But trailing clouds of glory do we come Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,— The youth, who daily farther from the east And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, VI. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. VII. Behold the child among his new-born blisses, A six years' darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part, 65 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! IX. O joy, that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benedictions, not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast; Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings 130 135 140 Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; Strength in what remains behind, 180 Which having been, must ever be ; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. XI. And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, 'Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight, To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the brooks, which down their channels fret, Is lovely yet; The clouds that gather round the setting sun That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality! Another race hath been, and other palms are won. LAODAMIA. "WITH sacrifice, before the rising morn, Restore him to my sight--great Jove, restore!" 185 190 195 200 5 So speaking, and by fervent love endowed With faith, the suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows, O terror! what hath she perceived? O joy! What doth she look on-whom doth she behold? And a god leads him, winged Mercury! Mild Hermes spake-and touched her with his wand 15 That calms all fear: "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, 20 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 impassion'd queen her lord to clasp ; 25 30 "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 bestow'd 35 This precious boon, and blest a sad abode." "Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave "Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek that touched the Trojan strand A self-devoted chief-by Hector slain." Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best! 50 |