And at night they sleep In the rocking deep Beneath the Ortygiau shore;- Like spirits that lie In the azure sky When they love but live no more. Pisa, 1820. THE QUESTION. 1 DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way, Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cow-bind and the moonlight-coloured May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild and ivy serpentine, roses, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, With moonlight beams of their own watery light; Methought that of these visionary flowers LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, Has led me who knows how? To thy chamber window, sweet! The wandering airs they faint Beloved as thou art! Oh lift me from the grass Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, NEAR NAPLES. THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent light, 'The breath of the moist air is light, Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, And walked with inward glory crowned- Smiling they live and call life pleasure;- Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Some might lament that I were cold, They might lament--for I am one Whom men love not, and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. AUTUMN: A DIRGE. THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. Come, months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array; Follow the bier Of the dead cold year, And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre. The chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, For the year; The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone Come, months, come away; Put on white, black, and grey, Let your light sisters play Ye, follow the bier Of the dead cold year, And make her grave green with tear on tear. ! |