English

How well I remember the hour,
When first from the brow of this hill,
I gaz'd upon spire and tower,
Becalm'd in the valley so still!

The birds sweetly sang in mine ear,
Still sweeter sang hope at my heart;
How bright did the prospect appear,
What thrilling emotions impart!

Since then seven years have expired,
Seven years which I sigh but to name;
Yet I have more than all I desired
Of knowledge, of friendship, of fame.

How strange are the feelings of man!
How changefully link'd with each other!

While that the sun with his beams hot
Scorchéd the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon the shepherd, late forgot,
Sitting beside a crystal fountain,
In shadow of a green oak-tree
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:

Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

So long as I was in your sight
I was your heart, your soul, and treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure:

When first the unflowering Fern-forest,
Shadowed the dim lagoons of old,
A vague unconscious long unrest
Swayed the great fronds of green and gold.

Until the flexible stems grew rude,
The fronds began to branch and bower,
And lo! upon the unblossoming wood
There breaks a dawn of apple-flower.

Then on the fruitful Forest-boughs
For ages long the unquiet ape
Swung happy in his airy house
And plucked the apple and sucked the grape.

Until in him at length there stirred

The quick sparks on the gorse-bushes are leaping
Little jets of sunlight texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They have triumphed again o'er the ages, their screamings proclaim.

Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth, lie
Low-rounded on the mournful turf they have bitten down to the quick.
Are they asleep?—are they living?—Now see, when I
Lift my arms, the hill bursts and heaves under their spurting kick!

The common flaunts bravely; but below, from the rushes

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,
And born in bed, in bed we die;
The near approach a bed may shew
Of human bliss to human woe.

Perchance that I might learn what pity is,
That I might laugh at erring men no more,
Secure in my own strength as heretofore,
My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss:
Nor know I under any flag but this
How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore,
Or how survive the rout and horrid roar
Of adverse hosts, if I thy succor miss.
O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme!
By you may those foul sins be purified,
Wherein my fathers were, and I was born!
Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme

Over the flagon filled to the brim
She sends a bewildering glance to him.

Over the sea of pink foaming wine
He reels in the light of her beauty divine.

Deeper and deeper she dreamily dips,
In the rose-tinted wine, her rose-tinted lips.

While over the glass she airily laughs
A pledge which he eagerly catches and quaffs.

And he drinks in a madness wilder than wine,
Through her smile and her eyes' bewildering shine.

He drinks in delirium, danger, and death,
As over the crystal comes floating her breath;

She had a death in me, knees drawn up
and my bowl and cloth rinsed through with her.
As morning takes night, field closes the hare,
and ay would burrow into her.
Over the altar, catalpas rattle,
shadow and bother the branch.
Is this her white? Dress me.
Her rain? Wash me with that.
Her bowl? Feed me empty.
Her colding? Ay am forgot.
Then mask me the g’wen, hers skin
being mine, and body that pools
in the brine of her, rivers the silt and stone of her
wrapt in the warm of hers fell.

Have pity thou, who all my heart hast known!
Come back from thy far place and heal my pain!
My long, unshared, uncheered days wax and wane;
The strong suns mock me, I am so alone;
The hurrying winds sweep by, nor heed my moan;
The climbing stars of night, a shining train,
With curious eyes behold me wait in vain,—
And Nature's very self doth me disown.

I did not know how blest I was, God wot,
When thy dear voice made music for my ears,
Fostered my starveling joys and shamed my fears:
Now thou art dumb; and I, by thee forgot,

The great red sun glows like a thing accurst;
Along the east the sailless ocean lies,
Wide sweeping, with low waves that sink and rise
In utter weariness. The bare hills thirst,
For the fierce floods that once were wont to burst,
With lightning's flash, in answer to their cries,
Their thunder tones far echoing in the skies.
The plains that shone in morning's light immersed,
Rich with the glory ripened harvests gave,
And silver fretted by a thousand streams,
Now brown and lifeless merge in lurid space: