« PreviousContinue »
I die with my delight, before
Roof'd the world with doubt and
fear, Floating thro' an evening atmosphere, Grow golden all about the sky; In thee all passion becomes passionless, Touch'd by thy spirit's mellowness, Losing his fire and active might
In a silent meditation, Falling into a still delight,
And luxury of contemplation : As waves that up a quiet cove
Rolling slide, and lying still
Shadow forth the banks at will : Or sometimes they swell and move,
Pressing up against the land,
And the self-same influence
Controlleth all the soul and sense Of Passion gazing upon thee. His bow-string slacken’d, languid Love,
Leaning his cheek upon his hand,
And so would languish evermore,
But good things have not kept aloof, Nor wander'd into other ways :
I have not lack'd thy mild reproof, Nor golden largess of thy praise. And now shake hands across the brink
Of that deep grave to which I go : Shake hands once more : I cannot sink
So far-far down, but I shall know
But when I see thee roam, with tresses
unconfined, While the amorous, odorous wind Breathes low between the sunset and
the moon ;
Or, in a shadowy saloon,
I watch thy grace ; and in its place
While I muse upon thy face ;
Thro' my veins to all my frame,
From thy rose-red lips My name
My tremulous tongue faltereth,
I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimm'd with delirious draughts of warm
When in the darkness over me
The four-handed mole shall scrape, Plant thou no dusky cypress-tree,
Nor wreathe thy cap with dolesul crape,
But pledge me in the flowing grape. And when the sappy field and wood
Grow green beneath the showery gray, And rugged barks begin to bud, And thro' damp holts new-flush'd with
may, Ring sudden scritches of the jay, Then let wise Nature work her will,
And on my clay her darnel grow ;
And at my headstone whisper low,
TO As when with downcast eyes we muse and
brood, And ebb into a former life, or seem To lapse far back in some confused dream
To states of mystical similitude ;
Which with increasing might doth forward If one but speaks or hems or stirs his chair,
fee Ever the wonder waxeth more and more, By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, So that we say, “All this hath been before,
and isle, All this hath been, I know not when or And in the middle of the green salt sea where.'
Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile. So, friend, when first I look'd upon your Mine be the power which ever to its sway face,
Will win the wise at once, and by degrees Our thought gave answer each to each, so May into uncongenial spirits flow;
Ev'n as the warm gulf-stream of Florida Opposed mirrors each reflecting each- Floats far away into the Northern seas That tho’I knew not in what time or place, The lavish growths of southern Mexico. Methought that I had often met with you, And either lived in either's heart and speech.
WARRIOR of God, whose strong right TO J. M. K.
The throne of Persia, when her Satrap My hope and heart is with thee—thou
bled wilt be A latter Luther, and a soldier-priest
At Issus by the Syrian gates, or fled To scare church-harpies from the master's Beyond the Memmian naphtha-pits, disfeast;
For everOur dusted velvets have much need of
—thee (thy pathway sand-erased) thee:
Gliding with equal crowns two serpents Thou art no sabbath-drawler of old saws,
led Distill'd from worm - canker'd Joyful to that palm-planted fountain-fed
Ammonian Oasis in the waste. homily ;
There in a silent shade of laurel brown But spurr'd at heart with feriest energy To embattail and to wall about thy cause
Apart the Chamian Oracle divine With iron-worded proof, hating to hark
Shelter'd his unapproached mysteries : The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone High things were spoken there, unhanded Half God's good sabbath, while the wornout clerk
Only they saw thee from the secret shrine Brow-beats his desk below. Thou from Returning with hot cheek and kindled a throne
v. Mounted in heaven wilt shoot into the dark
BUONAPARTE. Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark.
