Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
 | I. |
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| II. |
|
ODE ON A GREEK-VASE. |
|
 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
ODE ON A GREEK-VASE.
1
Oh! Time, how gently hath thy hand, which fallsSo heavy, in its silence, on the Pride
And Pomp of ages, and on Tyrants' walls,
Conveyed this antique Vase, wherein abide
Voices and Echos of a bygone day:
Dreams of the Past, of Glories now no more;
Which, like the murmurs from the seaborn shell,
Haunt it from that far world, from whence its ray
Of Inspiration comes; oh Time thy Power
Has fallen on it with a gentle Spell,
2
A quiet Hallowing, which man's works stillMust wait for, 'till they have become as thine:
'Till thou has taken them from him, to fill
89
Thoughts of eternal things with passing forms!
Thou hast dealt with this relique of old days,
As with thy lapchild, save of novelty,
Robbing its form of naught; around it plays
The halo of forgotten years, whose storms
Have scathed it not nor marred its tracery!
3
Oh wonderful the spell of Soul, wheree'erIt dwells, in words, or hues, or stone express'd,
A something not of them, yet ever there,
Making the common clay its power attest;
And here Time's fleeting elements are made
The types of changeless, calm Eternity;
Yon brook in silverfoam, that dashes down
Yon suncliff's brow, then flashes thro the shade,
Emblems, in moving immobility,
A changelessness in Nature not its own!
4
And on its Wildflowerbrink a happy band,Where forth in light it dances from the shade,
As fixed by stroke of some enchanter's wand,
Are seated, where the sunproof boughs have made
A pleasant Covert, lushgrown Eglantines,
With Honeysuckles making sweet the air:
Still dewbesprent and cool, tho' midday shines;
Whence come ye, happy souls, from what far land,
Where never sun shone on a brow of care,
Nor time your hours of bliss e'er marred or spann'd?
5
Ye call unto my thought some pleasant dream,Which I have had in my own boyish days,
When not yet disinherited we seem
90
And wear upon our Backs the Angels' wings:
And there ye are, and there ye still will be,
In your own joyous merriment the same,
Howe'er o'er us frail mortals Time may flee,
Bringing and bearing off but earthly things,
Thus warning us to seek a higher aim!—
6
Farewell! yet at some future day I hopeTo meet such faces and such smiles as yours,
In a far land that gives us nobler scope
For Being, than this sinworn mould of ours:
A blessed place, where all that's noblest here,
Perfected, purified, shall live again:
Where all the Aspirations, Faculties,
That slept in us, or dimmed by hope and fear,
Shall wake in beauty 'neath those ampler skies,
Realities, not longings formed in vain!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |