The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
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A FRAGMENT. |
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 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
A FRAGMENT.
He long had wound his solitary way
Beneath the branches of a forest old,
And by his tangled path, in murmuring play,
A little river down its waters rolled;
Now in a deep and darkling pool it lay;
Then from the sun it caught a touch of gold,
As through the lightly opening leaves it passed,
And gave a cheerful glance that could not last.
Beneath the branches of a forest old,
And by his tangled path, in murmuring play,
A little river down its waters rolled;
Now in a deep and darkling pool it lay;
Then from the sun it caught a touch of gold,
As through the lightly opening leaves it passed,
And gave a cheerful glance that could not last.
And so in long and silent wandering
He walked beneath the thick inwoven roof
Of the long boughs, and leaves low whispering;
And nothing sounded near him, but the hoof
Of the scared deer, that with a sudden spring
Fled his approach, and slyly kept aloof,
Watching him with a dark and eager eye,
Till he had passed the timid creature by.
He walked beneath the thick inwoven roof
Of the long boughs, and leaves low whispering;
And nothing sounded near him, but the hoof
Of the scared deer, that with a sudden spring
Fled his approach, and slyly kept aloof,
Watching him with a dark and eager eye,
Till he had passed the timid creature by.
And so he travelled on till low the sun
Had sank, and now looked through the ancient wood,
And bronzed the mossy trunks, as one by one
They met the flowing of that airy flood,
Which seemed on the cool evening wind to run,
Till it flowed o'er the thicket where he stood,
And gave to every shivering leaf and spray
A flush as of the merry morn in May.
Had sank, and now looked through the ancient wood,
And bronzed the mossy trunks, as one by one
They met the flowing of that airy flood,
258
Till it flowed o'er the thicket where he stood,
And gave to every shivering leaf and spray
A flush as of the merry morn in May.
And now he saw that he had well-nigh passed
The weary length of wilderness, for soon,
Between two poplars slender as a mast,
The sun shone broad, as when he holds at noon
The middle sky, and from behind them cast
A flash of light, till all the roof was strewn
With brightness, like a multitude of stars,
As the leaves shifted with the shifting airs.
The weary length of wilderness, for soon,
Between two poplars slender as a mast,
The sun shone broad, as when he holds at noon
The middle sky, and from behind them cast
A flash of light, till all the roof was strewn
With brightness, like a multitude of stars,
As the leaves shifted with the shifting airs.
And forth he went, and all before him lay
A meadow covered thick with summer flowers,
And through that glade the river took its way,
Now open, then beneath high-arching bowers,
Where the vine hung its clusters, and the bay
Shot through their purpling tufts its leafy towers;
The wind blew fresher there, and all the grass
Bent low its heavy head to let it pass.
A meadow covered thick with summer flowers,
And through that glade the river took its way,
Now open, then beneath high-arching bowers,
Where the vine hung its clusters, and the bay
Shot through their purpling tufts its leafy towers;
The wind blew fresher there, and all the grass
Bent low its heavy head to let it pass.
And all that meadow kindled by the flush
Of the red sun, who now behind a hill
Dipped his broad circle, and with deepening blush
Each moment clipped his rosy fulness, till
He vanished quite, and then with sudden rush
Wide flashing streams of glory seemed to fill
The sky above him, and then mounted higher,
'Till half the heaven was like a sea of fire.
Of the red sun, who now behind a hill
Dipped his broad circle, and with deepening blush
Each moment clipped his rosy fulness, till
He vanished quite, and then with sudden rush
Wide flashing streams of glory seemed to fill
The sky above him, and then mounted higher,
'Till half the heaven was like a sea of fire.
And gradually this glow of light grew pale,
And only hung on the low-lying cloud;
And then a long, dark shadow hid the vale,
And covered up its beauty, like a shroud;
Then all was dark, but the outspreading sail
Of the lone eagle, where he circled proud,
Seeming as if he could not bid adieu
To his loved sun, and so to meet him flew.
And only hung on the low-lying cloud;
And then a long, dark shadow hid the vale,
And covered up its beauty, like a shroud;
Then all was dark, but the outspreading sail
Of the lone eagle, where he circled proud,
Seeming as if he could not bid adieu
To his loved sun, and so to meet him flew.
259
And then from out the forest boughs was heard,
As if it faintly mourned the dying day,
The soft complaining of a twilight bird;
And as the visible world all silent lay,
So that a bush or thicket hardly stirred,
It floated through the darkness far away;
Then sinking to a faint and fainter tone,
It left the wearied wanderer alone.
As if it faintly mourned the dying day,
The soft complaining of a twilight bird;
And as the visible world all silent lay,
So that a bush or thicket hardly stirred,
It floated through the darkness far away;
Then sinking to a faint and fainter tone,
It left the wearied wanderer alone.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |