The Departure(No alteration since 1842.)1And on her lover’s arm she leant,And round her waist she felt it fold,And far across the hills they wentIn that new world which is the old:Across the hills and far awayBeyond their utmost purple rim,And deep into the dying dayThe happy princess follow’d him.2“I’d sleep another hundred years,O love, for such another kiss;”“O wake for ever, love,” she hears,“O love, ’twas such as this and this.”And o’er them many a sliding star,And many a merry wind was borne,And, stream’d thro’ many a golden bar,The twilight melted into morn.3“O eyes long laid in happy sleep!”“O happy sleep, that lightly fled!”“O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!”“O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!”And o’er them many a flowing rangeOf vapour buoy’d the crescent-bark,And, rapt thro’ many a rosy change,The twilight died into the dark.4“A hundred summers! can it be?And whither goest thou, tell me where?”“O seek my father’s court with me!For there are greater wonders there.”And o’er the hills, and far awayBeyond their utmost purple rim,Beyond the night across the day,Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.Moral(No alteration since 1842.)1So, Lady Flora, take my lay,And if you find no moral there,Go, look in any glass and say,What moral is in being fair.Oh, to what uses shall we putThe wildweed-flower that simply blows?And is there any moral shutWithin the bosom of the rose?2But any man that walks the mead,In bud or blade, or bloom, may find,According as his humours lead,A meaning suited to his mind.And liberal applications lieIn Art like Nature, dearest friend;[1]So ’twere to cramp its use, if IShould hook it to some useful end.[1]So Wordsworth:—O Reader! had you in your mindSuch stores as silent thought can bring,O gentle Reader! you would findA tale in everything.—Simon Lee.
(No alteration since 1842.)
1
And on her lover’s arm she leant,And round her waist she felt it fold,And far across the hills they wentIn that new world which is the old:Across the hills and far awayBeyond their utmost purple rim,And deep into the dying dayThe happy princess follow’d him.
2
“I’d sleep another hundred years,O love, for such another kiss;”“O wake for ever, love,” she hears,“O love, ’twas such as this and this.”And o’er them many a sliding star,And many a merry wind was borne,And, stream’d thro’ many a golden bar,The twilight melted into morn.
3
“O eyes long laid in happy sleep!”“O happy sleep, that lightly fled!”“O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!”“O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!”And o’er them many a flowing rangeOf vapour buoy’d the crescent-bark,And, rapt thro’ many a rosy change,The twilight died into the dark.
4
“A hundred summers! can it be?And whither goest thou, tell me where?”“O seek my father’s court with me!For there are greater wonders there.”And o’er the hills, and far awayBeyond their utmost purple rim,Beyond the night across the day,Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.
(No alteration since 1842.)
1
So, Lady Flora, take my lay,And if you find no moral there,Go, look in any glass and say,What moral is in being fair.Oh, to what uses shall we putThe wildweed-flower that simply blows?And is there any moral shutWithin the bosom of the rose?
2
But any man that walks the mead,In bud or blade, or bloom, may find,According as his humours lead,A meaning suited to his mind.And liberal applications lieIn Art like Nature, dearest friend;[1]So ’twere to cramp its use, if IShould hook it to some useful end.
[1]So Wordsworth:—O Reader! had you in your mindSuch stores as silent thought can bring,O gentle Reader! you would findA tale in everything.—Simon Lee.