Imatges de pÓgina

And that one star, which to her
Almost seems to minister
Half the crimson light she brings
From the sunset's radiant springs:
And the soft dreams of the morn
(Which like winged winds had borne
To that silent isle, which lies
'Mid remembered agonies,
The frail bark of this lone being).
Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,
And its ancient pilot, Pain,
Sits beside the helm again.

One light flame among the brakes,
While the boundless forest shakes,
And its mighty trunks are torn
By the fire thus lowly born :
The spark beneath his feet is dead,
He starts to see the flames it fed
Howling through the darkened sky
With a myriad tongues victoriously,
And sinks down in fear : so thou,
O tyranny, beholdest now
Light around thee, and thou hearest
The loud flames ascend, and fearest :
Grovel on the earth : ay, hide
In the dust thy purple pride!
Noon descends around me now:
'Tis the noon of autumn's glow,
When a soft and purple mist
Like a vaporous amethyst,
Or an air-dissolved star
Mingling light and fragrance, far
From the curved horizon's bound
To the point of heaven's profound,
Fills the overflowing sky;
And the plains that silent lie
Underneath, the leaves unsodden
Where the infant frost has trodden
With his morning-winged feet,
Whose bright print is gleaming yet ;
And the red and golden vines,
Piercing with their trellised lines
The rough, dark-skirted wilderness ;
The dun and bladed grass no less,
Pointing from this hoary tower
In the windless air ; the flower
Glimmering at my feet; the iine
Of the olive-sandalled Apennine
In the south dimly islanded ;
And the Alps, whose snows are spread
High between the clouds and sun ;
And of living things each one ;
And my spirit which so long
Darkened this swist stream of song,
Interpenetrated lie
By the glory of the sky :
Be it love, light, harmony,
Odour, or the soul of all
Which from heaven like dew doth fall,
Or the mind which feeds this verse
Peopling the lone universe.
Noon descends, and after noon
Autumn's evening meets me soon,
Leading the infantine moon,

Other flowering isles must be In the sea of life and agony: Other spirits float and flee Ver that gulf: even now, perhaps, On some rock the wild wave wraps, With folded wings they waiting sit For my bark, to pilot it To some calm and blooming cove, Where for me, and those I love, May a windless bower be built, Far from passion, pain, and guilt, In a dell 'mid lawny hills, Which the wild sea-murmur fills, And soft sunshine, and the sound Of old forests echoing round, And the light and smell divine Of all flowers that breathe and shine: We may live so happy there, That the spirits of the air, Envying us, may even entice To our healing paradise The polluting multitude ; But their rage would be subdued By that clime divine and calm, And the winds whose wings rain balm On the uplifted soul, and leaves Under which the bright sea heaves ; While each breathless interval In their whisperings musical The inspired soul supplies With its own deep melodies, And the love which heals all strife Circling, like the breath of life, All things in that sweet abode With its own mild brotherhood : They, not it would change; and soon Every sprite beneath the

moon Would repent its envy vain, And the earth grow young again.

The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats though unseen among us; visiting

This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer winds that creep from flower to flower ;
Like moonbeams that behind some piuy mountain shower,

It visits with inconstant glance

Each human heart and countenance ;
Like hues and harmonies of evening,

Like clouds in starlight widely spread,
Like memory of music fled,

Like aught that for its grace may be
Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.
Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate

With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon

Of human thought or form, where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate ?

Ask why the sunlight not for ever

Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain river ;
Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown;

Why fear and dream and death and birth
Cast on the daylight of this earth

Such gloom, why man has such a scope
For love and hate, despondency and hope?
No voice from some sublimer world hath ever

To sage or poet these responses given :

Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, Remain the records of their vain endeavour : Frail spells, whose uttered charm might not avail to sever,

From all we hear and all we see,

Doubt, chance, and mutability.
Thy light alone, like mist o'er mountains driven,

Or music by the night wind sent
Through strings of some still instrument,

Or moonlight on a midnight stream,
Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.
Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds, depart

And come, for some uncertain moments lent.

Man were immortal, and omnipotent, Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart.

Thou messenger of sympathies

That wax and wane in lover's eyes;
Thou, that to human thought art nourishment,

Like darkness to a dying flame !
Depart not as thy shadow came:

Depart not, lest the grave should be,
Like life and fear, a dark reality.
While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped

Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin,

And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed: I was not heard: I saw them not;

When musing deeply on the lot
Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing

All vital things that wake to bring
News of birds and blossoming,

Sudden thy shadow fell on me:
I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy!
I vowed that I would dedicate my powers

To thee and thine: have I not kept the vow?

With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now
I call the phantoms of a thousand hours
Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers

Of studious zeal or love's delight

Outwatched with me the envious night:
They know that never joy illumed my brow,

Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free
This world from its dark slavery,

That thou, O awful LOVELINESS,
Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express.
The day becomes more solemn and serene

When noon is past: there is a harmony

In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been !

Thus let thy power, which like the truth

Of nature on my passive youth
Descended, to my outward life supply

Its calm, to one who worships thee,
And every form containing thee,

Whom, SPIRIT fair, thy spells did bind
To fear himself, and love all human kind.


And opened a chasm
From her couch of snows

In the rocks;—with the spasm
In the Acroceraunian mountains,-- All Erymanthus shook.
From cloud and from crag,

And the black south wind
With many a jag.

It concealed behind
Shepherding her bright fountains. The urns of the silent snow,
She leapt down the rocks

And earthquake and thunder With her rainbow locks

Did rend in sunder
Streaming among the streams;

The bars of the springs below:
Her steps paved with green

The beard and the hair
The downward ravine

Of the river God were Which slopes to the western gleams: Seen through the torrent's sweep, And gliding and springing,

As he followed the light
She went, ever singing,

Of the fleet nymph's flight In murmurs as soft as sleep;

To the brink of the Dorian deep.
The Earth seemed to love her,
And Heaven smiled above her,

“Oh, save me ! Oh, guide me! As she lingered towards the deep.

And bid the deep hide me.

For he grasps me now by the hair!"
Then Alpheus bold,

The loud Ocean heard,
On his glacier cold,

To its blue depth stirred,
With his trident the mountains strook; And divided at her prayer;

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