EED ONE! there's wail for thee this hour
Through thy loved Elves' dominions[33];
Hush'd is each tiny trumpet-flower,
And droopeth Ariel's pinions;
Even Puck, dejected, leaves his swing[34],
To plan, with fond endeavour,
What pretty buds and dews shall keep
Thy pillow bright for ever.

V.
And higher, if less happy, tribes--
The race of earthly Childhood,
Shall miss thy Whims of frolic wit,
That in the summer wild-wood,
Or by the Christmas hearth, were hail'd
And hoarded as a treasure
Of undecaying merriment
And ever-changing pleasure.
Things from thy lavish humour flung,
Profuse as scents are flying
This kindling morn, when blooms are born
As fast as blooms are dying.

VI.
Sublimer Art own'd thy control,
The minstrel's mightiest magic,
With sadness to subdue the soul,
Or thrill it with the Tragic.
How, listening Aram's fearful dream,
We see beneath the willow,
That dreadful THING,[35] or watch him steal,
Guilt-lighted, to his pillow.[36]
Now with thee roaming ancient groves,
We watch the woodman felling
The funeral Elm, while through its boughs
The ghostly wind comes knelling.[37]

VII.
Dead Worshipper of Dian's face,
In solitary places
Shalt thou no more steal, as of yore,
To meet her white embraces?[38]
Is there no purple in the rose
Henceforward to thy senses?
For thee has dawn, and daylight's close
Lost their sweet influences?
No!--by the mental might untamed
Thou took'st to Death's dark portal,
The joy of the wide universe
Is now to thee immortal!

VIII.
How fierce contrasts the city's roar
With thy new-conquer'd Quiet!
This stunning hell of wheels that pour
With princes to their riot,--
Loud clash the crowds--the very clouds
With thunder-noise are shaken,
While pale, and mute, and cold, afar
Thou liest, men-forsaken.
Hot Life reeks on, nor recks that One
--The playful, human-hearted--
Who lent its clay less earthiness
Is just from earth departed.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 32: In his beautiful _Ode to Melancholy;_ originally published
in Blackwood's Magazine.]

[Footnote 33: See his _Plea of the Midsummer Fairies_, a poem perfectly
unrivalled for the intimate sense of nature, tender fancy, and