V. TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES. As late I rambled in the happy fields, What time the sky-lark shakes the tremulous dew A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw I thought the garden-rose it far excell'd; My sense with their deliciousness was spell'd: Soft voices had they, that with tender plea Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness unequall'd. VI. TO G. A. W. NYMPH of the downward smile and sidelong glance! Of sober thought? Or when starting away, And so remain, because thou listenest: I shall as soon pronounce which Grace more neatly VII. O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell, Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,— Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell. But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee, Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. VIII. TO MY BROTHERS. SMALL, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles, Upon the lore so voluble and deep, IX. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. MUCH have I travell’d in the realms of gold, That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne : Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific-and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmiseSilent, upon a peak in Darien. |