POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

1.Far in the western ocean’s breastThe summer fairies have found a nest;The heavens ever unclouded smileOver the breadth of their beautiful isle;Through it a hundred streamlets flow,In spangled paths, to the sea below,And woo the vales that beside them lieWith a low and tremulous minstrelsy.The elfin brood have homes they loveIn the earth below and skies above;But the haunt which of all they love the bestIs the palm-crowned isle, in the ocean’s breast,That mortals call Canary;And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy,And each laughing Fay and lithesome Fairy,Know well the mystical way in the WestTo the sweet isle of Canary.2.With an ever-sounding choral chant,And a clear, cerulean, wild desireTo clasp that fairy island nigher,The sinuous waves of ocean pant;For here all natural things are freeTo mingle in passionate harmony.The light from their mirror turns awayWith a golden splendor, in the day,But nightly, when coroneted EvenMarshals the shining queen of heaven,There gleams a silvery scenery,From the rim of the great prismatic seaAround the isle of Canary,To the central crags of Pisgatiri,Where the crested eagle builds his eyry,Scanning the shores of sweet Canary.3.Lustrously sailing here and there,Afloat in the beatific air,Birds, of purple and blue and gold,Pour out their music manifold;All day long in the leas they sing,While the sun-kissed flowers are blossoming;At eve, when the dew-drop feeds the rose,And the fragrant water-lilies close,The marvellous-throated nightingaleWith a dying music floods each vale,Till the seaward breezes, listening, stayTo catch the harmony of his layAnd cool the air of Canary;And thus the melodies ever vary,In the vales of the ocean aviary,In the blissful valleys of sweet Canary.4.The Elle-King’s palace was builded thereBy elves of water and earth and air;Lovingly worked each loyal sprite,And it grew to life in a summer night.Over the sheen of its limpid moat,Wafted along, in a magic boat,By fairy wings that fan the sails,And eddying through enchanted vales,Through walls of amber and crystal gates,We come where a fairy warder waits;And so, by many a winding wayWhere sweet bells jingle and fountains play,To the inmost, royalest room of all,—The elfin monarch’s reception-hall,The pearl and pride of Canary!To guard its fastness the elves are wary,And no weird thing, of pleasure chary,Can enter with evil in sweet Canary!5.All that saddens, and care and pain,Are banished far from that fair domain;There forever, by day and night,Is naught but pleasance and love’s delight;Daily, the Genii of the flowersShade with beauty a hundred bowers;Nightly, the Gnomes of precious stonesEmblazon and light a hundred thrones;And the Elves of the field, so swift and mute,Bring wine and honey and luscious fruit;And the Sylphs of the air, at noontide, coolThe depths of each bower and vestibule;And all are gay,—from the tricksome FayWho flutters in woodlands far away,To the best-beloved attendant Elf,And the royal heart of the King himself,Who rules in bright Canary;And the laboring Fairies are blithe and merry,Who press the juice from the swollen berryThat reddens the vines of sweet Canary.6.What if there be a fated dayWhen the Faëry Isle shall pass away,And its beautiful groves and fountains seemThe myths of a long, delicious dream!A century’s joys shall first repayOur hearts, for the evil of that day;And the Elfin-King has sworn to wedA daughter of Earth, whose child shall be,By cross and water hallowéd,From the fairies’ doom forever free.What if there be a fated day!It is far away! it is far away!Maiden, fair Maiden, I, who singOf this summer isle am the island King.I come from its joys to make thee mine:Half of my kingdom shall be thine;Our horses of air and ocean wait—Then hasten, and share the Elle-King’s stateIn the sweet isle of Canary;And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy,And each laughing Fay and lithesome Fairy,Shall rovingly hover around and over thee,And the love of a king shall evermore cover thee,Nightly and daily in sweet Canary.

Far in the western ocean’s breast

The summer fairies have found a nest;

The heavens ever unclouded smile

Over the breadth of their beautiful isle;

Through it a hundred streamlets flow,

In spangled paths, to the sea below,

And woo the vales that beside them lie

With a low and tremulous minstrelsy.

The elfin brood have homes they love

In the earth below and skies above;

But the haunt which of all they love the best

Is the palm-crowned isle, in the ocean’s breast,

That mortals call Canary;

And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy,

And each laughing Fay and lithesome Fairy,

Know well the mystical way in the West

To the sweet isle of Canary.

2.With an ever-sounding choral chant,And a clear, cerulean, wild desireTo clasp that fairy island nigher,The sinuous waves of ocean pant;For here all natural things are freeTo mingle in passionate harmony.The light from their mirror turns awayWith a golden splendor, in the day,But nightly, when coroneted EvenMarshals the shining queen of heaven,There gleams a silvery scenery,From the rim of the great prismatic seaAround the isle of Canary,To the central crags of Pisgatiri,Where the crested eagle builds his eyry,Scanning the shores of sweet Canary.

With an ever-sounding choral chant,

And a clear, cerulean, wild desire

To clasp that fairy island nigher,

The sinuous waves of ocean pant;

For here all natural things are free

To mingle in passionate harmony.

The light from their mirror turns away

With a golden splendor, in the day,

But nightly, when coroneted Even

Marshals the shining queen of heaven,

There gleams a silvery scenery,

From the rim of the great prismatic sea

Around the isle of Canary,

To the central crags of Pisgatiri,

Where the crested eagle builds his eyry,

Scanning the shores of sweet Canary.

3.Lustrously sailing here and there,Afloat in the beatific air,Birds, of purple and blue and gold,Pour out their music manifold;All day long in the leas they sing,While the sun-kissed flowers are blossoming;At eve, when the dew-drop feeds the rose,And the fragrant water-lilies close,The marvellous-throated nightingaleWith a dying music floods each vale,Till the seaward breezes, listening, stayTo catch the harmony of his layAnd cool the air of Canary;And thus the melodies ever vary,In the vales of the ocean aviary,In the blissful valleys of sweet Canary.

Lustrously sailing here and there,

Afloat in the beatific air,

Birds, of purple and blue and gold,

Pour out their music manifold;

All day long in the leas they sing,

While the sun-kissed flowers are blossoming;

At eve, when the dew-drop feeds the rose,

And the fragrant water-lilies close,

The marvellous-throated nightingale

With a dying music floods each vale,

Till the seaward breezes, listening, stay

To catch the harmony of his lay

And cool the air of Canary;

And thus the melodies ever vary,

In the vales of the ocean aviary,

In the blissful valleys of sweet Canary.

4.The Elle-King’s palace was builded thereBy elves of water and earth and air;Lovingly worked each loyal sprite,And it grew to life in a summer night.Over the sheen of its limpid moat,Wafted along, in a magic boat,By fairy wings that fan the sails,And eddying through enchanted vales,Through walls of amber and crystal gates,We come where a fairy warder waits;And so, by many a winding wayWhere sweet bells jingle and fountains play,To the inmost, royalest room of all,—The elfin monarch’s reception-hall,The pearl and pride of Canary!To guard its fastness the elves are wary,And no weird thing, of pleasure chary,Can enter with evil in sweet Canary!

The Elle-King’s palace was builded there

By elves of water and earth and air;

Lovingly worked each loyal sprite,

And it grew to life in a summer night.

Over the sheen of its limpid moat,

Wafted along, in a magic boat,

By fairy wings that fan the sails,

And eddying through enchanted vales,

Through walls of amber and crystal gates,

We come where a fairy warder waits;

And so, by many a winding way

Where sweet bells jingle and fountains play,

To the inmost, royalest room of all,—

The elfin monarch’s reception-hall,

The pearl and pride of Canary!

To guard its fastness the elves are wary,

And no weird thing, of pleasure chary,

Can enter with evil in sweet Canary!

5.All that saddens, and care and pain,Are banished far from that fair domain;There forever, by day and night,Is naught but pleasance and love’s delight;Daily, the Genii of the flowersShade with beauty a hundred bowers;Nightly, the Gnomes of precious stonesEmblazon and light a hundred thrones;And the Elves of the field, so swift and mute,Bring wine and honey and luscious fruit;And the Sylphs of the air, at noontide, coolThe depths of each bower and vestibule;And all are gay,—from the tricksome FayWho flutters in woodlands far away,To the best-beloved attendant Elf,And the royal heart of the King himself,Who rules in bright Canary;And the laboring Fairies are blithe and merry,Who press the juice from the swollen berryThat reddens the vines of sweet Canary.

All that saddens, and care and pain,

Are banished far from that fair domain;

There forever, by day and night,

Is naught but pleasance and love’s delight;

Daily, the Genii of the flowers

Shade with beauty a hundred bowers;

Nightly, the Gnomes of precious stones

Emblazon and light a hundred thrones;

And the Elves of the field, so swift and mute,

Bring wine and honey and luscious fruit;

And the Sylphs of the air, at noontide, cool

The depths of each bower and vestibule;

And all are gay,—from the tricksome Fay

Who flutters in woodlands far away,

To the best-beloved attendant Elf,

And the royal heart of the King himself,

Who rules in bright Canary;

And the laboring Fairies are blithe and merry,

Who press the juice from the swollen berry

That reddens the vines of sweet Canary.

6.What if there be a fated dayWhen the Faëry Isle shall pass away,And its beautiful groves and fountains seemThe myths of a long, delicious dream!A century’s joys shall first repayOur hearts, for the evil of that day;And the Elfin-King has sworn to wedA daughter of Earth, whose child shall be,By cross and water hallowéd,From the fairies’ doom forever free.What if there be a fated day!It is far away! it is far away!Maiden, fair Maiden, I, who singOf this summer isle am the island King.I come from its joys to make thee mine:Half of my kingdom shall be thine;Our horses of air and ocean wait—Then hasten, and share the Elle-King’s stateIn the sweet isle of Canary;And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy,And each laughing Fay and lithesome Fairy,Shall rovingly hover around and over thee,And the love of a king shall evermore cover thee,Nightly and daily in sweet Canary.

What if there be a fated day

When the Faëry Isle shall pass away,

And its beautiful groves and fountains seem

The myths of a long, delicious dream!

A century’s joys shall first repay

Our hearts, for the evil of that day;

And the Elfin-King has sworn to wed

A daughter of Earth, whose child shall be,

By cross and water hallowéd,

From the fairies’ doom forever free.

What if there be a fated day!

It is far away! it is far away!

Maiden, fair Maiden, I, who sing

Of this summer isle am the island King.

I come from its joys to make thee mine:

Half of my kingdom shall be thine;

Our horses of air and ocean wait—

Then hasten, and share the Elle-King’s state

In the sweet isle of Canary;

And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy,

And each laughing Fay and lithesome Fairy,

Shall rovingly hover around and over thee,

And the love of a king shall evermore cover thee,

Nightly and daily in sweet Canary.

1850.

I loved: and in the morning sky,A magic castle upward grew!Cloud-haunted turrets pointing highForever to the dreamy blue;Bright fountains leaping through and throughThe golden sunshine; on the airGay banners streaming;—never drewPainter or poet scene more fair.And in that castle I would live,And in that castle I would die;And there, in curtained bowers, would giveHeart-warm responses, sigh for sigh;There, when but one sweet face was nigh,The hours should lightly move along,And ripple, as they glided by,Like stanzas of an antique song.O foolish heart! O young romance,That faded with the noonday sun!Alas, for gentle dalliance,For life-long pleasures never won!O for a season dead and gone!A wizard time, which then did seemOnly a prelude, leading onTo sweeter portions of the dream.She died,—nor wore my orange flowers:—No longer, in the morning sky,That magic castle lifts its towersWhich shone, awhile, so lustrously.Torn are the bannerols, and dryThe silver fountains in its halls;But the drear sea, with endless sigh,Moans round and over the crumbled walls.Let the winds blow! let the white surgeEver among those ruins wail!Its moaning is a welcome dirgeFor wishes that could not avail.Let the winds blow! a fiercer galeIs wild within me! what may quellThat sullen tempest? I must sailWhither, O whither, who can tell!

I loved: and in the morning sky,

A magic castle upward grew!

Cloud-haunted turrets pointing high

Forever to the dreamy blue;

Bright fountains leaping through and through

The golden sunshine; on the air

Gay banners streaming;—never drew

Painter or poet scene more fair.

And in that castle I would live,And in that castle I would die;And there, in curtained bowers, would giveHeart-warm responses, sigh for sigh;There, when but one sweet face was nigh,The hours should lightly move along,And ripple, as they glided by,Like stanzas of an antique song.

And in that castle I would live,

And in that castle I would die;

And there, in curtained bowers, would give

Heart-warm responses, sigh for sigh;

There, when but one sweet face was nigh,

The hours should lightly move along,

And ripple, as they glided by,

Like stanzas of an antique song.

O foolish heart! O young romance,That faded with the noonday sun!Alas, for gentle dalliance,For life-long pleasures never won!O for a season dead and gone!A wizard time, which then did seemOnly a prelude, leading onTo sweeter portions of the dream.

O foolish heart! O young romance,

That faded with the noonday sun!

Alas, for gentle dalliance,

For life-long pleasures never won!

O for a season dead and gone!

A wizard time, which then did seem

Only a prelude, leading on

To sweeter portions of the dream.

She died,—nor wore my orange flowers:—No longer, in the morning sky,That magic castle lifts its towersWhich shone, awhile, so lustrously.Torn are the bannerols, and dryThe silver fountains in its halls;But the drear sea, with endless sigh,Moans round and over the crumbled walls.

She died,—nor wore my orange flowers:—

No longer, in the morning sky,

That magic castle lifts its towers

Which shone, awhile, so lustrously.

Torn are the bannerols, and dry

The silver fountains in its halls;

But the drear sea, with endless sigh,

Moans round and over the crumbled walls.

Let the winds blow! let the white surgeEver among those ruins wail!Its moaning is a welcome dirgeFor wishes that could not avail.Let the winds blow! a fiercer galeIs wild within me! what may quellThat sullen tempest? I must sailWhither, O whither, who can tell!

Let the winds blow! let the white surge

Ever among those ruins wail!

Its moaning is a welcome dirge

For wishes that could not avail.

Let the winds blow! a fiercer gale

Is wild within me! what may quell

That sullen tempest? I must sail

Whither, O whither, who can tell!

“Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.”The Tempest.

“Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.”

The Tempest.

I.Queen of the shadowy clime!Thou of the fairy-spell and wondrous lay:Sweet Romance! breathe upon my way,Not with the breath of this degenerate time,But of that age when life was summer play,When Nature wore a verdurous hue,And Earth kept holiday;When on the ground Chaldæan shepherds lay,Gazing all night, with calm, creative view,Into the overhanging blue,And found, amid the many-twinkling stars,Warriors and maidens fair,Heroes of marvellous deeds and direful wars,Serpents and flaming hair,The Dragon and the Bear,A silvery Venus and a lurid Mars.II.Come at thy lover’s call,Thou, that, with embraces kind,Throwing thy tendrils round the lives of all,Something in all to beautify dost find!So thine own ivy, on the Gothic wall,Or pendent from the armsOf gnarléd oaks, where’er its clusters fall,Clings to adorn and adds perennial charms.And therefore, Romance, would I greetThee by the fairest of fair names,Calling thee debonair and sweet;For sweet thou art—inspiring Manhood’s dreams,When all aweary of the actual life;And sweet thy influence seemsTo Woman, shrinking from the strife,The sordid tumult of the wrangling mart.But doubly sweet thou art,Leading the tender child by gentle streams,Among the lilies of our flowery Youth;Filling his all-believing heartWith thoughts that glorify the common truth;Building before him, in the lustrous air,Ethereal palaces and castles fair.III.With such mild innocence the EarthReceived thy blessings at her birth;And in the pastoral days of yore,To Man’s enchanted gaze,Nature was fair—O, how much moreThan in our wiser days!Then deities of sylvan form,While yet the hearts of men were young and warm,Like shepherds wandered through the arching groves,Or sang aloud, the listening flocks among,Sweet legends of their loves;Then Cupid and fair Psyche breathed their vows,—He with the feathered darts and bow unstrung,And garlands on his brows;She folding gently to her bosom dovesSnow-white, forever, as their mistress, young;And, as they sighed together, peerless JoyEnwreathed the maiden and the raptured boy!IV.Yes! on romantic pilgrimage,To the calm piety of Nature’s shrine,Through summer-paths, thou ledst our human-kind,With influence divine.In that orient, elden age,Ere man had learned to wageDispassionate war against his natural mind,Thy voice of mystery,Reading aloud the Earth’s extended page,Bade human aspirations findIn the cool fountain and the forest-treeA sentient imagery;The flowing river and the murmuring wind,The land—the sea—Were all informed by thee!V.Through coral grottoes wandering and singing,The merry Nereid glided to her cave;Anon, with warm, luxurious motion flingingHer sinuous form above the moonlit wave,To the charmed mariner gaveA glimpse of snowy arms and amber tresses,While on his startled earThe sea-nymph’s madrigal fell clear;Then to the far recesses,Where drowsy Neptune wears the emerald crown,Serenely floated down,Leaving the mariner all amort with fear.In the under-opening wood,What time the Gods had crowned the full-grown year,The Dryad and the Hamadryad stoodAmong the fallow deer;Bending the languid branches of their trees,With every breeze,To view their image in the fountains near:—The fountains! whence the white-limbed Naiads sang,Pouring upon the air melodious trills,And, while the echoes through the forest rang,The white-limbed Naiads of a thousand rillsFar o’er the Arcadian vales a pæan spread.Led by Diana, in the dewy dawn,The Oread sisters chased the dappled fawnThrough all the coverts of their native hills;Home, with the spoils, at sultry noon they fled,—Home to their shaded bowers,Where, with the ivy, and those sacred flowersThat now have faded from the weary earth,Each laughing Oread crowned an Oread’s head.The mountains echoed back their maiden mirth,Rousing old Pan, who, from a secret lair,Shook the wild tangles of his frosty hair,And laid him down again with sullen roar:But now the frightened nymphs like statues stand,One balancing her body half in air,Dreading to hear again that tumult sore;One, with a liquid tremor in her eye,Waving above her head a glimmering hand;Till suddenly, like dreams, away they fly,Leaving the forest stiller than before!VI.Such was thy power, O Pastoral Romance!In that ambrosial age of classic fame,The spirit to entrance.Fain would I whisper of the latter days,When, in thy royal name,The mailéd knights encountered lance to lance,All for sweet Romance and fair ladies’ praise;But no! I bowed the kneeAnd vowed allegiance to thee,As I beheld thee in thy golden prime,And now from thy demesne must haste away:Perchance that of the aftertime,Of nodding plumes and chivalrous array,In aftertime I sing a roundelay.VII.Fair Spirit of ethereal birth,In whom such mysteries and beauties blend!Still from thine ancient dwelling-place descendAnd idealize our too material earth;Still to the Bard thy chaste conceptions lend,To him thine early purity renew;Round every image grace majestic throw!Till rapturously the living song shall glowWith inspiration as thy being true,And Poesy’s creations, decked by thee,Shall wake the tuneful thrill of sensuous ecstasy.

Queen of the shadowy clime!

Thou of the fairy-spell and wondrous lay:

Sweet Romance! breathe upon my way,

Not with the breath of this degenerate time,

But of that age when life was summer play,

When Nature wore a verdurous hue,

And Earth kept holiday;

When on the ground Chaldæan shepherds lay,

Gazing all night, with calm, creative view,

Into the overhanging blue,

And found, amid the many-twinkling stars,

Warriors and maidens fair,

Heroes of marvellous deeds and direful wars,

Serpents and flaming hair,

The Dragon and the Bear,

A silvery Venus and a lurid Mars.

II.Come at thy lover’s call,Thou, that, with embraces kind,Throwing thy tendrils round the lives of all,Something in all to beautify dost find!So thine own ivy, on the Gothic wall,Or pendent from the armsOf gnarléd oaks, where’er its clusters fall,Clings to adorn and adds perennial charms.And therefore, Romance, would I greetThee by the fairest of fair names,Calling thee debonair and sweet;For sweet thou art—inspiring Manhood’s dreams,When all aweary of the actual life;And sweet thy influence seemsTo Woman, shrinking from the strife,The sordid tumult of the wrangling mart.But doubly sweet thou art,Leading the tender child by gentle streams,Among the lilies of our flowery Youth;Filling his all-believing heartWith thoughts that glorify the common truth;Building before him, in the lustrous air,Ethereal palaces and castles fair.

Come at thy lover’s call,

Thou, that, with embraces kind,

Throwing thy tendrils round the lives of all,

Something in all to beautify dost find!

So thine own ivy, on the Gothic wall,

Or pendent from the arms

Of gnarléd oaks, where’er its clusters fall,

Clings to adorn and adds perennial charms.

And therefore, Romance, would I greet

Thee by the fairest of fair names,

Calling thee debonair and sweet;

For sweet thou art—inspiring Manhood’s dreams,

When all aweary of the actual life;

And sweet thy influence seems

To Woman, shrinking from the strife,

The sordid tumult of the wrangling mart.

But doubly sweet thou art,

Leading the tender child by gentle streams,

Among the lilies of our flowery Youth;

Filling his all-believing heart

With thoughts that glorify the common truth;

Building before him, in the lustrous air,

Ethereal palaces and castles fair.

III.With such mild innocence the EarthReceived thy blessings at her birth;And in the pastoral days of yore,To Man’s enchanted gaze,Nature was fair—O, how much moreThan in our wiser days!Then deities of sylvan form,While yet the hearts of men were young and warm,Like shepherds wandered through the arching groves,Or sang aloud, the listening flocks among,Sweet legends of their loves;Then Cupid and fair Psyche breathed their vows,—He with the feathered darts and bow unstrung,And garlands on his brows;She folding gently to her bosom dovesSnow-white, forever, as their mistress, young;And, as they sighed together, peerless JoyEnwreathed the maiden and the raptured boy!

With such mild innocence the Earth

Received thy blessings at her birth;

And in the pastoral days of yore,

To Man’s enchanted gaze,

Nature was fair—O, how much more

Than in our wiser days!

Then deities of sylvan form,

While yet the hearts of men were young and warm,

Like shepherds wandered through the arching groves,

Or sang aloud, the listening flocks among,

Sweet legends of their loves;

Then Cupid and fair Psyche breathed their vows,—

He with the feathered darts and bow unstrung,

And garlands on his brows;

She folding gently to her bosom doves

Snow-white, forever, as their mistress, young;

And, as they sighed together, peerless Joy

Enwreathed the maiden and the raptured boy!

IV.Yes! on romantic pilgrimage,To the calm piety of Nature’s shrine,Through summer-paths, thou ledst our human-kind,With influence divine.In that orient, elden age,Ere man had learned to wageDispassionate war against his natural mind,Thy voice of mystery,Reading aloud the Earth’s extended page,Bade human aspirations findIn the cool fountain and the forest-treeA sentient imagery;The flowing river and the murmuring wind,The land—the sea—Were all informed by thee!

Yes! on romantic pilgrimage,

To the calm piety of Nature’s shrine,

Through summer-paths, thou ledst our human-kind,

With influence divine.

In that orient, elden age,

Ere man had learned to wage

Dispassionate war against his natural mind,

Thy voice of mystery,

Reading aloud the Earth’s extended page,

Bade human aspirations find

In the cool fountain and the forest-tree

A sentient imagery;

The flowing river and the murmuring wind,

The land—the sea—

Were all informed by thee!

V.Through coral grottoes wandering and singing,The merry Nereid glided to her cave;Anon, with warm, luxurious motion flingingHer sinuous form above the moonlit wave,To the charmed mariner gaveA glimpse of snowy arms and amber tresses,While on his startled earThe sea-nymph’s madrigal fell clear;Then to the far recesses,Where drowsy Neptune wears the emerald crown,Serenely floated down,Leaving the mariner all amort with fear.In the under-opening wood,What time the Gods had crowned the full-grown year,The Dryad and the Hamadryad stoodAmong the fallow deer;Bending the languid branches of their trees,With every breeze,To view their image in the fountains near:—The fountains! whence the white-limbed Naiads sang,Pouring upon the air melodious trills,And, while the echoes through the forest rang,The white-limbed Naiads of a thousand rillsFar o’er the Arcadian vales a pæan spread.Led by Diana, in the dewy dawn,The Oread sisters chased the dappled fawnThrough all the coverts of their native hills;Home, with the spoils, at sultry noon they fled,—Home to their shaded bowers,Where, with the ivy, and those sacred flowersThat now have faded from the weary earth,Each laughing Oread crowned an Oread’s head.The mountains echoed back their maiden mirth,Rousing old Pan, who, from a secret lair,Shook the wild tangles of his frosty hair,And laid him down again with sullen roar:But now the frightened nymphs like statues stand,One balancing her body half in air,Dreading to hear again that tumult sore;One, with a liquid tremor in her eye,Waving above her head a glimmering hand;Till suddenly, like dreams, away they fly,Leaving the forest stiller than before!

