THE DREAM OF A DAY, AND OTHER POEMS. JAMES G. PERCIVAL. NEW HAVEN. PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK. 121 Chatkl street. 1843. .31 Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1843, BY JAMES G. PERCIVAL, In the office of the Clerk of the District Court of Connecticut. PREFACE 7 t' The present volume is composed, for the most part, of a series of shorter pieces, part of which have been published in a fugitive form, at diiFerent intervals since the publication of my last volume (Clio, No. Ill, 1827,) and part of which have till now remained in manuscript. The longer piece, at the commencement of the vol- ume, takes its name (Dream of a Day) partly from its subject, and partly from the time in which it was written. This is one of the later written pieces. The others are arranged, mostly, in the order of time in which they were written. The reader will perceive, in running over the volume, that a great variety of measure is intro- duced, (more than one hundred and fifty diiferent forms or modifi- cations of stanza,) much of which is borrowed from the verse of other languages, particularly of the German. This last is espe- cially true of the Lays (p. 104—127.) The Songs (p. 67—69) are from Spanish and Italian measures. The. imitations of different IV. PREFACE. Classic measures, as well as the Songs for National Airs, are more particularly explained in the introduction to each. In adopting different measures from the German, I was led, by their peculiar rhytlim, to use our adjective adverbially, according to the German idiom, and I may add, according to the idiom of our Saxon ances- tors, still retained in the expressive language of common life. This form of expression is certainly more energetic than that in which we use the constantly recurring and cumbrous adverbial suffix ly. It may not, however, be sactioned by general usage, the legislator in all matters of language. The limits of the present volume, as well as the character of its contents in general, have precluded from it a series of specimens of different varieties or systems of national verse, in which I had designed to give, under the general head of " Studies in Verse," imitations of the versification of all accessible cultivated languages, systematically arranged, and illustrated by comments. These, as well as a quite extensive series of Translations from different languages, (accompanied with illustrative remarks,) part of which have been already published in a fugitive form, and part of which still remain in manuscript, may hereafter furnish materials for an- other volume, if an opportunity should ever offer for their publi- cation. In the long interval which has elapsed since the publication of my last volume of poems, (sixteen years,) I have been most of the time engaged in pursuits which have had little or no relation to poetical studies, or which have been peculiarly adverse to them; consequently, during this period, the composition of verse has been to me only an occasional amusement or exercise. As such PREFACE. V. I offer this volume ; not as the fruits of a continued and regular study of an art, which, for the high principles it involves, and the great powers which it demands for its true and most successful cultivation, deserves to hold a place in the first rank. It is un- necessary to say any thing in vindication of an art, which requires a mastery of the riclics and niceties of a language ; a full knowledge of the science of versification, not only in its own peculiar princi- ples of rhythm and melody, but in its relations to elocution and music, with that delicate natural perception, and that facile ex- ecution, which render the composition of verse hardly less easy than that of prose ; a deep and quick insight into the nature of man, in all his varied faculties, intellectual and emotive ; a clear and full perception of the power and beauty of nature, and of all its various harmonies with our ovra thoughts and feelings ; and to gain a high rank in the present age, wide and exact attainments in literature and art in general. Nor is the possession of such faculties and attainments all that is necessary ; but such a sus- tained and self-collected state of mind as gives one the mastery of his genius, and at the same time presents to him the ideal as an immediate reality, not as a remote conception. Such a culti- vation of the poetical art is only for those who can devote them- selves to it under favourable auspices ; not for one who can only give to it, now and then, a few moments of leisure. New Haven, July, 1813. ERRATA. Page 33, line 2, for "first of day," read, first day. Page 39, line 23, insert comma at end of line. Page 175, line 9, read ! at end of line. " " line 23, after "comfort," insert comma. Page 192, at end of line 8, read period, in part of the edition. Page 219, line 3, (Alcaic,) after "youth," insert comma. CONTENTS. The Dream of a Day, 9 Genius Waking, 20 To the Eagle, 24 Seneca Lake, 28 Lays of the Seasons. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, 33 — 36 The Light Guitar, 38 The Vintage Dance, 40 Song, 42 Song, 44 To a Butterfly, 46 The Voice of Nature, 48 Song, 50 Song, 52 Sappho, 54 Sonnets. I— IX, 56—62 The Contrast, 63 Ballad, 64 Songs. I— III, 67—69 Greek Appeal to America, 1827, 71 Our Flag, 73 Spring, 75 Youth Recalled, 78 A Vision, 81 VIII. CONTENTS The Poet's World, 82 Minnesong. I— III, 85—87 The Knight, 89 Life's Dream, 92 The Hexli, (Little Witch,) 95 The Maiden, 98 The Power of Song, 100 Lays. I— XXII, 104—127 Slavonia. Parti. I— V, 130—134 II. Russia. I, II, - - - 135, 136 Servia. I, II, ... 137, 133 Poland. I, II, - - - 139, 140 Bohemia. I, II, - - - 142, 143 Teutonia. Hope, 145 Skating, 147 The Charge, - - .... 149 The Wild Hunter, 150 The Hunter Death, 153 The Bard, 155 Songs. I— XXI, 158—181 The Sister Spirits. A Cantata, .... 182 Classic Melodies. Part I, 186—195 II, 197—220 Songs for National Airs. 222 Norwegian. I, II, - - 223 German. I— XVIII, - 224—241 Russian. I— III, - - 242—244 Bohemian. I— III, - 245—247 Gaelic. I— IV, - - 249—253 Welsh. I— IV, - - 255—259 The Norns, 2OI THE DREAM OF A DAY, AND OTHER POEMS THE DREAM OF A DAY. In silent gloom the world before me lay — In deepest night embosomed it reposed ; All genial hues of life had passed away — In sleep profomid the eye of day had closed ; Beamed through the voiceless calm no fitful ray< — Great Nature's heart to stillness all composed ; Oblivious dreams alone were moving there, Like soft wings fanning light the summer air. 2 10 THE DREAM OF A DAY. Meseemed a rustling plume was hovering o'er me — Unwonted yearnings thronged around my heart ; A spirit, half unseen, stood dim before me — I caught the vision with unconscious start, And suddenly a shadowy grasp upbore me, Swift as the glancing of a feathered dart — Gently as stream of air through darkness gliding, Then softly as on pillowed down subsiding. Silence was broken, as my flight descended — A whispered tone of most ^olian sweetness, Where many voices seemed accordant blended, All to a dulcet swell of full completeness, Breathing as if by golden harps attended. Now lingering slow, now waked to magic fleet- ness, Heaved now in solemn surge, now faintly falling, Like voice of love in airy distance calling. Again all laid in deeper calm, as when The midnight storm, far o'er the hills departing, Murmurs in echoes lightly first, and then Whispers its soft farewell, the spirit starting At the still hush that follows, or as when pain, Like flashes through the frame intensely darting, Yields to a soothing balm, how blest reposes The heart, and slumber sweet the eye-lid closes. THEDREAMOFADAY. 11 All lay a void before me, when afar Just gleamed, as moonlight through a rifted cloud, A tremulous ray, fainter than smallest star Quivering through haze, and dim as spectre shroud Floating in night of caves, while round the air Gathered intenser gloom : as ocean, plowed By gliding keel, trembles in liquid light, So dawned that ray forth from profoundest night. Slowly it dawned, and images arose From out the void, as worlds from chaos born, Hovering like phantoms o'er a stream that flows Deep under veil of mist in earliest morn: As leafy boughs, when fresh the zephyr blows. Shift in the wave, or on the dew-bright thorn Quick rainbows dance, uncertain so they played, And half unveiled, amid that world of shade. Then from the abyss, as pillared flame ascending, Upstreamed a fuller day, and widely rolled Its kindling light, distincter being lending To what seemed shadowy dreams ; its iris fold Turned slowly back the night, in vain contending Before its fulgent arms : first silvery cold They gleamed, then warm and golden glowed be- fore me; Earth smiled around, and heaven's blue glittered o'er me. 12 THE DREAM OF A DAT. A scene of orient pomp, where lay united In loved embrace the vivid and the tender — Temple and tower, by self-effulgence lighted, Streaming through clustered palms their magic splendor — Column, the fervent pilgrim hailed delighted. Reared to his country's saviour and defender — Palace, whose thousand windows, ruby-flashing, Tinted the fountain o'er its terrace dashing. Again in classic beauty still reposing, A soft Ionian sky above it swelling — Long flowery vales in gentle vistas closing — Peaks snowy pure, dark summits cloud-compel- ling— Smooth marble hills, the wandering bee composing To nectared sleep — rocks, the mysterious dwelling Of prescient god — bright city, fitly moulded, Round lofty fane and citadel enfolded. Again wild nature — Alp on Alp uplifted, Shooting into the heaven in pointed pride — Rose-tinted snows, blue glassy torrents rifted Deep to dark night — dim gorges yawning wide Mid jetty crags, o'er which the cat'ract, drifted In surging foam, heaved broad its thundering tide — Far glimpses through rude glens to lake and stream Reposing peacefully, as in a dream. T H E D R E A M O F A D A Y . 13 And then a pastoral scene of my own land — Groves darkly green, white farms, and pastures With golden flowers — brooks stealing over sand Or smooth worn pebbles, murmuring light away — Blue rye-lields, yielding to the gentle hand Of the cool west wind — scented fields of hay, Falling in purple bloom — free hearts that feel Their being doubled in their country's weal. And there my heart reposed, as mother yearning Over her cradled infant, sweetly smiling In innocent dreams — its rose lip lightly turning In slumbering joy, some shape of love beguiling Its quiet soul to bliss ; so I, discerning Those scenes where erst my happy spirit, whiling In sportful peace life's dawn away, yet knew No griefs that wring, felt life revived anew. Beneath a broad crowned oak, on sloping hill O'erlooking wide the lovely region round, On soft thick turf I lay ; the air was still — Distinctly heard was each remotest sound. The clacking wheel in cornfield, at the mill The circling plash, and far the faint rebound Of low and bleat from mountain side, the stir Of insect swarms, the drone bee's hum and swirr. 2* 14 THEDREAMOFADAY, The sun rolled on to noon ; through the light leaves Scarce quiv'ring in the tremulous air, the blue Of heaven looked gently, as when fondly weaves Young love its tenderest smile, while trembling through Checked tears — -for even when blest it inly grieves Unconscious — darts its glance, as light through dew. In the cool shade I lay, while o'er the ground Waved the warm undulations wide around. Half slumbering I lay — then as a veil Fell the faint lid, and dim the scene afar Floated in magic shade : the freshening gale, Breathed from the rolling sea, then stirred the air, And whispering softly, as the fond heart's tale Told in the twilight dusk, awoke me there With its cool kisses ; low the sun descending With the blue mountain haze was richly blending. Evening came on apace — in full orbed glory The sun drew to his couch — through vista'd trees He glided — flashing broad and full he wore a Look of unwonted joy, for rest and ease After his day of toil — far clouds hung hoary Along the east, then kindled by degrees As slow he sunk — fresh bloomed the aerial rose, While streamed the West, as gushing furnace glows. THEDREAMOFADAY. 15 Twilight ere long to solemn darkness faded — The wide funereal ilame grew amber clear, And ever lower sinking, softly shaded Its light with mellower tints — round the wide sphere A belt of palest violet was braided, Pale as the flower we scatter on the bier ; This died away, and one by one on high The stars took up their night-watch in the sky. I sat amid the darkness, and above The oak looked spectrally, while every star Hung o'er me like a messenger of love, Herald of some fair world, if world more fair Than this brave earth has being; as a dove Hovering suspended in the summer air. Peace brooded with light wings the voiceless sleep Of tired hearts beating low in slumber deep. A spirit stood before me half unseen. Majestic and severe, yet o'er him played A genial light — subdued though high his mien, As by a strong collected spirit swayed — In even balance justly poised between Each wild extreme, proud strength by feeling stayed — Dwelling in upper realms serenely bright. Lifted above the shadowy sphere of night. 16 THEDREAMOFADAY. He Stood before me, and I heard a tone, Such as from mortal lips had never flowed, Soft yet commanding, gentle yet alone It bowed the listener's heart — anon it glowed Intensely fervent, then like wood notes thrown On the chance winds, in airy lightness rode — Now swelled like ocean sm-ge, now pausing fell Like the last murmur of a muffled bell. " Lone pilgrim through life's gloom," thus spake the shade, " Hold on with steady will along thy way : Thou by a kindly favoring hand wert made — Hard though thy lot, yet thine what can repay Long years of bitter toil — the holy aid Of spirit aye is thine, be that thy stay : Thine to behold the true, to feel the pure. To know the good and lovely — these endure. Hold on — thou hast in thee thy best reward ; Poor are the largest stores of sordid gain. If from the heaven of thought the soul is barred. If the high spirit's bliss is sought in vain : Think not thy lonely lot is cold or hard, The world has never bound thee with its chain ; Free as the birds of heaven thy heart can soar. Thou canst create new worlds — what wouldst thou more ? THEDREAMOFADAY. 17 The future age will know thee — yea, even now Hearts beat and tremble at thy bidding, tears Flow as thou movest thy wand, thy word can bow Even ruder natures, the dull soul uprears As thou thy trumpet blast attune st — thou Speakcst, and each remotest valley hears : Thou hast the gift of song — a wealth is thine, Richer than all the treasures of the mine. Hold on, glad spirits company thy path — They minister to thee, though all unseen : Even when the tempest lifts its voice in wrath, Thou joyest in its strength ; the orient sheen Gladdens thee with its beauty ; winter hath A holy charm that soothes thee, like the green Of infant May — all nature is thy friend. All seasons to thy life enchantment lend. Man too thou know'st and feelest — all the springs That wake his smile and tear, his joy and sorrow, All that uplifts him on emotion's wings, Each longing for a fair and blest to-morrow. Each tone that soothes or saddens, all that rings Joyously to him, thou canst fitly borrow From thy own breast, and blend it in a strain, To which each human heart beats back again. 18 THE DREAM OF A DAY. Thine the unfettered thought, alone controlled By nature's truth ; thine the wide-seeing eye, Catching the delicate shades, yet apt to hold The whole in its embrace — before it lie Pictured in fairest light, as chart unrolled, Fields of the present and of destiny : The voice of truth amid the senseless throng May now be lost ; 'tis heard and felt ere long. Hold on — live for the world — live for all time — Rise in thy conscious power, but gently bear Thy form among thy fellows ; sternly climb The spirit's alpine peaks ; mid snow towers there Nurse the pure thought, but yet accordant chime With lowlier hearts in valleys green and fair. — Sustain thyself — yield to no meaner hand. Even though he rule awhile thy own dear land. Brief is his power, oblivion waits the churl Bound to his own poor self; his form decays. But sooner fades his name. Thou shalt unfurl Thy standard to the winds of future days — Well mayest thou in thy soul defiance hurl On such who would subdue thee ; thou shalt raise Thy name, when they are dust, and nothing more : Hold on — in earnest hope still look before. THE DREAM OF A DAY. 19 Nerved to a stern resolve, fulfill thy lot — Reveal the secrets nature has unveiled thee ; All higher gifts by toil intense are bought — Has thy firm virill in action ever failed thee? Only on distant siunmits fame is sought — Sorrow and gloom thy nature has entailed thee, But bright thy present joys, and brighter far The hope that draws thee like a heavenly star." The voice was still — its tone in distance dying Breathed in my ear, like harp faint heard at even, Soft as the autumn wind through sere leaves sighing. When flaky clouds athwart the moon are driven. Far through the viewless gloom the spirit flying. Winged his high passage to his native heaven, But o'er me still he seemed in kindness bending, Fresh hope and firmer purpose to me lending. GENIUS WAKING. Slumber's heavy chain hath bound thee- Where is now thy fire ? Feebler wings are gathering round thee — Shall they hover higher ? Can no power, no spell recall thee From inglorious dreams? O ! could glory so appall thee With his burning beams t Thine was once the highest pinion In the midway air; With a proud and sure dominion, Thou didst upward bear — Like the herald, winged with lightning. From the Olympian throne. Ever mounting, ever brightening. Thou wert there alone. GENIUS WAKTXG. 21 Where the pillared props of heaven Glitter with eternal snows, Where no darkling clouds are driven, Where no fountain flows — Far above the rolling thunder, When the surging storm Rent its sulphury folds asunder, We beheld thy form. O ! what rare and heavenly brightness Flowed around thy plumes, As a cascade's foamy whiteness Lights a cavern's glooms — Wheeling through the shadowy ocean, Like a shape of light. With serene and placid motion, Thou wert dazzling bright. From that cloudless region stooping, Downward thou didst rush, Not with pinion faint and drooping, But the tempest's giish — Up again undaunted soaring. Thou didst pierce the cloud, When the warring winds were roaring Fearfully and loud. 3 22 GENIUS WAKING, Where is now that restless longing After higher things — Come they not, like visions, thronging On their airy wings — Why should not their glow enchant thee Upward to their bliss ? Surely danger cannot daunt thee From a heaven like this. But thou slumberest — faint and quivering Hangs thy ruffled wing. Like a dove's in winter shivering, Or a feebler thing. Where is now thy might and motion, Thy imperial flight ? Where is now thy heart's devotion, Where thy spirit's light? Hark — his rustling plumage gathers Closer to his side, Close, as when the storm-bird weathers Ocean's hurrying tide — Now his nodding beak is steady. Wide his burning eye — Now his opening wings are ready, And his aim — how high ! GENIUS WAKING. 23 Now he curves liis neck, and proudly — Now is stretched for flight — Hark! his wings — they thunder loudly, And their flash — how bright ! Onward — onward, over mountain, Through the rack and storm. Now like sunset over fountain, Flits his glancing form. Glorious bird ! thy dream has left thee, Thou hast reached thy heaven — Lingering slumber hath not reft thee Of the glory given — With a bold, a fearless pinion. On thy starry road, None, to fame's supreme dominion, Mightier ever trode. TO THE EAGLE. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing! Thy home is high in heaven, Where wide the storms their banners fling, And the tempest clouds are driven. Thy throne is on the mountain top ; Thy fields the boundless air ; And hoary peaks, that proudly prop The skies, thy dwellings are. Thou sittest, like a thing of light, Amid the noontide blaze ; The midway sun is clear and bright — It cannot dim thy gaze. Thy pinions, to the rushing blast O'er the bursting billow spread. Where the vessel plunges, hurry past. Like an angel of the dead.. T O T H E E A G L E . 35 Thou art perched aloft on the beetling crag, And the waves are white below, And on, with a haste that cannot lag, They rush in an endless flow. Again thou hast plumed thy wing for flight To lands beyond the sea. And away, like a spirit wreathed in light, Thou hurriest wild and free. Thou hurriest over the myriad waves, And thou leavest them all behind ; Thou sweepest that place of unknown graves. Fleet as the tempest wind. When the night-storm gathers dim and dark, With a shrill and a boding scream, Thou rushest by the foundering bark. Quick as a passing dream. Lord of the boundless realm of air ! In thy imperial name The hearts of the bold and ardent dare The dangerous path of fame. Beneath the shade of thy golden wings. The Roman legions bore. From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs, Their pride, to the polar shore. 3* 26 TO THE EAGLE. For thee they fought, for thee they fell, And their oath was on thee laid : To thee the clarions raised their swell, And the dying warrior prayed. Thou wert, through an age of death and fears, The image of pride and power. Till the gathered rage of a thousand years Burst forth in one awful hour. And then, a deluge of wrath it came, And the nations shook with dread ; And it swept the earth, till its fields were flame. And piled with the mingled dead. Kings were rolled in the wastefid flood, With the low and crouching slave ; And together lay, in a shroud of blood. The coward and the brave. And where was then thy fearless flight ? " O'er the dark mysterious sea. To the lands that caught the setting light, The cradle of liberty. There, on the silent and lonely shore, For ages I watched alone. And the world, in its darkness, asked no more, Where the glorious bird had flown. TOTHEEAGLE. 27 But there came a bold and hardy few, And they breasted the unknown wave ; I caught afar the wandering crew, And I knew they were high and brave. I wheeled around the welcome bark, As it sought the desolate shore, And up to heaven, like a joyous lark, My quivering pinions bore. And now that bold and hardy few Are a nation wide and strong. And danger and doubt I have led them through, And they worship me in song ; And over their bright and glancing arms, On field and lake and sea. With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms, I guide them to victory." SENECA LAKE. OiVE evening in the pleasant month of May, On a green hillock swelling from the shore Above thy emerald wave, when the clear west Was all one sheet of light, I sat me down, Wearied, yet happy. I had wandered long. That bright fair day ; and all the way, my path Was tended by a warm and soothing air, That breathed like bliss ; and round me all the woods Opened their yellow buds, and every cottage Was bowered in blossoms, for the orchard trees Were all in flower. I came, at close of day, Down to thy brink, and it was pleasure there To bathe my dripping forehead in thy cool Transparent waters. I refreshed me long With the bright sparkling stream, and from the pebbles, That bedded all thy margin, singled out Rare casts of unknown shells, from off thy cliffs S E X E C A L A K E . 29 Broken by wintry surges. Thou wert calm, Even as an inlant calm, that gentle evenmg ; And one could hardly dream thou 'dst ever met And wrestled with the storm. A breath of air. Felt only in its coolness, from the west Stole over thee, and stirred thy golden mirror Into long waves, that only showed themselves In ripples on thy shore — far distant ripples, Breaking the silence with their quiet kisses, And softly murmuring peace. Up the gxeen hillock I mounted languidly, and at the summit, On the new grass reposed, and saw that evening Fade sweetly over thee. Far to the south Thy slumbering waters floated, one long sheet Of burnished gold — between thy nearer shores Softly embraced, and melting distantly Into a yellow haze, embosomed low 'Mid shadowy hills and misty mountains, all Covered with showery light, as with a veil Of airy gauze. Beautiful were thy shores, And manyfold their outlines, here up-swelling In bossy green — there hung in slaty cliffs, Black as if hewn from jet, and over-topped With the dark cedar's tufts, or new leaved birch, Bright as the wave below. How glassy clear The far expanse. Beneath it all the sky 30 S E N E C A L A K E . Swelled downward, and its fleecy clonds were gay With all their rainbow fringes, and the trees. And cliffs, and grassy knolls, were all repeated Along the uncertain shores — so clearly seen Beneath the invisible transparency, That land and water mingled, and the one Seemed melting in the other. ! how soft Yon mountain's heavenly blue, and all o'erlaid With a pale tint of roses. Deep between The ever-narrowing lake, just faintly marked By its reflected light, and farther on Buried in vapory foam, as if a surf Heaved on its utmost shore. How deep the si- lence — Only the rustling boughs, the broken ripple. The cricket, and the tree-frog, with the tinkle Of bells in fold and pasture, or a voice Heard from a distant farm, or hollow bay Of home -returning hound — a virgin land Just rescued from the wilderness, still showing Wrecks of the giant forest, yet all bright With a luxuriant culture, springing wheat. And meadows ricldy green — the blessed gift Of liberty and law. I gazed upon them. And on the unchanging lake, and felt awhile Unutterable joy — I loved my land With more than filial love— ^it was a joy, That only spake in tears. SENECA LAKE. 31 With early dawn I Avokc, and found the lake was up before me, For a fresh stirring breeze came from the south, And all its deep green waves were tossed and mingled Into a war of foam. The new risen sun Shone on them, as if they were worlds of stars, Or gems, or crystals, or some other thing Sparry and flashing bright. A gentle murmur, A roar scarce uttered, like a voice of mirth Amid the dancing waters, blended well With the iEolian whispering of boughs In a wide grove of pines. The fields and woods Were sparkling all with dew, and curling smoke Rose from the cottage fires — the robin, too, And the brown thrush, and other birds concealed Amid the half-blown thickets, joyously Poured out their morning songs, and thus attended, I wandered by the shore. ! it was pleasant, To feel the dashing of the dewy spray Rain on my forehead, and to look between Long crests of foam, into an unknown depth Of deepest green, and then to see that green Soft changing into snow. Over this waste Of rolling surges, on a lofty bank. With a broad surf beneath it, brightly shone White roofs, and spires, and gilded vanes, and win- dows, 32 SENECA LAKE. Each like a flame — thy peaceful tenements, Geneva, aptly named ; for not the walls By the blue arrowy Rhone, nor Leman's lake, With all its vineyard shores and mouldering castles, Nor even its shaggy mountains, nor above Its world of* Alpine snows — these are not more Than thou, bright Seneca, whether at peace. As I at evening met thee, or this morning. Tossed into foam. Thou too shalt have thy fame — Genius shall make thy hills his home, and here Shall build his airy visions — ^bards shall come, And fondly sing thee — pilgrims too shall haunt Thy sacred waters, and in after ages, O ! may some votary sit on the hillock. At evening, by thy shore. LAYS OF THE SEASONS. SPRING. Come to my festival ! Come to my festival ! This is the first of day of May — The sun is rejoicing alone in heaven ; The clouds have all hurried away. Down in the meadow the blossoms are waking, Light on their twigs the young leaves are shaking ; Round the warm knolls the lambs are a-leaping, The colt from his fold o'er the pasture is sweeping; And on the bright lake the little waves break, For there the cool west is at play. Come to my festival ! Come to my festival ! This is the first day of May. 4 34 LAYS OF THE SEASONS. Come to my festival ! Come to my festival ! Lose not so happy a day — The maidens are pranking their locks with flowers, And donning their proudest array. Over the mountain the south wind is rolling, And tossing its forest in billows ; Through orchard and vineyard and garden strolling, And whispering among the green willows. Then mount the plumed bonnet, with true-love knots on it, Haste hither ! — O ! how can ye stay ? — Come to my festival ! Come to my festival ! This is the first day of May. SUMMER. Golden is the harvest field, Bright the sky above, And its orb a burning shield On the arm of Jove ; Hot the wearied reaper toils Till the day is done, And the flashing ocean boils Round the setting sun. O ! some cool, some midnight cave By the rushing river. There my beating pulse to lave, Sleep and dream forever. L A Y« OF TH E S EASONS. 35 All are now in serious strife, Gathering in their grain ; 'Tis their being, hope and life — Hark ! the hurrying wain — No ! the distant thunder peal, Rolling from the hills — See the eddying tempest wheel ! How it swells and stills ! High above its brazen van Juts — behind it roars Wind, hail, thunder — what is man, When the deluge pours ! AUTUMN. My horn is overflowing, My fruits all red, And not a wind is blowing. But sweets have fed. The vineyard slope is gushing With purple wine. And amber streams are rushing From every vine. Near hill to far blue mountain. Low vale and plain, Wide lake and rock-built fountain. My song of joy repeat again. 36 LAYS OF THE SEASONS. Young girls beside their lovers Now pluck the vine — Its yellow foliage covers Love's softest twine. With loaded baskets reeling They home return ; And when the dance is wheeling, Black eyes — they burn, lo, lo triumphe ! The paeans swell ; And now their nectar flowing, That gush of joy, ! who can tell. WINTER. Below me rings the lake. The stars above me burn, Away the skaters break, And glide and wheel and turn ; Keen blows the cutting north, Against the wind they drive, And as they hurry forth. The air is all alive. Shout and carol, jest and boast, So they sound along ; Send thy keenest arrows, Frost ! We w411 give thee song. L A Y S F T H E S E A S O X S . 37 The cast is growing bright, The crystal forest flashes, And in the dawning light. Like gold the cascade dashes. The rainbow spans the sky, But all her proudest show, Her deepest tinctures die Before the pomp below. Rock and river, tree and fountain, Glitter thick with gems ; Rolling hill and craggy mountain Glow like diadems. THE LIGHT GUITAR. The light guitar, the light guitar — I hear its tinkling sound afar, Where underneath the evening star The dance is wheeling ; And many a laugh, and many a shout The busy echoes toss about, Till joyous with the merry rout The hills are pealing. The light guitar — I know it well ; I heard it first when evening fell Around the vine-embowered well By Rhone's broad river. Joy to thy valleys, gay Provence ! Thou sunny paradise of France ; Carols at eve, and song and dance Are thine forever. Til E L I G H T G U I T A R . 39 The light guitar — it sends me where A living glory fills the air, And all of gay and bright and fair Is full to flowing. Below me sleeps the purple sea, Above me clouds of amber flee, And gold on every tower and tree And spire is glowing. The light guitar — its warning sound Maiden and youth are thronging round, With song and shout, and leap and bound — No dream of sorrow. Away with grief, away with care ! Glad thoughts alone are welcome there ; They care not, if or dark or fair May rise the morrow. Then glory to the light guitar — Its holiest time the evening star, When liquid voices echo far By rock and river. O ! might such heavenly nights be mine. Where overhead the rambling vine Lets quivering through the bright moonshine By Rhone forever. THE VINTAGE DANCE. Come, the dance, the dance — Night is nigh us : How the shades advance ! Soon joy will fly iis : Be happy while we may ; Dull cares, away, away ! Be only song and play, As time speeds by us. Our vintage all is in ; Our vats o'erflowing — Now wake the merry din. Eyes, cheeks, all glowing. We owe the generous vine A pledge of best old wine. And clustering ivy's tAvine, And flowers new blowing. THE VINTAGE DANCE, 41 Pluck, pluck the autumn flowers, And deftly twine them — Maidens, in lonely hours, May then divine them : One with its eye of blue Shall tell the heart is true ; Another blushing new Softly incline them. Then wheel the dance, the dance, Around the fountain — The satjTs hear and prance On ivied mountain ; The fauns come stealing nigh And roll the roguish eye. Quick mischief in it — Back to your craggy wood ! The maiden's heart is good ; Ye cannot win it. SONG. Long years have seen me roaming A sad and weary way, Like traveller tired at gloaming, A sultry summer's day ; No lamp of love before me, No twinkling parlour fire, But clouds and darkness o'er me, My pnly friend my lyre. A welcome shed now greets me, Though low its portal be. And ready kindness meets me. And p^eace that will not flee : So here my heart reposes, And fi-nds at last its home ; Its day of Wandering closes ; It rests, no more to roam. 43 So when, by tempest battered, The seaman, bent ashore, Sails torn and colours tattered. Still ploughs the ocean's roar, ir but a watch-light twinkle With hospitable,glow, Joy-tears his hard cheeks sprinkle, And hope's bright fountains flow : His home is all bdfore him, The dwelling of his sires ; His own blue sky is o'er him, And near his altar-fires : Awhile his burdened feelings Like silent waters run. Then burst in echoed pealings, " My land — my land is won !" SONG. Strike, strike the note of sorrow, That late so moved me — My sinking heart would borrow. From sounds so passing sweet. Fond moments once so fleet Beside the youth who loved me. O ! set the music flowing — My soul forever Could dwell on words so glowing, On sounds so soft and clear, To all my heart so dear. They can be silent never. 45 Give me the lute — the lute, For I would ring it — O ! breathe that Spartan flute, And wake my languid soul, Till loosed from earth's control, Heaven's fire shall wing it. No ! touch the chord of feeling, And lightly wake it ! And as I hear, come stealing From out my bleeding heart Tears, such as woes impart — Be still, or else ye break it. TO A BUTTERFLY. Thou, who in the early spring Hoverest on filmy wing, Visiting the bright-eyed flowers, Fluttering in loaded bowers. Settling on the reddening rose, Reddening ere it fully blows, When its crisp and folded leaves Just unroll their dewy tips, Soft as infant beauty's lips. Or any thing thatlove believes — Little wanderer after pleasure, Where is that enchanted treasure, All that live are seeking for ? Is it in the blossom, or Where we seek it, in the roses Of a maiden's cheek, or rather In the many lights that gather When her smiling lip uncloses ? TOABUTTERFLY. 47 Woiiklst lliou rather kiss a (lower, When 'tis dropping with a shower, Or with trembling, quivering wing Rest thee on a dearer thing, On a lip that has no stain. On a brow that feels no pain, In the beamings of an eye. Where a world of visions lie, Such as to the blest are given, All of heaven — all of heaven ? If thou lovest the blossom, I Love the cheek, the lip and eye. THE VOICE OF NATURE. A VOICE is heard in the winds and waves, In the sound of the ever rolling sea ; 'Tis whispered amid the gloom of graves, And it speaks from the hill-top loud and free : *Tis murmuring in every breath of air, And it pauses not when the leaves are still ; Where the waters are falling, it prattles there, And it whistles along the heathery hill. Up on the brown and briery steep, When the bramble stirs with the nestling bird- Down in the green and glassy deep. When the coral rustles, that voice is heard : Far it is borne on the summer breeze. O'er sunny meadow and flowery plain ; Then it steals to the glancing trees. And is lost in their shadowy gloom again. Til E VOICE OF XATITRE. 49 Hark ! its wandering echoes wake — They nro now in the heart of the rifted rock ; Now tliey lie on the shiml)ering lake ; Now are at play with the bounding flock. Not a withering leaf by the wind is stirred, Not a murmur moves through the bending corn, But far that sunnnoning voice is heard. Like the loud, clear notes of the winding horn. O ! 'tis a voice that comes from heaven, Borne like a spirit in light along. Now like the rush of a tempest driven. Murmuring now in the charm of song. Hear ye the voice ? — then come away Far from the haunts of ruder men — Come, where the leaves and fountains play — You may love and be happy then. SONG. Ye come to me, with eyes of light, Fair creatures of my dreams ! Ye move around me, cahn and bright, Like sunset over streams. When the last flush of dying day In liquid lustre glows, Then passes into night away, Like rain-drops from a rose. Fair creatures ! soft your voices are — I hear their tender tone. And all the twilight echoes bear Their melody alone. It fills the rocks, the woods, the plain, With an all-pervading thrill ; And listening to the invisible strain, The breathless air is still. SONG. 51 All innocent your beauty blows — "J'is bright and purely (iiir : The rose, the young and virgin rose, Huds forth in sweetness there ; And there are light and laughing eyes, That never have wept in pain — Hope beckons you on, as away she flies, And love, that must all be vain. O ! stay, fair creatures — I bid you stay ! With you my dreams are heaven. Too soon the vision must fade away ; Not forever those joys were given. Bend over me now that winning smile, That lingering look of light ! Ye fade — O ! pause and charm awhile, Ere ye vanish away in night. SONG. O ! SING to me one song of thine, One song before we part, That I may bear away with me Its music in my heart. Let it be a gentle one, A song of early joy. Such as a fair-haired maiden sings To win her much loved boy. O ! sing to me the song I heard, The other day, at noon, When it came to me like a warbling bird, And ceased as short and soon. Bashfully that song was still. For I started from out the trees ; So the bird is hush, Avhen the bramble bush Stirs with the passing breeze. SONG. 53 Turn not so tearfully away — 1 caiHiot hear to ])art, With any thin«r l)ut hope and joy In the swelling of my heart. Look up to me with laughing eyes — We shall meet again ere long ; And then the greeting I shall have, Will he thy gentle song. So sing to me that song of joy, That song of summer bowers, Murmuring like the soft warm breath Of a south wind over flowers. I will kiss thee as thou warblest on. My token as I part, And so will bear away with me Thy music in my heart. SAPPHO. She stands in act to fall — her garland torn, Its withered rose-leaves round the rock are blow- ing; Loose to the winds her locks dishevelled flowing Tell of the many sorrows she has borne. Her eye, up-turned to heaven, has lost its fire — One hand is pressed to feel her bosom's beating. And mark her lingering pulses back retreating — The other wanders o'er her silent lyre. Clear rolls the midway sun — she knows it not ; Vainly the winds waft by the flower's perfume ; To her the sky is hung in deepest gloom — She only feels the noon-beam burning hot. SAPPHO. 55 What to the broken heart the dancing waves, The air all kindling — what a sounding name ? O ! what a mockery, to dream of fame — It only lures us on to make us slaves. And Love — O ! what art thou with all thy light ? Ineflkble joy is round thee, till we know. Thou art but as a vision of the night — And then the bursting heart, how deep its woe. " They tell me I shall live — my name shall rise, When nature falls — O ! blest illusion, stay — " A moment hopes and joys around her play ; Then darkness hides her — faint she sinks and dies. SONNETS. O ! THERE are moments, when the dreaming soul Forgets this earth, and wanders far away Into some region of eternal day. Where the bright waves in calm and sunshine roll. Thither it wanders, and has reached its goal — The good, the great, the beautiful are there, And wreaths of victory crown their flowing hair, And as they move, such music fills the air, As ne'er from fabled bower or cavern stole. Soft to the heart it winds, and hushes deep Its cares and sorrows. Thought then, fancy-free, Flies on from bliss to bliss, till finding thee It pauses, as the musk-rose charms the bee, Tranced, as in happy dream of magic sleep. SONNETS. 57 O ! EVENING, I have loved thee with a joy Tender and pure, and thou hast ever been A soother of my sorrows. When a boy, I wandered often to a lonely glen. And far from all the stir and noise of men, Held fond communion with unearthly things, Such as come gathering brightly round us, when Imagination soars and shakes her wings. Yes, in that secret valley, doubly dear For all its natural beauty, and the hush That ever brooded o'er it, I would lay My thoughts in deepest calm, and if a bush Rustled, or small bird shook the beechen spray, There seemed a minist'ring angel whispering near. III. O ! THERE are tears of joy, and they are fed From the heart's secret fountain, where they well Like springs in some mysterious cavern's bed, Made holy by the sybil's murmuring spell. 6 58 SONNETS. Forth from the darkling cave they cahnly flow, Crystalline pure, to heaven's rejoicing light, And over sifted sands and pebbles bright, Down through the sacred grove of laurels go. So when my thoughts, long wearied by the rush Of life's too busy cares, would pause and keep Awhile a sabbath's stillness, and would lay Each passionate longing, then I can but weep Tears, happy tears, in many a sudden gush. And with them all my sorrows melt away. IV. O ! WOULD that dreams were not the things they are. Mere unsubstantial pageants, born and dying With the light sleep that makes them, coming, fly- ing, Like evening clouds, how beautiful and fair. O ! they are thinner than the empty air. And yet how blessed, when they bend and smile — How the heart flows away in rapture, while, Dear fond illusions, they are lingering there. SONNETS. 59 They have a touch and voice. — That bosom, swell- ino^ With a young world of joys, how softly heaves : It lifts its gauzy veil, like feathery leaves Waved lightly over Yemen's palmy dwelling ; A higher bliss than even hope believes. To the fixed eye of slumbering fondness telling. V. Shadows of hoary forests, solemn haunts Of wild unearthly glooms — ! I would be A dweller in your darkness, and to me There I would find all that the spirit pants To reach of boundless thoughts. — Ye are the fane To mightiest musings sacred — to the sweep Of visions dim but high, emotions deep, Such as in breathless rest till then had lain. Then go they forth, and from the flowery vale Of life's too joyous spring, among the storms Launch their unfettered wings, till giant forms. Born of the tempest, round them fold a veil Of awe and lifting wonder. — Such the flight Of the waked spirit, when the world is night. 60 SONNETS. VI. My soul goes often wandering to your glooms, And rests beneath your shadow — often dwells My spirit in your silence — often tells Over your opening glades their mingled blooms. How, like a vein of silver, steals along The mountain brook 'mid ferns and brakes and flowers ; And how, when all is still in calmer hours, Comes floating o'er the hills some artless song. Low lies yon narrow vale, and there it strays, The truant stream, to either wooded steep, As if to kiss its mossy foot, and plays Now over pebbly shallows, and now deep Rests in a sheeted pool, while opening through The wide plain melts in soft and shadowy blue. VII. Am I not all alone ? — The world is still In passionless slumber — not a tree but feels The far pervading hush, and softer steals The misty river by. — Yon broad bare hill SONNETS. 61 Looks coldly up to heaven, and all the stars 8eem eyes deep fixed in silence, as if bound Ijy some unearthly spell — no other sound Hut the owTs unfrequent moan. — Their airy cars The winds have stationed on the mountain peaks. Am I not all alone ? — A spirit speaks P'roni the abyss of night, "not all alone — Nature is round thee with her banded powers, And ancient genius haunts thee in these hours — Mind and its kingdom now are all thy own." VIII. Deep sunk in thought, he sat beside the river — Its wave in liquid lapses glided by, Nor watched, in crystal depth, his vacant eye The willow's high o'er-arching foliage quiver. From dream to shadowy dream retm*ning ever, He sat, like statue, on the grassy verge ; His thoughts, a phantom train, in airy surge Streamed visionary onward, pausing never. As autumn wind, in mountain forest weaving Its wondrous tapestry of leaf and bower, O'ermastering the night's resplendent flower, With tints, like hues of heaven, the eye deceiving- 6* 62 SONNETS. So, lost in labyrinthine maze, he wove A wreath of flowers ; the golden thread was love. IX. Whence ? Whither ? Where ? — A taper point of light, My life and world — the infinite around ; A sea, not even highest thought can sound ; A formless void ; unchanging, endless night. In vain the struggling spirit aims its flight To the empyrean, seen as is a star, Sole glimmering through the hazy night afar — In vain it beats its wings with daring might. What yonder gleams ? — What heavenly shapes arise From out the bodiless waste ? — Behold the dawn, Sent from on high! — Uncounted ages gone. Burst full and glorious on my wondering eyes : Sun-clear the world around, and far away A boundless future sweeps in golden day. THE CONTRAST. To his gallant horse the warrior sprung — They called, l)iit he would not stay ; And the hoof of his hurrying charger rung, As to battle he rushed away. She stood aloft on the warder's tower, And she followed him over the plain, And she watched through many a silent hour, But she heard not his tramp again. They came, when the morning was cold and pale. With a warrior on his bier, And his banner, rent like a tattered sail, Showed he died not the death of fear. They brought him in pride and sorrow back To the home he had left so gay. When he gallantly flew on glory's track. And to battle rushed away. BALLAD. " Whither away, in thy swift-winged bark. Over the waters bkie ?" " The way is long, and the night is dark, And before the song of the matin lark My voyage must be through. On Clutha's rock a castle tall Frowns over the waters blue. My lord, within that castle tall, In deadly peril holds his all ; And my life to my lord is due. I have twenty stout and stalwart men, As ever tugged at yew. You may search the land, nor find again Twenty such stout and stalwart men, Nor twenty hearts so true. ]J A L LAD. 65 And every ni;\n, by his trusty side, Has a falchion keen and new : And with blades so keen and hearts so tried, Their way to their lord they would soon divide A host of leaguers tlirough. And hosts of leaguers throng around My lord and his vassals few ; And where shall his valiant liege be found, Who would not stand his inch of ground. To his lord and his honour true ? Many long months they have stood at bay. With sword and spear and yew ; And the few the leaguers could not slay, Famine and toil have thinned away — But firm that noble few. To lend our lives to a lord so brave, We skim the waters blue ; And we would hurry us over the wave. That noble few to reach and save, Though a raging whirlwind blew. The wave curls high, and its top is white As the plume of the wild sea-mew ; 66 BALLAD. And the bark cuts swift as an arrow's flight, And its way is like the track of light, Where the falling meteor flew. Though dark the night, and the wind blow strong As ever tempest blew. To Clutha's rock we scud along. And cheer our way with tale and song Of the fearless heart and true. Then away, away, in my swift-winged bark, Over the waters blue — The way is long, and the night is dark, And before the song of the matin lark My voyage must be through." SONGS. I. ! GUADALAXARA, Thy beautiful river Is rolling on ever Its waters so clear. ! Guadalaxara, Thy evergreens, bending Their wide boughs, are lending A shadow, how dear. ! Guadalaxara, Thy current is flowing, Like gales softly blowing, Or flutes breathing near. The town of Pesara Stands brightly beside thee, And gay galleys ride thee, ! Guadalaxara. 68 SON G s II. Murmuring river, Falling ever, And silent never. Thou hurriest by. Now softly flowing, And brightly glowing, And clearly showing. Thy waters lie. Through meadows bending, Sweet flowers are sending Their breath, and lending Th^ wave perfume. The myrtle covers Thy banks, and lovers, As evening hovers, Are in its gloom. And lilies, swelling With dew, and smelling Of morn, are telling Their leaves below. No fairest flower, In bush or bower. So takes the shower, And scents it so. S N Cx S . 