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To perish never;
And this hath now his heart,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us cherish-and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 13 Filling from time to time his “ humorous stage".
Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence, in a season of calm weather,
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel thither,-
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore,
Then, sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lainbs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We, in thought, will join your thirong,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And oh ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
Think not of 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, Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; (breast: The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet ;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
Perpetual benedictions: not indeed
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his
Not for these I raise
Of sense and outward things,
Blank misgivings of a creature
But for those first affections,
From earliest generations, there absorbid,
There was no motion in the lifeless air,
Breaks the serene of heaven:
Beneath her steady ray
The desert-circle spreads,
How beautiful is night!
No station is in view,
The mother and her child,
They at this untimely hour
And oh! what odours the voluptuous vale
Scatters from jasmine bowers,
From yon rose wilderness, From cluster'd henna, and from orange groves, That with such perfumes fill the breeze,
As Peris to their Sister bear, When from the summit of some lofty tree She hangs encaged, the captive of the Dives.
They from their pinions shake
And, as her enemies impure
Inhales her fragrant food. Such odours flow'd upon the world, When at Mohammed's nuptials, word
Went forth in Heaven, to roll
The everlasting gates of Paradise Back on their living hinges, that its gales Might visit all below; the general bliss
Thrill'd every bosom, and the family Of man, for once, partook one common joy.
Flow'd streams of liquid light;
Their living obelisks ;
[vine Where round their trunks the thousand-tendril'd Wound up and hung the boughs with greener
And clusters not their own. [wreaths, Wearied with endless beauty, did his eyes Return for rest? beside him teems the earth With tulips, like the ruddy evening streak’d; And here the lily hangs her head of snow;
And here amid her sable cup Shines the red eye-spot, like one brightest star,
The solitary twinkler of the night;
And here the rose expands
Her paradise of leaves.
Of harmony arose !
From bowers of merriment;
The waterfall remote;
The single nightingale
THE BOUNDARY OF THE WORLD.
He tarried not-he past
And passions now put off,
There was a light within,
Through travelling rain and mise
Shines on the evening hills.
Were gathering for the wrath-flame. Shade was In those portentous vaults ;
(none Crag overhanging,
nor columnal rock
He felt no stirring as he past
Adown the long descent,
He heard not his own footsteps on the rock
The Bramin strikes the hour. That through the thick stagnation sent no sound. For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound How sweet it were, he thought.
Rolls through the stillness of departing day,
Like thunder far away.
THE APPARITION OF YEDILLIAN.
Ye on the banks of that celestial water Is there no secret wile,
Your resting place and sanctuary have found. No lurking enemy?
What! hath not then their mortal taint defil'd
The sacred solitary ground?
Vain thought! the Holy Valley smil'd
Receiving such a sire and child;
Ganges, who seem'd asleep to lie, Downward, and downward still, and still the way,
Beheld them with benignant eye,
And rippled round melodiously,
And roll'd her little waves to meet
And welcome their beloved feet.
The gales of Swerga thither fled,
About, below, and overhead;
And Earth rejoicing in their tread,
Hath built them up a blooming bower, It was a living Image, by the art
Where every amaranthine flower Of magic hands, of flesh and bones compos'd,
Its deathless blossom interweaves And human blood, through veins and arteries
With bright and undecaying leaves. 'That flow'd with vital action. In the shape Of Eblis it was made;
Three happy beings are there here, Its stature such, and such its strength,
The sire, the maid, the Glendoveer;
A fourth approaches,—who is this
That enters in the Bower of Bliss ?
No form so fair might painter find A coronet of meteor flames,
Among the daughters of mankind; Flowing in points of light.
For death her beauties hath refin'd, Self-pois'd in air before him,
And unto her a form hath given Hung the Round Altar, rolling like the world
Framed of the elements of Heaven; On its diurnal axis; like the world
Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind. Chequer'd with sea and shore,
She stood and gaz'd on sire and child; The work of demon art.
Her tongue not yet hath power to speak, For where the sceptre in the Idol's hand
The tears were streaming down her cheek; Touch'd the Round Altar, in its answering realm,
And when those tears her sight beguil'd, Earth felt the stroke, and ocean rose in storms,
And still her faultering accents fail'd, And ruining cities, shaken from their seat,
The Spirit, mute and motionless, Crush'd all their inhabitants.
Spread out her arms for the caress, His other arm was rais'd, and its spread palm
Made still and silent with excess Up-bore the ocean-weight,
Of love and painful happiness. Whose naked waters arch'd the sanctuary.
The maid that lovely form survey'd;
Wistful she gaz'd, and knew her not; AN EASTERN EVENING.
