« AnkstesnisTęsti »
THE PARROT AND THE WREN.
WITHIN her gilded cage confined
A Parrot of that famous kind
Like beads of glossy jet her eyes;
Her plumy mantle's living hues,
Outshine the splendour that imbues
And, sooth to say, an apter Mate
Did never tempt the choice
Of feathered Thing most delicate
But, exiled from Australian bowers,
She trills her song with tutored powers,
No more of pity for regrets
With which she may have striven!
Or spite, if cause be given;
Arch, volatile, a sportive bird
THIS moss-lined shed, green, soft, and dry,
Strange places, coverts unendeared,
In which this Child of Spring was reared
To the bleak winds she sometimes gives
Proof that the hermitess still lives,
Though she appear not, and be sought in vain. 40
Say, Dora! tell me, by yon placid moon,
THE DANISH BOY.
BETWEEN two sister moorland rills
And in this smooth and open
A thing no storm can e'er destroy,
In clouds above, the lark is heard,
No beast, no bird, hath here his home;
Pass high above those fragrant bells
The Danish Boy walks here alone :
A Spirit of noon-day is he;
Yet seems a form of flesh and blood;
Nor piping shepherd shall he be,
It fears not rain, nor wind, nor dew;
A harp is from his shoulder slung;
He suits its melody.
Of flocks upon the neighbouring hill
And often, when no cause appears,
While in the dell he sings alone
And happy in his flowery cove:
From bloody deeds his thoughts are far;
And yet he warbles songs of war,
That seem like songs of love,
FOR THE WANDERING JEW.
THOUGH the torrents from their fountains
Yet they find among the mountains
Clouds that love through air to hasten,
Ere the storm its fury stills,
What if through the frozen centre
And the Sea-horse, though the ocean
Slumbers without sense of motion,
Yield him no domestic cave,
Couched upon the rocking wave.
If on windy days the Raven
The fleet Ostrich, till day closes,
When chill night that care demands.