Ah! what an azure day!
Beneath the granite gray
The sulky ferox lay
And waved a fin;
Above his surly head
The amber river sped,
Shrunk in its summer bed,
Limpid and thin.

We heard the eddies lisp;
Deep in the heather crisp
We lay to watch Canisp
And Suilven blue;
Between their crags, behold,
A sheet of polished gold,
Where Fewn drew fold by fold
Her waters through.

" Hopeless the gray fly's wiles!
Our dusky ferox smiles;
We have trudged for miles and miles
In vain, in vain;

Ye who in bondage pine,
Shut out from light divine,
Bereft of hope!
Whose limbs are worn with chains,
Whose tears bedew our plains,
Whose blood our glory stains,
In gloom who grope!

Shout! for the hour draws nigh,
That gives you liberty;
And, from the dust,—
So long your vile embrace,—
Uprising, take your place
Among earth's noblest race,
'Tis right and just.

The night—the long dark night
Of infamy and slight,
Shame and disgrace,
Of slavery—worse than e'er
Rome's slaves were doom'd to bear,

Fain would I learn of thee, thou murd'ring eye,
Whether thy glance be fire, or else a dart:
For with thy look in flames thou mak'st me fry,
And with the same thou strik'st me to the heart:
Pierced with thy looks I burn in fire,
And yet those looks I still desire.

The fly, that buzzeth round about the flame,
Knows not, poor soul, she gets her death thereby;
I see my death, and seeing, seek the same,
And seeking, find, and finding, choose to die,
That when thy looks my life have slain,
Thy looks may give me life again.

The friends that are, and friends that were,
What shallow waves divide!
I miss the form for many a year
Still seated at my side.

I miss him, yet I feel him still
Amidst our faithful band,
As if not death itself could chill
The warmth of friendship's hand.

His story other lips may tell,—
For me the veil is drawn;
I only knew he loved me well,
He loved me—and is gone!

I too was in Arcadia born,
And Nature, watching o'er my bed,
To grant me happiness had sworn;
Yes, I was in Arcadia born,
Yet tears throughout my youth were shed.

Youth blossoms once, but never more;
And mine has ripened to decay.
The silent God (whose aid implore)
My lamp of life has shrouded o'er,
And my illusion melts away.

Upon thy dismal border line,
Dreaded Eternity, I stand;
Thy fair credentials I resign
Inviolate; behold them thine;
No happiness can I command.

Before thy throne I pour my wail,

Here, wait for a minute: stay, pretty one, stay,
And tell me your name and your lodging, I pray;
Whatever you ask I will willingly pay.

What, have you a lover? Still dumb? No reply?
I'll send my man with you to find where you lie;
Good-bye, my proud beauty; what, not say good-bye?

You won't shake me off by one rebuff or two;
I know how to break wilder fillies than you,
And I'll tame you, my dear. For the moment — adieu.

A stream in Sparta here you see,
With Leda from all veilings free,
And Zeus as swan arrayed.
Ye little Loves who lure me on,
What bird shall I become? A swan?
A goose, I am afraid.

It comes, it comes — the haughty Southern fleet,
(The very ocean 'neath its weight complains)
Bearing a brand-new God, who has his seat
'Mid thousand thunders and the clank of chains.
Of frowning citadels a floating host,
(Its equal never stemmed the ocean's tides)
Invincible men call it, as it glides
Over the frighted waters toward the coast.
Terror gives meaning to the boastful name,
Terror its mien and attitude proclaim.
Onward in slow and stately guise it pressed,
(And Neptune staggering his burden bore)

Let Mammon hold, while Mammon can,
The bones and blood of living man;
Let despots scorn, while despots dare,
The shrieks and writhings of despair; —

The end will come , it will not wait,
Bonds, yokes, and scourges have their date;
Slavery itself must pass away,
And be a tale of yesterday.

I have drunk deep of love: last night she came
And with her kisses set my soul aflame.
Such fragrant nectar even gods above
May scarcely know: I have drunk deep of love.