He thought to quell the stubborn hearts
Madman !—to chain with chains, and bind Mine be the strength of spirit, full and
with bands free,
That island queen who sways the floods Like some broad river rushing down
and lands alone,
From Ind to Ind, but in fair daylight woke, With the selssame impulse wherewith he | When from her wooden walls, - lit by was thrown
sure hands, From his loud fount upon the echoing with thunders, and with lightnings, and lea:
with smoke, –
Peal after peal, the British battle broke, And chased away the still-recurring gnat, Lulling the brine against the Coptic sands. And woke her with a lay from fairy land. We taught him lowlier moods, when El. But now they live with Beauty less and sinore
less, Heard the war moan along the distant sea, For Hope is other Hope and wanders far, Rocking with shatter'd spars, with sudden Nor cares to lisp in love's delicious creeds; fires
And Fancy watches in the wilderness, Flamed over : at Trafalgar yet once more Poor Fancy sadder than a single star, We taught him : late he learned humility That sets at twilight in a land of reeds. Perforce, like those whom Gideon school'd with briers.
The form, the form alone is eloquent ! VI.
A nobler yearning never broke her rest POLAND.
Than but to dance and sing, be gaily
drest, How long, O God, shall men be ridden down,
And win all eyes with all accomplishAnd trampled under by the last and least Of men ? The heart of Poland hath not
Yet in the whirling dances as we went, ceased
My fancy made me for a moment blest To quiver, tho' her sacred blood doth To find my heart so near the beauteous
breast drown The fields, and out of every smouldering That once had power to rob it of content,
A moment came the tenderness of tears, town Cries to Thee, lest brute Power be in- The phantom of a wish that once could
move, creased, Till that o'ergrown Barbarian in the East
A ghost of passion that no smiles re
storeTransgress his ample bound to some new
For ah ! the slight coquette, she cannot Cries to Thee, ‘Lord, how long shall
love, these things be?
And if you kiss'd her feet a thousand How long this icy-hearted Muscovite
years, Oppress the region?' Us, O Just and
She still would take the praise, and care Good, Forgive, who smiled when she was torn in three ;
Wan Sculptor, weepest thou to take the Us, who stand now, when we should aid the right
Of those dead lineaments that near thee A matter to be wept with tears of blood !
lie? O sorrowest thou, pale Painter, for the
past, Caress'D or chidden by the slender hand, Inpainting some dead friend from memory? And singing airy trifles this or that, Weep on: beyond his object Love can Light Hope at Beauty's call would perch
last: and stand,
His object lives : more cause to weep And run thro' every change of sharp and
have I :
My tears, no tears of love, are flowing fast, And Fancy came and at her pillow sat, No tears of love, but tears that Love can When Sleep had bound her in his rosy
I pledge her not in any cheerful cup,
Nor care to sit beside her where she sits-
O BRIDESMAID, ere the happy knot was
tied, Thine eyes so wept that they could hardly
see ; If I were loved, as I desire to be, Thy sister smiled and said, “No tears for What is there in the great sphere of the
me ! earth,
A happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride.' And range of evil between death and birth, And then, the couple standing side by That I should fear,--if I were loved by
Love lighted down between them full of All the inner, all the outer world of pain glee, Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if | And over his left shoulder laugh'd at thou wert mine,
thee, As I have heard that, somewhere in the .O happy bridesmaid, make a happy main,
bride.' Fresh-water springs come up through And all at once a pleasant truth I learn’d, bitter brine.
For while the tender service made thee 'Twere joy, not fear, claspt hand-in-hand
weep, with thee,
I loved thee for the tear thou couldst not To wait for death-mute-careless of all
And prest thy hand, and knew the press Apart upon a mountain, tho' the surge
return'd, Of some new deluge from a thousand hills And thought, ‘My life is sick of single Flung leagues of roaring foam into the sleep : gorge
o happy bridesmaid, make a happy Below us, as far on as eye could see.
For osten thro' the silent nights
And music, went to Camelot :
The Lady of Shalott.
By slow horses ; and unhail'd
Skimming down to Camelot :
The Lady of Shalott ?
Down to tower'd Camelot :
Lady of Shalott.'
A BOW-Shot from her bower-eaves,
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
As he rode down to Camelot :
Beside remote Shalott.
THERE she weaves by night and day
To look down to Camelot.
The Lady of Shalott.
Winding down to Camelot :
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot ; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
As he rode down to Camelot.
Moves over still Shalott.
As he rode down to Camelot.
Sang Sir Lancelot.