Name, my Laura, name the whirl-compelling
    Bodies to unite in one blest whole-
   Name, my Laura, name the wondrous magic
    By which soul rejoins its kindred soul!

   See! it teaches yonder roving planets
    Round the sun to fly in endless race;
   And as children play around their mother,
    Checkered circles round the orb to trace.

   Every rolling star, by thirst tormented,
    Drinks with joy its bright and golden rain-
   Drinks refreshment from its fiery chalice,
    As the limbs are nourished by the brain.

   ’Tis through Love that atom pairs with atom,
    In a harmony eternal, sure;
   And ’tis Love that links the spheres together-
    Through her only, systems can endure.

   Were she but effaced from Nature’s clockwork,
   Into dust would fly the mighty world;
   O’er thy systems thou wouldst weep, great Newton,
    When with giant force to chaos hurled!

   Blot the goddess from the spirit order,
    It would sink in death, and ne’er arise. 
   Were love absent, spring would glad us never;
    Were love absent, none their God would prize!

   What is that, which, when my Laura kisses,
    Dyes my cheek with flames of purple hue,
   Bids my bosom bound with swifter motion,
    Like a fever wild my veins runs through?

   Every nerve from out its barriers rises,
    O’er its banks, the blood begins to flow;
   Body seeks to join itself to body,
    Spirits kindle in one blissful glow.

   Powerful as in the dead creations
    That eternal impulses obey,
   O’er the web Arachne-like of Nature,-
    Living Nature,-Love exerts her sway.

   Laura, see how joyousness embraces
    E’en the overflow of sorrows wild! 
   How e’en rigid desperation kindles
    On the loving breast of Hope so mild.

   Sisterly and blissful rapture softens
    Gloomy Melancholy’s fearful night,
   And, deliver’d of its golden children,
    Lo, the eye pours forth its radiance bright!

   Does not awful Sympathy rule over
    E’en the realms that Evil calls its own? 
   For ’tis Hell our crimes are ever wooing,
    While they bear a grudge ’gainst Heaven alone!

   Shame, Repentance, pair Eumenides-like,
    Weave round sin their fearful serpent-coils: 
   While around the eagle-wings of Greatness
    Treach’rous danger winds its dreaded toils.

   Ruin oft with Pride is wont to trifle,
    Envy upon Fortune loves to cling;
   On her brother, Death, with arms extended,
    Lust, his sister, oft is wont to spring.

   On the wings of Love the future hastens
    In the arms of ages past to lie;
   And Saturnus, as he onward speeds him,
    Long hath sought his bride-Eternity!

   Soon Saturnus will his bride discover,-
    So the mighty oracle hath said;
   Blazing worlds will turn to marriage torches
    When Eternity with Time shall wed!

   Then a fairer, far more beauteous morning,
    Laura, on our love shall also shine,
   Long as their blest bridal-night enduring:-
    So rejoice thee, Laura-Laura mine!

     To Laura at the harpsichord.

   When o’er the chords thy fingers stray,
   My spirit leaves its mortal clay,
    A statue there I stand;
   Thy spell controls e’en life and death,
   As when the nerves a living breath
    Receive by Love’s command!

   More gently zephyr sighs along
   To listen to thy magic song;
   The systems formed by heavenly love
   To sing forever as they move,
   Pause in their endless-whirling round
   To catch the rapture-teeming sound;
   ’Tis for thy strains they worship thee,-
   Thy look, enchantress, fetters me!

   From yonder chords fast-thronging come
    Soul-breathing notes with rapturous speed,
   As when from out their heavenly home
    The new-born seraphim proceed;
   The strains pour forth their magic might,
   As glittering suns burst through the night,
   When, by Creation’s storm awoke,
   From chaos’ giant-arm they broke.

    Now sweet, as when the silv’ry wave
    Delights the pebbly beach to lave;
    And now majestic as the sound
    Of rolling thunder gathering round;
   Now pealing more loudly, as when from yon height
   Descends the mad mountain-stream, foaming and bright;
      Now in a song of love
       Dying away,
      As through the aspen grove
       Soft zéphyrs play: 
   Now heavier and more mournful seems the strain,
   As when across the desert, death-like plain,
   Whence whispers dread and yells despairing rise,
   Cocytus’ sluggish, wailing current sighs.

    Maiden fair, oh, answer me! 
    Are not spirits leagued with thee? 
    Speak they in the realms of bliss
    Other language e’er than this?

        Groupfrom Tartarus.

   Hark! like the sea in wrath the heavens assailing,
   Or like a brook through rocky basin wailing,
   Comes from below, in groaning agony,
   A heavy, vacant torment-breathing sigh! 
   Their faces marks of bitter torture wear,
   While from their lips burst curses of despair;
    Their eyes are hollow, and full of woe,
     And their looks with heartfelt anguish
    Seek Cocytus’ stream that runs wailing below,
     For the bridge o’er its waters they languish.

   And they say to each other in accents of fear,
   “Oh, when will the time of fulfilment appear?”
   High over them boundless eternity quivers,
   And the scythe of Saturnus all-ruthlessly, shivers!