II.
Spirits, that walk and wail to-night,
I feel, I feel that ye are near;
There is a mist upon my sight,
There is a murmur in mine ear,
And a dark, dark dread
Of the lonely dead
Creeps through the whispering atmosphere!
Ye hover o’er the hoary trees,
And the old oaks stand bereft and bare;
Ye hover o’er the moonlight seas,
And the tall masts rot in the poisoned air;
Ye gaze on the gate
Of earthly state,
And the ban dog shivers in silence there.
Come hither to me upon your cloud,
And tell me of your bliss or pain,
And let me see your shadowy shroud,
And colourless lip, and bloodless vein;
Where do ye dwell,
In heaven or hell?
And why do ye wander on earth again?
Tell me where and how ye died,
Fell ye in darkness, or fell ye in day,
On lorn hill-side, or roaring tide,
In gorgeous feast, or rushing fray?
By bowl or blow,
From friend or foe,
Hurried your angry souls away?
Mute ye come, and mute ye pass,
Your tale untold, your shrift unshriven;
But ye have blighted the pale grass,
And scared the ghastly stars from heaven;
And guilt hath known
Your voiceless moan,
And felt that the blood is unforgiven!
III.
(FROM CANTO II.)
Oh fly with me! ’tis Passion’s hour;
The world is gone to sleep;
And nothing wakes in brake or bower,
But those who love and weep:
This is the golden time and weather,
When songs and sighs go out together,
And minstrels pledge the rosy wine
To lutes like this, and lips like thine!
Oh fly with me! my courser’s flight
Is like the rushing breeze,
And the kind moon has said “Good night!”
The lover’s voice—the loved one’s ear—
There’s nothing else to speak or hear;
And we will say, as on we glide,
That nothing lives on earth beside!
Oh fly with me! and we will wing
Our white skiff o’er the waves,
And hear the Tritons revelling
Among their coral caves;
The envious Mermaid, when we pass,
Shall cease her song, and drop her glass;
For it will break her very heart,
To see how fair and dear thou art.
Oh fly with me! and we will dwell
Far over the green seas,
Where sadness rings no parting knell
For moments such as these!
Where Italy’s unclouded skies
Look brightly down on brighter eyes,
Or where the wave-wed City smiles,
Enthroned upon her hundred isles.
Oh fly with me! by these sweet strings
Swept o’er by Passion’s fingers,
By all the rocks, and vales, and springs
Where Memory lives and lingers,
By all the tongue can never tell,
By all the heart has told so well,
By all that has been or may be,
And by Love’s self—Oh fly with me!