 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
353
TRUTH AND RUMOUR.
As Truth once passed on her pilgrim way,
To rest by a hedge-side, thorny and sere,
Few wanderers there she charmed to stay,
Though hers were the tidings that all should hear.
She whispering sang, and her deep rich voice,
Yet richer, deeper, each moment grew;
And still though it bade the crowd rejoice,
Her strain but a scanty audience drew.
To rest by a hedge-side, thorny and sere,
Few wanderers there she charmed to stay,
Though hers were the tidings that all should hear.
She whispering sang, and her deep rich voice,
Yet richer, deeper, each moment grew;
And still though it bade the crowd rejoice,
Her strain but a scanty audience drew.
But Rumour close by as she plucked a reed
From a babbling brook, detained the throng;
With a hundred tongues that never agreed
She gave to the winds a mocking song.
The crowd with delight its echoes caught,
And closer around her yet they drew;
So wondrous and wild the lore she taught,
They listened, entranced, the long day through.
From a babbling brook, detained the throng;
With a hundred tongues that never agreed
She gave to the winds a mocking song.
The crowd with delight its echoes caught,
And closer around her yet they drew;
So wondrous and wild the lore she taught,
They listened, entranced, the long day through.
The sun went down: when he rose again,
And sleep had becalmed each listener's mind,
The voice of Rumour had rung in vain,
No echo had left a charm behind.
But Truth's pure note, ever whispering clear,
Wandering in air, fresh sweeetness caught;
Then all unnotic'd it touched the ear,
And filled with music the cells of thought.
And sleep had becalmed each listener's mind,
The voice of Rumour had rung in vain,
No echo had left a charm behind.
354
Wandering in air, fresh sweeetness caught;
Then all unnotic'd it touched the ear,
And filled with music the cells of thought.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |