HYMN OF APOLLO. I. THE sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie, Curtained with star-inwoven tapestries, From the broad moonlight of the sky, Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes, Waken me when their Mother, the grey Dawn, Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone. II. Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome, My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves Are filled with my bright presence, and the air Leaves the green earth to my embraces bare. III. The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill All men who do or even imagine ill Fly me, and from the glory of my ray IV. I feed the clouds, the rainbows and the flowers With their ætherial colours; the Moon's globe And the pure stars in their eternal bowers Are cinctured with my power as with a robe; Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine, Are portions of one power, which is mine. V. I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven, For grief that I depart they weep and frown: VI. I am the eye with which the Universe All harmony of instrument or verse, HYMN OF PAN I. FROM the forests and highlands We come, we come ; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, II. Liquid Peneus was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing The light of the dying day, Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, III. I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the dædal Earth, And of Heaven- and the giant wars, And then I changed my pipings, Singing how down the vale of Menalus It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: At the sorrow of my sweet pipings. THE TWO SPIRITS. AN ALLEGORY. FIRST SPIRIT. O THOU, who plumed with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire — Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there Night is coming! SECOND SPIRIT. The deathless stars are bright above; And the moon will smile with gentle light On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight, And make night day. |