THOUGHTS OF A STUDENT. 145 Then can I hear the earth rejoice, That sings of its glad festivity; Autumn hath sunset hours, and then The hues of earth are about to perish; Sad as the faces of friends that die, Love hath its thoughts, we cannot keep, The secret transports of the soul, Many a big, proud tear have I, When from my sweet and roaming track, From the green earth and misty sky, And spring and love I hurry back ; Then what a dismal, dreary gloom Settles upon my loathed room, Darker to every thought and sense Than if they had never travelled thence. Yet I have other thoughts that cheer The toilsome day, and lonely night, And many a scene and hope appear, And almost make me gay and bright. Honour and fame that I would win, Though every toil that yet hath been Were doubly borne, and not an hour Were brightly hued by Fancy's power. And though I may sometimes sigh to think That many a joy must be untasted, That toil and study and care are mine. LOVE AND FAME. BY H. Ꭲ . TUCKERMAN. GIVE me the boon of Love! Or damp the spirit now, To gain a wreath whose leaves shall wave Above a withered brow? Give me the boon of Love! Ambition's meed is vain; Dearer Affection's earnest smile Responsive to my own, Like the Chaldean sage, Fame's worshippers adore, The brilliant orbs that scatter light But in their very hearts enshrined The votaries of Love Keep e'er the holy flame, which once Illumed the courts above. Give me the boon of Love! Whose loudest echo ever floats A loving eye beguiles me more And one sweet tone of tenderness Give me the boon of Love! The path of Fame is drear, And Glory's arch doth ever span One wild flower from the path of Love, All lowly though it lie, Is dearer than the wreath that waves To stern Ambition's eye. LOVE AND FAME. 149 Give me the boon of Love! The lamp of Fame shines far, But Love's soft light glows near and warm A pure and household star. One tender glance can fill the soul With a perennial fire; But Glory's flame burns fitfully A lone, funereal pyre. Give me the boon of Love! Fame's trumpet-strains depart, But Love's sweet lute breathes melody And the scroll of Fame will burn When sea and earth consume, But the rose of Love in a happier sphere, |