Classic Poem

Sweet songs to me thou sendest
Of woodland joys that tell,
Within my breast exciting
Poetic fires as well;
Of shady slopes thou singest
Beside a reedy pool;
A timid hart thou lurest
To taste its waters cool.

O'er some old volume poring
I while away the hours;
Yet fear not, I am seeking
Therein no withered flowers;
Methinks—along its pages
A pathway green extends
Towards the fields, and lastly
In some lone forest ends.

Beside the lake sits Merlin
Upon a mossy stone,
And gazes at his image
In dim reflection shewn.
He marks how toil hath blanched him
Amid the world's fierce strife;
Here, in the lonely forest,
He gains new strength and life.

The bright and dewy verdure
Hath made his sight so keen,
His eye can pierce the future,
And see whate'er hath been;
At dead of night, the branches
Have rustled round his ear,
Till nature's deepest meanings
Around him echo clear.

A hart that near him lingered—
(The sage it did not fear)—
Dashed off in terror, hearing
A horn ring loud and clear.
Amid the press of huntsmen
Is Merlin borne away
E'en to the king's far castle,
Who'd sought him many a day.

“A blessing on the morning
That Merlin hither brings,
The man who, men forsaking,
To beasts of wisdom sings.
Full fain are we to challenge
That wondrous learning's aid,
Which many a year hath taught thee
In yonder forest's shade.

Not of the planet's courses
Shall be my first request;
A lesser proof will serve me
Thy boasted skill to test.
Thou com'st to me thus early
As though invited here:
My brain is sorely puzzled,
Thou'lt soon make all things clear.

Beneath yon linden's shadows
I heard this very night
A murmur and a rustling
Like lovers' whispers light;
To catch the tones more clearly,
My head I downward bowed;
But ere I knew the voices,
A nightingale sang loud.

And now, O sage! I ask thee
Who stood beneath the tree?
All secret things thy spirits
Can manifest to thee;
To thee birds' voices sing them,
Leaves sigh them forth to thee;
Speak fearlessly! conceal not
The truth, whate'er it be.”

Still stood the king, surrounded
By many a knight and dame;
His rosy-blooming daughter
To bid good morrow came.
Then Merlin who, undaunted,
Had viewed the circle there,
A tender leaf of linden
Took from the maiden's hair.

“This leaflet let me hand thee—
What saith it, king! to thee?
Who fails to read this token,
Let him but answer me:
If e'er in kingly palace
Leaves raining down he spied?
Where linden-leaves are falling,
The tree not far doth bide!

How great my secret knowledge
Experience hast thou gained,
And may'st thou deem it worthy
The praise it hath obtained.
If thus thy riddle's answer
One leaf can soon evolve,
Think what mysterious secrets
The thick-leaved wood can solve!”

The king stands awed and silent,
The princess glows with shame;
The aged seer re-seeketh
The wood from whence he came.
A hart that well he knoweth
Awaits him at the bridge,
He mounts, and fast it bears him
O'er stream and grassy ridge.

On couch of moss sat Merlin;
His voice's wondrous song
From out the wood's recesses
Resounded far and long.
There all things now are silent,
Yet, friend! I make no doubt
That in thy pleasant ballads
Sage Merlin yet speaks out!