And nurtured in a fickle clime, May haunt this horned bay; Whose amorous water multiplies The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes; And smooths her liquid breast-to show These swan-like specks of mountain snow, White as the pair that slid along the plains Of heaven, when Venus held the reins !
In youth we love the darksome lawn Brushed by the owlet's wing;
Then, Twilight is preferred to Dawn, And Autumn to the Spring.
Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness. Lycoris (if such name befit
Thee, thee my life's celestial sign !) When Nature marks the year's decline, Be ours to welcome it;
Pleased with the harvest hope that runs
Before the path of milder suns;
Pleased while the sylvan world displays
Its ripeness to the feeding gaze;
Pleased when the sullen winds resound the knell
Of the resplendent miracle.
But something whispers to my heart That, as we downward tend, Lycoris! life requires an art To which our souls must bend; A skill-to balance and supply; And, ere the flowing fount be dry, As soon it must, a sense to sip, Or drink, with no fastidious lip.
Then welcome, above all, the Guest
Whose smiles, diffused o'er land and sea,
Seem to recal the Deity
Of youth into the breast:
May pensive Autumn ne'er present
A claim to her disparagement !
While blossoms and the budding spray Inspire us in our own decay;
Still, as we nearer draw to life's dark goal,
Be hopeful Spring the favourite of the Soul!
ENOUGH of climbing toil!—Ambition treads Here, as 'mid busier scenes, ground steep and rough, Or slippery even to peril! and each step, As we for most uncertain recompence
Mount toward the empire of the fickle clouds,
Each weary step, dwarfing the world below, Induces, for its old familiar sights, Unacceptable feelings of contempt,
With wonder mixed-that Man could e'er be tied, In anxious bondage, to such nice array
And formal fellowship of petty things! -Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies this life, Making a truth and beauty of her own; And moss-grown alleys, circumscribing shades, And gurgling rills, assist her in the work More efficaciously than realms outspread, As in a map, before the adventurer's gaze— Ocean and Earth contending for regard.
The umbrageous woods are left-how far beneath! But lo! where darkness seems to guard the mouth Of yon wild cave, whose jaggèd brows are fringed With flaccid threads of ivy, in the still And sultry air, depending motionless. Yet cool the space within, and not uncheered (As whoso enters shall ere long perceive) By stealthy influx of the timid day
Mingling with night, such twilight to compose As Numa loved; when, in the Egerian grot, From the sage Nymph appearing at his wish, He gained whate'er a regal mind might ask, Or need, of counsel breathed through lips divine.
Long as the heat shall rage, let that dim cave Protect us, there deciphering as we may Diluvian records; or the sighs of Earth Interpreting; or counting for old Time His minutes, by reiterated drops, Audible tears, from some invisible source
That deepens upon fancy-more and more
Drawn toward the centre whence those sighs creep forth To awe the lightness of humanity.
Or, shutting up thyself within thyself, There let me see thee sink into a mood Of gentler thought, protracted till thine eye Be calm as water when the winds are gone, And no one can tell whither. Dearest Friend!
We two have known such happy hours together That, were power granted to replace them (fetched From out the pensive shadows where they lie) In the first warmth of their original sunshine, Loth should I be to use it: passing sweet Are the domains of tender memory!
THE sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields Are hung, as if with golden shields, Bright trophies of the sun!
Like a fair sister of the sky,
Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,
The mountains looking on.
And, sooth to say, yon vocal grove,
Albeit uninspired by love,
By love untaught to ring,
May well afford to mortal ear
An impulse more profoundly dear Than music of the Spring.
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