But nature to her heart convey'd Evening comes on : arising from the stream,
A sudden thrill, a startling thought, Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight;
A feeling many a year forgot, And wbere he sails athwart the setting beam,
Now like a dream anew recurring,
As if again in every vein
Her mother's milk was stirring.
With straining neck and earnest eye To scare the winged plunderers from their prey,
She stretch'd her hands imploringly, With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height,
As if she fain would have her nigh, Hath borne the sultry ray.
Yet fear'd to meet the wish'd embrace, Hark! at the Golden Palaces,
At once with love and awe opprest.
And silent market-place, and lonely square,
Where Baly held of old his awful reign.
What once had been the garden spread around, 662 NEW ELEGANT EXTRACTS.
Accordant to the melancholy waves.
Wondering, he stood awhile to gaze
Upon the works of elder days.
The brazen portals open stood,
Even as the fearful multitude
Had left them, when they fled
Before the rising flood.
High over-head, sublime,
The mighty gateway's storied roof was spread,
Dwarfing the puny piles of younger time.
With the deeds of days of yore
That ample roof was sculptur'd o'er,
And many a godlike form there met his eye,
And many an emblem dark of mystery.
Through these wide portals oft had Baly rode
Triumphant from his proud abode,
When, in his greatness, he bestrode
The Aullay, hugest of four-footed kind,
The Aullay-horse, that in his force,
With elephantine trunk, could bind
And lift the elephant, and on the wind
Whirl him away, with sway and swing,
Even like a pebble from the practis'd sling,
Those streets which never, since the days of yore,
By human footstep had been visited;
Those streets which never more
A human foot shall tread,
Ladurlad trod. In sun-light, and sea-green,
The thousand palaces were seen
Of that proud city, whose superb abodes
How silent and how beautiful they stand,
Like things of Nature! the eternal rocks
Themselves not firmer. Neither hath the sand
Drifted within their gates, and choak'd their doors, Of him to whose old city they were bound;
Nor slime defild their pavements and their floors
Did then the ocean wage
His war for love and envy, not in rage,
Their golden summits, in the noon-day light,
Peering above the sea,-a mournful sight! Well might the sad beholder ween from thence
What works of wonder the devouring wave Had swallowed there, when monuments so brave
Bore record of their old magnificence. And on the sandy shore, beside the verge Of ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane
Resisted in its strength the surf and surge That on their deep foundations beat in vain.
In solitude the ancient temples stood, Once resonant with instrument and song, And solemn dance of festive multitude;
Now as the weary ages pass along,
Or, visiting their solitary caves,
O thou fair city, that he spares thee thus?
Art thou Varounin's capital and court,
A place too godlike to be held by us,
Weening to hear the sound
Of Mermaid's shell, and song
Their high carousals keep.
But all is silence dread,
Silence profound and dead,
Through many a solitary street,
And now his feet attain that royal fane
Fair garden, once which wore perpetual green,
Where all sweet flowers through all the year were Upon a smooth and grassy plat below,
By Nature there as for an altar drest, [earth
A place of Paradise, where each device Welled silently. In such a scene rude man
Feeling a present Deity, and made
The Swerga-God himself, with envious eye, The arching rock disclosed above the springs
That e'er of old in forest of romance
'Gainst knights and ladies waged discourteous war, Behold from eldest time a goodlier sight
Erect within the portal might have stood.
The broken stone allowed for hand and foot
In height a tall man's stature, measured thrice.
No holier spot than Covadonga, Spain
Be with the noblest blood of martyrdom
By many a miracle made manifest;
Nor in the heroic annals of her fame
Doth she show forth a scene of more renown.
Then, save the hunter, drawn in keen pursuit
Beyond his wonted haunts, or shepherd's boy,
None knew the place.
Pelayo, when he saw
Those glittering sources and their sacred cave,
Took from his side the bugle silver-tipt,
And with a breath long drawn and slow expired
Sent forth that strain, which, echoing from the walls
When from the chase he came. At the first sound
Favilia started in the cave, and cried,
Looked eager to her mother silently;
From human eyes, Ladurlad there espied, Doubting her sense deceived. A second time
And Hermesind around her mother's neck
When to their father's hall, at festival 'Tis he! But when a third and broader blast
Rung in the echoing archway, ne'er did wand,
With magic power endued, call up a sight
It seemed, when from the bowels of the rock
The mother and her children hastened forth.
She in the sober charms and dignity
Ennobled all her steps,mor priestess, chosen
Because within such faultless work of Heaven
Inspiring Deity might seem to make
Its habitation known-Favilia such
In form and stature as the Sea Nymph's son,
When that wise Centaur from his cave well-pleased
Against some shaggy lionet essay,
And fixing in the half-grown mane his hands,