Long winding caverns, glittering far Through clefts of which, shall many a star Shine clear without resistance And carry down its rays the smell Of flowers above invisible. I said that two or three might choose Those who would change man's voice and use, Man's veering heart and careless eyes, For Nature's steadfast sympathies. Ourselves, to meet her faithfulness, Her beautiful shall ne'er address Yet shall she not our mistress live, Our thoughts a light and motion : More like a harp of many lays, No sod in all that island doth Yawn open for the dead; No wind hath borne a traitor's oath ; Our only "farewell we shall laugh And use our only epitaph To some bud turned a flower : Our only tears shall serve to prove Excess in pleasure or in love. Our fancies shall their plumage catch From fairest island-birds, Whose eggs let young ones out at hatch, Yea, soon, no consonant unsmooth And often, by the joy without And in us, overcome, We, through our musing, shall let float Or Eschylus--the pleasant fields Or Poet Plato, had the undim Unsetting Godlight broke on him Choose me the cave most worthy choice, To make a place for prayer, And I will choose a praying voice To pour our spirits there : How silverly the echoes run! Thy will be done,―thy will be done. Gently yet strangely uttered words! That did no more than seem: The streams are dry, no sun could findThe fruits are fallen, without wind. So oft the doing of God's will Our foolish wills undoeth.! And yet what idle dream breaks ill, And who would murmur and misdoubt, THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING. Ηδη νοερους Πετασαι ταρσους. SYNESIUS. I DWELL amid the city ever. I sit and harken while it rolls. By the finite prest and pent, When sometimes, with an awful sound, The champ of the steeds on the silver bit, man's broom, The trail on the street of the poor Count their per-cents by the paces they take; The cry of the babe unheard of its mother Though it lie on her breast, while she thinks of the other Laid yesterday where it will not wake; The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, Dry and vacant of even woe While the children's hearts are leaping so At the merry music's winding ;) The black-plumed funerals' creeping train As fast as Life though it hurry and strain !) Creeping the populous houses through To the sunshiny world, has just struggled and cried,At many a house where sitteth a bride Trying to-morrow's coronals With a scarlet blush to-day: Slowly creep the funerals, As none should hear the noise and say, Hark! an upward shout is sent, In grave strong joy from tower to steeple The trumpets sound, the people shout, And booms the deep majestic voice Through trump and drum,-" May the queen rejoice In the people's liberties!" I dwell amid the city, And hear the flow of souls in act and speech, And that is melancholy ! Thy voice is a complaint, O crowned city, The blue sky covering thee like God's great pity! ぐる |