So sigh'd the Maid, the linden near,
Beneath the lonely sky;
Oh, lonely not!—for angels hear
The humblest human sigh!
III.
His ships are vanish'd from the main,
His banners from the keep;
The carnage triumphs on the plain;
The tempest on the deep.
"The purple and the crown are mine"—
An Outlaw sigh'd—"no more;
But still as greenly grows the vine
Around the cottage door!
"Rest for the weary pilgrim, Maid,
And water from the spring!"
Before the humble cottage pray'd
The Man that was a King.
Oh, was the threshold that he cross'd
The gate to fairy ground?
He would not for the kingdom lost,
Have changed the kingdom found!
Divine interpreter thou art, O Song!
To thee all secrets of all hearts belong!
How had the lay, as in a mirror, glass'd
The sullen present and the joyless past,
Lock'd in the cloister of that lonely soul!—
Ere the song ceased, to Lucy's side he stole,
And, with the closing cadence, mournfully
Lifted his doubtful gaze:—so eye met eye.
If thou hast loved, re-ope the magic book;
Say, do its annals date not from a look?
In which two hearts, unguess'd perchance before,
Rush'd each to each, and were as two no more;
While all thy being—by some Power, above
Its will constrain'd—sigh'd, trembling, "This is Love."
A look! and lo! they knew themselves alone!
Calantha's place was void—the witness gone;
They had not mark'd her sad step glide away,
When in sweet silence sank, less sweet, the lay;
For unto both abruptly came the hour
When springs the rose-fence round the fairy bower;
When earth shut out, all life transferr'd to one,
Each other life seems cloud before the sun;
It comes, it goes, we know if it depart
But by the warmer light and quicken'd heart.
And what then chanced? O, leave not told, but guess'd;
Is Love a god?—a temple, then, the breast!
Not to the crowd in cold detail allow
Its delicate worship, its mysterious vow!
Around the first sweet homage in the shrine
Let the veil fall, and but the Pure divine!
Coy as the violet shrinking from the sun,
The blush of Virgin Youth first woo'd and won;
And scarce less holy from the vulgar ear
The tone that trembles but with noble fear:
Near to God's throne the solemn stars that move
The proud to meekness, and the pure to love!