Poems; original and translated :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Wye rises very near the Severn, in the wilds of Plinlimmon; and after flowing through part of South Wales, Herefordshire, and Monmouthshire, empties itself into the Severn a little below Chepstow. The two rivers thus form all but an island.

Gloomy paths and steep,
Who will dare to follow,
Where ye overleap
Glens and caverns hollow?

Goblins there and elves
O'er the darkness hover:
Where they hide themselves
Man may not discover.

Hark! from underground
Heard I not a moaning,
Melancholy sound,
Like a fairy groaning?

Tis the streamlet's voice
From the mountain risen:
Doth she not rejoice
To have left her prison?

No: that gurgling tone
Speaks her mournful-hearted;
For she comes alone,
From her sister parted;

From Sabrina, whom
She in deep recesses
Of the mountain-womb
Clasp'd with fond caresses.

Forth to light they stray'd:
Where was it she miss'd her?
Vaga, luckless maid,
Hast thou lost thy sister?

Cease thy vain alarm:
Thou shalt yet behold her;
In thy loving arm
Shalt again enfold her.

On thy course meanwhile
Lonely thou shalt ramble,
Many a weary mile,
Over brake and bramble;

Wildernesses through,
Precipices under;
Places ever new
Thou shalt see and wonder;

And with dance and song
Thou shalt often cheer thee,
Merry bound along,
And the woods shall hear thee;

Now in silence creep
Timorous and humble,
Now adown the steep
Bold and headlong tumble.

In the silver sheen
Of thy stilly waters
Mirror'd shall be seen
Cambria's fairest daughters;

On the broad expanse
Of thy hanging billow
Starry beams shall dance,
Rainbows make their pillow.

In her sunny plains
England shall receive thee;
Here soft beauty reigns;
Nothing more shall grieve thee:

Cities thou shalt view,
Spires and lofty towers,
Castles peeping through
Ivy-cluster'd bowers;

Meads where fruit and flower
All their riches mingle;
Verdure mantling o'er
Every dell and dingle:

Gently sloping hills,
Groves that bend to woo thee,
Thousand mazy rills
Pouring life into thee:

Thou disporting here,
Home no more regretting,
E'en thy sister dear
For a while forgetting,

In that fairy-ground,
Many a nook and alley
Winding round and round,
Wouldst for ever dally.

But by Tintern's vale
Other thoughts will move thee,
When with visage pale
Hangs the moon above thee:

See how dim it falls
On the ruin yonder!
In those moss-grown walls
Shapes unearthly wander:

From those cloisters bare
Through the shafted portal
Voices float in air,
Seeming more than mortal.

Who be they whose sighs
Echoing come so faintly?
From the tomb they rise,
Shadowy beings saintly:

Though no light of eve
E'er reveal their faces,
Though their footsteps leave
On the sward no traces:

Here, be sure, they walk;
Tis their ancient dwelling;
To each other talk,
Of their sorrows telling;

Of their hopes to come,
Sins to be forgiven,
Of the judgment-doom,
Of their faith in heaven.

Quick the moment flies:
Thou must sleep no longer!
Let thy waters rise
Swifter now and stronger:

Lo! they rise, they urge
All their depths in motion;
With a frothy surge
Heaving like the ocean;

And a wild unrest
In thy bosom rages;
Sure, that swelling breast
Something new presages:

Yonder o'er the leas
Comes a nymph to meet thee,
Hither on the breeze
Music wafts to greet thee:

Tis the lost, thine own,
She of whom thou dreamest;
Ah! how comely grown,
Little yet thou deemest!

Passing bright and fair!
Hasten; thou shalt find her
With her yellow hair
Streaming loose behind her,

And her robe of grace
All majestic flowing,
On her virgin face
Crystal beauty glowing;

Naiad-like! Tis she!
Up with joy thou leapest;
With a cry of glee
Down the vale thou sweepest:

To her open breast
Warm with love thou springest,
And the closer prest
Closer aye thou clingest.

From Sabrina thee
Nothing more can sever:
To the boundless sea
Roll ye on for ever.