Volume Ii Part 28 (2/2)
CORONACH.
He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest.
The fount reappearing From the raindrops shall borrow; But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow!
The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are h.o.a.ry, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds, rus.h.i.+ng, Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flus.h.i.+ng When blighting was nearest.
Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in c.u.mber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber!
Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
LIFE'S ”GOOD-MORNING.”
Life! we have been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather.
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not ”Good-night,” but in some brighter clime Bid me ”Good-morning.”
ANNA LEt.i.tIA BARBAULD.
MOONRISE.
The moon is up, and yet it is not night-- Sunset divides the sky with her--a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colors seems to be-- Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the Day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air--an island of the blest.
A single star is at her side, and reigns With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still Yon sunny lea heaves brightly, and remains Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rhaetian hill, As Day and Night contending were, until Nature reclaim'd her order:--gently flows The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instill The odorous purple of a new-born rose, Which streams upon her stream, and gla.s.sed within it glows.
LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON.
_From ”Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.”_
[Ill.u.s.tration]
TO A WATERFOWL.
Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
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