The writings of Robert C. Sands in prose and verse with a memoir of the author |
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INVOCATION. |
The writings of Robert C. Sands | ||
386
INVOCATION.
It is not now as it has been of yore;—
The things which I have seen, I now can see no more.
Wordsworth.
The things which I have seen, I now can see no more.
Wordsworth.
O quick for me the goblet fill,
From bright Castalia's sparkling rill;
Pluck the young laurel's flexile bough,
And let its foliage wreathe my brow;
And bring the lyre with sounding shell,
The four-stringed lyre I loved so well!
From bright Castalia's sparkling rill;
Pluck the young laurel's flexile bough,
And let its foliage wreathe my brow;
And bring the lyre with sounding shell,
The four-stringed lyre I loved so well!
Lo! as I gaze, the picture flies
Of weary life's realities;
Behold the shade, the wild wood shade,
The mountain steeps, the checkered glade;
And hoary rocks and bubbling rills,
And painted waves and distant hills.
Of weary life's realities;
Behold the shade, the wild wood shade,
The mountain steeps, the checkered glade;
And hoary rocks and bubbling rills,
And painted waves and distant hills.
O! for an hour, let me forget
How much of life is left me yet;
Recall the visions of the past,
Fair as these tints that cannot last,
That all the heavens and waters o'er
Their gorgeous, transient glories pour.
How much of life is left me yet;
Recall the visions of the past,
Fair as these tints that cannot last,
That all the heavens and waters o'er
Their gorgeous, transient glories pour.
387
Ye pastoral scenes by fancy wrought!
Ye pageants of the loftier thought!
Creations proud! majestic things!
Heroes, and demigods, and kings!
Return, with all of shepherds' lore,
Or old romance that pleased before!
Ye pageants of the loftier thought!
Creations proud! majestic things!
Heroes, and demigods, and kings!
Return, with all of shepherds' lore,
Or old romance that pleased before!
Ye forms that are not of the earth,
Of grace, of valour, and of worth!
Ye bright abstractions, by the thought
Like the great master's pictures, wrought
To the ideal's shadowy mien,
From beauties fancied, dreamt or seen!
Of grace, of valour, and of worth!
Ye bright abstractions, by the thought
Like the great master's pictures, wrought
To the ideal's shadowy mien,
From beauties fancied, dreamt or seen!
Ye speaking sounds, that poet's ear
Alone in nature's voice can hear!
Thou full conception, vast and wide,
Hour of the lonely minstrel's pride,
As when projection gave of old
Alchymy's visionary gold!
Alone in nature's voice can hear!
Thou full conception, vast and wide,
Hour of the lonely minstrel's pride,
As when projection gave of old
Alchymy's visionary gold!
Return! return! oblivion bring
Of cares that vex, and thoughts that sting!
The hour of gloom is o'er my soul;
Disperse the shades, the fiends control,
As David's harp had power to do,
If sacred chronicles be true.
Of cares that vex, and thoughts that sting!
The hour of gloom is o'er my soul;
Disperse the shades, the fiends control,
As David's harp had power to do,
If sacred chronicles be true.
Oh come! by every classic spell,
By old Pieria's haunted well;
By revels on the Olmeian height
Held in the moon's religious light;
By virgin forms that wont to lave
Permessus! in thy lucid wave!
By old Pieria's haunted well;
By revels on the Olmeian height
Held in the moon's religious light;
By virgin forms that wont to lave
Permessus! in thy lucid wave!
388
In vain! in vain! the strain has pass'd;
The laurel leaves upon the blast
Float, withered, ne'er again to bloom,
The cup is drained—the song is dumb—
And spell and rhyme alike in vain
Would woo the genial muse again.
The laurel leaves upon the blast
Float, withered, ne'er again to bloom,
The cup is drained—the song is dumb—
And spell and rhyme alike in vain
Would woo the genial muse again.
The writings of Robert C. Sands | ||