Volume I Part 9 (1/2)
His duties of the day will seem The fact of life, and mine the dream:
The destinies that bards have sung, Regeneration to the young, Reverberation of the truth, And virtuous culture unto youth!
Youth! in whose season let abound All flowers and fruits that strew the ground, Voluptuous joy where love consents, And health and pleasure pitch their tents:
All rapture and all pure delight; A garden all unknown to blight; But never the unnatural sight That throngs the shameless song this night!
SONG
Under boughs of breathing May, In the mild spring-time I lay, Lonely, for I had no love; And the sweet birds all sang for pity, Cuckoo, lark, and dove.
Tell me, cuckoo, then I cried, Dare I woo and wed a bride?
I, like thee, have no home-nest; And the twin notes thus tuned their ditty, - 'Love can answer best.'
Nor, warm dove with tender coo, Have I thy soft voice to woo, Even were a damsel by; And the deep woodland crooned its ditty, - 'Love her first and try.'
Nor have I, wild lark, thy wing, That from bluest heaven can bring Bliss, whatever fate befall; And the sky-lyrist trilled this ditty, - 'Love will give thee all.'
So it chanced while June was young, Wooing well with fervent song, I had won a damsel coy; And the sweet birds that sang for pity, Jubileed for joy.
PASTORALS
I
How sweet on sunny afternoons, For those who journey light and well, To loiter up a hilly rise Which hides the prospect far beyond, And fancy all the landscape lying Beautiful and still;
Beneath a sky of summer blue, Whose rounded cloudlets, folded soft, Gaze on the scene which we await And picture from their peacefulness; So calmly to the earth inclining Float those loving shapes!
Like airy brides, each singling out A spot to love and bless with love, Their creamy bosoms glowing warm, Till distance weds them to the hills, And with its latest gleam the river Sinks in their embrace.
And silverly the river runs, And many a graceful wind he makes, By fields where feed the happy flocks, And hedge-rows hus.h.i.+ng pleasant lanes, The charms of English home reflected In his s.h.i.+ning eye:
Ancestral oak, broad-foliaged elm, Rich meadows sunned and starred with flowers, The cottage breathing tender smoke Against the brooding golden air, With glimpses of a stately mansion On a woodland sward;
And circling round, as with a ring, The distance spreading amber haze, Enclosing hills and pastures sweet; A depth of soft and mellow light Which fills the heart with sudden yearning Aimless and serene!
No disenchantment follows here, For nature's inspiration moves The dream which she herself fulfils; And he whose heart, like valley warmth, Steams up with joy at scenes like this Shall never be forlorn.
And O for any human soul The rapture of a wide survey - A valley sweeping to the West, With all its wealth of loveliness, Is more than recompense for days That taught us to endure.
II
Yon upland slope which hides the sun Ascending from his eastern deeps, And now against the hues of dawn One level line of tillage rears; The furrowed brow of toil and time; To many it is but a sweep of land!
To others 'tis an Autumn trust, But unto me a mystery; - An influence strange and swift as dreams; A whispering of old romance; A temple naked to the clouds; Or one of nature's bosoms fresh revealed,
Heaving with adoration! there The work of husbandry is done, And daily bread is daily earned; Nor seems there ought to indicate The springs which move in me such thoughts, But from my soul a spirit calls them up.