"The waves, unashamèd, "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence, Night veileth the morning, "But man crouches and blushes, Absconds and conceals; He creepeth and peepeth, Jealous glancing around, "Out spoke the great mother, Beholding his fear ; At the sound of her accents Cold shuddered the sphere : Who has drugged my boy's cup? Who has mixed my boy's bread? Who, with sadness and madness, Has turned my child's head? I heard a poet answer, 66 Aloud and cheerfully, Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges Are pleasant songs to me. Deep love lieth under These pictures of time; They fade in the light of Their meaning sublime. "The fiend that man harries Can't trance him again, "To vision profounder, At no goal will arrive ; 66 66 Eterne alternation Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; Thy sight is growing blear; Rue, myrrh, and cummin for the Sphinx, Her muddy eyes to clear! The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,— Said, "Who taught thee me to name? I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow, Of thine eye I am eyebeam. "Thou art the unanswered question; And each answer is a lie. Uprose the merry Sphinx, And crouched no more in stone; Thorough a thousand voices L EACH AND ALL. ITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Thy life to thy neighbour's creed has lent. I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, I brought him home, in his nest, at even; I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar. As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, Nor knew her beauty's best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage ; The gay enchantment was undone, A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said, "I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth: The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, Around me stood the oaks and firs ; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird;— I THE PROBLEM. LIKE a church; I like a cowl; And on my heart monastic aisles Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles; Why should the vest on him allure, Not from a vain or shallow thought The thrilling Delphic oracle; Out from the heart of nature rolled The litanies of nations came, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, |