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And on my shoulders wings are woven,
To follow its sublime career, Beyond the mighty moons that wane
Upon the verge of nature's utmost sphere, 'Till the world's shadowy walls are past and disappear.
Her voice is hovering o'er my soul-it lingers
O’ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings, The blood and life within those snowy fingers
Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. My brain is wild, my breath comes quick
The blood is listening in my frame,
And thronging shadows, fast and thick,
Fall on my overflowing eyes;
My heart is quivering like a flame;
As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies,
I am dissolved in these consuming extacies.
I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee,
Whilst, like the world-surrounding air, thy song Flows on, and fills all things with melody.
Now is thy voice a tempest swift and strong, On which, like one in trance upborne,
Secure o'er rocks and waves I weep, Rejoicing like a cloud of morn.
Now 'tis the breath of summer night,
Which, when the starry waters sleep,
Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright,
Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight.
The waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing,
The lightnings are glapcing,
The hoar-spray is dancing-
The whirlwind is rolling,
The thunder is tolling,
The forest is swinging,
The minster bells ringing
The Earth is like Ocean,
Wreck-strewn and in motion :
Bird, beast, man, and worm,
Have crept out of the storm-
“ Our boat has one sail,
And the helmsman is pale;-
A bold pilot I trow,
Who should follow us now,”-
And she cried : “ Ply the oar !
Put off gaily from shore !”.
As she spoke, bolts of death
Mixed with hail specked their path
O’er the sea.
And frora isle, tower, and rock,
The blue beacon cloud broke,
Though dumb in the blast,
The red cannon flashed fast
From the lee.
* And fear'st thou; and fear'st thou ?
And see'st thou, and hear'st thou ?
And drive we not free
O'er the terrible sea,
I and thou?”
And with curses wild
As ere clung to child,
He devotes to the blast
The best, loveliest, and last,
Of his name!
Swifter far than summer's flight,
Swifter far than youth's delight,
Swifter far than happy night,
Art thou come and gone :
As the earth when leaves are dead,
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
I am left lone, alone,
The swallow Summer comes again,
The owlet Night resumes her reign,
But the wild swan Youth is fain
To fly with thee, false as thou.
My heart each day desires the morrow,
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,
Vainly would my winter borrow
Sunny leaves from any bough.
Lilies for a bridal bed,
Roses for a matron's head,
Violets for a maiden dead,
Pansies let my flowers be :
On the living grave I bear,
Scatter them without a tear,
Let no friend, however dear,
Waste one hope, one fear for me.
OF THE CASCINE, NEAR PISA.
Dearest, best, and brightest,
To the woods and to the fields !
Dearer than this fairest day,
Which like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good.morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle in the brake.
The eldest of the hours of spring,
Into the winter wandering,
Looks upon the leafless wood ;
And the banks all bare and rude
Found it seems this halcyon morn,
In February's bosom born,
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,
Kissed the cold forehead of the earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free;
And waked to music all the fountains,
And breathed upon the rigid mountains,
And inade the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.
Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise ! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all the roof of leaves,
Where the Pine its garland weaves,