Song comes;—and I sing!
Wouldst thou question me more?
Ask the wave or the wing
Why it sparkle or soar!
LYKEGENES.
Full be the soul if swift the inspiration!
The corn-flower opens as the sheaves are rife;
Song is the twin of golden Contemplation
The harvest-flower of life.
The Cloud-compeller's bolt the eagle bears,
But when the wings the strength divine have won,
Full many a flight around the rock prepares
The Aspirer towards the Sun;
Progressive heights to gradual effort given,
Till, all the plumes in light supreme unfurl'd,
It halts;—and knits unto the dome of heaven
This pendant ball—the World.
ANTHIOS.
Hail, O hail, Pierides,
Free Harmonia's zoneless daughters,
Whom abrupt the Mœnad sees
By the marge of moonlit waters,
Weaving joy in choral measure
To no law but your sweet pleasure;
Wanton winds in loosen'd hair
Lifting gold that gilds the air;
Say, beneath what starry skies
Lurk the herbs that purge the eyes?
On what hill-tops should we cull
The moly of the Beautiful?
What the charm the soul to capture
In the cestus-belt of rapture,
When the senses, trembling under,
Glass the Shadow-land of Wonder,
And no human hand is stealing
O'er the music-scale of Feeling?
As ceased the question rose delicious winds
Stirring the waves that kiss'd the tuneful reeds,
And all the wealth of sweets in bells of flowers;
So that, methought, out from all life, the Muse
Murmur'd responses low, and echo'd "Feeling!"