« PreviousContinue »
And nought untunes that infant's voice; a trace
TO ROTHĄ ROTHA, my spiritual child! this head was gray When at the sacred font for thee I stood; Pledged till thou reach the verge of womanhood, And shalt become thy own sufficient stay: Too late, I feel, sweet orphan! was the day For steadfast hope the contract to fulfil: Yet shall my blessing hover o'er thee still, Embodied in the music of this lay, Breathed forth beside the peaceful mountain stream Whose murmur soothed thy languid mother's ear After her throes, this stream of name more dear Since thou dost bear it-a memorial theme For others; for thy future self a spell To summon fancies out of time's dark cell.
- TO Such age how beautiful! O lady bright, Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined By favouring nature and a saintly mind To something purer and more exquisite Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet’st my sight, When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek,
Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white,
And filling more and more with crystal light · As pensive evening deepens into night.
THE BUILDER VIRTUES.
Cleaves the blank air, life flies: now every day
MUTABILITY. From low to high doth dissolution climb, And sinks from high to low, along a scale Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail A musical but melancholy chime, Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Of yesterday, which royally did wear Its crown of weeds, but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of time.
PERSUASION. “Man's life is like a sparrow,* mighty king! That, stealing in while by the fire you sit Housed with rejoicing friends, is seen to flit Safe from the storm, in comfort tarrying. Here did it enter--there, on hasty wing Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold; But whence it came we know not, nor behold Whither it goes. Even such that transient thing,
See the original of this speech in Bede.