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Brooks, Maria Gowen, 1795?-1845

"Zophiel A Poem"


And who can look nor own the pencil's power
Where tender Ariadne, happy yet, [FN#26]
Lies in a dream of bliss?
The last half-pitying kiss,
By falsehood given, her sleeping lip has met--
That still seems hovering there like Zephyr o'er a flower.

[FN#26] Vanderlyn's Ariadne.

The dawn breaks slowly o'er the distant main,
To come no more her ingrate hero flies;
While thoughts confiding speak
Upon her mantling cheek--
Illusion chains the sense--in lowest sighs
Whispering--we fear to see her wake to pain.
But whither wandering? whatsoe'er has gained
Long conning book and heart the white-haired sage;
Cause and remote effect
In living semblance dect,
The truths divine of many a moral page
Thy hand, harmonious Peale, hath at a glance explained.


STANZAS.

To meet a friendship such as mine
Such feelings must thy heart refine
As seldom mortal mind gives birth,
'Tis love, without a stain of earth,
_Fratello del mio cor._
Tho' friendship be its earthly name
All pure, from highest heaven, it came
'Tis never felt for more than one,
And scorns to dwell with Venus' son
_Fratello del mio cor.


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