Wild is thy lay, and loud, Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the rainbow's rim, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! O, to abide in the desert with thee! TO DAFFODILS.-Herrick.* FAIR Daffodils, we weep to see Until the hast'ning day But to the even-song And, having prayed together, we * Born in 1591. We have short time to stay, as you; As quick a growth to meet decay, As your hours do; and dry Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning dew, THE HERMIT. - Beattie. Ar the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, "Ah! why, thus abandoned to darkness and woe, Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain? For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. Yet, if pity inspire thee, O, cease not thy lay! Mourn, sweetest companion! man calls thee to mourn; O, soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away, Full quickly they pass, but they never return! 66 Now, gliding remote on the verge of the sky, The moon, half extinct, a dim cresent displays; But lately I marked when majestic on high She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. Roll on, then, fair orb, and with gladness pursue The path that conducts thee to splendor again; But man's faded glory no change shall renew; Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain! “'T is night, and the landscape is lovely no more; I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I'mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind Nature the embryo-blossom shall save; But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?' "T was thus, by the glare of false science betrayed, That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind; My thoughts wont to roam from shade onward to shade, Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. "O, pity, great Father of light!" then I cried, 66 Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee; Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride; From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free." And darkness and doubt are now flying away; So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray, See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending, And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. SONG OF THE SILENT. LAND. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS, BY LONGFELLOW. INTO the Silent Land! Ah! who shall lead us thither ? Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, Thither, O, thither, Into the Silent Land? Into the Silent Land! To you, ye boundless regions Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms Into the Silent Land! O Land O Land! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great departed, Into the Silent Land! ODE. Collins. How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By fairy hands their knell is rung, DEEM not that our eldest heir Wins too much of love and care; Early crops were never found See in yonder plot of flowers Catching beams and kindly showers Which the heavens are shedding. While the younger plants below High and richly spreading. |