« AnteriorContinuar »
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
A CHANGED FRIEND.
FULL many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
(green, Kissing with golden face the meadows Gilding paled streams with heavenly al
(mine, But, out! alack! he was but one hour The regent cloud hath masked him from me now.
eth; Yet him for this my love no whit disdainSuns of the world may stain, when
heaven's sun staineth.
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early
hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present
are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet
smelling flowers: To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy
bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee He did not
spare: A stain to human sense in sin that lowers. What soul can be so sick, which by thy
songs (Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and
wrongs, And lift a reverend eye and thought to
heaven? Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost
raise To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.
THE FADING FLOWER.
Look how the flower, which lingeringly
[queen, Music to hear, why hear'st thou music The morning's darling late, the summer's sadly?
[in joy. | Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights and green,
shead: Why lovest thou that which thou receiv'st As high as it did raise, bows low the not gladly.
Right so the pleasures of my life being Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? dead, If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, i Or in their contraries but only seen, By unions married, do offend thine ear, With swifter speed declines than erst it They do but sweetly chide thee, who con spread, founds
And (blasted) scarce now shows what it In singleness the parts that thou shouldst hath been. bear.
[another, Therefore, as doth the pilgrim, whom the Mark how one string, sweet husband to night Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Hastes darkly to imprison on his way, Resembling sire and child and happy. Think on thy home (my soul), and think mother,
aright Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Of what's yet left thee of life's wasting day: Whose speechless song, being many, Thy sun posts westward, passèd is thy seeming one,
morn, Sings this to thee, “Thou single wilt And twice it is not given thee to be born. prove none." - :0:
TO MY DEAD LOVE. SLEEP, silence' child, sweet father of soft | I KNOW that all beneath the moon decays, rest,
And what by mortals in this world is brought Prince, whose approach peace to all mor In time's great periods shall return to tals brings,
nought ; Indifferent host to shepherds or to kings, That fairest states have fatal nights and Sole comforter of minds which are op days. pressed.
I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays, Lo!' by thy charming rod all breathing With toil of spright, which are so dearly things
bought, Lie slumbering with forgetfulness pos As idle sounds, of few or none are sought. sessed,
That there is nothing lighter than vain And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy praise. wings
I know frail beauty's like the purple flower, Thou sparest, alas ! who cannot be thy To which one morn oft birth and death guest.
affords; Since I am thine, oh, come, but with that That love a jarring is of mind's accords, face
Where sense and will bring under reason's To inward light which thou art wont to
Know what I list, this all cannot me move, With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe; But that, alas! I both must write and love. Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace, Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt
bequeath, I long to kiss the image of my death.
1608 -- 1674. TO THE THRUSH.
TO THE NIGHTINGALE. DEAR chorister, who from those shadows O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy sends,
spray Ere that the blushing morn dare show her Warblest at eve, when all the woods are light,
still, Such sad lamenting strains, that night Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart attends,
dost fill, (Become all ear), stars stay to hear thy While the jolly hours lead on propitious plight;
May If one, whose grief even reach of thought Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, transcends,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's Who ne'er (not in a dream) did taste de bill, light,
Portend success in love; oh, if Jove's May thee importune, who like case pre will tends,
Have linked that amorous power to thy And seems to joy in woe, in woe's despite; soft lay, Tell me (so may thou fortune milder try, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate And long, long sing !) for what thou thus Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove complains,
nigh; Since winter 's gone, and sun in dappled As thou from year to year hast sung too sky
late Enamoured smiles on woods and flowery For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: plains ?
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his The bird, as if my questions did her move, mate, With trembling wings, sighed forth, "I Both them I serve, and of their train am
love, I love !"
ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.
1762—1850. TO TIME.
METHOUGHT I saw my late-espoused
saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the
grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad
husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale
and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child.
bed taint Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to
have Full 'sight of her in heav'n without re.
straint, Came vested all in white, pure as her
mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied
sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her per
son shined So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But oh, as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back
O TIME, who know'st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow's wounds, and slowly
thence (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) The faint pang stealest unperceived away; On thee I rest my only hopes at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter
tear That flowsin vain o'er all my soul held dear, I may look back on many a sorrow past, And greet life's peaceful evening with a
smileAs some lone bird at day's departing hour | Sings in the sunshine of the transient
shower, | Forgetful though its wings are wet the
while : Yet ah! what ills must that poor heart
endure, which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a
Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given The two most sacred names of earth and
heaven, The hard and rarest union which can be, Next that of Godhead with humanity. Long did the Muses banished slaves abide, And built their pyramids to mortal pride; Like Moses, thou, though spells and
charms withstand, Hast brought them nobly home, back to
their Holy Land. Hail, Bard triumphant, and some care
bestow On us, the poets militant below, Opposed by our old enemy, adverse chance, Attacked by envy and by ignorance. Thou, from low earth in nobler flames
didst rise, And like Elijah mount alive the skies.
DOVER CLIFFS. On these white clifts, that calm above the
flood Uplift their shadowy heads, and at their
feet Scarce hear the surge that has for ages
beat, Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood; And while the distant murmur met his
ear, And o'er the distant billows the still eve Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart
must leave To-morrow; of the friends he loved most
dear; Of social scenes from which he wept to
part. But if, like me, he knew how fruitless
all The thoughts that would full fain the
past recall, Soon would he quell the risings of his
heart, And brave the wild winds and unhearing
tide, The world his country, and his God his
1770-1850. SONNET ON WESTMINSTER
Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
rare, (From time to time, like pilgrims, here and there
dark, Crossing the waters) doubt, and something Of the old sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous bark!
EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless
air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God I the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
(powers: Getting and spending, we lay waste our Little we see in nature that is ours, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
(moon; This sea that bares her bosom to the The winds that will be howling at all hours,
[flowers; And are up-gathered now like sleeping For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. -Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less
forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
me here, If thou appear'st untouched by solemn
thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the
year, And' worshipp'st at the temple's inner
shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
TO A SNOWDROP.
LONE flower, hemmed in with snows, and
white as they, But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by
(waylay Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue
eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odours lavish
ing On the soft west wind and his frolic peers; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of
spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
[must go? WHERE lies the land to which yon ship Festively she puts forth her trim array, As vigorous as a lark at break of day: Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? What boots the inquiry ?-Neither friend
nor foe She cares for: let her travel where she may, She finds familar names, a beaten way