H' AN INVOCATION. 66 EAR, sweet spirit, hear the spell, So shall the midnight breezes swell And at evening evermore, Shall the chaunter, sad and saintly, Hark! the cadence dies away The boatmen rest their oars and say, A SUNNY shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted! His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, And thus he sang: "Adieu! adieu! Love's dreams prove seldom true. We must away; To day! to day!" "Tis P, CHORAL SONG. 66 up! ye dames, lasses gay! ye To the meadows trip away. you must tend the flocks this morn, And scare the small birds from the corn. Not a soul at home may stay: For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. Leave the hearth and leave the house To hunt the wolf in the woods to day. U SONG OF THEKLA. FROM THE PICCOLOMINI, OR FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. Translated from the German of Schiller. TH HE cloud doth gather, the green-wood roar, The billows they tumble with might, with might; The world it is empty, the heart will die, LINES SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS OB. ANNO DOM. 1088. O more 'twixt conscience staggering and the By him to be acquitted, as I hope; By him to be condemned, as I fear.— REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE. Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath Inconstant to the truth within thy heart? That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, [start, Or not so vital as to claim thy life: And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true! Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own, Like the weak worm that gems the starless night, And was it strange if he withdrew the ray The ascending day-star with a bolder eye SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM; A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND, FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER'S BOOK OF THE CHURCH. POET. NOTE the moods and feelings meny betray, And heed them more than aught they do or say; The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed Still-born or haply strangled in its birth; These best reveal the smooth man's inward creed! These mark the spot where lies the treasure Worth! made up of impudence and trick, With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick, FRIEND. Enough of! we're agreed, Who now defends would then have done the deed. But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway, Who but must meet the proffered hand half way POET. (aside.) (Rome's smooth go-between !) |