Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem, As the river of a dream.
Then, why pause with indecision, When bright angels, in thy vision, Beckon thee to fields Elsyian?
Seest thou shadows sailing by, As the dove with startled eye Sees the falcon's shadow fly?
Hearst thou voices on the shore, That our ears perceive no more, Deafened by the cataract's roar?
O, thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands,-Life hath snares! Care and age come unawares!
Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June.
Childhood is the bough, where slumbered Birds and blossoms many-numbered;- Age, that bough with snows encumbered.
Gather, then, each flower that grows, When the young heart overflows, To embalm that tent of snows.
Bear a lily in thy hand;
Gates of brass cannot withstand One touch of that magic wand.
Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth, On thy lips the smile of truth.
O, that dew, like balm, shall steal Into wounds that cannot heal, Even as sleep our eyes doth seal:
And that smile, like sunshine, dart Into many a sunless heart, For a smile of God thou art.
Eve describes her First Sensations.
THAT day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade of flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issued from a cave and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved, Pure as th' expanse of Heaven; I thither went With unexperienced thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake, that to me seemed another sky. As I bent down to look, just opposite, A shape within the watery gleam appeared
Bending to look on me. I started back,
It started back, but pleased I soon returned, Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love; there I had fixed
Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire Had not a voice thus warned me, What thou seest, What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself, With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow stays Thy coming, and thy soft embraces; he Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy Inseparably thine; to him shalt bear Multitudes like thyself, and thence be called Mother of human race. What could I do, But follow straight, invisibly thus led? Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a plantain, yet methought less fair, Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
Than that smooth watery image; back I turned, Thou following criedst aloud, Return, fair Eve;
Whom fliest thou? whom thou fliest, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart Substantial life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear; Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim My other self: with that thy gentle hand Seized mine, I yielded, and from that time see How beauty is excelled by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.
So spake our general mother, and with eyes
Of conjugal attraction unreproved,
And meek surrender, half embracing leaned On our first father, half her swelling breast Naked met his under the flowing gold Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight Both of her beauty and submissive charms Smiled with superior love, as Jupiter
On Juno smiles when he impregns the clouds
That shed May flowers; and pressed her matron lip With kisses pure.
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.
COME live with me, and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, or hills, or field, Or woods and steepy mountains yield.
Where we will sit upon the rocks, And see the Shepherds feed our flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses, And then a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Slippers lined choicely for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw, and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat, As precious as the Gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me.
The Shepherd-Swains shall dance and sing, For thy delight, each May-morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my Love.
If all the world and love were young, And truth in every Shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee, and be thy Love.
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