 | Impressions of Italy and Other Poems |  |
99
OH! AUSONIA'S LAND.
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[The subject of this being Italy I introduce it here, though it was written long before I ever saw that enchanting land.]
Oh! Ausonia's Land—Ausonia's Land,
Where the brightest of blossoms for ever are blowing,
Ausonia's clime—Ausonia's strand,
Where the Fountains of Music for ever are flowing.
Where the brightest of blossoms for ever are blowing,
Ausonia's clime—Ausonia's strand,
Where the Fountains of Music for ever are flowing.
Where Passion waves his triumphant wand,
While Poesy wakes his rich Lyre's deep sound;
While beauty clasps in her cestus band,
All the dream-enchanted world, spread round!
While Poesy wakes his rich Lyre's deep sound;
While beauty clasps in her cestus band,
All the dream-enchanted world, spread round!
Would you braid the white orange blossom wreath?
Those flowers lost at last in their own golden graves!
Oh! go, where the Summer breathes precious breath,
Where the blue sky spreads like a Sea without waves.
Those flowers lost at last in their own golden graves!
Oh! go, where the Summer breathes precious breath,
Where the blue sky spreads like a Sea without waves.
100
Oh! Ausonia's sun—Ausonia's sky,
Where that sun lives indeed like a God in his glory,
Ausonia's bright Clime of old memories high,
Where sweep all the gorgeous shadows of story!
Where that sun lives indeed like a God in his glory,
Ausonia's bright Clime of old memories high,
Where sweep all the gorgeous shadows of story!
Where the mighty arts dwell enshrined and crowned,
And speak to the Soul with a voice of power,
The Soul, whose bright country there, there seems found,
Where it claims its feast, its wreath, and its dower.
And speak to the Soul with a voice of power,
The Soul, whose bright country there, there seems found,
Where it claims its feast, its wreath, and its dower.
Have ye e'er heard a warble of passion arise,
Whose sound thrilled deep to the heart's pierced core—
Go bask in the light of blue Italy's skies,
Ye will hear that warble of sweetness once more!
Whose sound thrilled deep to the heart's pierced core—
Go bask in the light of blue Italy's skies,
Ye will hear that warble of sweetness once more!
Oh! Ausonia's scenes—Ausonia's skies,
Where endless enchantments are thronging and thickening,
Where Nature smiles, clad in her fairest of dyes,
And her airs and her dews are most freshening and quickening.
Where endless enchantments are thronging and thickening,
Where Nature smiles, clad in her fairest of dyes,
And her airs and her dews are most freshening and quickening.
101
Doth your heart swell high 'mid the dread remains
Of immortal man's deep skill and pride?
Do ye love the gloom of the ivy-wreathed fanes?
Oh! hasten ye—haste to old Tiber's side!
Of immortal man's deep skill and pride?
Do ye love the gloom of the ivy-wreathed fanes?
Oh! hasten ye—haste to old Tiber's side!
Can ye prize all mighty and solemn things,
And gaze with a poet's eye around,
Oh fly on expectancy's outstretched wings,
To Italia's Heaven-stamped holy ground!
And gaze with a poet's eye around,
Oh fly on expectancy's outstretched wings,
To Italia's Heaven-stamped holy ground!
Oh! Ausonia! brightest and loveliest of Lands!
Where beauty and glory are throned, and for ever—
Where Time's all subtle and precious sands,
Shine out golden as those of old Pactolus' river!
Where beauty and glory are throned, and for ever—
Where Time's all subtle and precious sands,
Shine out golden as those of old Pactolus' river!
Do you love the morning's most orient smile,
And the balmy eve when the day is done?
Oh leave then our cold and cloudy isle,
For the ever-flowering Land of the Sun!
And the balmy eve when the day is done?
Oh leave then our cold and cloudy isle,
For the ever-flowering Land of the Sun!
102
There is One thing lovelier than all! there is One
That makes Nature more holy, more great, more fair,
Makes yet purer the air, and brighter the Sun,
'Tis the Soul of Freedom!—why lives it not there?
That makes Nature more holy, more great, more fair,
Makes yet purer the air, and brighter the Sun,
'Tis the Soul of Freedom!—why lives it not there?
Oh! Ausonia fairest, most favoured Land,
With thy groves, and thy gardens, thy hills, and thy fountains,
Take the thunderbolt now in thy queenly hand,
Be free as thy torrents, and strong as thy mountains!
With thy groves, and thy gardens, thy hills, and thy fountains,
Take the thunderbolt now in thy queenly hand,
Be free as thy torrents, and strong as thy mountains!
| Impressions of Italy and Other Poems | |