« AnteriorContinuar »
The cattle lift their voices from the valleys and the hills,
And the feather'd race rejoices with a gush of tuneful bills,
And if this cloudless arch fills the poet's song with glee,
O thou sunny first of March! be it dedicate to thee.
And cast his wand into the shuddering sea,
O hither, hither fleet,
Upon the south wind sweet,
And soothe us with thy vernal melody!
Or whether to the redolent Azores,
Amid whose tufted sheaves
The floral goddess weaves
Her garland, breathing on the glades and shores
Truant! thou dost repair ;
Or lingerest still in that meridian nest,
Where myriad piping throats
Rival the warbler's notes,
The saffron namesakes of those islands blest,
O hither, hither wing
Thy flight, and to our longing woodlands sing.
Or in those sea-girt gardens dost thou dwell,
Of plantain, cocoa, palm,
And that red tree, whose balm
Fumed in the holocausts of Israel;
Beneath banana shades,
Guava, and fig-tree glades,
Painting thy plumage in the sapphirine hue
Thrown from the heron blue,
Or rays of the prismatic parroquet,
O, let the perfumed breeze
From those Hesperides
Waft thee once more our eager ears to greet !
For lo! the young leaves flutter in the south,
As if they tried their wings,
While the bee's trumpet brings
News of each bud that pouts its honieď mouth ;
Blue-bells, yellow-cups, jonquils,
Lilies wild and daffodils,
Gladden our meads in intertangled wreath ;
The sun enamour'd lies,
Watching the violets' eyes
On every bank, and drinks their luscious breath ;
With open lips the thorn
Proclaims that May is born,
And darest thou, bird of spring, that summons scorn? “ Cuckoo! Cuckoo !” O welcome, welcome notes !
Fields, woods, and waves rejoice
In that recover'd voice,
As on the wind its fluty music floats.
At that elixir strain
My youth resumes its reign,
And life's first spring comes blossoming again :
Oh, wond rous bird ! if thus
Thy voice miraculous
Can renovate my spirits' vernal prime,
Nor thou, my Muse, forbear
That ecstacy to share,
I laugh at Fortune, and defy old Time.