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I have no charm to renovate the youth
Of old authentic dictates of the heart,
And out of Nature form creative Art.
Divinest Poesy !—'tis thine to make
Age young—youth old—to baffle tyrant Time, From antique strains the hoary dust to shake,
And with familiar grace to crown new rhyme.
Long have I loved thee-long have loved in vain,
Yet large the debt my spirit owes to thee, Thou wreath’d'st my first hours in a rosy chain,
Rocking the cradle of my infancy.
The lovely images of earth and sky
From thee I learn’d within my soul to treasure ; And the strong magic of thy minstrelsy
Charms the world's tempest to a sweet, sad measure.
Nor Fortune's spite-nor hopes that once have been
Hopes which no power of Fate can give again, Not the sad sentence--that my life must wean
From dear domestic joys-nor all the train
Of pregnant ills and penitential harms
That dog the rear of youth unwisely wasted, Can dim the lustre of thy stainless charms,
Or sour the sweetness that in thee I tasted.
Se lamentar augelli, o verdi fronde.
The birds piped mournfully; the dark green leaves
I NEED a cleansing change within-
Ah! why did fabling Poets tell
Ah, no! but Lethe flows aloft
It is the only fount of bliss
O Fons Blandusiæ, splendidior vitro,
BLANDUSIAN spring, more gaily bright,
In thy never-ceasing birth, Than gem compact of solar light,
That, fetter'd long in darksome earth, Leaps forth to greet a kindred rayThou art worth a Poet's lay.
Flowers—them we will not give,–
Thou hast plenty of thy own; Little lambkins ;-let them live,
Thou wert loath to hear them moan : Let them frisk upon thy bourn, And in thee view the budding horn.
Well I know, an ancient Poet
Promised thee a kid to-morrow
If he paid it, 'twas thy sorrow :-