09 Dark eyes are flashing, And fair hands dashing Thy foam, and plashing The bubbles fly. So, murmuring river, Falling ever. And silent never, Thou hurriest by. III. Music and dances, Smiles and bright glances, Love's happy chances, All are at play. Youths with gay sashes, Girls with calashes. Quick as light flashes, Foot it away. Viols are tinkling, Light feet are twinkling, Snowy veils crinkling, Round as they go. 7 70 Soft voices prattle, Castanets rattle, Love's mimic battle Mingles tliem so. Now the dance closes- Baskets of roses, Woven in posies, Gaily they twine. Goblets are clashing, Amber lights flashing, Young lovers dashing Beauty in wine. All now is over — White mantles hover. Each with a lover, Back to the town. None of them misses Sweetest of blisses. Dewy wet kisses — That is love's crown. GREEK APPEAL TO AMERICA, 1827. Rouse ye at a nation's call — Rouse, and rescue, one and all — Help, or liberty shall fall. Fall in blood and shame ! Shame to him who coldly draws Backward from the noblest cause- Not to him who fights and fa's — Ilis a glorious name. Sons of more than mortal sires. We have lit again their fires, Or to be our funeral pyres. Or our sun of fame. Hear ye not the widow's cry ? *' Help us, or we faint and die — See ! the murderous foe is nigh — Hark, the wasting flame ! 72 GREEK APPEAL TO AMERICA Whither shall we fly for aid ? Where is now the warrior's blade ? Low the mighty heart is laid, Death alone could tame. To the mountain, to the cave, Let us go and weep the brave — Better die than live a slave — Better death than shame !" No — forbid it, chosen land ! Open wide thy helping hand — Pour thy corn and wine, like sand — What is wealth to fame ! Quick, before the flame expire — Feed — ! feed the holy fire — Feed, and it shall kindle higher — Win a generous name ! OUR FLAG. Lift, lift the eagle banner high, Our guide to fame — On ocean's breezes bid it fly, Like meteors wafting through the sky Their pomp of flame, Till wide on every sea unfurled, It tell to an admiring world Our name. O ! proudly burns its beacon light On victory's path — Thro' freedom's dawn, thro' danger's night, Onward, still onward, rolling, bright, It swept in wrath — Still lightning-like, to him who dares Confront the terror of our stars, Its scath. 7* 74 OURFLAG. Still heavenward mounts the generous flame, And never tires — Does Envy dare insult our name, Or lurking Falsehood brand with shame Our buried sires ? The armed Colossus thunders by, Wide Avave our stripes — the dastard lie Expires. SPRING. Low breathed the western wind at close of day ; The bloomy shrubs were bent with heavy show- ers ; The clouds had hardly rolled their wreaths away ; They darkly hung, where high the mountain towers ; Through flowery vale, the dashing stream Leaped sparkingly, in many a fall ; And evening's rosy beam Tinted the forest tall. The loving birds were emulous in song ; The cattle lowed ; on slope of sunny hill Sported the lambs, and wildly raced along The turf that bore its beaded treasures still ; And as they swept, a shower of light Flew round, like gems that deck the snow. When morning glances bright On hill and valley flow. 76 SPRING. And gleaming o'er a wood-embowered lake, Floated 'mid dreamy haze the golden ray ; The rippling wave, in many a yellow flake. Curled round the dewy rock, and slid away : In rustic boat, his dipping oars Attuned to song the peasant boy — Gliding by happy shores. He felt the season's joy. By willowy isle, with silvery catkins bowed, He skimmed the sheeted gold, and on my ear Echoed his song, now sweetly low, now loud As when the patriot ode is swelling near. From rock to rock the music rung ; By wooded hill it died along : Light was the heart that sung That wild and woodland song. " The buds are now unfolding, And gaily swings the vine ; In woods the birds are holding Their merry valentine ; On hill, in meadow waking, Peep out the blue-eyed flowers ; And forest leaves are making A shade for summer hours : And why should not my heart be gay, When all the world is now at play ? S P R I x\ G . 77 And every heart is beating, Is beating full with love ; Advancing, now retreating. How gently woos the dove ! On topmost bough high swinging — Ah ! there is none so gay, So clear his voice is ringing, As merry thrush to-day : And I will merrily sing my song. As o'er the lake I skim along." YOUTH RECALLED. In deepest shade, by fountain sparkling clear, High o'er me, darkly heaved, the forest dome, Sweet tones, long silent, melt upon my ear — They soothe my spirit, like the voice of home ; And blended with them, floats a beam of light, Radiant, but gentle, through the shadowy night. My heart, that sunk in dim oblivious dream, Wakes at the tones, and feels its life again ; My downcast eye uprises to the beam ; Softly untwines my bosom's heavy chain : A stream of melody around me flows ; Anew the smothered fire of feeling glows. Y O U T H R E C A L L E D . 79 The chnrni, lon^- lost, is found, and gushing pours, From fancy's heaven, its beauty, as a shower ; The mystic deep casts up its wondrous stores ; Mind stands in panoply of fullest power. Heaving wiili wakened purpose, swells the soul: Its harritM-s I'all ; its gathered treasures roll. Light covers all around — light from on high. Soft as the last retiring tint of even. Full as the glow that fills the morning sky, Pure as the midmost blue of cloudless heaven : Like pillared bronze the lofty trunks aspire, And every leaf above is tipt with fire. And round me still the magic music flows ; A thousand different tones dissolve in one : Softer than ever gale of evening blows. They blend in harmony's enchanted zone. With pictured web and golden fringe they bind. For higher flight, the renovated mind. I feel it round me twine — the band of power ; Youth beats in every vein — life bursts in bloom : All seems as when, at twilight's blissful hour. Breathed from the flowery grove the gale's per- fume ; The laugh, the shout, the dance — and then the strain Of tenderest love dissolved the heart again. 80 YOUTH RECALLED. Ye greet me fair, ye years of hope and joy, Ye days of trembling fears and ardent loves, The reeling madness of the impassioned boy — Through wizard wilds again my spirit roves, And beauty, veiled in fancy's heavenly hue. Smiles and recedes before my longing view. The light has fled ; the tones, that won my heart Back to its early heaven, again are still : A deeper darkness broods — with sudden start Repelled, my life relapses from its thrill : Heavier the shades descend, and on my ear Only the bubbling fountain murmurs near. A VISION. "Whexce dost thou come to me, Sweetest of visions, Filling my slumbers with holiest joy ?" " Kindly I bring to thee Feelings of childhood. That in thy dreams, thou be happy awhile." "Why dost thou steal from me Ever as slumber Flies, and reality chills me again?" " Life thou must struggle through : Strive — and in slumber Sweetly again I will steal to thy soul." 8 THE POET'S WORLD. Bright World ! too beautiful for human eye, Creation of poetic thought, in vain I seek thee here. Thou bendest far away Thy airy orbit. Thine are other suns, And other stars — a brightness all thy own, A day self-lighted, and thy magic night Is but a veil o'er day. I seek thee here, When morning lights the east, and tips with gems Deep set in waving gold, high mountain peak, Then tower and tree, and over field and grove Pours out a flood of pearls, and sheets the sea With liquid flame — I seek thee, when at noon, High on his throne, the visible lord of light Rides in his fullest blaze, and dashes wide Thick flashes from his wheels — I seek thee, too, When twilight shades the meadow, and the hills Alone are lighted — when the sky above THE poet's WORLD. 83 Sinilos with a lading beauty, and below Uncertain floats the plain — nor less when night, Clad in her sable robe, sits silently Above the slumbering earth, and through the vast Innncasurable darkness, shadowy forms Unbidden come and go — I seek thee here, And yet I find thee not. In all its change Of time and season— all its shifting scenes Of sun and storm — of life new bursting forth In blossomy spring, vigorous in manly pride, Or ripe for harvest— all of high and bright, Deep and obscure— the clear expanded arch Broad sweeping o'er us, or with pictured wreaths Hung festively at dawn, or heaving forth Black billowy mountains, like a chain of Alps Uplifted into heaven — wide forest glooms Far stretching into night, and yawning caves Where the void infinite opens — still retreats Low under sheltering woods, and shady banks Hollowed in coves, where fountains welling out Freshen the turf and flowers— in all its change Earth holds thee not. Thine is a fuller growth Of beauty— thine the genial life that springs From the o'er-teeming mind, and heightens all That even here seems glorious. Man, who walks In dignity and grace — heroic pride, Or yielding loveliness — earth's angel erst, 84 thepoet'sworld. Radiant and pure — now sad and dimly fair, Even when brightest — Man is but the shade Of thy Humanity — such heavenly forms, As float amid the stars, and dwell enthroned In light unstained. Thou risest to the eye Of solitary thought, as from the depths Of mountain valleys, when the level ray First paints the aerial rose, uprolling clouds Swell into towering peaks, and glitter bright With all the glow of dawn — intenser far In brightness — more magnificent and vast In thy extension, and thy several hues And shapes, purer and fairer. Mind in thee Reveals its heavenly spring — in thee it tells Its god-like birth — not from the trivial play Of blended atoms, but a spiritual flame Warming and kindling into higher life Our perishable frames, here poor and weak, The creatures of decay, obscuring oft Its living beams, and even in dim eclipse Quenching its orb — and yet the eye within Still gazes on thee, through the gathered mist Of evil passions, sees thee rolling free In thy unclouded track, and at the sight Hope springs and hurries to thee. MINNESONG. In dcm walde siize done Singent kleiniu vogellin ; An der heide blumen schone Blujent gein des Meien schin. — Liehtenstein. In the wood the little birdis Warble sweet their roundelay ; On the heath the pretty flouris Blossom in the sheen of May. May has come — the woods are ringing ; Clearer sounds the hunter's horn ; Birds in every brake are singing ; Yellow green the springing corn. May has come — in field and meadow Starry bloom the virgin flowers ; Broad the maple flings its shadow ; Snowy wliite the elder bowers. 