Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

Where the grasshopper doth sing
Merrily-one joyous thing
In a world of sorrowing!

There our tent shall be the willow,
And mine arm shall be thy pillow;

Sounds and odours, sorrowful

Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber deep and dull.

Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter

With a love thou dar'st not utter.

Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping

Is thine icy bosom leaping

While my burning heart lies sleeping?

Kiss me ;-oh! thy lips are cold;
Round my neck thine arms enfold-
They are soft, but chill and dead;
And thy tears upon my head
Burn like points of frozen lead.

Hasten to the bridal bed;
Underneath the grave 'tis spread:
In darkness may our love be hid,
Oblivion be our coverlid;

We may rest, and none forbid.

Clasp me, till our hearts be grown

Like two shadows into one;

Till this dreadful transport may
Like a vapour fade away

In the sleep that lasts alway.

We may dream in that long sleep,
That we are not those who weep;
Even as Pleasure dreams of thee,
Life-deserting Misery,

Thou mayest dream of her with me.

Let us laugh, and make our mirth,
At the shadows of the earth,
As dogs bay the moonlight clouds,
Which, like spectres wrapt in shrouds,
Pass o'er night in multitudes.

All the wide world, beside us
Show like multitudinous
Puppets passing from a scene;
What but mockery can they mean,
Where I am-where thou hast been?

TO MARY

O MARY dear, that you were here
With your brown eyes bright and clear,
And your sweet voice, like a bird
Singing love to its lone mate

[blocks in formation]

Mary dear, come to me soon,

I am not well whilst thou art far;
As sunset to the sphered moon,
As twilight to the western star,
Thou, beloved, art to me.

O Mary dear, that you were here!
The Castle echo whispers "Here!"
ESTE, September, 1818.

PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES.

LISTEN, listen, Mary mine,

To the whisper of the Apennine;

It bursts on the roof like the thunder's roar,

Or like the sea on a northern shore,

Heard in its raging ebb and flow

By the captives pent in the cave below.
The Apennine in the light of day

Is a mighty mountain dim and gray,

Which between the earth and sky doth lay;
But when night comes, a chaos dread

On the dim starlight then is spread,

And the Apennine walks abroad with the storm.

May 4th, 1818.

ON A FADED VIOLET.

THE Colour from the flower is gone,

Which like thy sweet eyes smiled on me; The odour from the flower is flown, Which breathed of thee and only thee!

A withered, lifeless, vacant form,
It lies on my abandoned breast,
And mocks the heart which yet is warm
With cold and silent rest.

I weep-my tears revive it not;

I sigh-it breathes no more on me; Its mute and uncomplaining lot

Is such as mine should be.

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 might: The breath of the moist earth 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 sea-weeds 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,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,

And walked with inward glory crowned-
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround;

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

Yet now despair itself is mild,

Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »