Elias.
IV.
O thou that rodest up the skies,
Thy task fulfilled, on steeds of fire,—
That somewhere, sealed from mortal eyes,
Some air immortal dost respire!
Thou that in heavenly beams enshrined,
In quiet lulled of soul and flesh,
With one great thought of God thy mind
Dost everlastingly refresh!
Where art thou? age succeeds to age;
Thou dost not hear their fret and jar:
With thy celestial hermitage
Successive winters wage not war.
Still as a corse with field-flowers strewn
Thou liest; on God thine eyes are bent:
And the fire-breathing stars alone
Look in upon thy cloudy tent.
Behold, there is a debt to pay!
Like Enoch, hid thou art on high:
But both shall back return one day,
To gaze once more on earth, and die.
V.
Stronger and steadier every hour
The pulses of the season's glee,
As toward her zenith climbs that Power
Which rules the purple revelry.
Trees, that from winter's grey eclipse
Of late but pushed their topmost plume,
Or felt with green-touched finger-tips
For spring, their perfect robes assume.
Like one that reads, not one that spells,
The unvarying rivulet onward runs:
And bird to bird, from leafier cells,
Sends forth more leisurely response.
Through the gorse covert bounds the deer:—
The gorse, whose latest splendours won
Make all the fulgent wolds appear
Bright as the pastures of the sun.
A balmier zephyr curls the wave;
More purple flames o'er ocean dance;
And the white breaker by the cave
Falls with more cadenced resonance;
While, vague no more, the mountains stand
With quivering line or hazy hue;
But drawn with finer, firmer hand,
And settling into deeper blue.