THE FOUNTAIN IN THE FOREST
FROM LAMARTINE.
LLONELY stream of rushing water,From the rock that gave thee birth,Hast thou fallen, O Naiad's daughter!Mingling with the common earth?Shall Carrara's snowy marbleNever more thy waves inurn;That with wild and plaintive warble,By their broken temple mourn?
LLONELY stream of rushing water,From the rock that gave thee birth,Hast thou fallen, O Naiad's daughter!Mingling with the common earth?Shall Carrara's snowy marbleNever more thy waves inurn;That with wild and plaintive warble,By their broken temple mourn?
LLONELY stream of rushing water,From the rock that gave thee birth,Hast thou fallen, O Naiad's daughter!Mingling with the common earth?Shall Carrara's snowy marbleNever more thy waves inurn;That with wild and plaintive warble,By their broken temple mourn?
L
LONELY stream of rushing water,From the rock that gave thee birth,Hast thou fallen, O Naiad's daughter!Mingling with the common earth?Shall Carrara's snowy marbleNever more thy waves inurn;That with wild and plaintive warble,By their broken temple mourn?
Nor thy dolphins lying shattered,Fling their columns up again,That in radiant glory scattered,Fell to the earth a jewelled rain.Must the bending beeches only,Veil thy desolate decay,Spreading solemnly and lonelyO'er thy waters, dark as they?
Nor thy dolphins lying shattered,Fling their columns up again,That in radiant glory scattered,Fell to the earth a jewelled rain.Must the bending beeches only,Veil thy desolate decay,Spreading solemnly and lonelyO'er thy waters, dark as they?
Nor thy dolphins lying shattered,Fling their columns up again,That in radiant glory scattered,Fell to the earth a jewelled rain.Must the bending beeches only,Veil thy desolate decay,Spreading solemnly and lonelyO'er thy waters, dark as they?
Nor thy dolphins lying shattered,Fling their columns up again,That in radiant glory scattered,Fell to the earth a jewelled rain.Must the bending beeches only,Veil thy desolate decay,Spreading solemnly and lonelyO'er thy waters, dark as they?
Pallid Autumn-leaves are lyingOn thy hollow marble tomb,And the willows round it sighing,Wave their bannerets of gloom.Still thou flowest ever, ever—Like a loving heart that givesSmiles and blessings, though it neverMeeteth smile from one who lives.
Pallid Autumn-leaves are lyingOn thy hollow marble tomb,And the willows round it sighing,Wave their bannerets of gloom.Still thou flowest ever, ever—Like a loving heart that givesSmiles and blessings, though it neverMeeteth smile from one who lives.
Pallid Autumn-leaves are lyingOn thy hollow marble tomb,And the willows round it sighing,Wave their bannerets of gloom.Still thou flowest ever, ever—Like a loving heart that givesSmiles and blessings, though it neverMeeteth smile from one who lives.
Pallid Autumn-leaves are lyingOn thy hollow marble tomb,And the willows round it sighing,Wave their bannerets of gloom.Still thou flowest ever, ever—Like a loving heart that givesSmiles and blessings, though it neverMeeteth smile from one who lives.
Roughest rocks to polished beautyChanging as thou flowest on;Such the Poet's heaven-taught duty,Mid the stony-hearted throng!Thus thy voice to me hath spoken,Falling, falling from on high,As a chord in music, brokenBy a gently-murmured sigh.
Roughest rocks to polished beautyChanging as thou flowest on;Such the Poet's heaven-taught duty,Mid the stony-hearted throng!Thus thy voice to me hath spoken,Falling, falling from on high,As a chord in music, brokenBy a gently-murmured sigh.
Roughest rocks to polished beautyChanging as thou flowest on;Such the Poet's heaven-taught duty,Mid the stony-hearted throng!Thus thy voice to me hath spoken,Falling, falling from on high,As a chord in music, brokenBy a gently-murmured sigh.
Roughest rocks to polished beautyChanging as thou flowest on;Such the Poet's heaven-taught duty,Mid the stony-hearted throng!Thus thy voice to me hath spoken,Falling, falling from on high,As a chord in music, brokenBy a gently-murmured sigh.
Ah! what sad yet glorious visionOf my youth thy scenes unroll,When I felt the Poet's missionKindling first within my soul;When the passion and the gloryOf the far-off future years,Shone in radiant light before me,Through the present dimm'd by tears.
Ah! what sad yet glorious visionOf my youth thy scenes unroll,When I felt the Poet's missionKindling first within my soul;When the passion and the gloryOf the far-off future years,Shone in radiant light before me,Through the present dimm'd by tears.