8* 86 MINNESONG. Green the slope of yonder mountain, Mellowed to a golden glow ; Under feathery birch, the fountain Sparkles in its gurgling flow. Orchards redden — crimson blushes Tremble o'er the apple boughs ; There her young the robin hushes, Still beside her trilling spouse. Joy, on glittering pinions driven, Gaily flits around, above ; Glancing kindles earth and heaven — All is life, and light, and love. Ir wangen wurden rot, Sam diu rose, da si bi den lilien stat. — Vogelweide. Her cheeks grew red as the rose, That by the lily blows. "Take this garland for thy golden hair" — So I spake unto a maiden fair, Maid with eyes of love, like heaven's own blue, Thinnest veil of cloud soft shining through — "Take this garland — 'tis of earliest bloom, Newly plucked, and filled with fresh perfume. MINNESONG. 87 Had I jewel rare, and precious stone, Gems of Ind, O ! they were thine alone ; Costliest gift for thee were all too poor — Take this garland — I can give no more. Fairer flowers than these indeed I know ; On the lonely heath afar they blow : There the violet peeps beside the spring, Coyly peeps, as loving linnets sing- Go with me, and we will gather there Fairer, sweeter flowers to wreath th^ 'lair." Bashfully the maid the garland took ; Like rewarded child, she blushed and shook : Clearest red her cheek, as when the rose, Dewy shene, behind the lily blows. Low she bowed, and love-looks sparkled clear, Under silken lashes, through a tear : That was my reward — O ! there was one, Holier far, my lips shall breathe to none. III. Vor dem walde, in einem tal, Schone sank diu nahtegal. — Vogelweide. 'Fore the wood, and in a dale, Lovely sang the nightingale. Under the willow, in a meadow, Where the brook was running clear, There was my pillow, dark in shadow. Blossom and verdure springing near. 88 MINNESONG. 'Fore the wood, and in a dale, Lovely sang the nightingale. Silent reclining the willow under, Just as evening faded away, Sweetly shining, a heavenly wonder Bent above me, as there I lay : Light her form ; her face wis pale — Lovely sang the nightingal' Nymph of fountain, in dewy brightness Rising from wave in vest of green ; Dryad of mountain, with airy lightness Flitting around the huntress queen — All to that heavenly form must vail, Smiling as sang the nightingale. Then she addressed me — "0 1 why dost linger Here in a world that chains thy will ?" Softly she pressed me with snowy finger — Pulse and beating heart were still. Lovely sang, in the lonely dale, Fainter and fainter, the nightingale. THE KNIGHT. Was er trug von eysen an Das wore wiser als ein Swan Sein WafFenrock gab lichten schin. Di clare siisse reine Di werde ussekorne Di edelhochgeborne Eyn vil hercelibes wip. — Rudolff. What he had of iron on, That was whiter than a swan ; Light and bright his armour shone. The bright sweet pure, The worthy chosen, The nobly high-born, A wife to heart most dear. Who yonder rides through wind and rain, With plumed hehn, and shield, and spear? How fleet he dashes o'er the plain — The distant shelter soon is near. With bearing bold he scours along ; He bends with practised hand the rein : From clash of arms and battle throng, To wife and home he turns again. 90 THE KNIGHT. He, who so proudly speeds afar, Is the famed champion, Adhemar. On gallant steed, in armour bright, To serve his king he rode to war : Erect he moved in burnished light ; 'Mid crowds his helmet shone, a star. He couched his lance ; he burst away; His gallop thundered o'er the field : In dust the bleeding foeman lay ; Unhurt by splintered lance his shield. He drew his flashing blade — and wide Rolled startled back the warrior tide. The victory won, with glory crowned, To wife and home, as country, true, As praise and blessing echoed round, Back to that wife and home he flew. Loud bursts the storm ; the river swells ; He dashes through the roaring wave : Nor field nor flood his spirit quells ; Life has no terrors for the brave : — And now across that sweep of plain, See, see ! the gallant champion strain. She gazes from the highest tower — The night is dark ; the wind is chill THE KNIGHT. 91 Throii<;h niidiiiglu's wildest, dreariest hour, With sleepless eye she gazes still. The bright, the pure, the chosen one, Of noblest dames the fairest star, In worth, in loveliness, alone, Through night and storm, sat watching there. Hark, yonder horn ! He comes ! — she springs^, And flies, as if her feet were wings. She draws the bolt; the ponderous gate- Rolls back, as from a giant's hand : Quick falls the bridge — she cannot wait ; Love draws her forth with maoic band. o Tramp ! tramp \ — her Adhemar is near, And now she sees his armour bright — His eager welcome meets her ear ; He comes — he springs — she clasps her knight. What cares he for the wind or rain 1 He holds his Ylia again. LIFE'S DREAM. Ach! diirften wir mit Triiumen nicht Die Wirklichkeit verweben, Wie arm an Farbe, Glanz und Licht Warst dann du Mensohenleben ? — A. W. Schlegel, Ah ! could we not entwine Reality with dreams, How poor in colour, glow and light, Wert thou then, Human Life ? Wer triige Lebenslast und seine Leere, Wenn nicht der kurze Traum der Liebe ware ? — Meyer. Who would bear the burthen and emptiness of life, if the short dream of love were not ? Des Lebens Traum verschwindet, Mit ihm des Lebens Gliick. — Ernst B*sch*. Life's dream disappears — with it, life's bliss. Light and bright the vision plays, Like the evening's fitful blaze Over meadow careering along — Fairy phantoms hover ; blossoms strow Thick the verdure, as with snow; Breathes the elfin's magical song. life's DREAM. 93 Fair the moon in azure floats, Bending o'er the enchanting notes, As if longing to glide from her sphere : White wings faintly quiver ; near and far Glow-worm twinkles back to star, Lighting a softer galaxy here. Sweet by sparkling fountain sings, Sweet and clear, as tone that rings Pure from Harmony's crystalline throne — Sweetly sings a spirit ; still the air Drinks the song — its pulses bear Far through the night the heavenly tone. Peering quick from shadowy glades, Glancing back to deeper shades, Forms too bright and beautiful play : Gentle voices whisper ; snowy doves Circle forth, as sent by loves — Wheel then on fanning pinions away. Quick steps hurry to my side ; Round my heart soft touches glide. Wreathing fetters of lily and rose. — Viewless forms embrace me ; whispers say, " Press the joys — not long they stay : Comes like a stream the pleasure, and flows." 9 94 life'sdream. Sweetly dim the trance of love : As through veil of roses wove, Steals its purple light to the soul. Break the magic slumber — cold and bare, Waste and dark, life meets us there : Break the dream — thou hast withered the whole ! THE HEXLI. (LITTLE WITCH.) I lauf no alii Dorfer us, i such and frog vo Hus zu Hus, und wiird mer nit mi Hexli chnnd, se wUrdi ebe niiname g'sund. — Hebel. I run through all the villages, I seek and ask from house to house, And if I do not find my Hexli, Then I shall never be well. I WHITTLED at a Stick one day — 'Twas just to pass the time away : A little girl came tripping by, With rosy look and witching eye. With artless smile and simple gi-ace, She looked me sweetly in my face, And said, "That knife is sharp, I ween- Another thing will cut as keen." 96 THEHEXLI. And then she laughed, and said, "Good-day," And like a dream had flown away ; The voice, the look was with me still, When all at once I felt me ill. I could not work, I could not play ; I saw and heard her all the day — That witching eye was sharp, I ween ; ! that was what would cut so keen. 1 saw and heard her day and night — Her voice so soft, her eye so bright : When others lay in slumber sweet, I heard the clock each hour repeat. I could not stay and linger so : Like one entranced, away I go ; Through field and forest, far and wide, I seek if there the witch doth hide. By bush and brake, by rock and hill, Where'er I go, I see her still : The little girl, with witching eye, Is ever, ever tripping by. Through tov/n and village, too, I stray ; At every house I call and say, T II E H E X L 1 . 97 "O ! can you tell me where to find The little girl that witched my mind ?" I've sought her many a weary mile ; Methought I saw her all the while : Ah ! if I can't the witch obtain, I never shall be well again. THE MAIDEN. Ein schlichtes Madchen nur, Einfach und trea dem angebohmen Stande, War seine Welt diess Thai. — Schink. Only a modest maiden, Simple, and faithful to her native manners, Was all her world this vale. Solch einen Geist, in einem solchen Blicke, Zeigt nur dein Liicheln uns. — Von Fkiedelberg. Such a soul, in such a look, Thy smile alone reveals us. Through a valley flows a gentle river, Gently flows, with waters deep and clear In a flowery meadow, spreading near, Silken leaves of slender poplars quiver. There a quiet maiden singeth ever Simple melodies of truth and love : Pure and artless as the snowy dove, Evil thought hath stained her bosom never. T H E M A I D E N . 