 | Phantasmion |  |
93
[While the storm her bosom scourges]
While the storm her bosom scourges,
What can calm a troubled sea?
Will the heaving dashing surges
Tranquil through persuasion be?
Rest, my soul, like frozen ocean!
Let thy wavy tumult sleep!
Rise no more in vexed commotion,
Heedless where the gale may sweep.
What can calm a troubled sea?
Will the heaving dashing surges
Tranquil through persuasion be?
Rest, my soul, like frozen ocean!
Let thy wavy tumult sleep!
Rise no more in vexed commotion,
Heedless where the gale may sweep.
Clouds that have the light partaken,
Round yon radiant planet rolled,
Lingering in the west forsaken,
Soon shall glimmer, wan and cold:
All our thoughts are gay and golden,
While the sun of hope they shroud;
Those bright beams no more beholden,
Turn again to watery cloud.
Round yon radiant planet rolled,
Lingering in the west forsaken,
Soon shall glimmer, wan and cold:
All our thoughts are gay and golden,
While the sun of hope they shroud;
Those bright beams no more beholden,
Turn again to watery cloud.
94
He that scorns the smiling valley,
Fragrant copse and gentle stream,
Forth for distant heights to sally,
Whence deceptive colours gleam;
Late shall find that cold and dreary,
'Tis but from afar they glow,
Shall not, when his feet are weary,
Win the blossomed vale below.
Fragrant copse and gentle stream,
Forth for distant heights to sally,
Whence deceptive colours gleam;
Late shall find that cold and dreary,
'Tis but from afar they glow,
Shall not, when his feet are weary,
Win the blossomed vale below.
| Phantasmion | |