The poems (1969) | ||
195
III.
1
“Edward, lo! to sudden fate“(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun)
“Half of thy heart we consecrate.
“(The web is wove. The work is done.)”
‘Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
‘Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
‘In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
‘They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
‘But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
‘Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
196
‘Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
‘No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
‘All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
2
‘Girt with many a baron bold197
‘And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
‘In bearded majesty, appear.
‘In the midst a form divine!
‘Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
‘Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
‘Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.
‘What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
‘What strains of vocal transport round her play!
198
‘They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
‘Bright Rapture calls and, soaring as she sings,
‘Waves in the eye of heaven her many-coloured wings.
3
‘The verse adorn again‘Fierce war and faithful love,
‘And truth severe, by fairy fiction dressed.
‘In buskined measures move
199
‘With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
‘A voice as of the cherub-choir
‘Gales from blooming Eden bear;
‘And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
‘That lost in long futurity expire.
‘Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
200
‘Tomorrow he repairs the golden flood,
‘And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
‘Enough for me: with joy I see
‘The different doom our fates assign.
‘Be thine despair and sceptered care;
‘To triumph, and to die, are mine.’
He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
The poems (1969) | ||