Love and the Poet

The thunder roll'd o'er land and sea,
The storm howl'd over rock and river,
" The Past hath been, and shall not be,
For ever, and for ever! "
Blue lightnings streaming over deserts vast
Glimmer on flying phantoms dimly shown,
And threatening spectres that pursue in haste
Thro' dismal aisles, and cities overthrown.
Hark I 'tis the sound of War in heaven,
Death leads the armies of the air,
His Giants o'er the moonlight driven
Blow trumpets of despair;
I hear a cry as of departing Powers,
And ere the banners of the foe be furl'd,
Beauty and Strength shall perish with the hours,
'Mid the fall'n fragments of a ruin'd world.
Three dead leaves of an aged vine
Tap doleful at my window-pane;
The cold stars shudder, as they shine,
Thro' wind and gusty rain;
Far off I hear the torrent waters thrown
Into the valley, like a battle-host,
The ancient forests in their sorrow groan,
And frighted Nature echoes " I am lost! "
The voice of one forlorn and blind,
A piteous voice, yet golden-sweet,
Comes in the pauses of the wind,
And makes my heart to beat;
"Ah! Death, ah! Night, ah! whither shall I fly
To some fond heart, as in the days of old?
Take me, O friends, or surely I shall die,
The world is dark, and I am faint and cold!
A voice more solemn than the other
A tender voice, sublime in sadness,
Like brother speaking unto brother,
Soars thro' the stream's shrill madness;
" Come to me, I will shield thee from the wind,
Forsaken Wanderer, wheresoe'er thou art;
Come to my stricken heart, and thou shalt find
A home, and thou and I will never part."
The thunder roll'd o'er land and sea,
The storm howl'd on o'er waste and city:
I knew that voice of agony,
I knew that voice of pity:
'Twas Love, fond Love, dejected and forsaken,
Seeking the Poet thro' the stormy clime;
'Twas the sad Poet by the night o'ertaken,
That found lost Love amid the wrecks of Time.