 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
BELLAGIO, LAKE COMO.
The purple mountains crown'd with snow,
The vineyards sloping to the strand,
The lake with thousand tints aglow,
And by the whispering breezes fann'd.
The vineyards sloping to the strand,
The lake with thousand tints aglow,
And by the whispering breezes fann'd.
How sweet to wander up the glade
Beneath close boughs of arching green,
Which make a canopy of shade,
And form against the sun a screen.
Beneath close boughs of arching green,
Which make a canopy of shade,
And form against the sun a screen.
'Tis pleasant, too, beside the lake
To dream away a happy hour,
And see the lilac blossom shake,
The chestnut bursting into flower.
To dream away a happy hour,
And see the lilac blossom shake,
The chestnut bursting into flower.
17
And oft from yonder cypress grove
There comes a sudden flash of song,
The nightingale his tale of love
Sings to his mate the whole day long.
There comes a sudden flash of song,
The nightingale his tale of love
Sings to his mate the whole day long.
O voice of most delirious joy!
O notes of most delicious pain!
Fear not, sweet bird, it cannot cloy,
Sing me once more that passionate strain.
O notes of most delicious pain!
Fear not, sweet bird, it cannot cloy,
Sing me once more that passionate strain.
On Serbelloni's terraced height
In solemn thought I often stand,
And mark how in the golden light
The waters ripple on the strand.
In solemn thought I often stand,
And mark how in the golden light
The waters ripple on the strand.
For here two reaches of the lake
Stretch out before the ravish'd eye,
And all the soul with beauty take
As flashing in the sun they lie.
Stretch out before the ravish'd eye,
And all the soul with beauty take
As flashing in the sun they lie.
And hark, from yonder church-crown'd steep
Come chimes of bells, sonorous, clear,
Softly adown the heights they sweep,
And with their music charm the ear.
Come chimes of bells, sonorous, clear,
Softly adown the heights they sweep,
And with their music charm the ear.
A thousand tongues those mountains keep
To send their voices far and wide,
And Echo, startled from her sleep,
Wafts them across the dark blue tide.
To send their voices far and wide,
And Echo, startled from her sleep,
Wafts them across the dark blue tide.
18
Where will you find a fairer spot
Than this, of all the lakes the queen?
Oh happy he whose envied lot
Is cast in this sweet, peaceful scene.
Than this, of all the lakes the queen?
Oh happy he whose envied lot
Is cast in this sweet, peaceful scene.
Nor can there be a fitter shrine
In which to God our vows to pay,
To lift the soul to things divine,
To praise, to worship, and to pray.
In which to God our vows to pay,
To lift the soul to things divine,
To praise, to worship, and to pray.
Sometimes I ask, “Is all a dream
Which waking hours may from me take,—
These purple hills,—that silver stream,—
The hills, the woods, the spacious lake?”
Which waking hours may from me take,—
These purple hills,—that silver stream,—
The hills, the woods, the spacious lake?”
But no, this fair and happy land,
Is not a vision of the night,
Nor scene called up by magic wand,
It lies there in the golden light.
Is not a vision of the night,
Nor scene called up by magic wand,
It lies there in the golden light.
Fain would I take, before I leave,
Its grace into my very heart,
And with my thoughts its beauty weave
Till it becomes of self a part.
Its grace into my very heart,
And with my thoughts its beauty weave
Till it becomes of self a part.
O lovely lake, where'er I range,
By wood, or stream, or sounding shore,
All other beauty I'd exchange
To stand beside thy wave once more.
By wood, or stream, or sounding shore,
All other beauty I'd exchange
To stand beside thy wave once more.
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |