Fancy, that shews her in her early bloom,
throws barren sunshine o'er the unyielding tomb.
What then would passion, what would reason do?
sure, to retrace is worse than to pursue.
Here will I sit, till heaven shall cease to lour,
and happier Hesper bring the appointed hour;
gaze on the mingled waste of sky and sea,
think of my love and bid her think of me.
'HUS by himself compelled to live each day,
to wait for certain hours the tide's delay;
at the same time the same dull views to see,
the bounding marsh-bank and the blighted tree;
the water only, when the tides were high,
when low, the mud half-covered and half-dry;
the sun-burnt tar that blisters on the planks,
and bank-side stakes in their uneven ranks;
heaps of entangled weeds that slowly float,
as the tide rolls by the impeded boat.
When tides were neap, and in the sultry day
through the tall bounding mud-banks made their way,
which on each side rose swelling and below
the dark warm flood ran silently and slow;
there anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide,
there hang his head, and view the lazy tide
in its hot slimy channel slowly glide.
F thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
go visit it by the pale moon-light;
for the gay beams of lightsome day
gild but to flout the ruins gray.
When the broken arches are black in night,
and each shafted oriel glimmers white;
when the cold light's uncertain shower
streams on the ruined central tower;
when buttress and buttress alternately
seemed framed of ebon and ivory:
when silver edges the imagery,
and the scrolls that teach thee to live and die;
when distant Tweed is heard to rave,
and the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave,
then go-but go alone the while-
then view St David's ruined pile;
and, home returning, soothly swear,
was never scene so sad and fair.
IGHT wanes—the vapours round the mountains
curl'd
melt into morn, and Light awakes the world.
Man has another day to swell the past,
and lead him near to little but his last;
but mighty Nature bounds as from her birth,
the sun is in the heavens and life on earth;
flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam,
health on the gale and freshness in the stream.
Immortal man, behold her glories shine,
and cry, exulting inly, they are thine!
gaze on, while yet thy gladdened eye may see;
a morrow comes, when they are not for thee:
and grieve what may above thy senseless bier,
nor earth nor sky will yield a single tear;
nor cloud shall gather more, nor leaf shall fall,
nor gale breathe forth one sigh for thee, for all;
but creeping things shall revel in their spoil,
and fit thy clay to fertilise the soil.
THE UNIVERSAL POWER OF LOVE
Ὦ παῖδες, ή τοι Κύπρις οὐ Κύπρις μόνον,
ἀλλ ̓ ἔστι πολλῶν ὀνομάτων ἐπώνυμος,
ἔστιν μὲν ᾅδης, ἔστι δ' ἄφθιτος βία,
ἔστιν δὲ λύσσα μαινάς, ἔστι δ' ἵμερος
ἄκρατος, ἔστ' οίμωγμός· ἐν κείνῃ τὸ πᾶν,
σπουδαῖον, ἡσυχαῖον, ἐς βίαν ἄγον.
ἐντήκεται γὰρ πνευμόνων ὅσοις ἔνι,
ψυχὴ τίς οὐχὶ τῆσδε τῆς θεοῦ βορά;
εἰσέρχεται μὲν ἰχθύων πλωτῷ γένει
ἔνεστι δ ̓ ἐν χέρσου τετρασκελεῖ γονῇ·
νωμᾷ δ ̓ ἐν οἰωνοῖσι τοὐκείνης πτερόν,
ἐν θηρσίν, ἐν βροτοῖσιν, ἐν θεοῖς ἄνω.
τίν ̓ οὐ παλαίουσ' ἐς τρὶς ἐκβάλλει θεῶν;
εἴ μοι θέμις, θέμις δὲ τἀληθῆ λέγειν,
· Διὸς τυραννεῖ πνευμόνων, ἄνευ δορός
ἄνευ σιδήρου πάντα του συντέμνεται
Κύπρις τὰ θνητῶν καὶ θεῶν βουλεύματα.
EAR is my little native vale,
the ring-dove builds and murmurs there;
close by my cot she tells her tale
to every passing villager.
The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,
and shells his nuts at liberty.
In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,
that breathe a gale of fragrance round,
I charm the fairy-footed hours
with my loved lute's romantic sound;
or crowns of living laurel weave
for those that win the race at eve.
The shepherd's horn at break of day,
the ballet danced in twilight glade,
the canzonet and roundelay
sung in the silent green-wood shade,
these simple joys, that never fail,
shall bind me to my native vale.
ATELY on yonder swelling bush,
big with many a coming rose,
this early bud began to blush,
and did but half itself disclose:
I plucked it, though no better grown;"
and now you see how full 'tis blown.
Still as I did the leaves inspire,
with such a purple light they shone,
as if they had been made of fire,
and spreading so, would flame anon:
all that was meant by air or sun
to the young flower, my breath has done.
If our loose breath so much can do,
what may the same in forms of love,
of purest love and music too,
when Flavia it aspires to move?
when that, which lifeless buds persuades
to wax more soft, her youth invades?
533 THE ASWAMEDHA OR SACRIFICE OF A HORSE
LONG the mead the hallowed Steed
Astill wanders wheresoe'er he will,
o'er hill or dale or plain;
no human hand hath tricked that mane
from which he shakes the morning dew;
his mouth has never felt the rein,
his lips have never frothed the chain;
for pure of blemish and of stain,
his neck unbroke to mortal yoke,
like Nature free the Steed must be,
fit offering for the Immortals he.
A year and day the Steed must stray
wherever chance may guide his way,
before he fall at Seeva's shrine;
the year and day have passed away,
nor touch of man hath marred the rite divine.
BOVE the sky was calm and fair,
the winds did cease and clouds were fled,
Aurora scattered Phoebus' hair,
new risen from her rosy bed:
at whose approach blithe Flora strew
both mead and mountain with her flowers,
while zephyr sweetest odours threw
about the field and leafy bowers.
The woods and waters left their sound,
no tenderest twig was seen to move;
the beast lay couched on the ground,
the winged people perched above;
save Philomel, who did renew
her wonted plaints unto the morn, that seem'd indeed her state to rue by shedding tears upon the thorn.
EHOLD the child, by nature's kindly law,
pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
some livelier play-thing gives his youth delight,
a little louder, but as empty quite :
scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
and beads and prayer-books are the toys of age;
pleased with this bauble still, as that before;
till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
RESH as the bordering flowers her bloom,
her eye all mild to view;
the little halcyon's azure plume
was never half so blue.
Her shape was like the reed, so sleek,
so taper, straight and fair,
her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,
how charming sweet they were!
Far in the winding vale retired
this peerless bud is found;
and shadowing rocks and woods conspired
to fence her beauties round:
that nature in so lone a dell
should form a nymph so sweet!
or fortune to her secret cell
conduct my wandering feet!
537 Gay lordlings sought her for their bride,
but she would ne'er incline:
'prove to your equals true' she cried
'as I will prove to mine.
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