The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
![]() | 1. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
![]() |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() | 2. |
![]() |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
![]() |
![]() | 1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
![]() | 2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
![]() | CLASSIC MELODIES. |
![]() | 1. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() | 2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
![]() |
![]() | 1. |
1. |
2. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
![]() | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ![]() |
CLASSIC MELODIES.
1. PART I.
[I have attempted, below, a series of imitations of four of the leading classes of ancient measures; namely, the Dactylic (Elegiac), Iambic (including the Anacreontic), Anapestic, and Trochaic. The first I have adapted, after the manner of Tyrtæus, to the Patriotic Elegy; the Iambic proper (Trimeter), to a subject not unsuited to its tragic character; the Anacreontic, to its not inappropriate purpose, as a Dithyrambic. The Anapestic has the proper movement of a march; in the longer lines (Tetrameter), that of a dead march; in the shorter (Dimeter), that of an onset. The Trochaic I have adapted to the sentimental; in the longer lines (Tetrameter), to the more tender and pathetic; in the shorter (Dimeter), to the lighter and more exhilarant. Here, too, in lines of equal length, the character varies, as the measure is complete or incomplete (Acatalectic or Catalectic); in the former case, the movement being more gentle; in the latter, more spirited. I have aimed at classic imagery and sentiment in all these pieces, except the first Trochaic, the character of which is rather modern; but such is the dominant influence of the Subjective in modern poetry, that I am conscious I have not attained, as well as I could wish, to the purer Objective of the ancients.]
ELEGIAC.
Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for aye,—
Glory, that never is dim, shining on with a light never ending,—
Glory, that never shall fade, never, O, never away!
Warrior youth on his bier, wet by the tears of his love,
Wet by a mother's warm tears. They crown him with garlands of roses,
Weep, and then joyously turn, bright where he triumphs above.
Hebe awaits him in heaven, welcomes him there with her smile;
There, at the banquet divine, the patriot spirit is cherished;
Gods love the young, who ascend pure from the funeral pile.
Not to the isles of the blest, over the blue-rolling sea;
But on Olympian heights shall dwell the devoted for ever;
There shall assemble the good, there the wise, valiant, and free.
Firm with our breast to the foe, victory's shout in our ear!
Long they our statues shall crown, in songs our memory cherish;
We shall look forth from our heaven, pleased the sweet music to hear.
IAMBIC.
I sit and mourn, in silent grief, the lingering day.
Ah! never more he comes, my love; among the dead,
O far, O far, his fleeting shade has flown away!
Far o'er the dark and dismal wave, whence no return,
In deepest night he wanders now, a shape of air:
I see no more that form, so bright, so young and fair.
And on Parnassus stand before the setting sun!
Bright, when he moved in shining arms, home to defend;
Bright, when, a champion strong, the eager race he run:
O fair, as rose and lily fair, when they entwine,
In asphodelian meads, their wreath of virgin bloom!
His heart was kind as brave; O, he was doubly mine!
But now I only weep beside his early tomb.
Weeps o'er him now, and mourns the plucked and withered flower:
All bloom must fade;—the south-wind breathes its withering breath,
And the clear-blowing north sweeps on, with blasting power.
I too must soon be gone; in grief I glide away:
The rose has left my cheek; my eye looks dim through tears.
Come, gentle death! here with the youth in silence lay
My form, ere it has felt the icy touch of years.
ANACREONTIC.
With wine now brim it over:
My heart in joy reposes;
Around it pleasures hover.
With light from love's full quiver:
Come, drain it, drain it lightly,
And shout: Io for ever!
Dark-eyed Æolian maiden!
In sweet oblivion drown me,
Till deep with joy o'erladen.
I sink in blissful slumber,
And dream of love and Zoe;
Till, at some merry number,
I wake, and shout: Evoe!
It bounds beneath my fingers:
To frantic dances springing,
What heart so cold it lingers?
Toss, toss, the vine-clad thyrses!
Wine fires: extol the giver.
Shout, with a cry that pierces
The soul: Io for ever!
ANAPESTIC.
[I. In the silence of night, and in solemn array, by the glimmer of torches, is wheeling]
Majestic, the funeral train, on its way, and its music is plaintively stealing,—
Is plaintively stealing, in echoes, afar, awaking emotions of sorrow;
It mourns, how the youth march to-day to the war, but return to us never to-morrow.
Not a shout now is heard for the victory won; all is hushed, but the flute softly wailing.
Light and still glide their steps, and in unison all, attuned to their solemn emotion;
One faint, hollow murmur is heard at each fall, like the far-echoed roar of the ocean.
How sacred the relics of those who have bled, for hearth and for altar contending!
Not a trophy they rear, till they lay in the tomb, the ashes that sleep there in glory,—
Till their pæans are sung, and the words that illume, transmit their proud record to story.
They meet them with greetings of sorrow and love,—fondly welcome the brave who defend them;
And they weep from their hearts, as each urn passes by, a child or a parent enclosing:
As he left them, his patriot bosom beat high; now in death he is darkly reposing.
[II. O, waken the music of battle]
Let the clash of the cymbals ring loudly,
As the spears on the shields dash and rattle,
When onward the youth rushes proudly:
Let the horn and the trumpet, resounding
In long rolling echoes, inspire us,
Till our hearts like the billow are bounding,
And omens of victory fire us.
Eleleu! Eleleu! swells it onward:
Sword and shield clang in time, high controlling
Each hero, quick hurrying vanward.
On the foe moves in line, firm and steady,
To the soft breath of flutes slow advancing;
Drawn each sword, poised each spear, all are ready;
Bright the sun on their plumed helms is glancing.
Like torrents, from mountain-tops dashing
Down the gulf, where, in mingled commotion,
Crag and wood 'mid the white flood are crashing.
Hark the shock! shield on shield rings, rebounding:
As a rock firmly set, they repel it.
On again, louder Eleleus sounding;
Ours such fire, not the Spartan can quell it.
TROCHAIC.
[I. Softly sweet the song is stealing, softly through the night afar]
Faint and low the bell is pealing; dim, through haze, the light of star;
Hushed and still is all around me; cold and still my brooding heart:
Sure some magic spell hath bound me,—bid, O bid the spell depart!
Memory then her twine unwreathing, tears of young emotion roll:
And, as far the knell is tolling, how my spirit floats away,
Over years, like billows, rolling, to the scenes where youth was gay!
In a lonely trance have bound me,—trance of mingled grief and love.
Still on early fondness dwelling, faded bloom of vernal years;
All I hear, the sigh faint swelling; all I feel, my trickling tears.
[II. Maids are sitting by the fountain]
Bright the moon o'er yonder mountain
O'er her shepherd watching lonely,
On his sleep she looketh only.
Softly whispering by the fountain,
Oft they look unto the mountain,
Think how, through the midnight hours,
There the shepherd sleeps on flowers.
Still the happy youth is dreaming:
Chastest love is watching o'er him;
Crouched his faithful dog before him.
Now the bubbling wave is sparkling;
Now beneath a shadow darkling:
O'er the moon a cloud is stealing;
Passes now, her light revealing.
Like Æolian music flowing,
Far their warbled breath is gliding,
Swelling, trembling, then subsiding.
Of the shepherd on the mountain
Sing the maids beside the fountain:
Each then seems in air to hover,
Watching o'er her sleeping lover.
[III. See the bounding bark afloat]
Steady blows the willing gale!
Joy, with merry, merry note,
Hoists and spreads the purple sail.
Far away, O far away!
I must cross the dashing sea;
So, my dearest, do not stay,—
Boldly cross the wave with me.
'Mid the ocean, in the west,
Where the sky for ever smiles,
All the year one halcyon rest,—
Shall we thither speed our flight?
Only cross the wave with me,
I shall find, my love and light,
All Elysian with thee.
