The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival :: :: University of Virginia Library

Mellow fades the glow of even;
Cool the shadow round the spring:
Clouds, by Autumn breezes driven,
Stream along the amber heaven,
Bright and clear as spirit's wing.
From the holy shrine of feeling,
Kindled by departing day,
Blessed visions flit away,—
Through the pictured forest stealing,
Round the magic mountain play.

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Melting with the blue afar,
Lightly tipped with golden flame,
Flashing like the regal star,
Sky-o'ercrowned, ascends the car,
Bent around the course of fame.
Far it sweeps in dazzling light;
Fire-winged coursers urge the wheel;
Echoes wide the ringing steel:—
Who can tell the full delight,
Tell the joy the champions feel?

Soft its dreamy shade diffusing,
Twilight streams athwart the grove,
Fills the soul with silent musing,
Till in devious trances losing
All its thoughts, it sinks in love.
Soft and still as moonlit ocean,
Silver-mirrored, deep and clear,
Hidden music pulsing near,
Glides it, with unconscious motion,
Far away to holier sphere.

Startled by the instant flash,
Breaks the flower-enwoven dream;—
Thunder rends with deadening crash;
Winds the mingling branches lash;
Bursts the storm, like wintry stream.
Where is now the musing soul?
Nerved to meet the raging war,
Stern it mounts its iron car:
Swift the crushing chariots roll,
Fierce his steeds the warrior bear.

Far away the pausing thunder
Echoes from remotest hill;
Faint the rain-drop patters under
Loaded leaves that bend asunder,
As with trickling streams they fill.

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So the still, small voice of feeling,
'Mid the din of inward strife,
To the heart with passion rife,
Mild as zephyr whispers healing,
Breathes, and wakes the soul to life.

[II. Hark! the song]

Hark! the song
Floats along,
Clearly swelling, softly dying,
Soft as wind in roses sighing.

O'er the plain
Sweeps again
Sudden burst of hope and gladness,—
Trembles then the trill of sadness.

Rock and hill
Give it still,
Bright and clear, the sweet emotion,—
Deep and full, the heart's devotion.

Shadows fall,—
Voices call
Fondly home the truant, straying
Down the brook in eddies playing.

Daylight flies,—
Amber skies,
O'er the shadowy mountain glowing,
Darken; yet the song is flowing.

[III. Through the wood, in evening's shadow, straying]

Through the wood, in evening's shadow, straying;
O'er me arched the boughs, in silent gloom;
Deep in dreamy vision, long delaying,
Fades to night the day's departing bloom.

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Fades the skyey rose, that over mountain
Blossomed wide and full in fields of air,—
Bloomed in heaven aloft, and low in fountain
Shone in softer tints, as pure and fair.

Darkness veils me round, and voices, gliding
Through the murmuring foliage, seem to say:
“Pause, and listen to the spirit's chiding,—
Haste, O, haste to brighter worlds away!

“Mark the last, soft tint of day, receding
O'er the top of yonder solemn pine!
So departs the lingering spirit, leading
To yon purer day's eternal shine.

“There await thee all thy heart has cherished;
There the early loved, the hoped and gone:
Not a treasure of thy heart has perished,—
All to yonder world of rest have flown.”

[IV. Speed thee far]

Speed thee far,—
Fancy lends thee her car;—
Over ocean away
Speed to holier day.

Ocean's swell
Bears on its bosom the shell;
Love shall open the sail
Full to the favoring gale.

Wing of might,
Sent from the fountain of light,
High on billows of air
Thee, in triumph, shall bear.

Youth shall bring
Wine from perennial spring,—

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Over the goblet shall shine
Halo of glory divine.

Round the throne,
Beauty shall loosen her zone;—
Melting in kindling shower,
Spirit shall fill thee with power.

[V. O that I lay on yonder mountain]

O that I lay on yonder mountain,
So blue and fair,—
In shade of rock, by gushing fountain,
Aloft in air.

The cloud and storm might swell below me,
The thunder roll,—
Yet waves of light should overflow me,
And warm my soul;

And peace, unbroken peace, for ever
Around me play;
And thought, serene and calm, be never
Compelled away;

And blush of dawn, and rose of even,
My heart should fill
Oft with the loveliness of heaven,
So bright and still.

O, had I but the eagle's pinion,
Thither I'd soar,
And there possess my sole dominion,
Till life be o'er.

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[VI. They call me,—they call me, from meadow and grove]

They call me,—they call me, from meadow and grove;
They sing to me sweetly of hope and of love;
And dove-like and peacefully, over
My pillow they hover.

And they say to me kindly: “O, hasten away!
No longer in dreamy oblivion stay;—
Young life with its bloom is before thee,
And heaven is o'er thee.

“O'er valley and mountain, in beauty and light,
The world stretches onward, so dewy and bright;
The roses are budding beside thee;—
What joy shall betide thee!

“The day has awakened, so fresh and so fair;
The clouds float aloft in the warm summer air;
All nature is swelling with gladness;—
O, sink not in sadness.”

I hear ye,—I hear ye,—I will not delay,
But up, and o'er valley and mountain away;—
Through life, like a bird, I will hie me;—
Hope never shall fly me.

[VII. “O, rest thee here in silent bower]

“O, rest thee here in silent bower;—
The noon-shut folds its yellow flower,
The air shines quivering o'er the hill,
And all around is hushed and still.

“On mossy pillow lay thee here.
A spring, so cool, is bubbling near;—

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O, lay thee down!—a draught I'll bring,
So clear and sparkling, from that spring.

“Ah! thou a long and weary way
Hast travelled through the sultry day;—
Close soft thy eyes, and I will keep
Watch o'er thee in thy gentle sleep.

“My heart is rich,—my hand is free,
However poor and low I be:
I have but little in my store;—
I give thee all,—what could I more?”

“Thy cup I drink, and now I close
My weary eyes in sweet repose.
Thy heart is rich,—thy hand is free!
A princess, thou shalt go with me.”

[VIII. The song is still, that over heath and mountain]

The song is still, that over heath and mountain,
When closed the day,
Thro' glimmering wood, by sky-empurpled fountain,
Stole soft away,—
In shady vale, by stream through roses playing,
On golden hill,
Breathed faint and low, as tenderly delaying,—
The song is still.

The song is still, that clear in morning hovered
O'er field and grove,
When billowy mist the winding valley covered,
Rocks glowed above,—
When bleat and bark, from bushy lawn repeated,
Rose round the hill,—
The joyous song, that light and buoyant fleeted,—
The song is still.

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O, wake the song!—its notes remembered waken
My love of home:
Spite of my firmer will, my heart is shaken
By thoughts that come,
Thoughts of my early days,—in frolic measure
They glide along:
The song of youth, to notes of love and pleasure,—
O, wake the song!

[IX. Night is on the hill]

Night is on the hill,—
Hushed the clattering mill:
Deeper shadows fall,—
Only mothers call,
Careless as they roam,
Laughing youngsters home.

Now the evening star,
Over mountain far,
Mild in beauty beaming,
On the fountain streaming,
Turns the eye of love
To the heaven above.

Dark and darker spread
Shadows o'er the bed
Of the woodland lake;
Fainter ripples break
On the pebbled shore:
Evening's breeze is o'er.

Night is deep and still;
Stars unnumbered fill
Nature's temple o'er me;
Glides a light before me,
Steals in darkness far,—
'T is my spirit's star.

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[X. Bells are ringing]

Bells are ringing;
Maidens singing
By the village tree:
Wreaths and banners flying,
Youth his vigor trying,
Joy is wild and free.

Harvest over,
Friend and lover
Hasten to the green:
Love with crown of myrtle,
Health in forest kirtle,
Beauty rules as queen.

Fleetly glancing,
Lightly dancing,
All is laugh and song;
So till golden even
Kindles earth and heaven,
So they wheel along.

Bright in gushes,
Smiles and blushes
Come and flit away.
Harvest now is over,
So shall friend and lover
Greet the festive day.

[XI. The snow is gone]

The snow is gone;
The waters run,
Through valley rushing,
From cavern gushing,
And foam along
In light and song.

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The sky is blue;
The Spring is new;
The buds are swelling;
The stag is belling;
The lark and dove
Bring life and love.

The woods are green;
In emerald sheen
The grass is springing;
The vales are ringing
With hound and horn:
Young May is born!

[XII. Give me that fond music]

Give me that fond music,
That charmed my heart so sweetly:
Softly breathed its numbers,
Deep to my inmost soul.
The light-winged dance obeys it;
The maidens trip it featly;
All darker passion slumbers;
Full tides of gladness roll.

Still the sound is flowing,
Like summer brook at even,
Over pebbles leaping
In sparkling joy along.
The wind is faintly blowing;
The clouds are bright in heaven;
The spirits there are keeping
A festival of song.

Wake the sounding viol!
Dark eyes, with speaking glances,
Kindle high with pleasure,
As rings the well-known strain.

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With easy gliding motion,
Involved in graceful fancies
Of light uncertain measure,
Responds the mimic train.

[XIII. Morning is lightest]

Morning is lightest
Only when heaven is fair.
Beauty is brightest
Only when virtue is there.

Crystal of fountain,
Foam from the heart of the sea,
Snow of the mountain,
Virtue! are emblems of thee.

Beauty! we lend thee
Blossom and gem of the mine:
Stars, too, attend thee;
Thine are the rose and the vine.

Flowers by the fountain,
Mirrored below in the spring;
Gems on the mountain,
Studding the snow as a ring;—

Clearest and whitest
Soften by veiling their glow:
Fairest and brightest
Only are loveliest so.

[XIV. 'T is dawn]

'T is dawn:
The rosy light is breaking;
To song the birds are waking;
And starry beads are shaking
Along the grassy lawn.

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'T is noon:
Blue rise the hills before me;
Pure swells the azure o'er me;
And radiant blossoms pour me
The balmy breath of June.

'T is even:
Gay clouds, like curtains, lie
Athwart the golden sky;
The wind goes whispering by,
Like soothing voice from heaven.

'T is night:
The world how hushed and still!
Dim towers the shadowy hill;
Earth's guardian spirits fill
Their urns with holy light.

[XV. Joy! Joy!]

Joy! Joy!
The long dark night is past;
The weary way is done;
Bright o'er the mountain, fast
Ascends the cheering sun.

Joy! Joy!
My heart revives again;
My soul new lights its fires;
I speed along the plain,
With hope that never tires.

See! See!
The well-known hill is nigh;
The spiry poplars rise;
The brook is winding by;
There still my cottage lies.

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Hark! Hark!
What welcome sounds of home!
I know their meaning well:
Far, far my foot may roam,
Yet deep and strong their spell.

Hark! Hark!
The longing heifer lows;
Shrill barks my faithful Tray:
His master's tread he knows,
And see! he bounds away.

Shout! Shout!
The goal, the goal is nigh;
My love is at the door:
We run, we leap, we fly;
We meet to part no more!

[XVI. Faintly breathes the maiden's song]

Faintly breathes the maiden's song
Through the twilight grove;
Softly sweet it steals along; —
'T is the song of love.

Evening slumbers hushed and still;
Mute the hum of day:
Only winds the gurgling rill
Under flowers away.

Whispered voices echo far
Through the shadowy vale;
Glimmers by a twinkling star
Dian's crescent pale.

Fade in darkness bush and tree:
Rock and wood grow dim:
Wide o'er plain and silent sea
Wavering phantoms swim.

273

Still the maiden's murmured song
Trembles through the grove;
Steals, like spirit's breath, along;—
'T is the song of love.

[XVII. In sheeted gold the river glides]

In sheeted gold the river glides
By rock with forest crowned;
Deep-mirrored in its crystal tides,
Bright swell the hills around.

High over yonder mountain wall,
That darkly girds the west,
Broad flashes light heaven's airy hall,
And stream on ocean's breast.

Shot upward as a furnace flare,
Day's funeral fires ascend;
Then, fading through the hazy air,
The softer colors blend:

And as each fleecy cloud they stain,
Filling the sky with bloom,
The freshening breeze along the plain
Wafts from the flowers perfume:

And wakened by the gentle hour,
From garden thicket flows
Love-music, worthy of its bower,
Its sheltering bower of rose.

It steals along in softest tone,
The siren melody:
I sit and drink the song alone;
My spirit then how free!

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[XVIII. Sitting by a meadow brook]

Sitting by a meadow brook,
In the month of June,
Once a short repose I took,
Just at sunny noon.

Blossoms, many-tinted, shone
O'er the meadow far;
But one blossom stood alone,
'Mong them all a star.

Once it seemed a full-blown rose;
Golden lily then:
Wreaths of snowdrops now unclose;
Blooms the rose again.

Who can tell the wondrous flower,—
Flower that reigns alone?
He who beauty's magic power
O'er the heart has known.

[XIX. How gentle the water's motion]

How gentle the water's motion,—
How silent the silver sea!
The moonbeam sleeps on the ocean,
How calmly and peacefully!

My bark, on the mirror gliding,
Seems borne by spirits along,
Or in tremulous stillness riding,
Deep fixed by the siren's song.

Bright quivers the sea before me,
Like gush of furnace in flow;
The stars are glittering o'er me,—
Bright glitter the stars below.

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What voice faint uttered is stealing
In silence along the sea?
It wakes my inmost feeling;—
Thou fairest, it leads me to thee.

[XX. The night is still:—on meadow and silvery fountain]

The night is still:—on meadow and silvery fountain
The moonbeam sleeps, like innocence cradled in love:
With softened smile, it rests on the snow of the mountain,
And tints the sky, like wing of ethereal dove.

A cloud sails by, with lightest and easiest motion,
Now bossed with pearl, now shining with purple and gold,—
It glides away, like vessel afar on the ocean,
And spirits of bliss seem borne on its silvery fold.

A gentle wind, with fragrance of jessamine laden,
Steals faintly on, as longing for calm and repose,
And with it steals the lingering song of the maiden,
Whose lonely heart is lightened by song of its woes.

O, list the song!—if beauty and innocence ever
Have touched thy soul, thy heart will respond to the strain.
The voice of love, of sorrow and longing, will never,
In soothing tones, be lost to thy spirit again.

[XXI. Over hill and plain and mountain]

Over hill and plain and mountain
Speeds away, on pinions strong,
Nerved with life from holy fountain,
Far away, the soul of song.

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O'er it swells the arch of heaven,
Boundless arch of softest blue;
Round it rise the halls of even,
Hung with every gorgeous hue.

To the spirit-land of wonder,
Cloud-concealed, it speeds afar,
Borne on wings of rushing thunder,
Sounding like the tempest car,—

Rolling high, like ocean surges,
When the midnight Typhon rings,—
Hollow as a nation's dirges,
When the Almighty vengeance stings,—

Deep and full as torrent pouring
From a wasted Alp of snows,—
Awful as a Volcan roaring,
Ere its fiery deluge flows;—

Yet as stream in shady valley,
Gurgling low through grass and flowers;
Evening wind in garden alley,
Brushing dew from lilac bowers;

Mellow horn, as twilight closes,
Winding through the slumbering grove;
Maiden heart, by hedge of roses,
Murmuring faint its lay of love;—

Yet so soft their echo lingers
Round the tranced listener's ear,
Sweet as, struck by fairy fingers,
Breathes the wind-harp, dim and clear.

On by keenest longing driven,
Speeds away their eagle flight,
Till, the magic cloud-wall riven,
Dazzling pours a sea of light.

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Then as beams the land of wonder,
Bursting from its cloudy veil,
Anthem tones, like peals of thunder,
Bid the new inspirer hail.

[XXII. From rock rebounding]

From rock rebounding,
Through wood resounding,
In changeful echo is ringing
The early horn,
And Youth from his couch is springing,
To greet the morn.

The bright beams quiver
On lake, and on river;
The dew from the forest is falling,
In starry light;
And Spring on her train is calling,
To wing their flight.

Young Day! we hail thee!
Gay clouds half veil thee,
As over the dewy mountain
Thou risest fair:
Beneath thy smile, the fountain
High sparkles there.

Glad songs attend thee;
New blossoms lend thee,
By fairy touch unfolded,
Their first perfume,
And delicate hands have moulded
Their varied bloom.

Joy hovers by thee,
And Health is nigh thee;

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A merry dance is bounding
Before thy car;
Their songs, aloft resounding,
Are borne afar.

I run to meet thee,—
With song to greet thee:
Thy handmaid, Beauty, around me
Her loosened zone
Has flung, and laughing has bound me,
To be her own.