Ah! what sad yet glorious visionOf my youth thy scenes unroll,When I felt the Poet's missionKindling first within my soul;When the passion and the gloryOf the far-off future years,Shone in radiant light before me,Through the present dimm'd by tears.
Ah! what sad yet glorious visionOf my youth thy scenes unroll,When I felt the Poet's missionKindling first within my soul;When the passion and the gloryOf the far-off future years,Shone in radiant light before me,Through the present dimm'd by tears.
Can thy stream recall the shadowOf the spirit-haunted boy,Who in sunlight, through the meadow,Roamed in deep and woundrous joy?Yet bright memory still reaches,All athwart thy glistening beams,Where, beneath the shading beeches,Lay the sunny child of dreams;
Can thy stream recall the shadowOf the spirit-haunted boy,Who in sunlight, through the meadow,Roamed in deep and woundrous joy?Yet bright memory still reaches,All athwart thy glistening beams,Where, beneath the shading beeches,Lay the sunny child of dreams;
Can thy stream recall the shadowOf the spirit-haunted boy,Who in sunlight, through the meadow,Roamed in deep and woundrous joy?Yet bright memory still reaches,All athwart thy glistening beams,Where, beneath the shading beeches,Lay the sunny child of dreams;
Can thy stream recall the shadowOf the spirit-haunted boy,Who in sunlight, through the meadow,Roamed in deep and woundrous joy?Yet bright memory still reaches,All athwart thy glistening beams,Where, beneath the shading beeches,Lay the sunny child of dreams;
Weaving fancies bright as morning,With its purple and its gold;Strong to trample down earth's scorningWith the faith of men of old.Ready life itself to renderAt the shrine to which he bowed,Knowing not the transient splendourGilded but the tempest-cloud.
Weaving fancies bright as morning,With its purple and its gold;Strong to trample down earth's scorningWith the faith of men of old.Ready life itself to renderAt the shrine to which he bowed,Knowing not the transient splendourGilded but the tempest-cloud.
Weaving fancies bright as morning,With its purple and its gold;Strong to trample down earth's scorningWith the faith of men of old.Ready life itself to renderAt the shrine to which he bowed,Knowing not the transient splendourGilded but the tempest-cloud.
Weaving fancies bright as morning,With its purple and its gold;Strong to trample down earth's scorningWith the faith of men of old.Ready life itself to renderAt the shrine to which he bowed,Knowing not the transient splendourGilded but the tempest-cloud.
On my heart was still'd the laughter,Cold the clay around the dead,When I came in years long afterHere to rest my weary head.Waked the sad tears fast and warm,Once again the ancient place,Till, like droppings of the storm,They fell heavy on thy face.
On my heart was still'd the laughter,Cold the clay around the dead,When I came in years long afterHere to rest my weary head.Waked the sad tears fast and warm,Once again the ancient place,Till, like droppings of the storm,They fell heavy on thy face.
On my heart was still'd the laughter,Cold the clay around the dead,When I came in years long afterHere to rest my weary head.Waked the sad tears fast and warm,Once again the ancient place,Till, like droppings of the storm,They fell heavy on thy face.
On my heart was still'd the laughter,Cold the clay around the dead,When I came in years long afterHere to rest my weary head.Waked the sad tears fast and warm,Once again the ancient place,Till, like droppings of the storm,They fell heavy on thy face.
Human voice was none to hear meIn that silence of the tomb;But thy waters, sobbing near me,Seemed responsive to the gloom;And I flung my thoughts all idlyOn thy current in a dream,Like the pale leaves scattered widelyOn thy autumn-drifted stream.
Human voice was none to hear meIn that silence of the tomb;But thy waters, sobbing near me,Seemed responsive to the gloom;And I flung my thoughts all idlyOn thy current in a dream,Like the pale leaves scattered widelyOn thy autumn-drifted stream.
Human voice was none to hear meIn that silence of the tomb;But thy waters, sobbing near me,Seemed responsive to the gloom;And I flung my thoughts all idlyOn thy current in a dream,Like the pale leaves scattered widelyOn thy autumn-drifted stream.
Human voice was none to hear meIn that silence of the tomb;But thy waters, sobbing near me,Seemed responsive to the gloom;And I flung my thoughts all idlyOn thy current in a dream,Like the pale leaves scattered widelyOn thy autumn-drifted stream.
Yet 'twas in that mournful hourRose the spirit's mighty words;Never soul could know its powerUntil sorrow swept the chords—Blended with each solemn featureOf the lonely scenes I trod,For the sacred love of NatureIs the Poet's hymn to God.
