as mine own shadow was this to me,a second self,far dearer and more fair; which clothed in undisolving radiancy. all those steep paths which languor and despair. of human things, had made so dark and bare. but which i trod alone-nor. till bereft. of friends,and overcome by lonely care knew i what solace for that loss was left. though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft!
ask not the pallid stranger,s woe, with beating heart and throbbing breast. whose step is faultering,weak,and slow, as though the body needed rest. whose wilered eye no object meets, nor cares to ken a friendly glance, with silent grief his busom beats-now fixed, as in a death-like trance. who looks around with fearful eye, and shun,s all converse with mankind.
list, stranger, list, mine is a human form. like that thou wearest-touch me-strink not now! my hand thou fee"st is not a ghost,s but warm with human blood-twas many years ago, since first my thirsting soul aspired to know. the secret of this wondrous world! when deep my heart was pierced with sympathy for woe, which could not be mine own-and thought did keep, in dream, unnatural watch beside an infant,s sleep!
i do not feel as if i were a man, but like a fiend appointed to chastise the offences of some unremembered world. my blood is running up and down my veins; a fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle; i feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; my heart is beating with an expectation of horrid joy!
to thirst and find no fill,-to wail and wander, with short unsteady steps-to pause and ponder-to feel the blood run throu the veins and tingle. where busy thought and blind sensation mingle; to nurse the image of unfelt caresses. till dim imagination just possesses. the half-created shadow then all the night!
i looked, and lo" one stood forth eloquently, his eyes were dark and deep, and the clear brow, which shadowed them was like the morning sky, the cloudless heaven of spring, when in their flow through bright air, the soft winds as they blow wake the green world-his gestures did obey. the oracular mind that made his features glow? and where his curved lips half-open lay, passions divinest stream had made impetuous way. beneath the darkness of his outspread hair he stood thus beautiful; but there was one, who sate beside him like his shadow there. and held his hand-far lovelier-she was known. to be thus fair, by the lines alone. which through her floating locks and gathered cloak, glances of soul- desolving glory, shone;-none else beheld her eyes-in him they woke memories which found a tongue as thus he silence broke.
they die-the dead return not-misery sits near an open grave and calls them over. a youth with hoary hair and haggard eye-they are the names of kindred, friend and lover. which he so feebly calls-they all are gone. fond wretch, all dead? those vacant names alone. this most familiar scene, my pain, these tombs-alone remain.
mid hollow charnel let me watch the flame. of taper dim, shedding a livid glare. O` then how fearful is it to reflect, that through the still globe,s awful solitude, no being wakes but me" till stealing sleep, my drooping temples bath in opiate dews;
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