MISCELLANEOUS 'POEMS? The apathy of listless Indolence, The storm of Passion, or the sculk of Fear. Behind are these. Forget them, O my soul ! Before me---what? Oh, now all lungnag6 fails, Yet give me words, or my full heart will burst ! A thousand--thousand struggling thoughts sontend For utterance. Yonder sinks the glorious Sun, Dilated into more magnificence, Than when he triumphs on the tower of noon. Robed in a purple zone, regal, he sinks, Like Caesar, proud and matchless in his fall. From the bright west streams one continuous cloud, Ev'n to the farthest east; of rainbow form, Yet borrowing but one hue--the rosy dye-- From yonder orb. Behold, it spans the heavens, A bridge uniting the opposing poles, As if for Seraphim thereon to lead Their chariots and bright cohorts. The white Moon Oval, glides on beside it, enters now, And veils her face behind the blushing shade. And this is Solitude: O h, how misnamed ! A thousand airy voices are around me, And hold more true communion with. my soul Than the unmingilng intercourse of speech..' ' O Solitud% thou art most dear to him? Who, loathing the vile tumult of the world, ......... ?Google
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