Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears! Round the dear Shade she would have clung-'tis vain : The hours are past-too brief had they been years; And him no mortal effort can detain : Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse She lay. 160 170 COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY I HAD this effulgence disappeared With flying haste, I might have sent, But 'tis endued with power to stay, And sanctify one closing day, That frail Mortality may see What is ?-ah no, but what can be! Time was when field and watery cove With modulated echoes rang, While choirs of fervent Angels sang Their vespers in the grove; Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height, Warbled, for heaven above and earth below, Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite, Methinks, if audibly repeated now 10 From hill or valley, could not move Sublimer transport, purer love, Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam- II No sound is uttered.-but a deep Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues ! Herds range along the mountain side; Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve! An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread III And if there be whom broken ties Afflict, or injuries assail, Yon hazy ridges to their eyes Climbing suffused with sunny air, To stop-no record hath told where! And tempting Fancy to ascend, And with immortal Spirits blend! 20 30 40 -Wings at my shoulders seem to play; But, rooted here, I stand and gaze 50 On those bright steps that heavenward raise Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad, Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground. And wake him with such gentle heed As may attune his soul to meet the dower 60 EVENING OF SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY 327, IV Such hues from their celestial Urn Were wont to stream before mine eye. Of blissful infancy. This glimpse of glory, why renewed? Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve No less than Nature's threatening voice, If aught unworthy be my choice, From THEE if I would swerve; Oh, let Thy grace remind me of the light Which, at this moment, on my waking sight 'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades; WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF MACPHERSON'S OSSIAN OFT have I caught, upon a fitful breeze, Nor felt a wish that heaven would show What need, then, of these finished Strains? Away with counterfeit Remains! An abbey in its lone recess, A temple of the wilderness, Wrecks though they be, announce with feeling Spirit of Ossian! if im bound In language thou may'st yet be found, If aught (intrusted to the pen Or floating on the tongues of men, Albeit shattered and impaired) Subsist thy dignity to guard, 70 80 10 20 In concert with memorial claim Of old grey stone, and high-born name Where moans the blast, or beats the wave, Interpret that Original, And for presumptuous wrongs atone;— Authentic words be given, or none! Time is not blind;-yet He, who spares Hath preyed with ruthless appetite Into the land of mystery. No tongue is able to rehearse One measure, Orpheus! of thy verse; Who cast not off the acknowledged guide, Who faltered not, nor turned aside; Whose lofty genius could survive Privation, under sorrow thrive; The symbol of a snow-white beard, 60 Dropped from the lenient cloud of years. Brothers in soul! though distant times 70 Such to the tender-hearted maid Such Milton, to the fountain-head 80 |