Where eternal shadows reign;
Where Caucasian summits stand,
Towering o'er the untrodden plain;
Where, along the fatal shore,
Music lulls the soul to death;
Wastes, that hear the lion's roar;
Sands, where kills the dragon's breath:
Bends the lotus, passing sweet;
Vales, where roses fill the air;
Meads, where silent waters meet,
Lingering on through asphodel;—
With thee, all alike would be:
If with me thou deign to dwell,
All Elysian smiles to me.
2. PART II.
[In the present section, several varieties of ancient measures are attempted, in addition to those in the preceding. In the series of Dactylics, the effect of the different degrees of Catalexis is, if I mistake not, clearly evident; that on one syllable (as in the Hexameter II. and in the Pentameter and Tetrameter here given) leading to a more subdued or sustained expression; and that on two syllables (as in the Heroic Hexameter I.), to a higher and more energetic expression, peculiarly suited to the Epic; while the Acatalectic (complete) termination on three syllables gives a fuller expression, approaching the magniloquent, or a lighter movement, verging on levity. The Hypercatalectic termination of the Hexameter (IV.), which is really a Heptameter, Catalectic on one syllable, presents a very singular measure, as happy in its expression as it is difficult of execution. The Iambic Tetrameter Catalectic (I.) is the “O Miss Baily!” measure, so much a favorite in Romaic poetry, as in the Ερωτας απολογουμενος of Christopoulos. This is strikingly different, in its light, tripping movement, from the corresponding Acatalectic verse (II.), which is always marked, more or less, by a slow and dignified or plaintive expression, similar to that of the Tragic Iambic (Part I.). The Choriambic, from the natural pause between the measures, has a bounding, but at the same time energetic movement, which may, by changing the pause to a slide, become subdued and flowing. But a continuous series of Choriambics has a monotonous effect, and doubtless for this reason they were usually accompanied with other feet, particularly as terminations. Thus the Choriambic (I.) has an Iambic (Catalectic) termination, or its equivalent; while the Choriambic Polyschematist consists of two members, each with an Iambic termination (the first complete, the second Catalectic). The Choriambic (II.) is composed of a pure series of Choriambics, but is so arranged, if I mistake not, as to give, in most instances, an easy slide from one measure to another, thus relieving the natural abruptness of the verse. The two specimens, under the head of Glyconic and Pherecratean, differ only in the distribution of the two varieties of verse combined; the latter specimen forming the verse called Priapeian by the ancients. The specimen marked Eupolidean and Cratinean, consists of a stanza of the former verse, followed by one of the latter; the two differing so little, as to be readily combined in the same series. The Epionic (Polyschematist), like the Choriambic Polyschematist, consists of two members, the last of which, as in the latter, is one syllable shorter than the first. The Asynartete verse is characterized by a change of movement in the middle of the line; the first member, in this instance, beginning with the accent (arsis); the second, with an unaccented syllable (thesis). An instance of such verse occurs in the first half of the stanza in Lay XII. (p. 269), where the lines are alternately Trochaic and
DACTYLIC HEXAMETER.
I. Heroic.
Come to my spirit at night, thy own full ecstasy lending:
Bear me away through thy world, still with youth's first energy glowing;
Still with the great and the fair in wide effusion o'erflowing.
Over the world of thy song, youth's earliest dawn is still playing.
Still at thy bidding they rise, untouched and immortal, to heaven.
Armed for their altars and homes, the god and the warrior braving.
Hector still burns in the fight, awhile the wild torrent controlling;
Then, like the thunderer's, in wrath, the car of Achilles is rolling.
Helen still wins with her smile; Andromache trembles at parting;
Lone sits the hero apart, by the shore of the sea wide resounding;
Light o'er the high purple wave the fair-freighted vessel is bounding.
Falls at the feet of his foe, and melts him to tenderest feeling.
Nature! thy power is supreme; no proud-hearted victor can sway thee;
When thy soft whisper is heard, the strong and the mighty obey thee.
[II. Deep, 'mid the shades of night, I sink in silent repose]
Pressed by the soft touch of sleep, my lids on the outer world close;
That, with a charm of delight, my spirit long wondering holds.
