MELANCHOLY.

The nightingale's sad note in gloom is ringing,

As wails the bride above her lover's grave;

Like Grief above the tomb her tresses wringing,

So gleams the star of evening o'er the wave.

A melancholy haze hangs o'er the ocean;

The rocky cliffs reflect a sallow light—

Such as through cloister'd halls of dim devotion,

The moon-beams pour upon the cloudy night.

Ye rocky heights—ye violet-meads appearing

Once fairer to my gaze than poet's dream—

Now all your golden light to gloom is veering,

And every floweret laves in Lethe's stream.

Hills, valleys, meads, no changes ye are mourning;

'Tis to the hopeless every star appears

Like lamps in dark sepulchral vistas burning—

And every dew-tipp'd flower is gemm'd with tears!

Stray Leaves; or, Translations from the German Poets.