CLXVI.BAMBERG.
I
There are who blame sensations of delight,
Born of our happy strength and cheerful health,
As though we could lay by no moral wealth
From the pulsations of mere joyous might.
II
How poor they make themselves who thus disown
The fresh and temperate body's right to wait
Upon the soul, and to exhilarate
The heart with life from animal spirits thrown!
III
For me a very weight of moral wealth
From the bright sun upon the ivy wall,
And white clouds in the sky, doth gaily fall,
Making my days a thanksgiving for health.
IV
The whetting of the mower's scythe at morn,
The odorous withering of the new-cut grass,
Breeding I know not what enjoyment, pass
Like a new world into my spirit borne.
V
O there are harvests from the buoyant mirth
Which hath such power my nature to unbind,
Letting my spirits flow upon the wind,
As though I were resolved into the earth.
VI
When I have bounded with elastic tread,
Or floated, without root, a frolic breeze
Waked by the sunlight on the fields or seas,
Moods of ripe thought have thence been harvested.
VII
I stood upon the Michaelsberg; below,
Into three cities cloven by the streams,
Was ancient Bamberg, and the morning beams
Had touched a thousand gables with their glow.
VIII
Around, a dull expanse, did cornfields shine,
The shallow Regnitz and the winding Maine
Were coiled in ruddy links upon the plain,
And lost beyond the pinewood's hard black line.
IX
The radiance on the Minster roof was poured,
And then above the convent's dusky bowers
Sprung all at once the four illumined towers,
As though St. Michael had unsheathed his sword.
X
I thought not, Bamberg! of thy bishops old,
The rich Franconian church, or abbots gone
To beard the emperor at Ratisbon,
With saucy squires and Swabian barons bold.
XI
But there I stood upon the dizzy edge,
And saw a sight worth all the barons bold,
A woven web of purple and of gold,
A living web thrown o'er the rocky ledge.
XII
It was a cloud of rooks in morning's beam,
Which, rising from the neighbouring convent trees,
With all their pinions open to the breeze,
Swam down the steep in one majestic stream.
XIII
It was a purple cataract that flung
Its living self adown a rocky rent,
And midway in its clamorous descent
The rainbow-glancing morning o'er it hung.
XIV
Some were of gold, which in a moment shifted
Into a purple or a brilliant black,
And some had silver dewdrops on their back,
Changing as through the beams the creatures drifted.
XV
Beneath, the multitudinous houses lay:
The living cataract one instant flashed
Through the bright air, then on the roofs was dashed
In seeming shower of gold and sable spray.
XVI
I watched with joy the noisy pageant leap
Into the quiet city; and the thrill
Of health did so my glowing body fill,
That I would fain sail with it down the steep.
XVII
I was beside myself; I could not think:
A beauty is a thing entire, apart,
And may be flung into a passive heart,
And be a fountain there whence we may drink.
XVIII
Ah me! the morning was so cool and bright,
And I so strong, and it was such a mirth
To be so far away upon the earth,
That I was overflowed with sheer delight.
XIX
Away, like stocks and stones, went serious thought,
Now buried in the foamy inundation,
Now through the waves of exquisite sensation
From time to time unto the surface brought.
XX
I rescued nothing, for I had no power;
And in the retrospect I dare to boast,—
I would not for a world of thought have lost
The animal enjoyment of that hour!
