Ballads and Lyrical poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

An idler, on the shady sward extended,
Lay listless on a summer's afternoon:
Thick boughs and numerous leaves above him blended
Into an arch, through which the beams were strewn
Upon the grass, like ripples on a river;
There was a sleepy loveliness around,
The quiet winds scarce caused the leaves to quiver,
And vagrant bees flew by with drowsy sound.

II

Too full of life for sleep—too calm for waking,
The place seem'd fit for dreamer such as he,
Who, worldly thoughts and haunts of men forsaking,
Resign'd himself to lazy luxury.
His thoughts were shapeless as the winds, and wander'd
Afar in cloud-land, void of all intent;
His eyes now closed, as if on self he ponder'd,
Now open to the leaves and firmament.

III

Waking or sleeping, or if day or morrow,
He knew not—but he saw seven ladies fair
Beside him, with pale cheeks and looks of sorrow,
And tearful eyes and long dishevell'd hair:

He knew them, and a deep remorse came o'er him,
A shame of self that he had done them wrong;
While with reproachful looks they stood before him,
And one broke forth into this mournful song:—

IV

“Listen,” she said, “and hear the wrong thou'st done us,
And the false deeds thou'st wrought against thy soul;
The summer winds shall breathe no more upon us,
We're gone—our place is fill'd—we've reach'd the goal.
Our melancholy faces look not sunward,
But back in shadow; and, oh! never more
Can we return to thee to help thee onward,
And bring thee gladness as we brought before.

V

“We stay'd with thee long time, with power to aid thee,
Hadst thou but struggled with an earnest mind,
To do such noble deeds as might have made thee
Stand in the foremost ranks of human kind.
We could have fill'd thy cup to overflowing,
If worldly Wealth found favour in thy sight;
If Fame inspired, we could have led thee glowing
Up the steep summit, to her topmost height.

VI

“If Love of Knowledge fired thee to pursue her,
We could have help'd thee to her courts to climb—
Smooth'd the rough pathway—lent thee words to woo her,
And turn'd the pages of her book sublime.
If to be virtuous were thy sole ambition,
We, day by day, had taught thee to excel;
Led thee to raise the wretched from perdition,
And brought their blessings to reward thee well.

VII

“All this, and more, if thou hadst duly prized us,
For thee, life-waster, could our aid have done;
But thou hast scorn'd, neglected, and despised us,
And we are powerless, and our course is run.
We are but shadows, pallid and regretful,
To whom no future can a form restore;
And bearing with us, from thy soul forgetful,
The fair occasions that return no more.”

VIII

Thus as she spake, his face in shame he cover'd;
And when he look'd again, he was alone.
“Departed years, whose memory round me hover'd,
For all the Past the Future shall atone,”
He said—and rising, cast away for ever
The philosophic sloth that bound his soul;
Mix'd with mankind, and, strong with wise endeavour,
Toil'd up the hill of Fame, and reach'd the goal.