored; and was so pleased
With her celestial beauty, that, although
I from the first thy nature knew full well,
And all thy artful and coquettish ways,
Yet _her_ fair eyes beholding still in _thine_,
I followed thee, delighted, while she lived;
Deceived? Ah, no! But by the pleasure led,
Of that sweet likeness, that allured me so,
A long and heavy servitude to bear.

Now boast; thou can'st! Say, that to thee alone
Of all thy sex, my haughty head I bowed,
To thee alone, of my unconquered heart
An offering made. Say, that thou wast the first--
And surely wast the last--that in my eye
A suppliant look beheld, and me before
Thee stand, timid and trembling (how I blush,
In saying it, with anger and with shame),
Of my own self deprived, thy every wish,
Thy every word submissively observing,
At every proud caprice becoming pale,
At every sign of favor brightening,
And changing color at each look of thine.
The charm is over, and, with it, the yoke
Lies broken, scattered on the ground; and I
Rejoice. 'Tis true my days are laden with
Ennui; yet after such long servitude,
And such infatuation, I am glad
My judgment, freedom to resume. For though
A life bereft of love's illusions sweet,
Is like a starless night, in winter's midst,
Yet some revenge, some comfort can I find
For my hard fate, that here upon the grass,
Outstretched in indolence I lie, and gaze
Upon the earth and sea and sky, and smile.

ON AN OLD SEPULCHRAL BAS-RELIEF.

WHERE IS SEEN A YOUNG MAIDEN, DEAD, IN THE ACT OF DEPARTING,
TAKING LEAVE OF HER FAMILY.

Where goest thou? Who calls
Thee from my dear ones far away?
Most lovely maiden