LONG I followed happy guides, I could never reach their sides; Their step is forth, and, ere the day Breaks up their leaguer, and away. Keen my sense, my heart was young, Right good-will my sinews strung, But no speed of mine avails To hunt upon their shining trails. On and away, their hasting feet Make the morning proud and sweet; Flowers they strew, I catch the scent; Or tone of silver instrument
Leaves on the wind melodious trace;
Yet I could never see their face. On eastern hills I see their smokes, Mixed with mist by distant lochs. I met many travellers
Who the road had surely kept;
They saw not my fine revellers,
These had crossed them while they slept. Some had heard their fair report,
In the country or the court.
Fleetest couriers alive
Never yet could once arrive,
As they went or they returned,
At the house where these sojourned.
Sometimes their strong speed they slacken,
Though they are not overtaken;
In sleep their jubilant troop is near,- I tuneful voices overhear ;
It may be in wood or waste, At unawares 't is come and past. Their near camp my spirit knows By signs gracious as rainbows. I thenceforward and long after, Listen for their harp-like laughter And carry in my heart, for days, Peace that hallows rudest ways.
SEEK not the spirit, if it hide
Inexorable to thy zeal:
Trembler, do not whine and chide:
Art thou not also real?
Stoop not then to poor excuse;
Turn on the accuser roundly; say,
'Here am I, here will I abide
Forever to myself soothfast;
Go thou, sweet Heaven, or at thy pleasure stay!' Already Heaven with thee its lot has cast,
For only it can absolutely deal.
WHO gave thee, O Beauty, The keys of this breast,- Too credulous lover Of blest and unblest? Say, when in lapsed ages Thee knew I of old? Or what was the service For which I was sold? When first my eyes saw thee, I found me thy thrall, By magical drawings, Sweet tyrant of all! I drank at thy fountain False waters of thirst; Thou intimate stranger, Thou latest and first! Thy dangerous glances Make women of men; New-born, we are melting Into nature again.
Lavish, lavish promiser, Nigh persuading gods to err! Guest of million painted forms, Which in turn thy glory warms! The frailest leaf, the mossy bark, The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc, The swinging spider's silver line, The ruby of the drop of wine,
The shining pebble of the pond, Thou inscribest with a bond, In thy momentary play, Would bankrupt nature to repay.
Ah, what avails it
To hide or to shun
Whom the Infinite One
Hath granted his throne? The heaven high over Is the deep's lover; The sun and sea, Informed by thee, Before me run And draw me on, Yet fly me still,
As Fate refuses
To me the heart Fate for me chooses.
Is it that my opulent soul
Was mingled from the generous whole; Sea-valleys and the deep of skies Furnished several supplies;
And the sands whereof I'm made Draw me to them, self-betrayed? I turn the proud portfolio Which holds the grand designs Of Salvator, of Guercino, And Piranesi's lines.
I hear the lofty pæans
Of the masters of the shell, Who heard the starry music And recount the numbers well; Olympian bards who sung Divine Ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always keep us so.
Oft, in streets or humblest places, I detect far-wandered graces, Which, from Eden wide astray, In lowly homes have lost their way.
Thee gliding through the sea of form, Like the lightning through the storm, Somewhat not to be possessed, Somewhat not to be caressed, No feet so fleet could ever find, No perfect form could ever bind. Thou eternal fugitive, Hovering over all that live, Quick and skilful to inspire Sweet, extravagant desire, Starry space and lily-bell Filling with thy roseate smell, Wilt not give the lips to taste Of the nectar which thou hast.
All that's good and great with thee Works in close conspiracy;
Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely
To report thy features only,
And the cold and purple morning Itself with thoughts of thee adorning ;
The leafy dell, the city mart,
Equal trophies of thine art; E'en the flowing azure air
Thou hast touched for my despair; And, if I languish into dreams, Again I meet the ardent beams.
« AnkstesnisTęsti » |