 | Lyrical Poems |  |
53
BOOK II.POLYHYMNIA.
Αναξιφορμιγγες υμνοι
Τινα θεον, τιν' ηρωα, τινα δ' ανδρα κελαδησομεν.
—Pindar.
Τινα θεον, τιν' ηρωα, τινα δ' ανδρα κελαδησομεν.
—Pindar.
Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.—Horace.
55
HYMN TO HELIOS.
Ηλιον περιαγει ψυχη.
—Plato.
Beautiful orb, that rulest the sky, bright joy of creation,
Helios! oldest of gods, when earth, with divinity teeming,
Spake to the eye and the heart of a race that believed in their feelings
Now they call thee a globe, a fiery sphere in the welkin,
Blindly wheeled, the causer of light, but wheeling in blindness;
Blindly wheeled by a law, with might despotic, compelling
Atoms, and suns, and moons, the dust that turneth the balance,
Clouds that float in the sky, and waves that swell in the ocean.
Beautiful Sun! whom millions worshipped, bright joy of creation!
Still let me deem thee a god!—or, if potent Science deny me
This heart-worship, which lived when men had faith in their feelings,
I from Philosophy borrow a name to baptize thee—be greeted,
Light-giving eye of the God, whose soul is the life of the Cosmos!
Eye not seeing, like vision of men, with tamely recipient
Organ, but causing to see, creative, procreant, plastic;
Eye in which Plato believed, and the broad-viewed thinkers of Hellas,
Ere mechanical men, with curious lines and triangles,
Measured the skies, and mapped the bald ungodded creation;
Eye of the welkin, I praise thee! the glory that waked in the Persian
Hymns of awful delight, and sent the Pelasgic Apollo
Forth, a glorious youth, with golden locks down-flowing
Over the shoulders that bore the quiver with arrows resounding:
Me that glory inspires in the clime of the mist-wreathed mountain;
Me thy deity stirs in the land, where a jealous theology
Watches the words of the wise, and grudges free thought to the thinker.
I will praise thee; inspire my heart with flooding emotion!
Fill me with thoughts as rich as the leafy tree, which redundant
Shakes her tresses around, and waves her beauty before me!
Teach me to praise thee with skill, that whoso hears may adore thee,
Helios! beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Helios! oldest of gods, when earth, with divinity teeming,
Spake to the eye and the heart of a race that believed in their feelings
Now they call thee a globe, a fiery sphere in the welkin,
Blindly wheeled, the causer of light, but wheeling in blindness;
Blindly wheeled by a law, with might despotic, compelling
Atoms, and suns, and moons, the dust that turneth the balance,
56
Beautiful Sun! whom millions worshipped, bright joy of creation!
Still let me deem thee a god!—or, if potent Science deny me
This heart-worship, which lived when men had faith in their feelings,
I from Philosophy borrow a name to baptize thee—be greeted,
Light-giving eye of the God, whose soul is the life of the Cosmos!
Eye not seeing, like vision of men, with tamely recipient
Organ, but causing to see, creative, procreant, plastic;
Eye in which Plato believed, and the broad-viewed thinkers of Hellas,
Ere mechanical men, with curious lines and triangles,
Measured the skies, and mapped the bald ungodded creation;
Eye of the welkin, I praise thee! the glory that waked in the Persian
Hymns of awful delight, and sent the Pelasgic Apollo
57
Over the shoulders that bore the quiver with arrows resounding:
Me that glory inspires in the clime of the mist-wreathed mountain;
Me thy deity stirs in the land, where a jealous theology
Watches the words of the wise, and grudges free thought to the thinker.
I will praise thee; inspire my heart with flooding emotion!
Fill me with thoughts as rich as the leafy tree, which redundant
Shakes her tresses around, and waves her beauty before me!
Teach me to praise thee with skill, that whoso hears may adore thee,
Helios! beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Beautiful Sun! when the procreant breath on the primal waters
Brooded, divinely stirring the crude and weltering Chaos,
Water, and earth, and air, and fire, in dim elemental
Strife inorganic convolved, and rolling in huge confusion,
Then thou wert not, beautiful Sun! but evident darkness
Struggled with fitfullest fire, in dismal yawning abysses
Joyless. Forth from the thought of the all-creative Jehovah
Walked thy luminous round with intelligential clearness.
Chaos before thee fled; the vast convolutions of darkness
Rolled away; the elements, freed from tangled embroilment,
Grouped their atoms, and sought in kindred classes to mingle.
Thou, bright eye of the world, didst order the infinite discord,
Thou, first servant of God, the Supreme Causer of order!
Moulded by thee in the slimy swathes of mud primeval,
Struggled the formative life in the plant; thy ray calorific
Fashioned the germs of growth, and shapes of exuberant beauty
Sprang from the bursting clod with leafy splendour enfolden.
Gently the blade of the grass came creeping over the meadow;
Stately rose the tree; and in graceful rings symmetric,
Spread the fresh-green fern its fan to the zephyr gigantic.
Beautiful world! from year to year in gladness I greet thee;
Yearly the power of the Spring, and the ray of the life-dispensing
Glorious Sun invests the old and hoary creation
Fresh in juvenile green; and yearly my heart within me
Beats to the pulses that stirred, when Helios moulded the Cosmos.
Beautiful trees! that with far-sent fangs securely rooted,
Clasp the rock, and with rounded stems, erect and stable,
Rise to the light; then swinging your arms with opulent leafage
Broadly tufted, or finely needled, drooping or spreading,
Sway to the breeze: ye forests, that wave with various grandeur,
Dark with the veteran pine, or light with the tapering larch-tree,
Stout with the bunchy plane, or soft with the fine-leaved linden,
Smooth with beech, or rough with the large-flowered spears of the chestnut,
Fragrant with pendulous birch, the white-stemmed pride of the dark brown
Mountain torrent, that scoops the shelvy bed of the mica:
Praised be the beauty of trees! them Helios brought from the darkness,
Cherished their seeds in the rift of the rock, and lustily reared them,
Richly with verdure to clothe the old grey sides of the mountain.
Beautiful flowers! the joy of the meadow, the grace of the garden,
Triumph of genial light, disparted in colour, and scattered
Wide o'er the verdure of earth, with beneficent wild profusion,
Wonderful! filling the eye with continuous feasts, and the heart with
Thrills of dainty delight! Full oft in your quest I have wandered
Deep into murkiest woods, and high where the pinnacled granite
Shelters the snow through the summer, and far where the cataract thunders
Over the storm-seamed brow of the grim-indented mountain:
There the bell, and the cup, and the purple star have found me,
Beautiful, crowning with life the forehead of bleak desolation,
Smiling, like children's eyes, with miraculous light from the deep black
Yawning chasm, that seemed an abode for barrenness only.
Beautiful flowers! or gemming the snow-wreathed hills, or at random
Spotting with vegetive gold the broad fat fields of the lowland,
Nodding in airy clusters aloft, or broad as a buckler,
Floating in lazy pride on the bosom of deep slow waters,
'Neath hot tropical suns; in lowliest guise, like the sorrel
Shading its delicate tints 'neath the moss-grown stumps of the forest,
Or in magnificent globes high-blown, with petal on petal,
Closely-massed, and cunningly cut into curious splendour,
Looking in face of the Sun with the vermeil pomp of the Summer;
Lovely parade of beautiful growth, divinely unfolden
World of colour, I bless thee, and praise the Creator who gave me
Eyes to drink in the light, and share thy magical fountain,
Helios, beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Brooded, divinely stirring the crude and weltering Chaos,
Water, and earth, and air, and fire, in dim elemental
58
Then thou wert not, beautiful Sun! but evident darkness
Struggled with fitfullest fire, in dismal yawning abysses
Joyless. Forth from the thought of the all-creative Jehovah
Walked thy luminous round with intelligential clearness.
Chaos before thee fled; the vast convolutions of darkness
Rolled away; the elements, freed from tangled embroilment,
Grouped their atoms, and sought in kindred classes to mingle.
Thou, bright eye of the world, didst order the infinite discord,
Thou, first servant of God, the Supreme Causer of order!
Moulded by thee in the slimy swathes of mud primeval,
Struggled the formative life in the plant; thy ray calorific
Fashioned the germs of growth, and shapes of exuberant beauty
59
Gently the blade of the grass came creeping over the meadow;
Stately rose the tree; and in graceful rings symmetric,
Spread the fresh-green fern its fan to the zephyr gigantic.
Beautiful world! from year to year in gladness I greet thee;
Yearly the power of the Spring, and the ray of the life-dispensing
Glorious Sun invests the old and hoary creation
Fresh in juvenile green; and yearly my heart within me
Beats to the pulses that stirred, when Helios moulded the Cosmos.
Beautiful trees! that with far-sent fangs securely rooted,
Clasp the rock, and with rounded stems, erect and stable,
Rise to the light; then swinging your arms with opulent leafage
Broadly tufted, or finely needled, drooping or spreading,
60
Dark with the veteran pine, or light with the tapering larch-tree,
Stout with the bunchy plane, or soft with the fine-leaved linden,
Smooth with beech, or rough with the large-flowered spears of the chestnut,
Fragrant with pendulous birch, the white-stemmed pride of the dark brown
Mountain torrent, that scoops the shelvy bed of the mica:
Praised be the beauty of trees! them Helios brought from the darkness,
Cherished their seeds in the rift of the rock, and lustily reared them,
Richly with verdure to clothe the old grey sides of the mountain.
Beautiful flowers! the joy of the meadow, the grace of the garden,
Triumph of genial light, disparted in colour, and scattered
Wide o'er the verdure of earth, with beneficent wild profusion,
Wonderful! filling the eye with continuous feasts, and the heart with
61
Deep into murkiest woods, and high where the pinnacled granite
Shelters the snow through the summer, and far where the cataract thunders
Over the storm-seamed brow of the grim-indented mountain:
There the bell, and the cup, and the purple star have found me,
Beautiful, crowning with life the forehead of bleak desolation,
Smiling, like children's eyes, with miraculous light from the deep black
Yawning chasm, that seemed an abode for barrenness only.
Beautiful flowers! or gemming the snow-wreathed hills, or at random
Spotting with vegetive gold the broad fat fields of the lowland,
Nodding in airy clusters aloft, or broad as a buckler,
Floating in lazy pride on the bosom of deep slow waters,
'Neath hot tropical suns; in lowliest guise, like the sorrel
62
Or in magnificent globes high-blown, with petal on petal,
Closely-massed, and cunningly cut into curious splendour,
Looking in face of the Sun with the vermeil pomp of the Summer;
Lovely parade of beautiful growth, divinely unfolden
World of colour, I bless thee, and praise the Creator who gave me
Eyes to drink in the light, and share thy magical fountain,
Helios, beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Beautiful Earth! in vesture of various light enveloped,
Glorious! ever to me thy beauty has been as a garden
Gemmed with flowery delight, and breathing odorous sweetness!
Ever new wonder hath thrilled my wondering eye, beholding
Each soft line of thy grace, each ample front of thy grandeur.
Oft with vagabond foot thy fields I have traversed at random,
Free, with savage delight, by modes and fashions uncumbered,
Nourishing thoughts as light as the gull that floats o'er the billow,
Breezy and fresh as the Zephyr that tosses the green and plumy
Glory of trees in the light, and pouring unsought and unhindered
Hymns of vital delight! I praise thee, God, and thy sunlit
Earth, the garden of man, as abroad I wander in fancy,
Viewing again and again thy wealth of wonderful pictures,
Hung in the halls of the soul by thy magical many-hued mirror,
Memory, mother of Thought! And now my fantasy lifts me
Far to the lands of the South, where Light, like a queen majestic,
Sways with sovereign strength, and smiles with broad, diffusive,
Liberal brightness unsullied; and there the bluff rock-forehead
Stands in the flash of the sea, high-crowned with the nicely-measured
Marble pillars, as white as the flower which bursts in the morning,
Hung with memories of worship as fair as the light which surrounds them,
Dian, or radiant Apollo, or she, the blue-eyed virgin,
Daughter of Jove, strong-fathered, with weighty spear and buckler
Bright, far-glancing, a sign to the worn sea-wandering sailor.
There my fantasy lifts me, and there on sun-woven pictures
Feeds and fattens with joy. Or me, with a turn of my musing,
Suddenly thought transports to the castled crags of the Rhine stream,
Terraced with vines, and brewing by mystic brewst of the sun-light
Wine, which gladdens the heart: and there I see in the arbour
Knots of men and women, the gentle, the kind, and the thoughtful,
Feasting on sunny delights, and the sportive freak of the moment,
Harmless-bubbling; or wandering far through mazes of leafy
Copse-wood wild, and making the old grey ruin re-echo
Free with songs, the voice of an easy sweet-blooded people,
Plain, unbribed by the cumbersome pride which fetters the Briton.
These thy pictures, O Sun! the living, the varied, the changing
Ever, but ever the same, wide-spread in magnificent fulness
Wonderful! Who can declare the wealth of luminous glory,
Flowing in radiant oceans, where stars are wheeling in mazes
Vast, uncounted, unscanned by the glass of the farsighted gazer?
Me such glory confounds. I rather, with wise limitation,
Feed on the shows of truth, and chiefly the sights of my dear-loved
Strong Caledonian home, the land of the flood and the mountain.
Beautiful Scotland! or where thy broad hills, smooth, green-mantled,
Sink to the vale, far fringed with the pomp of mansion and villa,
Rich, well-gardened; or where the might of thy Grampian rises
High, far-sweeping, majestic, and flushing far with the purple
Springy heather, deer-trodden. How blest to the foot is the labour,
High from thy breezy heath to brush the dew, Caledonia!
Whether pursuing the stag to his haunt on the lone, rock-girdled
Mountain tarn, or regaling the eye with grandeur of high-piled
Peak on peak, and feasting the ear with music of waters
Rushing adown birch-glens, where the trout in the amber caldron
Shoots as swift as a fresh young thought from the brain of the thinker.
Here thy glories, O Sun, in the shifting play of the shadow,
Thousandfold varied, appear, when the skirt of the delicate-floating
Mist now rests on a crag, now round a black tremendous
Precipice skirs, as swift as the rush of dreams in a dreamer.
Oft on a broad bare mount, Bencleugh, or lofty Muicdhui,
Sombre hangs a pall of dark dense cloud from the welkin;
Sombre the traveller looks, the unwearied climber of mountains,
All his prospect is dimmed, the glory of hills is departed.
Sudden the curtain uprises; beneath the rim of the dark cloud
Luminous shines the carpeted plain; the silvery landscape
Glorious glistens along the line of the shimmering river;
Castle and crag gleam out; the old grey-centuried turret
Rises over the wood; the white-washed cottage is glinting
Far through the dark-blue pine; the spire in the village is twinkling
Bright in the Sun; the vents of the populous far-spreading city
Shoot their white-blue fumes in beautiful scrolls to the welkin,
Telling of labour and power, and thought, the mighty magician.
Such thy glories, O Light, on the broad brown mountains of Scotland!
Such thy wonderful sleight on the pictured face of the high-land,
Helios, beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Glorious! ever to me thy beauty has been as a garden
Gemmed with flowery delight, and breathing odorous sweetness!
Ever new wonder hath thrilled my wondering eye, beholding
Each soft line of thy grace, each ample front of thy grandeur.
63
Free, with savage delight, by modes and fashions uncumbered,
Nourishing thoughts as light as the gull that floats o'er the billow,
Breezy and fresh as the Zephyr that tosses the green and plumy
Glory of trees in the light, and pouring unsought and unhindered
Hymns of vital delight! I praise thee, God, and thy sunlit
Earth, the garden of man, as abroad I wander in fancy,
Viewing again and again thy wealth of wonderful pictures,
Hung in the halls of the soul by thy magical many-hued mirror,
Memory, mother of Thought! And now my fantasy lifts me
Far to the lands of the South, where Light, like a queen majestic,
Sways with sovereign strength, and smiles with broad, diffusive,
64
Stands in the flash of the sea, high-crowned with the nicely-measured
Marble pillars, as white as the flower which bursts in the morning,
Hung with memories of worship as fair as the light which surrounds them,
Dian, or radiant Apollo, or she, the blue-eyed virgin,
Daughter of Jove, strong-fathered, with weighty spear and buckler
Bright, far-glancing, a sign to the worn sea-wandering sailor.
There my fantasy lifts me, and there on sun-woven pictures
Feeds and fattens with joy. Or me, with a turn of my musing,
Suddenly thought transports to the castled crags of the Rhine stream,
Terraced with vines, and brewing by mystic brewst of the sun-light
Wine, which gladdens the heart: and there I see in the arbour
65
Feasting on sunny delights, and the sportive freak of the moment,
Harmless-bubbling; or wandering far through mazes of leafy
Copse-wood wild, and making the old grey ruin re-echo
Free with songs, the voice of an easy sweet-blooded people,
Plain, unbribed by the cumbersome pride which fetters the Briton.
These thy pictures, O Sun! the living, the varied, the changing
Ever, but ever the same, wide-spread in magnificent fulness
Wonderful! Who can declare the wealth of luminous glory,
Flowing in radiant oceans, where stars are wheeling in mazes
Vast, uncounted, unscanned by the glass of the farsighted gazer?
Me such glory confounds. I rather, with wise limitation,
66
Strong Caledonian home, the land of the flood and the mountain.
Beautiful Scotland! or where thy broad hills, smooth, green-mantled,
Sink to the vale, far fringed with the pomp of mansion and villa,
Rich, well-gardened; or where the might of thy Grampian rises
High, far-sweeping, majestic, and flushing far with the purple
Springy heather, deer-trodden. How blest to the foot is the labour,
High from thy breezy heath to brush the dew, Caledonia!
Whether pursuing the stag to his haunt on the lone, rock-girdled
Mountain tarn, or regaling the eye with grandeur of high-piled
Peak on peak, and feasting the ear with music of waters
Rushing adown birch-glens, where the trout in the amber caldron
67
Here thy glories, O Sun, in the shifting play of the shadow,
Thousandfold varied, appear, when the skirt of the delicate-floating
Mist now rests on a crag, now round a black tremendous
Precipice skirs, as swift as the rush of dreams in a dreamer.
Oft on a broad bare mount, Bencleugh, or lofty Muicdhui,
Sombre hangs a pall of dark dense cloud from the welkin;
Sombre the traveller looks, the unwearied climber of mountains,
All his prospect is dimmed, the glory of hills is departed.
Sudden the curtain uprises; beneath the rim of the dark cloud
Luminous shines the carpeted plain; the silvery landscape
Glorious glistens along the line of the shimmering river;
Castle and crag gleam out; the old grey-centuried turret
68
Far through the dark-blue pine; the spire in the village is twinkling
Bright in the Sun; the vents of the populous far-spreading city
Shoot their white-blue fumes in beautiful scrolls to the welkin,
Telling of labour and power, and thought, the mighty magician.
Such thy glories, O Light, on the broad brown mountains of Scotland!
Such thy wonderful sleight on the pictured face of the high-land,
Helios, beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Beautiful Light! the child from the rayless womb of its mother
Sudden emerging, and claiming his lot in a larger existence,
Free, self-rooted, self-centred, from thee, thou centre of gladness,
Knows the beneficent thrill that quickens the sensuous nervlets,
Delicate, timorous, soon to embrace with miraculous grasping
Realms of measureless knowledge. By thee the full-grown thinker
Nurses his ken, and learns to be wise by looking and loving,
Clearly scanning the smallest, and widely surveying the largest
Forms of exuberant life, with a full and ripe comprehension.
Thine is the circle of Being; the bond art thou that unitest
Nearest and farthest of things with a potent function, electric,
Wonder-working. By Thee the Earth with the Heaven communeth,
Knowing with known, and lover with loved; and through infinite spaces
Star sends message to star, and comet shoots greeting to comet.
Beautiful Light! with cunning disposal of lens and of mirror
Science may torture thy forms, and question thy Protean splendour,
Call thee a radiant matter, or feel thy quivering pulses,
Telling of rise and of fall in the undulant flow of thy beauty.
Me this beauty suffices. I look, and enjoy, and adore thee,
Godlike, born of a God, with virtue divinest redundant!