Through coral grottoes wandering and singing,

The merry Nereid glided to her cave;

Anon, with warm, luxurious motion flinging

Her sinuous form above the moonlit wave,

To the charmed mariner gave

A glimpse of snowy arms and amber tresses,

While on his startled ear

The sea-nymph’s madrigal fell clear;

Then to the far recesses,

Where drowsy Neptune wears the emerald crown,

Serenely floated down,

Leaving the mariner all amort with fear.

In the under-opening wood,

What time the Gods had crowned the full-grown year,

The Dryad and the Hamadryad stood

Among the fallow deer;

Bending the languid branches of their trees,

With every breeze,

To view their image in the fountains near:—

The fountains! whence the white-limbed Naiads sang,

Pouring upon the air melodious trills,

And, while the echoes through the forest rang,

The white-limbed Naiads of a thousand rills

Far o’er the Arcadian vales a pæan spread.

Led by Diana, in the dewy dawn,

The Oread sisters chased the dappled fawn

Through all the coverts of their native hills;

Home, with the spoils, at sultry noon they fled,—

Home to their shaded bowers,

Where, with the ivy, and those sacred flowers

That now have faded from the weary earth,

Each laughing Oread crowned an Oread’s head.

The mountains echoed back their maiden mirth,

Rousing old Pan, who, from a secret lair,

Shook the wild tangles of his frosty hair,

And laid him down again with sullen roar:

But now the frightened nymphs like statues stand,

One balancing her body half in air,

Dreading to hear again that tumult sore;

One, with a liquid tremor in her eye,

Waving above her head a glimmering hand;

Till suddenly, like dreams, away they fly,

Leaving the forest stiller than before!

VI.Such was thy power, O Pastoral Romance!In that ambrosial age of classic fame,The spirit to entrance.Fain would I whisper of the latter days,When, in thy royal name,The mailéd knights encountered lance to lance,All for sweet Romance and fair ladies’ praise;But no! I bowed the kneeAnd vowed allegiance to thee,As I beheld thee in thy golden prime,And now from thy demesne must haste away:Perchance that of the aftertime,Of nodding plumes and chivalrous array,In aftertime I sing a roundelay.

Such was thy power, O Pastoral Romance!

In that ambrosial age of classic fame,

The spirit to entrance.

Fain would I whisper of the latter days,

When, in thy royal name,

The mailéd knights encountered lance to lance,

All for sweet Romance and fair ladies’ praise;

But no! I bowed the knee

And vowed allegiance to thee,

As I beheld thee in thy golden prime,

And now from thy demesne must haste away:

Perchance that of the aftertime,

Of nodding plumes and chivalrous array,

In aftertime I sing a roundelay.

VII.Fair Spirit of ethereal birth,In whom such mysteries and beauties blend!Still from thine ancient dwelling-place descendAnd idealize our too material earth;Still to the Bard thy chaste conceptions lend,To him thine early purity renew;Round every image grace majestic throw!Till rapturously the living song shall glowWith inspiration as thy being true,And Poesy’s creations, decked by thee,Shall wake the tuneful thrill of sensuous ecstasy.

Fair Spirit of ethereal birth,

In whom such mysteries and beauties blend!

Still from thine ancient dwelling-place descend

And idealize our too material earth;

Still to the Bard thy chaste conceptions lend,

To him thine early purity renew;

Round every image grace majestic throw!

Till rapturously the living song shall glow

With inspiration as thy being true,

And Poesy’s creations, decked by thee,

Shall wake the tuneful thrill of sensuous ecstasy.

1850.

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