The rose forgets its hue of red,—
The mouldering temple sinks in shame,
And all that majesty is dead
Which awed so long astonish'd fame;—
For freedom hath vanish'd and quench'd is the smile
And darken'd the light in the eyes of the Nile.—
I meant not that from Egypt's brow
Each charm by nature loved had past,
No! still her genial summers glow,
And toying with destruction's blast
Her pyramids their shadows cast
O'er emmet man:—I only said
That liberty had breathed her last,
And beauty from the brave had fled:—
Ye may wonder and gaze, but can ye the while
Dry the tear of the slave from the eyes of the Nile?
ON BEING ENTERTAINED WITH PAINTING AND MUSIC.
Scenes, where the charms of nature shine
In radiant robes of art divine,
Touch'd with mild grace, or throned on high
With bold and broken majesty,—
Scenes where the enraptured soul of song
In garb historic sweeps along,
Ruling with powerful key the cells
Where love reclines, or terror dwells,
Till touch'd with life the canvass swells,