Yet 'twas in that mournful hourRose the spirit's mighty words;Never soul could know its powerUntil sorrow swept the chords—Blended with each solemn featureOf the lonely scenes I trod,For the sacred love of NatureIs the Poet's hymn to God.
Yet 'twas in that mournful hourRose the spirit's mighty words;Never soul could know its powerUntil sorrow swept the chords—Blended with each solemn featureOf the lonely scenes I trod,For the sacred love of NatureIs the Poet's hymn to God.
Yet 'twas in that mournful hourRose the spirit's mighty words;Never soul could know its powerUntil sorrow swept the chords—Blended with each solemn featureOf the lonely scenes I trod,For the sacred love of NatureIs the Poet's hymn to God.
Did He hear the words imploringOf a strong heard tempest-riven?Did the tears of sorrow pouringRise like incense up to Heaven?Ah! the heart that mutely prayethFrom the ashes of the past,Finds the strength that ever stayeth,Of the Holy, round it cast!
Did He hear the words imploringOf a strong heard tempest-riven?Did the tears of sorrow pouringRise like incense up to Heaven?Ah! the heart that mutely prayethFrom the ashes of the past,Finds the strength that ever stayeth,Of the Holy, round it cast!
Did He hear the words imploringOf a strong heard tempest-riven?Did the tears of sorrow pouringRise like incense up to Heaven?Ah! the heart that mutely prayethFrom the ashes of the past,Finds the strength that ever stayeth,Of the Holy, round it cast!
Did He hear the words imploringOf a strong heard tempest-riven?Did the tears of sorrow pouringRise like incense up to Heaven?Ah! the heart that mutely prayethFrom the ashes of the past,Finds the strength that ever stayeth,Of the Holy, round it cast!
But the leaf in winter fadeth,And the cygnet drops her plumes:Time in passing ever shadethHuman life in deeper glooms;So, perchance, with white hair streaming,In my age to thee I'll turn—Muse on life, with softened dreaming,By thy broken marble urn.
But the leaf in winter fadeth,And the cygnet drops her plumes:Time in passing ever shadethHuman life in deeper glooms;So, perchance, with white hair streaming,In my age to thee I'll turn—Muse on life, with softened dreaming,By thy broken marble urn.
But the leaf in winter fadeth,And the cygnet drops her plumes:Time in passing ever shadethHuman life in deeper glooms;So, perchance, with white hair streaming,In my age to thee I'll turn—Muse on life, with softened dreaming,By thy broken marble urn.
But the leaf in winter fadeth,And the cygnet drops her plumes:Time in passing ever shadethHuman life in deeper glooms;So, perchance, with white hair streaming,In my age to thee I'll turn—Muse on life, with softened dreaming,By thy broken marble urn.
While thy murmuring waters fallingDrop by drop upon the plain,Seem like spirit-voices calling—Spirit-voices not in vain;For life's fleeting course they teach me,With life's endless source on high,Past and future thus may reach me,While I learn from thee to die.
While thy murmuring waters fallingDrop by drop upon the plain,Seem like spirit-voices calling—Spirit-voices not in vain;For life's fleeting course they teach me,With life's endless source on high,Past and future thus may reach me,While I learn from thee to die.
While thy murmuring waters fallingDrop by drop upon the plain,Seem like spirit-voices calling—Spirit-voices not in vain;For life's fleeting course they teach me,With life's endless source on high,Past and future thus may reach me,While I learn from thee to die.
While thy murmuring waters fallingDrop by drop upon the plain,Seem like spirit-voices calling—Spirit-voices not in vain;For life's fleeting course they teach me,With life's endless source on high,Past and future thus may reach me,While I learn from thee to die.
O stream! hath thy lonely torrentMany ages yet to run?O life! will thy mournful currentSee many a setting sun?I know not; but both are passingFrom the sunlight into gloom—Yet the light we left will meet usOnce again beyond the tomb!
O stream! hath thy lonely torrentMany ages yet to run?O life! will thy mournful currentSee many a setting sun?I know not; but both are passingFrom the sunlight into gloom—Yet the light we left will meet usOnce again beyond the tomb!
O stream! hath thy lonely torrentMany ages yet to run?O life! will thy mournful currentSee many a setting sun?I know not; but both are passingFrom the sunlight into gloom—Yet the light we left will meet usOnce again beyond the tomb!
O stream! hath thy lonely torrentMany ages yet to run?O life! will thy mournful currentSee many a setting sun?I know not; but both are passingFrom the sunlight into gloom—Yet the light we left will meet usOnce again beyond the tomb!