Let me, thy happy guide, now point thy way, And now precede thee, winding to and fro, Till we by perseverance gain the top

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Of some smooth ridge, whose brink precipitous Kindles intense desire for powers withheld From this corporeal frame; whereon who stands Is seized with strong incitement to push forth His arms, as swimmers use, and plunge-dread

thought,

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For pastime plunge-into the "abrupt abyss," Where ravens spread their plumy vans, at ease!

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And yet more gladly thee would I conduct Through woods and spacious forests, to behold There how the Original of human art, Heaven-prompted Nature, measures and erects Her temples, fearless for the stately work, Though waves, to every breeze, its high-arched roof,

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And storms the pillars rock. But we such schools
Of reverential awe will chiefly seek
In the still summer noon, while beams of light,
Reposing here, and in the aisles beyond
Traceably gliding through the dusk, recall
To mind the living presences of nuns ;
A gentle, pensive, white-robed sisterhood,
Whose saintly radiance mitigates the gloom
Of those terrestrial fabrics, where they serve,
To Christ, the Sun of righteousness, espoused.

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Now also shall the page of classic lore, To these glad eyes from bondage freed, again 50 Lie open; and the book of Holy Writ, Again unfolded, passage clear shall yield To heights more glorious still, and into shades More awful, where, advancing hand in hand, We may be taught, O Darling of my care! 55

To calm the affections, elevate the soul,
And consecrate our lives to truth and love.

1816.

AN

XXV.

ODE TO LYCORIS.

MAY, 1817.

I.

age hath been when Earth was proud

Of lustre too intense

To be sustained; and Mortals bowed
The front in self-defence.

Who then, if Dian's crescent gleamed,
Or Cupid's sparkling arrow streamed
While on the wing the Urchin played,
Could fearlessly approach the shade?
-Enough for one soft vernal day,
If I, a bard of ebbing time,
And nurtured in a fickle clime,
May haunt this horned bay;
Whose amorous water multiplies
The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes;
And smooths her liquid breast-to show
These swan-like specks of mountain snow,
White as the pair that slid along the plains
Of heaven, when Venus held the reins!

II.

In youth we love the darksome lawn
Brushed by the owlet's wing;
Then Twilight is preferred to Dawn,
And Autumn to the Spring.
Sad fancies do we then affect,

In luxury of disrespect

To our own prodigal excess
Of too familiar happiness.

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Lycoris (if such name befit

Thee, thee my life's celestial sign!)
When Nature marks the year's decline,
Be ours to welcome it;

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Pleased with the harvest hope that runs

Before the path of milder suns;

Pleased while the sylvan world displays

Its ripeness to the feeding gaze;

Pleased when the sullen winds resound the knell Of the resplendent miracle.

III.

But something whispers to my heart

That, as we downward tend,
Lycoris! life requires an art
To which our souls must bend;
A skill-to balance and supply;
And, ere the flowing fount be dry,
As soon it must, a sense to sip,

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Still, as we nearer draw to life's dark goal, Be hopeful Spring the favourite of the Soul!

1817.

XXVI.

TO THE SAME.

ENOUGH of climbing toil!—Ambition treads Here, as 'mid busier scenes, ground steep and rough,

Or slippery even to peril! and each step,
As we for most uncertain recompense

Mount toward the empire of the fickle clouds, 5
Each weary step, dwarfing the world below,
Induces, for its old familiar sights,
Unacceptable feelings of contempt,

With wonder mixed-that Man could e'er be tied,
In anxious bondage, to such nice array
And formal fellowship of petty things!
-Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies this life,
Making a truth and beauty of her own;
And moss-grown alleys, circumscribing shades,
And gurgling rills, assist her in the work
More efficaciously than realms outspread,
As in a map, before the adventurer's gaze-
Ocean and Earth contending for regard.

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The umbrageous woods are left-how far beneath!

But lo! where darkness seems to guard the

mouth

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Of yon wild cave, whose jaggèd brows are fringed
With flaccid threads of ivy, in the still
And sultry air, depending motionless.
Yet cool the space within, and not uncheered
(As whoso enters shall ere long perceive)
By stealthy influx of the timid day
Mingling with night, such twilight to compose
As Numa loved; when, in the Egerian grot,
From the sage Nymph appearing at his wish
He gained whate'er a regal mind might ask, 30
Or need, of counsel breathed through lips divine.

Long as the heat shall rage, let that dim cave Protect us, there deciphering as we may Diluvian records; or the sighs of Earth Interpreting; or counting for old Time

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His minutes, by reiterated drops,

Audible tears, from some invisible source
That deepens upon fancy-more and more
Drawn toward the centre whence those sighs
creep forth

To awe the lightness of humanity.

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Or, shutting up thyself within thyself,
There let me see thee sink into a mood
Of gentler thought, protracted till thine eye
Be calm as water when the winds are gone, 44
And no one can tell whither. Dearest Friend!
We too have known such happy hours together
That, were power granted to replace them
(fetched

From out the pensive shadows where they lie)
In the first warmth of their original sunshine,
Loth should I be to use it: passing sweet
Are the domains of tender memory!

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1817.

XXVII.

SEPTEMBER, 1819.

THE sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields
Are hung, as if with golden shields,
Bright trophies of the sun!

Like a fair sister of the sky,
Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,
The mountains looking on.

And, sooth to say, yon vocal grove,
Albeit uninspired by love,

By love untaught to ring,
May well afford to mortal ear
An impulse more profoundly dear
Than music of the Spring.

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