III.
He is lying in the sunshine with the blithe birds round him singing,
There are flowers beside his pillow, there are flowers beneath his feet,
Summer pours her treasures round him, like a gentle maiden flinging
Fragrant blossoms from her bosom o'er a path to make it sweet.
She is kneeling in the sunshine with the radiant glory o'er her,
And his palm is on her tresses, her's are folded on her breast;
He were very calm and happy, only for the love he bore her,
Which was far too sweet a feeling to resign it e'en for rest.
"Bright May! dear May! draw still nearer, nearer, dear May! till my spirit
Sun itself within your brightness, as the lark doth in the day;
Soon the air will be so lumined that my weakness will not bear it,
So I'll gather new strength from thee to support me on my way.
"There are tears within your eyes, May, let me kiss them from your eyes, May,
They will taste as sweet to me as do the dews upon the rose;
Dear eyes how I love them! they oft tell me of the skies, May,
Tell me secrets of the Blessed more than mortal spirit knows.
"Ah! I knew not in the old time half the sweetness that doth linger
Round the simple things of Nature which the proud heart passes by,
Now I see there's not a wildflower but doth point with warning finger,
To the unobservant passer, truths of immortality.
"Bright May, thou shalt be my beadsman, and thy golden tresses drooping
Round thee shall be all the vesture that my loving soul shall seek;
Thou shalt be a meet confessor for a lowly poet stooping
To breathe forth his secret failings, and read pardon on thy cheek.
"Bright May! I have been a strayer from the narrow path that wanders
Through this world to lead the traveller to a glad eternity,
I have been an erring madman, for the blind heart never ponders
Till the fancied light it follows lead it from felicity.
"I have been most false and perjured, false to all a poet's duty,
Even whilst my heart was boasting proudly of a poet's creed,
I have loudly claimed the title of a worshipper of beauty,
Yet could gaze upon a flower till I thought it but a weed.
"Yes! I dwelt amid the woodlands with bright streamlets singing round me,
Sunny dells, moss-paven alleys, and cool shades to ramble in;
All was happy, all was peaceful, yet e'en there ambition found me,
Charm'd me forth into the rough world to engulph me in its din.
"Yes! I wearied of the woodlands, of the streams and sunny places
Where I lay me in the summer to dream all the noontide o'er,
Like the child of a sweet mother lapt within her fond embraces
Drawing fitness from her beauty to lisp forth in poet's lore.
But the time is drawing nigh; now, when my soul sublimed from folly
Shall see all things in their trueness, with no sun-veil drawn between;
Know that glory is mere weakness and that aim alone is holy
Which, wrought out in life with patience, fits man for a higher scene.
EVENING.
Far away in Western ether
Day and Night at length have met,
Like old friends that come together,
And their eyes with tears are wet.
In the heart, too, joy and sorrow
Meet together without pain,
Loving friends who, on the morrow,
At the dawning, part again.
'Tis the time for sweet contentment,
Thoughts all dedicate to love,
Soften'd down from all resentment,
Chasten'd as the light above.
'Tis the time to breathe a blessing
Forth on all things good and fair,
That make life so sweet, repressing
Like a charm the strokes of care.
Tis the time when those who love us
Rise like stars in Fancy's sky,
Shining steadily above us,
Though afar, in seeming nigh.
Sure our life is but a gloaming
Deep'ning slowly unto Night,
To give rest unto the roaming,
To the sad, dreams of delight.
Should not life, then, be contentment,
Only dedicate to love,
Softened down from all resentment,
Holy as the light above.
LIFE.
Many a bright and pleasant vision
Hath the heart in youth,
Visions that the wizard Fancy
Conjures by sweet Necromancy,
Ever robed in hues Elysian,
From the world of Truth;
Many a bright and pleasant vision
Cheers the heart of youth!
Just as though the curtain parted
From the Life Unseen,
And a portion of its gladness,
Unalloy'd by any sadness,
O'er the ripening spirit darted
Like the morning's sheen,
Making us awhile pure-hearted
And our sky serene.
Many a pleasure from the real
Hath our manly prime,
Though the mystic light is shaded,
And the rosy dreams have faded;
For our strengthen'd spirits see all
Things matured by Time,
Growing out of the ideal
Unto truth sublime;
Blossom unto fruitage golden,
Hope to certainty;
All things by divine transition
Keeping pace with life's ambition,
New joys springing from the olden
As we pass them by
Climbing still, by faith upholden,
Onward to the sky.
Many a pleasant recollection
Hath the heart of Age,
That life's tide hath staunchly breasted,
Wrought, achieved and nobly rested,
Musing with calm retrospection
Their past pilgrimage;
Many a sweet and wise reflection
Hath the heart of Age;
Looking forward, dreaming ever
Of the Better Land;
Waiting for the promised glory,
That shall bind their temples hoary
With a brightness fading never
On that holy strand,
Crowning life's devout Endeavour
With a bounteous hand.
SORROW.
Through the Earth a Spirit goeth
Onward still from morn till night,
Silent as the Time-stream floweth
Out of darkness into light.
And her heart is very tender,
Full of love and kindliness,
Yearning evermore to render
Goodness fuller, error less.
Through the Earth the spirit wendeth,
And full many a little child
With light heart her course attendeth,
By her gentle eyes beguiled;
Turning to her fond embraces,
Playing round her as she goes,
With no shade on their glad faces
Deeper than the budding rose.
A maiden dreaming of her lover
Like a star amid the night,
Felt the spirit bend above her,
In between her and the light;
And she quivered back in terror
From the spirit's offered kiss;
Ah! how often, thus, doth error
Backward fright our souls from bliss!
Then the spirit "Ah! thou dearest,
Wilt thou close thy heart from me?
Through the shadow that thou fearest
Heaven's own light will shine on thee.
"Like the streams that most refresh us
In the desert parch'd and drear,
Sorrow renders love more precious,
Makes the cherish'd one more dear."
On—the spirit circled gently,
Kindly round a Poet's heart,
Gazing through the veil intently
After life's diviner part;
And the poet bent to meet her,
For he said "The truth will be
Made through Sorrow ever sweeter,
Ever clearer unto me.
"We are blinded by the sunlight
From the heaven's unclouded blue,
But through mist we eye the One-light
Till we read it through and through."
To the beautiful the Spirit
Open'd wide her loving breast,
Wooed their souls to nestle near it
And from life's excitement rest,
Whispering, "Sleep on Sorrow's bosom,
Dear ones, and your souls will rise
With fresh sweetness on their blossom,
Richer perfume, brighter dyes."
Most shrunk from her, but some weeping
Yielded to her soft controul;
And whilst on that bosom sleeping
Heaven-dew fell upon each soul.
Young and old fled from her ever
Waving off her proffered grace,
Thwarting each divine endeavour,
Trembling still before her face;
And she said "Ah! ye are blinded,
Seeing not the things that are,
For unto the earnest-minded
Sorrow is life's guiding star;
"Not delusive, not unsparing,
Richer fraught with good than pain,
Unto life sweet blessings bearing
Though she scatter them in rain."
I.
Written at Ulleswater.
The tide is rippling to my very feet,
The mountains are before me, and around,
Stretching in misty grandeur till they meet
In one dim bourne, their hoary summits crown'd
With cloudy chaplets, such as might have bound
The new-born Thunderer when Saturn fell,
All wonder-stricken, from his mighty throne.
The sun is shining upon wooded slopes,
And distant headlands, with faint shadows thrown
Amid its brightness like the shatter'd hopes
Of a young noontide, and its golden light
Crests the upheaving waters till each swell
Is tremulous with glory, and the sight
Pictures strange fancies which no tongue can tell.
II.
There is a spell by which the panting soul
Shakes from its stainless pinions all the gyves
Wherewith our frail mortality still strives
To bind it downward 'neath its stern controul;
When springing from the earth like the sweet lark
That wings its flight in music to the sky,
Amid the spheres it wanders, where the eye
Trembles to blindness, and the last faint spark
Of Earth's far gleaming flickers and expires;
Thine is the charm, dear Poesy, which sets
The cagëd spirit on its heavenward flight,
And fills its being with those pure desires,
And holy aspirations, which like light
Shower on the world in distillations bright.
III.
We wander on through life as pilgrims do
O'er trackless deserts to a distant shrine,
Weary and parch'd, and to our longing view
Springs many a false mirage of joy divine,
That fades before us as we fain pursue
The empty picture which our fancy drew.
O thou, my heart! seek not the empty shows
And gilded nothings of this little Time,
But let thine endless effort be to climb
Above Earth's petty vanities and woes
Unto a nobler range of feelings, joys,
Which no false leaven of decay alloys,
But whose substantial sweetness may increase,
And make thy journey pleasure, and thy slumber peace.
IV.
Sweet spirits of the Beautiful! where'er ye dwell,
Whether upon the misty mountain tops
With mantling crags about ye, or in dell
And sunny valley, by the hazel copse
Wherein the ring-dove nestles, or by streams
That wander amid woodlands, with the sheen
Of noontide trembling through the leafy screen
Down to their mossy banks in fitful gleams,
That murmur with the linnets and at e'en
Sigh with the plaintive nightingale, and oft
Mirror your bright eyes in the sparkling dew,
Circle me ever with your joyous crew,
Bring inspirations to me bland and soft,
And sun my slumbers still with happy dreams.
V.
We are ambitious overmuch in life,
Straining at ends of hard accomplishment,
And goaded onward by poor discontent,
We build our little Babels up through strife,
And bitterness of soul, and motions rife
With passions that oft slay the innocent,
Like Priests of Lust plunging the cruel knife
Into the victims of their wilderment.
Not thus do thou, but with a patient hand
Place thou thine acorn in the fertile soil,
Labouring ever with unhurtful toil,
And cheerful hope until the seed expand,
Grow with the strength of truth, and ripening Time,
And stand at last in majesty sublime.
VI.
Mountains! and huge hills! wrap your mighty forms
Close with mantle of eternal cloud;
Gather around ye the fierce band of storms;
And let the stainless snow-drift be your shroud.
Back from your rugged steeps, and caverns hoar
Bellow in hoarse disdain the tempest's roar;
Laugh at the rolling thunder; let the flash
Of its fierce lightning lumine but your scorn;
Down your deep-furrow'd slopes let torrents dash,
And on the winds their hollow rage be borne.
Ye mighty ones! Why should ye bow your pride,
And doff your venerable crowns, or dress
Your wrinkled brows in smiles, or lay aside
The dread insignias of your mightiness!
VII.
To Ella.
Ofttimes I gaze upon thine eyes, fair child,
Till sense forgets all but the beautiful,
And my entranced and raptured heart is full
Of blissful visions, pure, and bland, and mild
In their o'erstealing, as the rosy sleep
That falls upon an infant, wafting it
In balmy dreams to heaven. Within the deep
The thrilling sea of their blue loveliness,
By sun-reflected gleams of heaven uplit,
My spirit bathes in sweet unconsciousness
Of aught material, and oft doth drink
Of beauty there, whose freshness never dies,
Till, pleasure-lapt, it feels as it could sink
Beneath the waves, and enter paradise.
VIII.
I traverse oft in thought the battle-plain
Of my past life, 'mid many a shatter'd dream
Of pleasure, and of hope, which youth in vain
Based on the shifting sands of Time's swift stream,
Fond bulwarks 'gainst the strong assaults of pain;
And 'mid their ruins, like an exiled man
Gazing on scenes where he can dwell no more,
I stand and mourn their sweet enchantment o'er,
Where both life's pleasures and its cares began.
Earth crumbles 'neath our feet as we walk on,
And leaves a gulf behind none can retrace;
Its pleasures flash a moment and are gone;
But if we treasure in our soul love's grace,
That will refresh and gladden all our race.