Father of lights, receive this lisping hymn of my worship;
Thou first Sun of all suns, first glory of glories, and only
Substance of all that seems, prime mover of all that moveth,
Fill my heart with thy brightness, and teach me with open receptive
Faculty ever to live on the fulness of beauty around me!
Teach me ever to thrill to the breath of thy grace, as a well-tuned
Harp responds to the touch of a subtle and dexterous harper.
Thus no discord shall master my fate; and in harmony sweetest
Human shall chime with divine. Thus teach me, O Father, to praise thee!
Thee, the source of all life, and thy Sun, the joy of all living,
High hung up for a sign in the hall of the glorious Cosmos,
Helios! beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
Sudden emerging, and claiming his lot in a larger existence,
Free, self-rooted, self-centred, from thee, thou centre of gladness,
Knows the beneficent thrill that quickens the sensuous nervlets,
69
Realms of measureless knowledge. By thee the full-grown thinker
Nurses his ken, and learns to be wise by looking and loving,
Clearly scanning the smallest, and widely surveying the largest
Forms of exuberant life, with a full and ripe comprehension.
Thine is the circle of Being; the bond art thou that unitest
Nearest and farthest of things with a potent function, electric,
Wonder-working. By Thee the Earth with the Heaven communeth,
Knowing with known, and lover with loved; and through infinite spaces
Star sends message to star, and comet shoots greeting to comet.
Beautiful Light! with cunning disposal of lens and of mirror
Science may torture thy forms, and question thy Protean splendour,
70
Telling of rise and of fall in the undulant flow of thy beauty.
Me this beauty suffices. I look, and enjoy, and adore thee,
Godlike, born of a God, with virtue divinest redundant!
Father of lights, receive this lisping hymn of my worship;
Thou first Sun of all suns, first glory of glories, and only
Substance of all that seems, prime mover of all that moveth,
Fill my heart with thy brightness, and teach me with open receptive
Faculty ever to live on the fulness of beauty around me!
Teach me ever to thrill to the breath of thy grace, as a well-tuned
Harp responds to the touch of a subtle and dexterous harper.
Thus no discord shall master my fate; and in harmony sweetest
71
Thee, the source of all life, and thy Sun, the joy of all living,
High hung up for a sign in the hall of the glorious Cosmos,
Helios! beautiful orb, the plastic eye of creation!
81
THE WOOD-SORREL.
—The wood-sorrel, oxalis acetosella, very abundant in our Scottish woods. From this plant oxalic acid is extracted.
Fair flower, beneath the dark fir-tree
Shaded in delicate pudency,
I'll make a little rhyme to thee,
(Some years I owe it):
Pansies and lilies have their praises,
Small celandines and broad-faced daisies;
But thou, sweet sorrel of the woods,
The tenderest grace of solitudes,
I do not know it,
If thou hast stirred the deeper moods
Of any poet.
Shaded in delicate pudency,
I'll make a little rhyme to thee,
(Some years I owe it):
Pansies and lilies have their praises,
Small celandines and broad-faced daisies;
But thou, sweet sorrel of the woods,
The tenderest grace of solitudes,
I do not know it,
If thou hast stirred the deeper moods
Of any poet.
Thou'rt like a maiden in the bud,
Bashful, ere life's full-swelling flood
Hath shot into the outer blood
A bolder feeling.
Thy trefoil shield thou spread'st before thee,
That I to find thy flower bend o'er thee,
And wonder how so lowly there
Was set a gem so pure, so fair,
Such charms concealing:
For why should God create the fair
But for revealing?
Bashful, ere life's full-swelling flood
Hath shot into the outer blood
A bolder feeling.
82
That I to find thy flower bend o'er thee,
And wonder how so lowly there
Was set a gem so pure, so fair,
Such charms concealing:
For why should God create the fair
But for revealing?
Yet have I seen both fair and good
I' the perfect bloom of womanhood,
Who, like thyself, the light eschewed,
Thou wood-nymph fairest!
And wept to think how foplings shallow
Left such deep quiet virtue fallow,
To feed vain gaze on flaunting show
Of painted things, in formal row,
The coldest, barest;
While thou, low-veiled, and nodding low,
Wert blushing rarest.
I' the perfect bloom of womanhood,
Who, like thyself, the light eschewed,
Thou wood-nymph fairest!
And wept to think how foplings shallow
Left such deep quiet virtue fallow,
To feed vain gaze on flaunting show
Of painted things, in formal row,
The coldest, barest;
While thou, low-veiled, and nodding low,
Wert blushing rarest.
And God, who planted thee, was wise,
I' the shade—no vulgar-vended prize
For men, whose love is in their eyes,
And goes no deeper:
Better for thee, and such as thou art,
To be the forest-nun thou now art,
Than yoked to some loose-dangling mate
Whom thou canst neither love nor hate,
Thy body's keeper,
But to thy sweet soul's estimate
Blind, or a sleeper.
I' the shade—no vulgar-vended prize
For men, whose love is in their eyes,
And goes no deeper:
83
To be the forest-nun thou now art,
Than yoked to some loose-dangling mate
Whom thou canst neither love nor hate,
Thy body's keeper,
But to thy sweet soul's estimate
Blind, or a sleeper.
Me may the God who sways the heart
Wean more from each false flaring art,
And still some modest truth impart
Through thy revealing!
As, yearly, sooty crowds eschewing,
The fragrant fresh May-breezes wooing,
My footed pilgrimage I make
Through wood and wold, and passive take
Each vagrant feeling,
Which thou, and such as thou, can wake
With balmy healing.
Wean more from each false flaring art,
And still some modest truth impart
Through thy revealing!
As, yearly, sooty crowds eschewing,
The fragrant fresh May-breezes wooing,
My footed pilgrimage I make
Through wood and wold, and passive take
Each vagrant feeling,
Which thou, and such as thou, can wake
With balmy healing.
84
SABBATH EVENING IN ETTRICK.
How softly on the broad green hill
The golden Eve is sleeping,
While, through the vale below, how still
The cool grey shade is creeping!
The cuckoo's vesper from the wood
Floats sweetly through the shadow;
The stream, as mild as maidenhood,
Is wimpling through the meadow,
This Sabbath eve!
The golden Eve is sleeping,
While, through the vale below, how still
The cool grey shade is creeping!
The cuckoo's vesper from the wood
Floats sweetly through the shadow;
The stream, as mild as maidenhood,
Is wimpling through the meadow,
This Sabbath eve!
O Thou, who workest peace from strife
By organizing spirit,
Whose eye hath fathomed all the life
Which mortal men inherit,
Soothe thou my thought, and in my mind
Rule each distempered motion,
That I may love thy law, and find
Sweet peace with meek devotion,
Each Sabbath eve!
By organizing spirit,
Whose eye hath fathomed all the life
Which mortal men inherit,
85
Rule each distempered motion,
That I may love thy law, and find
Sweet peace with meek devotion,
Each Sabbath eve!
86
THE COTTAGE MANSE.
—By the liberality for which the Free Church is so famous, very few of these cottage vicarages are now to be seen; but the verses in the text refer to a period shortly after the Disruption, when Free Church manses were not known.
The little cot on the hill side
So brown and bare,
The lonely cot all white and trim,
On the swift mountain torrent's brim,
Where the old ash-tree's shattered pride
Tells tales of many a storm defied—
Who liveth there?
So brown and bare,
The lonely cot all white and trim,
On the swift mountain torrent's brim,
Where the old ash-tree's shattered pride
Tells tales of many a storm defied—
Who liveth there?
Who liveth there? —no common man,
A man of God.
Though now within this lowly cot
He shares the humble peasant's lot,
Late, when a public-stationed man,
A large house on a goodly plan
Was his abode.
A man of God.
Though now within this lowly cot
He shares the humble peasant's lot,
Late, when a public-stationed man,
A large house on a goodly plan
Was his abode.
87
A minister of sacred things,
He bound together,
By higher ties than human law,
The men that shared his faith with awe,
He had his seat at power's right hand,
And lords and ladies of the land
Did call him brother.
He bound together,
By higher ties than human law,
The men that shared his faith with awe,
He had his seat at power's right hand,
And lords and ladies of the land
Did call him brother.
But when a fatal strife arose,
Hard choice compelling,
Snapping old bonds of Church and State,
Not with himself held he debate,
But with a faithful foot unbought,
He with his loved ones sadly sought
This low-roofed dwelling.
Hard choice compelling,
Snapping old bonds of Church and State,
Not with himself held he debate,
But with a faithful foot unbought,
He with his loved ones sadly sought
This low-roofed dwelling.
And here he lives, and serves his God
On this bare spot;
And, though no more in pride he stand
Before the mighty of the land,
A dear and a devoted few
Surround with love, and service true,
His humble cot.
On this bare spot;
And, though no more in pride he stand
Before the mighty of the land,
A dear and a devoted few
Surround with love, and service true,
His humble cot.
88
ELLISLAND.
—The farm of Ellisland, occupied by Burns before he took up the gauger trade, lies on the west bank of the Nith, about six miles north of Dumfries. The whole country is passing beautiful, and well worthy of more frequent visits than it receives from our English tourists. To them, also, I recommend a trip into the neighbouring counties of Kirkcudbright and Wigton, districts full of unfrequented and unsuspected beauty.
Fair Ellisland, thou dearest spot
On Scottish soil to each true Scot,
With wood and stream, and shining cot,
Thy beauty sways me,
And love is rash—O blame me not,
If I shall praise thee!
On Scottish soil to each true Scot,
With wood and stream, and shining cot,
Thy beauty sways me,
And love is rash—O blame me not,
If I shall praise thee!
Wide waves the leafy June around,
The banks with blossomy curls are crowned,
Sweet flows with mild and murmurous sound
The clear Nith river,
And Peace holds all the grassy ground
Now sacred ever.
The banks with blossomy curls are crowned,
Sweet flows with mild and murmurous sound
The clear Nith river,
And Peace holds all the grassy ground
Now sacred ever.
89
The poet's farm!—a fairer sight
Ne'er filled my view with calm delight;
Full fitly here our minstrel wight
Did pitch his dwelling,
With Beauty's green and gentle might
Around him swelling!
Ne'er filled my view with calm delight;
Full fitly here our minstrel wight
Did pitch his dwelling,
With Beauty's green and gentle might
Around him swelling!
Here stands the house, the very wall
Stout labour raised at Robin's call,
A farmer's beild, which, low and small,
No envy breedeth,
Enough for comfort, and for all
A poet needeth.
Stout labour raised at Robin's call,
A farmer's beild, which, low and small,
No envy breedeth,
Enough for comfort, and for all
A poet needeth.
And there the stack—yard, where he lay
And gazed upon the starry ray,
When pensive Memory's tender sway,
With fingers fairy,
Struck from his heart the sad sweet lay
Of Highland Mary!
And gazed upon the starry ray,
When pensive Memory's tender sway,
With fingers fairy,
Struck from his heart the sad sweet lay
Of Highland Mary!
And here the bank where he did sit,
When once his quick and glancing wit
Off—started on a racing fit
With glorious canter,
And forth with flashing hit on hit
Flew Tam O'Shanter!
When once his quick and glancing wit
Off—started on a racing fit
With glorious canter,
90
Flew Tam O'Shanter!
And oft, I ween, to that green bower
He walked, in placid evening hour,
With bonnie Jean, whose smile had power
To soothe his spirit,
When fitful thoughts, and fancies sour,
Might rudely stir it!
He walked, in placid evening hour,
With bonnie Jean, whose smile had power
To soothe his spirit,
When fitful thoughts, and fancies sour,
Might rudely stir it!
Fair Ellisland, thou dearest spot
To each true—hearted stalwarth Scot,
When I forget thy small white cot
And winding river,
Sheer from my thought may Memory blot
All trace for ever!
To each true—hearted stalwarth Scot,
When I forget thy small white cot
And winding river,
Sheer from my thought may Memory blot
All trace for ever!
91
THE JUNGFRAU OF THE LURLEI.
(A LEGEND OF THE RHINE.)
Who sails with pennant waving gay
So swift adown the Rhine?—
A chief I see with ostrich plume,
A chief and boatmen nine.
So swift adown the Rhine?—
A chief I see with ostrich plume,
A chief and boatmen nine.
As swallow swift with dipping wing,
So swift they glide along,
And ever as they lift the oar
They raise the merry song.
So swift they glide along,
And ever as they lift the oar
They raise the merry song.
It is the young Count Palatine
That fares in that swift boat,
And he a deed of strange intent
Within his heart hath thought.
That fares in that swift boat,
And he a deed of strange intent
Within his heart hath thought.
92
For he hath heard of the Jungfrau
That on the Lurlei stands,
And he in haste is coming now
On her to lay his hands.
That on the Lurlei stands,
And he in haste is coming now
On her to lay his hands.
By Mary Mother hath he sworn,
The maiden shall be mine—
Now fresh to work, my merry men,
And row we down the Rhine!
The maiden shall be mine—
Now fresh to work, my merry men,
And row we down the Rhine!
The pilot was an aged man:
Deep thought with blithe content
Upon his weather-beaten brow
And cheek was friendly blent.
Deep thought with blithe content
Upon his weather-beaten brow
And cheek was friendly blent.
“I rede thee, young Count Palatine,
I rede thee well,”quoth he,
“I am a man of many years,
Though but of low degree.
I rede thee well,”quoth he,
“I am a man of many years,
Though but of low degree.
“I rede thee well, Count Palatine,
My spirit bodes no good
Of this strange voyage that we sail;
We do not as we should.
My spirit bodes no good
Of this strange voyage that we sail;
We do not as we should.
93
“The virgin of the Lurlei rock,
We know not what she be:
She may be of the angel race;
She is no bride for thee.
We know not what she be:
She may be of the angel race;
She is no bride for thee.
“Or an Undine she may be,
A daughter of the stream;
Rough mortal hand to touch a maid
So pure may not beseem.
A daughter of the stream;
Rough mortal hand to touch a maid
So pure may not beseem.
“For ofttimes at calm eventide,
As native fishers tell,
When mellow shines the parting light,
And chimes the vesper bell,
As native fishers tell,
When mellow shines the parting light,
And chimes the vesper bell,
“She beckons with a friendly hand,
And, pointing to the flood,
There, if you fish, she seems to say,
Your fishing will be good.
And, pointing to the flood,
There, if you fish, she seems to say,
Your fishing will be good.
“And whoso, with the rising sun,
First casts where she hath shown,
The choicest fish that Rhine can boast
That day he calls his own.
First casts where she hath shown,
The choicest fish that Rhine can boast
That day he calls his own.
94
“I rede thee well, Count Palatine,
My heart misgives me sore,
I rede thee, turn from this Jungfrau,
And think on her no more.”
My heart misgives me sore,
I rede thee, turn from this Jungfrau,
And think on her no more.”
“Have thou no fear, my pilot true,
Thou know'st I mean no harm,
The maid shall grace my festal board,
Shall rest within my arm.
Thou know'st I mean no harm,
The maid shall grace my festal board,
Shall rest within my arm.
“And be she of Undine tribe,
Or of the angel race,
The Heaven that gave the heart to dare,
Shall crown the deed with grace!”
Or of the angel race,
The Heaven that gave the heart to dare,
Shall crown the deed with grace!”
And to his words a loud halloo
His merry comrades shouted;
The pilot strove to smile in vain;
He shook his head, and doubted.
His merry comrades shouted;
The pilot strove to smile in vain;
He shook his head, and doubted.
And plash, and plash, and hil-hilloa!
Still gaily on it goes
Adown the stream, till to their view
The Lurlei rock uprose.
Still gaily on it goes
Adown the stream, till to their view
The Lurlei rock uprose.
95
And on that rock there shone a sheen
Of mingled sun and moon,
And as they nigher came, they heard
A strange unearthly tune,
Of mingled sun and moon,
And as they nigher came, they heard
A strange unearthly tune,
But wondrous sweet. The Jungfrau sate
Beside the silver sand,
And held a string of amber-beads
In her uplifted hand.
Beside the silver sand,
And held a string of amber-beads
In her uplifted hand.
And her the mellow-setting sun
And mellow-rising moon
Beshone, as moveless there she sate,
And sang her witching tune.
And mellow-rising moon
Beshone, as moveless there she sate,
And sang her witching tune.
“Now, by high Heaven! that golden hair,
That eye of blue is mine!”—
So spake, and sprang with sudden leap
The young Count Palatine;
That eye of blue is mine!”—
So spake, and sprang with sudden leap
The young Count Palatine;
But sprang too soon. His hasty step
Missed the deceiving shore:
The whirling eddy sucked him down;
He sank, and rose no more.
Missed the deceiving shore:
The whirling eddy sucked him down;
He sank, and rose no more.
96
“Saint Ursel, save us!”cried the men,
And rowed them up the Rhine:
The maid was seen no more that night,
Nor more the moon did shine.
And rowed them up the Rhine:
The maid was seen no more that night,
Nor more the moon did shine.
The Count was wroth; he loved his son:
Three trusty knights sent he,
To seize that Jungfrau, and revenge
Her wicked sorcerie.
Three trusty knights sent he,
To seize that Jungfrau, and revenge
Her wicked sorcerie.
For he did deem the childe was drowned
By cursed craft of hell;
Three holy red-cross knights he sent,
To break that fiendish spell.
By cursed craft of hell;
Three holy red-cross knights he sent,
To break that fiendish spell.
The three knights came. The Jungfrau read
Their message on their face;
“Touch me no mortal hand, for I
Am of Undine race!”
Their message on their face;
“Touch me no mortal hand, for I
Am of Undine race!”
She said, and in the deep blue wave
Her amber-beads she threw—
“Come, father!—welcome, watery home;
Ungrateful earth, adieu!”
Her amber-beads she threw—
“Come, father!—welcome, watery home;
Ungrateful earth, adieu!”
97
The waves did swell, the waves did roll,
The waves did heave them high;
Into twin foamy steeds their crests
Did shape them fearfully.
The waves did heave them high;
Into twin foamy steeds their crests
Did shape them fearfully.
And on the one a king there sate,
Old Kühleborn he hight;
He wore an emerald mantle green,
With pearls his crown was dight.
Old Kühleborn he hight;
He wore an emerald mantle green,
With pearls his crown was dight.
A sceptre of the watery reed
His outstretched arm did wave,
And with an eye of ocean's blue,
A strong command he gave.
His outstretched arm did wave,
And with an eye of ocean's blue,
A strong command he gave.
And she, the daughter of his love,
Besprang the second steed,
And louted low before her sire,
Who helped her in her need.
Besprang the second steed,
And louted low before her sire,
Who helped her in her need.
The waves fell back, the waves fell down;
Into their caves they coil;
As if by Jesu's voice rebuked,
Their face lay calm as oil.
Into their caves they coil;
As if by Jesu's voice rebuked,
Their face lay calm as oil.
98
The knights beheld it from the rock,
Their knees sink down in prayer,
And signing many a holy cross,
Unto their boats they fare.
Their knees sink down in prayer,
And signing many a holy cross,
Unto their boats they fare.
And on the cradled wave upborne
A silver shell they saw;
A shining text was writ thereon,
They read that text with awe.
A silver shell they saw;
A shining text was writ thereon,
They read that text with awe.
“Think twice, rash man, before thy foot
Disturb a holy spot;
The lovely shapes of earth and sky
Behold—but touch them not!”
Disturb a holy spot;
The lovely shapes of earth and sky
Behold—but touch them not!”
99
THE COVENANTER'S LAMENT.
O waly waly up the glen,
And waly waly o'er the moor!
The land is full of bloody men,
Who hunt to death the friendless poor!
We brook the rule of robbers wild;
They tear the son from his father's lands,
They tear the mother from her child,
They tear the Bible from our hands!
And waly waly o'er the moor!
The land is full of bloody men,
Who hunt to death the friendless poor!
We brook the rule of robbers wild;
They tear the son from his father's lands,
They tear the mother from her child,
They tear the Bible from our hands!
Last night, as I came o'er the moor,
And stood upon the grey hill-crown,
I saw the red flames rise wi' power
Frae the lone house o' Alik Brown.
The godless grim dragoons were there,
And Clavers spake, that swearing loon,
“So burn the nest, so smoke the lair
Of all that dare to think wi' Brown!”
And stood upon the grey hill-crown,
I saw the red flames rise wi' power
Frae the lone house o' Alik Brown.
The godless grim dragoons were there,
And Clavers spake, that swearing loon,
“So burn the nest, so smoke the lair
Of all that dare to think wi' Brown!”
100
O blessed Lord, who rul'st in Heaven,
Who preached thy gospel to the poor,
How long shall thy best friends be driven
Like hunted hares from moor to moor?
Arise, O Lord, thy saints deliver,
This land from ruthless despots free!
'Neath wintry skies we sit and shiver,
But times of gladness come from thee!
Who preached thy gospel to the poor,
How long shall thy best friends be driven
Like hunted hares from moor to moor?
Arise, O Lord, thy saints deliver,
This land from ruthless despots free!
'Neath wintry skies we sit and shiver,
But times of gladness come from thee!
101
SONG OF THE WINDS.
Blow! blow! blow!
By the eagle's rocky dwelling,
From Fairfield to Helvellyn,
Blow! blow!
O'er the tempest's leafless track,
From Helvellyn to Saddleback.
Blow! blow!
By the eagle's rocky dwelling,
From Fairfield to Helvellyn,
Blow! blow!
O'er the tempest's leafless track,
From Helvellyn to Saddleback.
Blow! blow!
Blow! blow! blow!
Where the thunder loud is pealing,
Round the shepherd's lonely shieling,
Blow! blow!
Where the torrent wildly dashing,
With white flail the rock is lashing,
Blow! blow!
Where the thunder loud is pealing,
Round the shepherd's lonely shieling,
Blow! blow!
Where the torrent wildly dashing,
With white flail the rock is lashing,
Blow! blow!
102
Blow! blow! blow!
O'er the grey and rocky ruin,
Where black cloud is cloud pursuing,
Blow! blow!
Like demons, with sharp yell,
When they hunt a soul to hell,
Blow! blow!
O'er the grey and rocky ruin,
Where black cloud is cloud pursuing,
Blow! blow!
Like demons, with sharp yell,
When they hunt a soul to hell,
Blow! blow!
Blow! blow! blow!
Where the traveller on the hill
Wanders blindly without skill,
Blow! blow!
Whom suddenly a blast
Down the sheer black wall shall cast,
Blow! blow!
Where the traveller on the hill
Wanders blindly without skill,
Blow! blow!
Whom suddenly a blast
Down the sheer black wall shall cast,
Blow! blow!
Blow! blow! blow!
Where the sapless leaves are whirling,
Where the ruddy floods are swirling,
Blow! blow!
Where the farmer's yellow store
Floats to sea with rush and roar,
Blow! blow!
Where the sapless leaves are whirling,
Where the ruddy floods are swirling,
Blow! blow!
Where the farmer's yellow store
Floats to sea with rush and roar,
Blow! blow!
103
Blow! blow! blow!
Where the drowning man is calling
Through the storm's relentless brawling,
Blow! blow!
Where with planks and drifted dead
Wide the wreathed sands are spread,
Blow! blow!
Where the drowning man is calling
Through the storm's relentless brawling,
Blow! blow!
Where with planks and drifted dead
Wide the wreathed sands are spread,
Blow! blow!
Blow! blow! blow!
With mist, and rain, and rack,
From Scawfell to Saddleback,
Blow! blow!
Who shall check you in the hour,
When God arms your wings with power?
Blow! blow!
With mist, and rain, and rack,
From Scawfell to Saddleback,
Blow! blow!
Who shall check you in the hour,
When God arms your wings with power?
Blow! blow!
107
THE SCOTSMAN'S VOCATION.
Thou sturdy Scottish man,
Still be first in labour's van!
'Tis the mission of the Highest, given visibly to Thee!
With the hammer and the spade
Ply thine earth-subduing trade,
And thou shalt be a prince at home, and a king beyond the sea!
Still be first in labour's van!
'Tis the mission of the Highest, given visibly to Thee!
With the hammer and the spade
Ply thine earth-subduing trade,
And thou shalt be a prince at home, and a king beyond the sea!
Where the ragged thistle grows,
There dig, and plant the rose,
And make a blooming garden on the bare hill side!
Beneath the leafy shade
Which thine own hands have made,
There claim thy sweatful honours, there nurse thy sturdy pride!
There dig, and plant the rose,
And make a blooming garden on the bare hill side!
Beneath the leafy shade
Which thine own hands have made,
There claim thy sweatful honours, there nurse thy sturdy pride!
108
By Thee the Titan steam
Hove the wonder-working beam,
Whose sway is like a thousand horses prancing in their pride!
The smoking ships from Thee
Went forth that flap the sea,
Where the halls of merchant princes fringe the banks of busy Clyde.
Hove the wonder-working beam,
Whose sway is like a thousand horses prancing in their pride!
The smoking ships from Thee
Went forth that flap the sea,
Where the halls of merchant princes fringe the banks of busy Clyde.
Thou sturdy Scottish man,
Since the Earth to wheel began,
There was heavy work to do by land, and heavy work by sea;
Still be faithful to thy plan,
And the God, who works by man,
Hath many a task of world-transforming toil in store for Thee!
Since the Earth to wheel began,
There was heavy work to do by land, and heavy work by sea;
Still be faithful to thy plan,
And the God, who works by man,
Hath many a task of world-transforming toil in store for Thee!
109
TRUST IN GOD.
Oft on the various-chequered Earth,
When dulled with care or flushed with mirth,
This feeble thought will force its birth,
Tainting the heart with weariness—
Why should weak mortals toil and sweat
For goods, that vex the few who get,
Why for light baubles vainly fret,
That gleam through wastes of dreariness?
Then the old Tempter, standing nigh,
Mutters, our staggering faith to try,
Go, Sinner, curse thy God and die,
And leave this world of weariness!
When dulled with care or flushed with mirth,
This feeble thought will force its birth,
Tainting the heart with weariness—
Why should weak mortals toil and sweat
For goods, that vex the few who get,
Why for light baubles vainly fret,
That gleam through wastes of dreariness?
Then the old Tempter, standing nigh,
Mutters, our staggering faith to try,
Go, Sinner, curse thy God and die,
And leave this world of weariness!
110
Father supreme, whose sleepless might
Guides the vast planets in their flight,
Who dost alternate stated night
With light, and joy, and cheerfulness;
Who mak'st thy verdurous grass to grow
On hills, where sky-fed fountains flow,
Still bringing Summer's glorious show
From bleak-browed Winter's fearfulness!
Thou, when such peevish thoughts intrude,
Teach me to wait in mute mild mood,
Till in my soul thee seemeth good
To ope new founts of cheerfulness!
Guides the vast planets in their flight,
Who dost alternate stated night
With light, and joy, and cheerfulness;
Who mak'st thy verdurous grass to grow
On hills, where sky-fed fountains flow,
Still bringing Summer's glorious show
From bleak-browed Winter's fearfulness!
Thou, when such peevish thoughts intrude,
Teach me to wait in mute mild mood,
Till in my soul thee seemeth good
To ope new founts of cheerfulness!
114
SABBATH MORNING HYMN.
(Written at Farnham, Surrey.)
Fresh blows the Autumn breeze; wide waves
The tawny-mantled corn;
And wandering o'er far-stretching woods,
The minstrel bell,
With hollow swell,
Proclaims the Sabbath morn.
The tawny-mantled corn;
And wandering o'er far-stretching woods,
The minstrel bell,
With hollow swell,
Proclaims the Sabbath morn.
Hard-working England, hear the sound,
And give thy panting heart
Its weekly rest, well-earned by toil:
Harsh cares dismiss,
And learn what bliss
God's Sabbath may impart
And give thy panting heart
Its weekly rest, well-earned by toil:
Harsh cares dismiss,
And learn what bliss
God's Sabbath may impart
115
To well-tuned souls. —Come cheerly forth
From labour's grimy dens,
Ye sternly striving, and behold
The bright sun shine,
With power divine,
On the green glades and glens
From labour's grimy dens,
Ye sternly striving, and behold
The bright sun shine,
With power divine,
On the green glades and glens
Of this fair Saxon land. Have time
To breathe, and to employ
The soul on its own wealth; unbind
Your work-day mail,
And blithely hail
One day of thoughtful joy.
To breathe, and to employ
The soul on its own wealth; unbind
Your work-day mail,
And blithely hail
One day of thoughtful joy.
Lo! where the white-smocked peasants flock
To swell the morning prayer!
'Tis sweet to nurse high thoughts alone,
But kindly wise,
Not thou despise,
The general hymn to share
To swell the morning prayer!
'Tis sweet to nurse high thoughts alone,
But kindly wise,
Not thou despise,
The general hymn to share
Of kindred human hearts. What though
Their creed, mayhap, from thine
Be far, one God, one heart, belongs
To all the clan,
Whose name is man,
One common blood divine.
Their creed, mayhap, from thine
Be far, one God, one heart, belongs
116
Whose name is man,
One common blood divine.
Go thou, and join the song of love
And brotherhood, and pray
That pride and every prideful work
Be far from us;
And hallow thus
Our English Sabbath-day.
And brotherhood, and pray
That pride and every prideful work
Be far from us;
And hallow thus
Our English Sabbath-day.
127
ODI PROFANUM VULGUS.
Hence ye profane, licentious throngs away!
Cease from ill-omened speech, while I, this day,
The Muse's priest, shall pour
A song unheard before,
To youths and spotless maids who own my chastened lay.
Cease from ill-omened speech, while I, this day,
The Muse's priest, shall pour
A song unheard before,
To youths and spotless maids who own my chastened lay.
Kings o'er their subject millions wield the rod;
But kings of kings must quail before the god,
Whose mighty arm o'erthrew
The rebel Titan crew,
Great Jove, who shakes sublime Olympus with his nod.
But kings of kings must quail before the god,
Whose mighty arm o'erthrew
The rebel Titan crew,
Great Jove, who shakes sublime Olympus with his nod.
This man more forest-belted roods may claim
Than that; one suitor his fair plea will frame
On lineage long and clear,
To win the popular ear;
Another on his life, and pure unspotted name
Than that; one suitor his fair plea will frame
128
To win the popular ear;
Another on his life, and pure unspotted name
Will stand; with banded clients at his gate
A third shall force the votes; but soon or late
What comes shall come to all;
One doom to great and small
Shall drop from the deep urn of still-revolving Fate.
A third shall force the votes; but soon or late
What comes shall come to all;
One doom to great and small
Shall drop from the deep urn of still-revolving Fate.
In vain Sicilian dainties goad his tongue
To a forced relish, o'er whose head is hung
The sword by one thin hair;
In vain the birds prepare
Sweet-warbled songs for him; in vain soft lyres are strung
To a forced relish, o'er whose head is hung
The sword by one thin hair;
In vain the birds prepare
Sweet-warbled songs for him; in vain soft lyres are strung
To invite sweet sleep. Sleep to the labouring man
Comes lightly woo'd, nor scorns the narrow span
That roofs the humble cot;
The shade it scorneth not,
Where Tempe's bosky banks the soft-winged Zephyrs fan.
Comes lightly woo'd, nor scorns the narrow span
That roofs the humble cot;
The shade it scorneth not,
Where Tempe's bosky banks the soft-winged Zephyrs fan.
129
Seek thou enough. The man who seeks no more
Nor turbid Hadria with enchafed roar
Shall vex, nor, when they rise,
The Kids, 'mid lowering skies,
Nor when Arcturus' fall brings winter's stormy store.
Nor turbid Hadria with enchafed roar
Shall vex, nor, when they rise,
The Kids, 'mid lowering skies,
Nor when Arcturus' fall brings winter's stormy store.
Nor blushing vineyards lashed with angry hail,
Nor cheated hopes when fairest crops shall fail,
Which or the burning star,
Or watery power did mar,
When mighty floods rolled down, and swept the corn clad vale.
Nor cheated hopes when fairest crops shall fail,
Which or the burning star,
Or watery power did mar,
When mighty floods rolled down, and swept the corn clad vale.
Vain pride! while with huge piers we block the main,
Of straitened homes the finny fish complain;
There, with his sweating bands,
The master-mason stands
Urging the work; with him the lord whose high disdain
Of straitened homes the finny fish complain;
There, with his sweating bands,
The master-mason stands
Urging the work; with him the lord whose high disdain
Scorns the dry land. But though he piles in air
Tower upon tower, pale Fear shall find him there;
Grim Terror shall bestride
The strong-beaked trireme's pride;
Behind the harnessed knight gaunt stalks the spectral Care.
Tower upon tower, pale Fear shall find him there;
130
The strong-beaked trireme's pride;
Behind the harnessed knight gaunt stalks the spectral Care.
If then, nor Phrygian marble, nor the blaze
Of purple brighter than the starry rays,
Can soothe the sting of woe,
Nor Persian nard, nor glow
Of bright Falernian wines, where generous Bacchus sways;
Of purple brighter than the starry rays,
Can soothe the sting of woe,
Nor Persian nard, nor glow
Of bright Falernian wines, where generous Bacchus sways;
Why should I pile proud halls with pillars rare,
And modish pomp, to court the envious stare
Of foolish gazing men?
Why change my Sabine glen
For wealth that, got with toil, is kept with cumbrous care?
And modish pomp, to court the envious stare
Of foolish gazing men?
Why change my Sabine glen
For wealth that, got with toil, is kept with cumbrous care?
| Lyrical Poems | |