Ever they come in my dreams,—I wake, and they hasten away.
Over my pillow they hover, as clouds o'er the far golden west,
When, in the soft-heaving wave, Day sinks to the couch of his rest.
Where spread the lily and rose, full-bloomed, in Ionia's clime:
Nymphs, too, of forest and grove, of fountain and blue-rolling deep,
Still, with their dark-beaming eyes, fond watch o'er the slumberer keep.
Still, to the bold-bearing youth, their power and their spirit they lend;
Still, o'er the dark-rolling clouds, triumphant they ride in their cars;
Still, from victorious death, the demigod mounts to the stars.
Rolls through this magical world, my spirit has raised for its shrine.
Still, as when first from thy lyre its tones in harmony stole,
Breathes, through the silence of night, its influence deep in my soul.
[III. Still, as in youth, ever green, the laurel of Homer is flourishing]
Life-giving streams bathe its roots, its wide-waving foliage nourishing:
Light, from the ever-bright throne, still over its summit is hovering,
Blossom and leaf, as they wave, still with heavenly radiance covering.
Bears me aloft, where the blasts from Olympus to keener life waken me.
Hail to the herald, whose cloud-cleaving pinion from earth can deliver me!
Nothing below from the high train of bards and of heroes shall sever me.
[IV. Herald of earliest dawn! at thy smile the blue waters are stirring again]
Wide the sea wakes from its sleep, as thy bright eye enkindles the sky and the main.
As the wind flutters thy locks, and plays with the folds of thy many-dyed veil,
Boldly we launch on the deep, and deck with thy purple the snow of our sail.
Earth then gives tokens of life, and again, as a giant refreshed with repose,
Youthfully starts from its dreams, and its cheeks are all flushed with the bloom of the rose.
Then come the light-footed hours, and with soft hands unfold the fair portals of day:
Loves, on their thin iris wings, the red-streaming mists, as thy canopy, hold.
Gracefully ever at morn, thy car thus aloft o'er the mountain is borne;
And as thou comest, the woods ring aloud with the clang of the welcoming horn.
DACTYLIC PENTAMETER.
Dwellest 'mid ever-bright flowers, from thy home of delight,
Come to me still as a friend, 'mid the visions of night,—
Bear me, on pinions of love, to thy heaven away.
There, where the fountains of life in the clear morning play,
Bathing the blossoms around with their freshening dew,
Waking for ever the rose, its sweet youth to renew,
Couched on the ever-green grass, I would lingering stay.
Live on thy smile and thy song:—wouldst thou ever be near,
Breathing the tones of thy heart, as a lute, in my ear,
Never the cold realm of earth should possess me again.
O, shall I never be free from this heart-crushing chain?
Shall the fond dreams of my youth be around me no more?
Fondly I look to thy aid;—let me look not in vain!
DACTYLIC TETRAMETER.
Comest, attended with flute and with horn:
Over the mountain, and over the hill,
Lightly and brightly thou hoverest still.
All the gay rites of thy worship are gone;
All the bright train that once graced thee have flown:
Not even the fauns with their whistles would stay;
They too have fled through the forests away:
But thou, enchantress, still ever art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
Wafts over meadow and valley thy song:
Then the wild songster is hushed at thy flight;
Silent he pauses, entranced in delight.
Naiads have vanished from fountain and stream;
Nymph of the forest has fled, like a dream;
Down in the depth of the blue-rolling deep,
Pillowed for ever, the sea-maidens sleep:
Spirit of melody! still thou art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
IAMBIC TETRAMETER.
[I. Aurora rises o'er the hills, by graceful hours attended]
And in her train a merry troop of bright-eyed loves are blended.
And as they fly, the kindling sky is growing brighter ever.
The deer steal from their forest glades; the birds sing o'er the fountain:
The cottage smoke, o'er vale and plain, in many a curl, is flowing;
And guided by the tinkling bell, the herd afield is going.
And brighter still, from eastward hill, the waterfall is dashing:
The plashing wheel revolves below,—a shower of light is round it;
Those orient hues, the drops diffuse, with mazy circles bound it.
The poet's eye, with fervent gaze, still o'er it broods unsated.
Fair forms still haunt the forest-wild, still dwell by shady river:
Their loveliness shall never fade; their bloom is fresh for ever.
[II. O, turn not, dearest, on me so!—I cannot bear that grief of thine]
Thy sorrow stealeth to my heart,—there silently it feedeth mine.
But while I see thee sorrowing so, this gloom around my heart will stay.
O, let the soft light flow again, that once so filled thy eye of blue!
O, tell me so, thy heart hath peace!—like withered flowers revived by rain,
Gay thoughts would open in my heart, and fond emotions bloom again.
CHORIAMBIC.
[I. Bear me afar over the wave, far to the sacred islands]
Where ever bright blossoms the plain, where no cloud hangs on the highlands:
There be my heart ever at rest, stirred by no wild emotion;
There on the earth only repose, halcyon calm on the ocean.
Over its sands, still as at noon, far the oblivious river.
Scarce through the grass whispers it by; deep in its wave you may number
Pebble and shell, and image of flower, folded and bent in slumber.
Clear blow the winds, fresh from the north, sparkles and dashes the fountain,
Only we live—only, when life, like the wild torrent, is flowing.
[II. When the blue wave sinks on the sea, and the still night hushes the deep]
Ever my soul hastens to thee, ever thy smile blesses my sleep.
Then a few hours, blest, thou art nigh; then, too, as once, thou art my own:
But when the dawn kindles the sky, sadly I wake,—far thou hast flown.
Fairer thou seemest, spirit of heaven, though thou didst seem fairest before.
Now thou art gone, earth all is dark;—O, wilt thou ne'er bear me away?
Here only night deadens my soul,—yonder alone, yonder is day!
CHORIAMBIC POLYSCHEMATIST.
Evening is falling on the lake,—flashes the mirror brightly.
Come, where the elm is arching high, bent with its purple treasure:
Bid to the toil of day good-by,—yield to the call of pleasure!
Joy with his golden lamp is there,—on to the ring he lights you.
Circle around the festive tree! then, as the music wakes you,
Trip to its measures, light and free,—flit, where in sport it takes you!
Evening winds, as with flowers they play, sweets from the rose-buds send you.
Haste to the dance! the music calls!—haste to the smile of lover!
Soon the chilly night-dew falls,—then must the dance be over.
GLYCONIC AND PHERECRATEAN.
[I. Hark! the echo of shout and song]
See the bacchanals troop along!
Loud the cymbals are sounding.
Then, as wildly they onward pour,
Swells the drum, with its hollow roar,
Deep from cavern rebounding.
Far retire to the forest-night,
Scared, as the din is pealing.
Gentle Nymphs to the thicket fly,
Wait till the tumult has hurried by,
Racked each tenderer feeling.
So it rushes, in storm and strife
Flies the ideal before it:
And as its discord rolls along,
Still is the gentle voice of song:
Only can peace restore it.
[II. Bright ascends the festal dawn; bright the temple is flashing]
Wide a nation is rolling on; spear and armor are clashing.
Garlands circle each helmet there, high on standard are glancing:
Shouts are filling the vernal air; gayly the youth are dancing.
Victory high each soul enflames,—loud the champion's greeting.
Swiftly flies the race of car and steed,—far sweeps the dust to heaven:
Glorious shines the conqueror's meed, when by a nation given.
EUPOLIDEAN AND CRATINEAN.
When the rose has woven its bowers,—be my haunt the sunny hill.
Then as breathes the whispering air, o'er my head the cloudless sky,
Dreams from heaven visit me there,—holy visions pass me by.
Hushed, as in death, the world of sound; voiceless, too, the zephyr blows:
But to my heart a music steals, faint at first, then full and clear;
Deep in my soul, from Heaven it peals,—borne as from some celestial sphere.
EPIONIC.
How blest, alone to be near thee, thou soft and sorrowing dove!
