« PredošláPokračovať »
With squl-sustaining songs, and sweet debates
And thus Zonoras, by forever seeing
A bloodier power than ruled thy ruins then,
Was grass-grown, and the unremembered tears
And as the lady looked with faithful grief
And blighting hope, who with the news of death Struck body and soul as with a mortal blight, She saw beneath the chestnuts, far beneath,
An old man toiling up, a weary wight;
Of the wood-fire, and round his shoulders fall ;
And Athanase, her child, who must have been
Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds
; One amaranth glittering on the path of frost, When autumn nights have nipped all weaker
Thus through his age, dark, cold, and tempest
tossed, Shone truth upon Zonoras; and he filled From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and lost,
The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child,
And sweet and subtle talk they evermore,
The youth, as shadows on a grassy hill
Strange truths and new to that experienced man ; Still they were friends, as few have ever been Who mark the extremes of life's discordant span.
41 One, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || An, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
So in the caverns of the forest green,
By summer woodmen ; and when winter's roar
Hanging upon the peakèd wave afar,
Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam,
For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by,
Belted Orion hangs — warm light is flowing From the young moon into the sunset's chasm. “O summer eve with power divine, bestowing
“ On thine own bird the sweet enthusiasm Which overflows in notes of liquid gladness, Filling the sky like light! How many a spasm
58 So, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || And, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || night, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
“Of fevered brains, oppressed with grief and mad
ness, Were lulled by thee, delightful nightingale ! And these soft waves, murmuring a gentle sadness,
“ And the far sighings of yon piny dale Made vocal by some wind we feel not here, I bear alone what nothing may avail
“ To lighten — a strange load !” — No human ear Heard this lament; but o'er the visage wan Of Athanase a ruffling atmosphere
Of dark emotion, a swift shadow, ran,
Beheld his mystic friend's whole being shake,
And with a soft and equal pressure, pressed
“Paused in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, How in those beams we walked, half resting on
the sea ? 'Tis just one year sure thou dost not fo
“ Then Plato's words of light in thee and me Lingered like moonlight in the moonless east; For we had just then read — thy memory
Is faithful now
the story of the feast; And Agathon and Diotima seemed From death and dark forgetfulness released.”
'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings From slumber, as a spherèd angel's child, Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings,
Stands up before its mother bright and mild,
To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams,
The grass in the warm sun did start and move,
Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen
any mirror, or the spring's young minions, The winged leaves amid the copses green !
How many a spirit then puts on the pinions
Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, More fleet than storms the wide world shrinks
below, When winter and despondency are passed !
116 beneath, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || under, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.