99 Lovely, too, as rose but half unfolded ; Modest as that rose, when bent with dew : Blue her eye, as heaven's own softest hue ; Lip as fresh as living ruby moulded. Smiles she hath that tell of sunny feeling — Only smiles like hers such feeling tell : Touch the chord of grief, and at the spell, Tears of love and innocence are stealing. Home and parent, kindred, friend and lover, All embraced within this lonely vale — All beyond is to her but a tale : This her world, and heaven just arches over. THE POWER OF SONG. Sangen innehar all lifvets lycka. — Hedbokn. The bliss of life is all in song. Zatichli vieterki, zpmolkli pticzek chory, I prilegli staaa. — Krilov. Still became the winds, silent the choirs of birds, and side by side the flocks reclined. Og dets betydningsrige toner svaeved' Melodisk giennem Seclets storme hen. Men ak ! — som ^olsharpens harmonier, Tidt overdovede af hule vindstod, Dog aldrig qvalte. — Pram. And away its full meaning tones floated melodiously through the storms of time, but ah ! like the harmonies of the ^olian harp, often drowned by the hollow blast, yet never stifled. In the temple stands the golden lyre, Near the presence of the genial power ; Round it plays an orb of holiest fire — So it stands, and waits the inspiring hour. Rolls the sun unto his highest throne ; Broad he fills the temple's vaulted shade : Touched by hands unseen, in solemn tone, Rings the harp — the winds are laid. THE POWER OF SONG. 101 Slow and full ihcy swell — the mystic chords ; Stillness, more than awful, fills the air : Mingled with the tones, sublimest words High the listening soul, in glory, bear. Light is all around him ; light and love, As on wings, aloft the listener raise : Ever wider heaves the arch above ; Fairer beauty round him plays. Now they swell — the tones, and swells the breast, Kindled with the bliss of great design : Faint the music whispers ; hushed to rest. Couched on flowers, the passions all recline : Clear the harp resounds ; the spirit's eye Keenest glance through nature's wonders throws : Tenderer touches glide, and silently Blest the tear of feeling flows. How hushed the winds ! how calm the air ! The leaf is still on bush and tree ; No blossom shakes, and quietly The herd and flock are resting there. They feel the soothing power of song ; A stream of love, it flows along — The winds are still ; the sky is fair. 102 THEPOWEROFSONG. By magic shores the vessel glides ; Entranced by song, the waves are laid : Visions of home, forgotten, fade ; In peace the storni-beat wanderer rides. Smooth sleeps the sea ; serenest day Smiles o'er the ocean far away: The power of song has hushed the tides. Pale in the west the glow decays, That late arose in golden fire ; Waked by the touch of soft desire, Through twilight shades the music plays. In darkened vale its pulses thrill ; Peace broods above the glimmering hill ; His flight the fleeting moment stays. It comes — the storm, so long repelled, In wilder rage again ; Like wintry stream, by barrier swelled, Loud bursts it o'er the plain : With gathered might it sweeps along ; Like thunder, peals its roar : The iEolian melodies of song Are lost, amid the wildering throng ; The lyre is heard no more. THE POWER OF SONG. 103 A moment's pause the tempest feels, And soft the heavenly tone, As evening liynin from cottage steals, Breathes sweetly faint and lone. Uncertain, as if thrilled with fear, It melts and dies away : I turn, and wait with longing ear, And low and dim it rises near^ Quick falls — it can not stay. Serene and calm the world of song, Above the cloud and gale : There flows a sheeted stream along, Through many a silent vale : There ever blue the sunny sky; Spring-warm the wooing air : White filmy wreaths of beauty lie, Alone, in holiest rest, on high — Love dwells forever there. LAYS, Mellow fades the glow of even ; Cool the shadow round the spring : Clouds, by Autumn breezes driven, Stream along the amber heaven, Bright and clear as spirit's wing. From the holy shrine of feeling, Kindled by departing day, Blessed visions flit away — Through the pictured forest stealing, Round the magic mountain play. Melting with the blue afar, Lightly tipped with golden flame, Flashing like the regal star, Sky-o'ercrowned, ascends the bar, Bent around the course of fame. LAYS. 105 Far it sweeps in dazzling light; Firc-Avinged coursers urge the wheel ; Echoes wide the ringing steel — Who can tell the full delight, Tell the joy the champions feel ? Soft its dreamy shade diffusing, Twilight streams athwart the grove, Fills the soul with silent musing. Till in devious trances losing All its thoughts, it sinks in love. Soft and still as moonlit ocean. Silver-mirrored deep and clear, Hidden music pulsing near. Glides it, with unconscious motion, Far away to holier sphere. Startled by the instant flash. Breaks the flower-enwoven dream — Thunder rends with deadening crash ; Winds the mingling branches lash; Bursts the storm, like wintry stream. Where is now the musing soul ? Nerved to meet the raging war, Stern it mounts its iron car : Swift the crushing chariots roll — Fierce his steeds the warrior bear. 10 106 LAYS. Far away the pausing thunder Echoes from remotest hill ; Faint the rain-drop patters under Loaded leaves that bend asunder, As with trickling streams they fill. So the still small voice of feeling, 'Mid the din of inward strife, To the heart with passion rife, Mild as zephyr whispers healing, Breathes, and wakes the soul to life, II. Hark ! the song Floats along, Clearly swelling, softly dying, Soft as wind in roses sighing. O'er the plain Sweeps again Sudden burst of hope and gladness- Trembles then the trill of sadness. Rock and hill Give it still, Bright and clear, the sweet emotion- Deep and full, the heart's devotion. LAYS. 107 Shadows fall — Voices call Fondly home the truant, straying Down the brook in eddies playing. Daylight flies — Amber skies, O'er the shadowy mountain glowing. Darken ; yet the song is flowing. in. Through the wood, in evening's shadow, straying; O'er me arched the boughs, in silent gloom ; Deep in dreamy vision, long delaying — Fades to night the day's departing bloom. Fades the skiey rose, that over mountain Blossomed wide and full in fields of air — Bloomed in heaven aloft, and low in fountain Shone in softer tints, as pure and fair. Darkness veils me round, and voices, gliding Through the murmuring foliage, seem to say : " Pause, and listen to the spirit's chiding — Haste, ! haste to brighter worlds away. 108 LAYS. ^lark the last soft tint of day, receding O'er the top of yonder solemn pine ! So departs the lingering spirit, leading To yon purer day's eternal shine. There await thee all thy heart has cherished- There the early loved, the hoped and gone Not a treasure of thy heart has perished — All to yonder world of rest haA^e flown." IV. Speed thee far — Fancy lends thee her car — Over ocean away Speed to holier day. Ocean's swell Bears on its bosom the shell — Love shall open the sail Full to the favoring gale. Wing of might, Sent from the fountain of light, High on billows of air Thee, in triumph, shall bear. LAYS. 109 Youth shall bring Wine from perennial spring — Over the gol)let shall shine Halo of glory divine. Round the throne, Beauty shall loosen her zone — Melting in kindling shower, Spirit shall till thee with power. V. O ! THAT I lay on yonder mountain, So blue and fair — In shade of rock, by gushing fountain, Aloft in air. The cloud and storm might swell below me. The thunder roll — Yet waves of light should overflow me, And warm my soul ; And peace, unbroken peace, forever Around me play ; And thought, serene and calm, be never Compelled away ; 10* 110 And blush of dawn, and rose of even, My heart should fill Oft with the loveliness of heaven, So bright and still. ! had I but the eagle's pinion, Thither I'd soar. And there possess my sole dominion. Till life be o'er. VI. They call me — they call me, from meadow and grove ; They sing to me sweetly of hope and of love ; And dove-like and peacefully, over My pillow, they hover. And they say to me kindly : " O ! hasten away — No longer in dreamy oblivion stay — Young life with its bloom is before thee, And heaven is o'er thee. O'er valley and mountain, in beauty and light, The world stretches onward, so dewy and bright — The roses are budding beside thee — What joy shall betide thee ! LAYS. Ill The day has awakened, so fresh and so fair ; The clouds (loat aloft in the warm summer air ; All nature is swelling with gladness — O ! sink, not in sadness." I hear ye — I hear ye — I will not delay, But up, and o'er valley and mountain away — Through life, like a bird, I will hie me — Hope never shall fly me. VII. "O ! REST thee here in silent bower — The noon-shut folds its yellow flower — The air shines quivering o'er the hill, And all around is hushed and still. On mossy pillow lay thee here — A spring, so cool, is bubbling near — ! lay thee down— a draught I '11 bring. So clear and sparkling, from that spring. Ah ! thou a long and weary way Hast travelled through the sultry day — Close soft thy eyes, and I will keep Watch o'er thee in thy gentle sleep. 112 My heart is rich — my hand is free, However poor and low I be : I have but little in my store — I give thee all — what could I more ?" " Thy cup I drink, and now I close My weary eyes in sweet repose. Thy heart is rich — thy hand is free ! A princess, thou shalt go with me." VIII, The song is still, that over heath and mountain. When closed the day. Thro' glimmering wood, by sky-empurpled fountain, Stole soft away — In shady vale, by stream through roses playing, On golden hill. Breathed faint and low, as tenderly delaying — The song is still. The song is still, that clear in morning hovered O'er field and grove. When billowy mist the winding valley covered. Rocks glowed above — LA y s. 113 When bleat and bark, from bushy lawn repeated, Rose round the hill — The joyous song, that light and buoyant fleeted — The song is still. O ! wake the song — its notes remembered waken My love of home : Spite of my firmer will, my heart is shaken By thoughts that come. Thoughts of my early days — in frolic measure They glide along : The song of youth, to notes of love and pleasure — ! wake the song. IX. Night is on the hill — Hushed the clattering mill; Deeper shadows fall — Only mothers call. Careless as they roam, Laughing 3-oungsters home. Now the evening star. Over mountain far. Mild in beauty beaming. On the fountain streamin