Woke, and from the smoking embers O thou sculptor, painter, poet! PEGASUS IN POUND. ONCE into a quiet village, Without haste and without heed, In the golden prime of morning, Strayed the poet's winged steed. It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, Loud the clamorous bell was ringing Not a triumph meant for him. Not the less he saw the landscape, Thus, upon the village common, Then the sombre village crier, And the curious country people, Thus the day passed, and the evening Fell, with vapours cold and dim ; But it brought no food nor shelter, Brought no straw nor stall, for him. Patiently, and still expectant, Looked he through the wooden bars, Saw the moon rise o'er the landscape, Saw the tranquil, patient stars; Till at length the bell at midnight Then, with nostrils wide distended, To those stars he soared again. On the morrow, when the village But they found, upon the greensward From that hour, the fount unfailing Gladdens the whole region round, Strengthening all who drink its waters, While it soothes them with its sound. Borne through the Northern sky Around him as he passed. And the voice for ever cried, Through the dreary night, Balder the Beautiful, God of the summer sun, All things in earth and air Hæder, the blind old God, Whose feet are shod with silence, Pierced through that gentle breast With his sharp spear, by fraud Made of the mistletoe, The accursed mistletoe! They laid him in his ship, Odin placed A ring upon his finger, And whispered in his ear. They launched the burning ship! It floated far away Over the misty sea, Till like the sun it seemed, So perish the old Gods! ON MRS. KEMBLE'S READINGS FROM SHAKSPEALE. O PRECIOUS evenings! all too swiftly sped! Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, How our hearts glowed and trembled as she read, Of the great poet who foreruns the ages, O happy Reader! having for thy text The Magic book, whose Sibylline leaves have caught The rarest essence of all human thought! O happy Poet! by no critic vext! How must thy listening spirit now rejoice THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon earth The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, A gray, old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three But the great Master said, "I see To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, SUSPIRIA. TAKE them, O Death! and bear away |