Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear, — both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognise In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. Nor perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence - wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love
oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
WITH sacrifice before the rising morn
Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired; And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required: Celestial pity I again implore; Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!
So speaking, and by fervent love endowed
With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, Her countenance brightens - and her eye expands; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows; And she expects the issue in repose.
O terror! what hath she perceived?
What doth she look on? whom doth she behold ? Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? His vital presence? his corporeal mould ? It is if sense deceive her not 'tis He! And a God leads him, wingéd Mercury!
Mild Hermes spake and touched her with his wand That calms all fear; "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, 20 Laodamia! that at Jove's command
Thy husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; Accept the gift, behold him face to face!"
Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp; 25 Again that consummation she essayed; But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp As often as that eager grasp was made. The Phantom parts—but parts to re-unite, And re-assume his place before her sight.
"Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace, — yonder is thy throne;
Speak; and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice.
Not to appal me have the gods bestowed
This precious boon, and blest a sad abode."
Great Jove, Laodamia! doth not leave
His gifts imperfect: Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive; But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain; For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.
Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold
That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand
Should die; but me the threat could not withhold: A generous cause a victim did demand;
And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;
- bravest, noblest, best!
Thy matchless courage I bewail no more,
Which then, when tens of thousands were deprest By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore; Thou found'st - and I forgive thee -
A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.
But thou, though capable of sternest deed, Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave; And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed Thou should'st elude the malice of the grave: Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair As when their breath enriched Thessalian air.
"No Spectre greets me, — no vain Shadow this; Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side! Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss To me, this day, a second time thy bride!" Jove frowned in heaven: the conscious Parcæ threw Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.
This visage tells thee that my doom is past :
Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys
Of sense were able to return as fast
And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys Those raptures duly Erebus disdains: Calm pleasures there abide― majestic pains.
"Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; A fervent, not ungovernable, love. Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn When I depart, for brief is my sojourn -
"Ah, wherefore? - Did not Hercules by force Wrest from the guardian Monster of the tomb Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom? Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.
"The Gods to us are merciful and they
Yet further may relent: for mightier far
Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is love, though oft to agony distrest,
And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. 90
"But if thou goest, I follow "Peace!" he said, She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered; The ghastly colour from his lips had fled; In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away - -no strife to heal The past unsighed for, and the future sure;
Spake of heroic arts in graver mood Revived, with finer harmony pursued;
Of all that is most beauteous
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.
Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned
That privilege by virtue.
The end of man's existence I discerned,
Who from ignoble games and revelry
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight,
While tears were thy best pastime, day and night;
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