Till we depart intrude not here: That mossy slope, o'er which the woodbine throws A canopy, is smoothed for thy repose. Glad moment is it when the throng The lagging shower, and force coy Phœbus out,— Met by the rainbow's form divine, Issuing from her cloudy shrine : While to these shades a sister Nymph I call. Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce, By none more deeply felt than thee. -I sang; and lo! from pastimes virginal She hastens to the tents Of Nature and the lonely elements. Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen; But mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green! And, as if wishful to disarm Or to repay the potent Charm, She bears the stringed lute of old Romance, And soothed war-wearied knights in rafter'd hall. So tripp'd the Muse, inventress of the dance : But the ringlets of that head, Is it not a brow inviting Choicest flowers that ever breathed, With one wild floweret (call it not forlorn !)— Open, ye thickets! let her fly, Swift as a Thracian Nymph o'er field and height: Light as the wheeling butterfly she moves : Turning them inside out with arch audacity. Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays; A face o'er which a thousand shadows go! Fit countenance for the soul of primal truth, The bland composure of eternal youth! What more changeful than the sea? But over his great tides Fidelity presides : And this light-hearted Maiden constant is as he. High is her aim as heaven above, And wide as ether her good-will; And, like the lowly reed, her love Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill; Is to her charity no bar, Nor interrupts her frolic graces When she is, far from these wild places, O the charm that manners draw, She in benign affections pure, In self-forgetfulness secure, Sheds round the transient harm or vague mischance A light unknown to tutor'd elegance : Hers is not a cheek shame-stricken; But her blushes are joy-flushes, And the fault, if fault it be, And kindle sportive wit,— Leaving this Daughter of the Mountains free Had cross'd her purpose with some vague vagary, Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands. -Last of the Three, though eldest born! Of Dawn, or Eve (fair Vision of the West), By woman's gentle fortitude, Each grief through meekness settling into rest! Has raised thy spirit to a peaceful stand Her brow hath open'd on me see it there Nor dread the depth of meditative eye! What wouldst thou more? In sunny glade, Since earth grew calm while angels mused? That flowers themselves, whate'er their hue, And though for bridal wreaths and tokens true Which the careless shepherd sleeps on, As fitly spring from turf the mourner weeps on, And without wrong are cropp'd the marble tomb to strew. The Charm is over! the mute Phantoms gone, Nor will return! But droop not, favour'd Youth! The apparition that before thee shone Obey'd a summons covetous of truth. From these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guide And one of the Bright Three become thy happy Bride. NATURAL PIETY. My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began, So be it when I shall grow old, The Child is father of the Man: SONNETS. It is a beauteous evening, calm and free! Breathless with adoration; the broad sun The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea: And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder-everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: This world is too much with us: late and soon, We have given our hearts away,— |