Aloft they fly, and melt in distant air.
Far o'er the British sea, in westering course,
O'er the Biscayan mountain-waves they glide:
Then o'er Iberian plains, through fields of air,
Perfumed by orchard groves, where lowly bends
The orange bough beneath its juicy load,
And over Calpe's iron-fenced rock, their course,
To Mauritania's sunny plains, they urge.
HE welcome guest of settled spring,
The Swallow, too, is come at last;
Just at sun-set, when thrushes sing,
I saw her dash with rapid wing,
And hailed her as she passed.
Come, summer visitant, attach
To my reed roof your nest of clay,
And let my ear your music catch
Low twittering underneath the thatch,
At the green dawn of day.
ELCOME, welcome, feathered stranger,
Now the sun bids nature smile;
Safe arrived, and free from danger,
Welcome to our blooming isle!
Still twitter on my lowly roof,
And hail me at the dawn of day,
Each morn the recollected proof
Of time that ever fleets away.
Fond of sunshine, fond of shade,
Fond of skies serene and clear,
Ev'n transient storms thy joy invade
In fairest seasons of the year:
What makes thee seek a milder clime,
What bids thee shun the wintry gale,
How know'st thou thy departing time?
Hail! wondrous bird! hail, Swallow, hail!
Sure something more to thee is given,
Than myriads of the feathered race,
Some gift divine, some spark from heaven,
That guides thy flight from place to place :
Still freely come, still freely go,
And blessings crown thy vigorous wing,
May thy rude flight meet no rude foe,
Delightful messenger of Spring!
WAY, away, why dost thou linger here,
When all thy fellows o'er the sea have passed?
Wert thou the earliest comer of the year,
Loving our land, and so dost stay the last?
And is the sound of growing streams unheard?
Dost thou not see the woods are fading fast,
Whilst the dull leaves with wailful winds are stirred? Haste, haste to other climes, thou solitary bird!
Thy coming was in lovelier skies-thy wing,
Long wearied, rested in delightful bowers;
Thou camest when the living breath of spring
Had filled the world with gladness and with flowers!
Skyward the carolling lark no longer towers-
Alone we hear the robin's pensive lay;
And from the sky of beauty darkness lours :
Thy coming was with hope, but thou dost stay
'Midst melancholy thoughts, that dwell upon decay.
WALLOW, why homeward turned thy joyful wing?
In a far land I heard the voice of spring; I found myself that moment on the way; My wings, my wings, they had not power to stay.
E gentle birds, that perch aloof,
And smooth your pinions on my roof;
Preparing for departure hence,
Ere winter's angry threats commence ;
you, my soul would smooth her plume
For longer flights, beyond the tomb.
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