All the night long I grieve; and when I fall
In that uneasy sleep that morning brings
I start awakened: faint I hear the call
Of swallows twittering ere the day begins.
Again I feel the smart of tears, again
Rhodanthi's image burns my fevered breast.
I close my weary eyes: 'tis all in vain:
I know no more of rest.

O cruel swallows, cease to vex me still,
I did not rob fair Philomel of song.
Go to the hoopoe's nest upon the hill
And there your plaint for Itylus prolong.
But let me sleep, that I to dream may try

What hope for England, if no man be found
With brain to succour, and with strength to lead?
Earth yet may witness, if no soul gives heed,
A once Imperial race debased, discrowned
To widen Empire to earth's furthest bound
Is not to rule, to triumph, to succeed.
We fought for Freedom? Nay, we fought for greed
Wild lust for gold runs noblest states aground.

On Empire's giddiest height to-day we stand:
Who climbs so hugely wins the whole world's hate:
One false step hurls from heaven to deepest hell

Great God! whose universal sway
The known and unknown worlds obey,
Now give the kingdom to thy Son,
Extend his pow'r, exalt his throne.

Thy sceptre well becomes his hands,
All heav'n submits to his commands;
His justice shall avenge the poor,
And pride and rage prevail no more.

With pow'r he vindicates the just,
And treads th' oppressor in the dust;
His worship and his fear shall last,
Till hours and years and time be past.

Tis midday. Darkness looms.
Hushed is the cricket's note
in the stubble, that moans.

In the air the thunder booms,
then seems a tired, remote,
low rumbling of stones.

Swallows with wide wings fleet
are echoing their refrain
'neath the loggia's high eaves.

Now, after breathless heat,
murmurs the sound of rain
in the poplar's small leaves.

The thunder rends the air
black, as though night were here.
Every window-blind swings.

They bolt the windows. There
a lone black-cap I hear ...

See how the wind is veering,
bearing away the rain!
Within the dense grown oak tree
it twirls the leaves again,
that cut loose, and at last.

they go, a flocking legion,
at each enfolding blast.
The oak tree seems to dream now
of groups of leaves held fast
in November days past.

Dead in the limpid clearness,
like birds they wing their way;
they brush the little branches
of rosy peach trees gay
with their fruit-buds for May.

The rosy peach trees quiver
laden with lifeless leaves;

A stripling in my youthful pride
I heeded not the darts of Love,
The power of Venus I denied,
Against her mandates strove.

But now my locks are all but gray,
I feel the sting of mad desire,
I bend my neck beneath Love's sway
And burn with sudden fire.

Take then thy thrall, O Paphian queen,
And laugh elate with smiling eyes;
Pallas again has vanquished been,
The apple is thy prize.

‘I will come to-morrow morn’—
But that morn I never see,
While you laugh my faith to scorn,
Make a mock of me.

Still you feed me on delay
And to others give your smiles,
My true love with insults pay
And deceitful wiles.

‘In the evening I will come’—
Yes, at beauty's eventide—
When your cheeks have lost their bloom
And your youth its pride.

O god of freedom! hear us pray
For steadfast hearts to toil as one;
Till thy pure law hath boundless sway —
Thy will, in heav'n and earth be done.

A piercing voice of grief and wrong
Goes upward from the groaning earth;
Most true and holy Lord! how long? —
In majesty and might come forth.

Yet, Lord! remembering mercy too,
Behold th' oppressor in his sin;
Make all his actions just and true,
Renew his wayward heart within.

Once a shepherd on the hills
Marvelled at the weeping rills
How a stone like Niobi
Should so tearful ever be.

Now 'tis I who weep and moan
And Erippi is the stone.
Though I cry in darkness drear
Never she my plaint will hear.

Love is still the cause of all,
Sends the tears from both that fall.
She bewails her children slain,
I my unrequited pain.

For whom shall I array my hair,
For whom my hands adorn,
For whom my sea-dyed tunic wear,
Now I am left forlorn?

Mine eyes of Rhodopi berest
Find naught to make them gay,
No joy in golden dawn is left
Now that my love's away.