Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave the naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come. TO WILLIAM SHELLEY. (With what truth I may say— Roma! Roma! Roma! Non è più come era prima!) My lost William, thou in whom But beneath this pyramid Thou art not-if a thing divine Where art thou, my gentle child? The love of living leaves and weeds, Let me think that through low seeds June, 1819. AN ALLEGORY. A PORTAL as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of the life Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt; Around it rages an unceasing strife Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky. And many passed it by with careless tread, Pause to examine, these are very few, And they learn little there, except to know That shadows follow them where'er they go. MUTABILITY. THE flower that smiles to-day All that we wish to stay, Tempts and then flies; What is this world's delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship too rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, Survive their joy and all Which ours we call. Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou-and from thy sleep Then wake to weep. FROM THE ARABIC. AN IMITATION. My faint spirit was sitting in the light It panted for thee like the hind at noon Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, |