Days and Hours :: :: University of Virginia Library

Veil'd in a golden haze of Afternoon
The light is trembling o'er the Western hills;
Hard by o'er rocks a mountain river spills
Its bubbling urn into the valley boon;
The pearly waters ruffle, as they run,
In the soft spirit breathing from the South,
And wild grapes, clustering o'er a cavern's mouth,
Flush with deep crimson in the evening sun.

II

The purple champaign streaming like a sea
Far off between unfolding hills appears;
The sound of a great City in our ears
Swells, like a sunken tide, melodiously;
And, now and then, the distant plain is stirr'd
With bugle wail, or gleam of sylvan arms;
Or gray smoke wreathing o'er the busy farms;
Or dusty breath of homeward-wending herd.

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III

Under the forest roof the faint wind dies,
The birds are still; the echoes are asleep;
And thro' the arches green the sunbeams creep
Floating the dizzy gnats, and lazy flies;
An aged Shepherd in an oaken shade
Lay drowsily, and down the mossy ways
He turn'd his dreaming eyes, and with amaze
He saw fair shapes, half glad, and half afraid:

IV

Shrill laughter from the grot is flooding forth
Of two wild Oreads, whose large eyes shine
Under clear temples shaded with the vine,
And good Silenus yields him to their mirth;
His arms are fetter'd in a jasmin band;
Forth from the curtains of each slumbrous lid
Shoot stars of joyaunce, often as they bid,
And the red cup is fallen from his hand.

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V

He heard sweet sounds; he saw the Graces dance;
‘Ah! give me Youth, and I will give to ye
All my peace offerings to Adversity’
He cried—and his white hair grew dark at once.
‘'Tis well,’ he said—‘but what is flowing hair
And strength, without the blisses fed by gold?
Plutus, for thee the firstlings of my fold
I will provide, so thou wilt hear my prayer.’

VI

And from amid the boughs the auspicious God
Silently stretching forth his potent hand
Flash'd in that Shepherd's eyes a golden wand,
As 'twere a sunbeam floating in the wood;
And therewithal was struck the cavern'd rock
Hid in wildflowers, and brambles o'er his head,
And when he look'd for dust, there rain'd instead
Some fair round pieces down upon his flock.

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VII

Between the knotty boles brown Satyrs glanced,
And star-ey'd Fauns; and Momus leaping out
From the dark umbrage with an antic shout
Made sport before the Nymphs when they had danced:
Again he said—‘O gentle Momus, hear,
I cannot laugh with them, nor yet be merry,
For I have thoughts within I cannot bury—
Grant that, and thou shalt have three goats a year:’

VIII

From the dry leaves he started up in haste;
He danced, and laugh'd, and laugh'd and danced; but still
His heart remain'd the selfsame seat of ill,
And cruel Conscience mock'd him with the Past.
‘Oh! for some charm,’ he cried, ‘wherewith to cheat
Relentless Memory! when the heart is evil
Nothing's so cheerless as a merry Devil,
My heavy thoughts are fetters to my feet.’

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IX

A cold wind sigh'd among the trees, and Death
Lifted his crown'd head o'er a branch of pine,
Screening his armed hand in leaves of vine:
Softly, ‘Why prayedst thou not to me?’ he saith:
‘Oh! whatsoe'er thou art,’ the old man cried,
‘I have done deeds that haunt me, in my youth;
Yield me, pale Power, oblivion of the Truth,
That I may live!’ Death touch'd him, and he died.