 | The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems |  |
152
THE LARK.
A WOODLAND REVERIE.
Oh! art thou one whose young spirit has known
All the sinless ardour of youth,
And deem'd, in the generous glow of thine own,
Each bosom a temple of truth?
And life, in its summer of freshness awhile,
Has welcomed thy glance with its loveliest smile;
And thou hast known no ruth,
But thy tears were transient, and sweet as the showers
That gush, in the spring, o'er an Eden of flowers!
All the sinless ardour of youth,
And deem'd, in the generous glow of thine own,
Each bosom a temple of truth?
And life, in its summer of freshness awhile,
Has welcomed thy glance with its loveliest smile;
And thou hast known no ruth,
But thy tears were transient, and sweet as the showers
That gush, in the spring, o'er an Eden of flowers!
153
Hast thou in that happiest season awoke,
As many before thee have done,
From thy dream of delight, by a traitorous stroke
From some fondly trusted one?
And hast thou beheld each affectionate heart,
That no fortune could change, and no perfidy part,
To its bed of mortality gone;
Till all thy visions of beauty have led
To the scorn of the false, and the love of the dead?
As many before thee have done,
From thy dream of delight, by a traitorous stroke
From some fondly trusted one?
And hast thou beheld each affectionate heart,
That no fortune could change, and no perfidy part,
To its bed of mortality gone;
Till all thy visions of beauty have led
To the scorn of the false, and the love of the dead?
And hast thou turn'd in thy sorrow away,
All unnoticed and unknown,
From the throng of the joyous, the careless, and gay,
And wander'd forth alone,
To seek, in the stillness of mountain and glen,
A solace thou never couldst meet with from men;
And there hast found the tone
Of thy ruffled spirit grow soothed and calm,
Where all around thee breathed music and balm?
All unnoticed and unknown,
From the throng of the joyous, the careless, and gay,
And wander'd forth alone,
To seek, in the stillness of mountain and glen,
A solace thou never couldst meet with from men;
And there hast found the tone
Of thy ruffled spirit grow soothed and calm,
Where all around thee breathed music and balm?
Then thou hast lain in the greenwood glade
On a summer's delicious day,
When sweet was the sound that the breezes made
With the elegant larch at play;
And rich was the scent of thy grassy bed,
And green were the blades nodding over thy head,
With blue-bells and campions gay;
And the leaves of the maple, the oak, and the lime,
Were tender and fresh, in that beautiful time.
On a summer's delicious day,
When sweet was the sound that the breezes made
With the elegant larch at play;
And rich was the scent of thy grassy bed,
And green were the blades nodding over thy head,
With blue-bells and campions gay;
154
Were tender and fresh, in that beautiful time.
Oh! it was sweet, through that green retreat,
As the sun-light came quivering down,
To think of the glaring and sultry street
Of a crowded and distant town;
While the nibbling hare pass'd unconsciously by,
Half hid in the grass, so luxuriant and high,
And around thee was heard alone
The sudden shout of the clamorous jay,
And the oxeye and whitethroat's mellifluous lay.
As the sun-light came quivering down,
To think of the glaring and sultry street
Of a crowded and distant town;
While the nibbling hare pass'd unconsciously by,
Half hid in the grass, so luxuriant and high,
And around thee was heard alone
The sudden shout of the clamorous jay,
And the oxeye and whitethroat's mellifluous lay.
And there, as thou watch'd the clouds changefully stream
Through heaven's pure azure above,
How witchingly came the Elysian dream
Of those hallow'd islands of love,
Which somewhere amidst that sweet ocean of blue,
In a summer of glory eternally new,
The homes of the happy shall prove;
Till the wood-pigeon dash'd through the foliage green,
And broke the deep trance where thy spirit had been.
Through heaven's pure azure above,
How witchingly came the Elysian dream
Of those hallow'd islands of love,
Which somewhere amidst that sweet ocean of blue,
In a summer of glory eternally new,
The homes of the happy shall prove;
Till the wood-pigeon dash'd through the foliage green,
And broke the deep trance where thy spirit had been.
Yet still has thy fancy half whisper'd thee there,
As thou glanced on the prospect before thee;
And the richness of earth, and the balm of the air,
Cast the spell of their loveliness o'er thee.
But chiefly has tended that carol of mirth,
From the regions of heaven sent down upon earth,
Those visions of bliss to restore thee;
And oft that aerial minstrel has brought
To thy languishing bosom inspiriting thought.
As thou glanced on the prospect before thee;
155
Cast the spell of their loveliness o'er thee.
But chiefly has tended that carol of mirth,
From the regions of heaven sent down upon earth,
Those visions of bliss to restore thee;
And oft that aerial minstrel has brought
To thy languishing bosom inspiriting thought.
For long hast thou mark'd that that minstrel's lot
Like the lowly Christian's hath been;
A fortune more splendid awaiteth him not,
Nor a garb of a lovelier sheen:
No tree's lofty foliage embowereth his nest,
But lowly it lies on the earth's trodden breast;
And he flits through the wintry scene
With a silent, but strong and unmurmuring wing,
Till he marks the first glimpse of the green-vested spring;
Like the lowly Christian's hath been;
A fortune more splendid awaiteth him not,
Nor a garb of a lovelier sheen:
No tree's lofty foliage embowereth his nest,
But lowly it lies on the earth's trodden breast;
And he flits through the wintry scene
With a silent, but strong and unmurmuring wing,
Till he marks the first glimpse of the green-vested spring;
Then away—away—through the splendours of day,
To heaven he carries his praise:
Ah! who does not love that delectable lay,
As o'er mountain and forest it plays?
Though lowlier he build than each musical bird,
Yet longer and louder his carols are heard,
And heaven his glad anthem repays:
As, day after day, to its portals he towers,
More sweet grows his nest midst deep verdure and flowers.
To heaven he carries his praise:
Ah! who does not love that delectable lay,
As o'er mountain and forest it plays?
Though lowlier he build than each musical bird,
Yet longer and louder his carols are heard,
And heaven his glad anthem repays:
156
More sweet grows his nest midst deep verdure and flowers.
Then, that minstrel's trust and devotion be thine
To him who allotteth thy day;
And know, that the sun of his blessing shall shine,
However his beams may delay:
And thy spirit's flight shall be far above
The clouds of the world, in the light of his love;
And though friends, like flowers, decay,
Like them, shall the Lord of creation renew
The blossoms of life with his sunshine and dew.
To him who allotteth thy day;
And know, that the sun of his blessing shall shine,
However his beams may delay:
And thy spirit's flight shall be far above
The clouds of the world, in the light of his love;
And though friends, like flowers, decay,
Like them, shall the Lord of creation renew
The blossoms of life with his sunshine and dew.
| The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems | |