Methought I fainted at the charmed touch, Yet held my recollection, even as one Who dives three fathoms where the waters run Gargling in beds of coral: for anon, I felt upmounted in that region Where falling stars dart their artillery forth, And eagles struggle with the buffeting north That balances the heavy meteor-stone ;Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone, But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky. Soon, as it seem'd, we left our journeying high, And straightway into frightful eddies swoop'd; Such as aye muster where gray time has scoop'd Huge dens and caverns in a mountain's side: Aled, Their hollow sounds arous'd me, and I Web & milgo wert to Well bed, RB, how sigh'd To faint once more by looking on my bliss To take in draughts of life from the gold fount Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count The moments, by some greedy help that seem'd [deem'd A second self, that each might be reAnd plunder'd of its load of blessedness. Ah, desperate mortal! I ev'n dar'd to press Her very cheek against my crowned lip, And, at that moment, felt my body dip Into a warmer air: a moment more, Our feet were soft in flowers. There was store Of newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes A scent of violets, and blossoming limes, Loiter'd around us; then of honey cells, Made delicate from all white-flower bells; And once, above the edges of our nest, An arch face peep'd,-an Oread as I guess'd. "Why did I dream that sleep o'erpower'd me FROM BOOK II INVOCATION TO THE POWER OF LOVE O SOVEREIGN power of love! O grief! O balm ! All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, And shadowy, through the mist of passed years: For others, good or bad, hatred and tears Have become indolent; but touching thine, One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine, One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days. The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze, Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades, Struggling, and blood, and shrieks-all dimly fades Into some backward corner of the brain; Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet. Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat! Swart planet in the universe of deeds! Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds Along the pebbled shore of memory! But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly About the great Athenian admiral's mast? What care, though striding Alexander past The Indus with his Macedonian numbers? Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers But cheerly, cheerly, so constant to me, and so kind: And so leave her, ! she is so constant and so kind. Reneath my palm trees, by the river side, sat a-weeping: in the whole world wide There was no one to ask me why I wept,And so I kept Brimming the water-lily cups with tears Cold as my fears. Beneath my palm trees, by the river side, I sat a-weeping: what enamor'd bride, Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds, But hides and shrouds Beneath dark palm trees by a river side? "And as I sat, over the light blue hills There came a noise of revellers: the rills Into the wide stream came of purple hue 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! The earnest trumpet spake, and silver From thrills kissing cymbals made a merry din f And cold mushrooms; For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; Great God of breathless cups and chirping mirth! Come hither, lady fair, and joined be "Over wide streams and mountains great And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' prance, Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil Of seamen, and stout galley-rower's toil: With toying oars and silken sails they glide, Nor care for wind and tide. I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown Before the vine-wreath crown! I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing To the silver cymbals' ring! I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce And from their treasures scatter pearled hail; Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, And all his priesthood moans, Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale. Into these regions came I following him, Sick-hearted, weary-so I took a whim To stray away into these forests drear Alone, without a peer: And I have told thee all thou mayest hear. ROBIN HOOD No! those days are gone away, No, the bugle sounds no more, Past the heath and up the hill; On the fairest time of June Gone, the merry morris din ; So it is: yet let us sing. Honor to the old bow-string! Honor to the bugle-horn! Honor to the woods unshorn! Honor to the Lincoln green! |