Thou seemest all sad and forsaken; thy song dies sobbing away:
But yet, as I hear thee, I waken; thou singest of love and of May.
Or where, in loneliest valley, the tangled cedars entwine.
Beneath their shadow reposing, in dim, mysterious light,
I hear thy song, at its closing, like voice of spirit at night.
For gentle the feelings thou wakest,—the heart can indulge them long.
A strain of livelier measure may rouse and quicken its play;
But short and fleeting the pleasure,—the gentle only can stay.
ASYNARTETE.
Merrily, merrily springs the homeward bark through dashing foam.
Gayly the villagers leap, as red and ripe the vintage flows:
Lightly and brightly they sweep, the glancing swords, as the conflict glows.
So when the labor is done,—so when toil strives along.
Hope cheers the combatant on; in pride and joy the victor sings:
Crows, 'mid the fight, the cock,—conqueror then claps his wings.
GALLIAMBIC.
And the boldest shrink in terror; the proudest shake with fear.
The scared soldiers are flying, 'mid hail and dashing rain;
And the ground thickly is covered with scattered shield and spear.
From the high heaven, in glory, descends the god of war.
And he mounts, joyous, beside him, the bright triumphal car.
Over clouds, rolling like surges, are dashing the lightnings around.
The eye in vain can follow their quick flight through the sky;
From mountain far to mountain, they leap at every bound.
Late, when alone, I saw him, and he rose like a tower of light.
Lofty and stern, he met me: he seemed like a son of Jove.
Far through the darkness glittered his armor, intensely bright.
And as I heard, I trembled, and listened with holiest awe;
“I am their guardian genius; I dwell by the highest throne:
Bid them be wise and temperate, and reverent to faith and law!”
SATURNIAN.
For he the bridge defended, and fearless swam the river.
A wreath for noble Cocles,—a civic wreath for ever!
He saved our sacred city,—glory crown the hero!
O, tell it to your children, and they shall tell it further.
On the bridge he fronted all Porsenna's army:
Spear and arrow round him flew,—alone he braved them.
And see! he plunges headlong in the foaming river.
He stems the flood undaunted; his joyous friends embrace him;
He has saved our city:—twine the wreath around him!
SAPPHIC.
Winds blow light; they dare not awake the sleeper,—
One so young and lovely, so full of beauty,
Grandeur, and glory.
Smiles in peace, unknowing of future sorrows;
Bright and pure, as spirit of life,—as rose-bud,
Fresh in his beauty.
Deep and holy love, that will after lead him
Forth to heal and save, and to higher being
Kindly allure us.
When his deeds of love have alarmed and maddened,
On that cross, in death, he shall yield his spirit
Back to its heaven.
ALCAIC.
What heart is cold, when glory awakens us!
When youth, for hearth and shrine contending,
Rush to the shock, and in death are happy!
To die for home, how high and how glorious!
The recreant only hears and trembles.
Give me my sword,—I will haste and meet them!
Our sacred soil untouched and unsullied!
With laurel wreathed, by loved ones greeted,
Proudly we move, as the pæan echoes.
ASCLEPIADIAN.
[I. Not for wealth or for power, conquest or victory]
Not for shout and applause, honor and dignity,
Speeds my soul to the strife; higher and holier
Is the feeling that wakens me.
Calls me to part from friend, part from a dearer one;
Duty calls, and I know honors immortal wait,
Even when earth has forgotten me.
They only look to renown; mightier impulses
Bear me on, as with wings,—on, till, victorious,
Death I greet as the foe retires.
[II. When the rose is in bloom, violets opening]
Fresh and dewy, their leaves, let me, in early morn,
Wake the slumbering echoes,
Till the mountains have caught the sound:
Cave and forest repeat, vocal, my minstrelsy,
As if dryad were greeting
Sweetly the tones of my Alpine horn.
And o'er green wood and crag sparkles the evening star,
Let me hear, in the distance,
Faintly the voice of the vesper hymn.
O'er the water it steals, whispers along the shores,
As if song of Undine
Rose from her hall in the deep below.
![]() | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ![]() |