And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book."
Why that's my dainty Ariel, I shall miss thee,
But yet thou shalt have freedom."
"Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou Shalt have the air of freedom: for a little, Follow and do me service."
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In the cowslip's bell I lie,
There I couch when owls do cry,
On the bat's back I do fly
After Summer, merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
“Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune; and do fly him,
When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew-by whose aid
(Weak masters though you be) I have be-dimmed
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war."
SPIRIT of Bermuda's Isle !
How dost thou dare to murmur now?
Say where hath fled thy sunny smile,
And where the beauty of thy brow?
Thou wert within the trunk confined
Of yonder ancient, hollow tree;
I heard thy moaning on the wind,
And brought thee forth and set thee free,
At morn on Andes' peaks to stand,
With lightning wings and magic skill, Where both the oceans kiss the land!
At noon, through groves of limes to sail, Or skim across the smooth savanna, Or shelter in the shady vale, Beneath the waving, wild banana.
And murmurest thou at my behest?
What though I bid thee still the storm,
Or chase the sun down in the west,
'Tis mine to say-thine to conform.
Why wearest thou these mournful looks,
Whene'er thy rapid race is run?
Thine eyelids o'er their brimful brooks
Droop sad as poppies in the sun;
And like Narcissus, by the stream,
You gaze upon the waters clear,
Until you break the charméd dream
By dropping in the pool a tear.
Then speak, I bid thee, and disclose
The reason why you droop and sigh,
Unfold each secret like the rose,
Who bares her bosom to the sky!—
Great Master! at thy beck I've flown
From frozen seas to torrid zone,
O'er ocean waves I've sped my flight
Where Borealis gilds the night,
And 'neath the polar lamps, whose hues
The lunar rainbow's lights diffuse,
Or iceberg city's thousand towers,
With glass green walls and frozen flowers,—
Where sun and moon with wintry fires
Illume a million icy spires;
I've stood upon the Arctic shore,
And heard the heaven rending roar
Of frozen mountains' giant forms
Moved through the sea by hurtling storms,
Jar 'gainst each other with such shock
As would have rift the Tristan Rock,
And, in the overwhelming crash,
Beheld the ice-born fires flash,
Which reddened all the sea below
With flames upon the froth of snow!
For thee, I've darted to the south,
And stood at the volcano's mouth,
When far below the lava boiled,
Came bubbling up, and then recoiled;
For thee, I've shot like beams of light,
And passed the Condor in his flight,
When he, from Chimborazo's brow,
With downward flight the mist did plough,
Cutting the clouds and ether through,
Towards the deep vales of rich Peru!
Then o'er the Carib Sea did glide,
Returning ever to thy side.
Ungrateful Spirit! dost forget
Who it was that set thee free?
Thou wouldst have been a prisoner yet
Nor known the joys of liberty.
Is it no pleasure, now, to come
Along the Oronoco's vale,
Where trees distil ambrosial gum,
And with their perfume load the gale,
'Mid broad-leaved groves of green pawpaws,
And trees that weight of figs oppress,
Fill'd with the flaming red macaws
Whose din disturbs the wilderness?—
Is it not joy to trace the walls
Where buried El Dorado lies,
And tread its subterranean halls,
Lit up by gems of thousand dyes?
Where in the glowing niche there stands
Of priceless pearl the magic vase,
Bright as the Moon from God's own hand,
When first she kiss'd the Ocean's face!
Oft I have let thee roam o'er isles
Whose sands are blanched as Greenland's snow,
Where many a white Magnolia smiles,
And wildwood roses bloom below;
And thou hast sailed from East to West,
From tallest mount to darkest dell,
But there's a secret in thy breast,-
I fain would know it, Ariel.
Pray chide me not; both sun and rain
At thy strong bidding I have stood,
And stemmed the rushing hurricane
Which roared within the warring wood,
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