CV.
Ye pleasant days, companions to young joy,
E’er self and sorrow had born agony;
When grief, wreathed in romance, looked slily coy,
And wedded bliss, nor thought it felony;
My only sorrow, we for hours might part;
My often solace, we for years must meet;
Sweet expectation filled up yearning’s smart;
While memory thought not stale the oft-tasted treat:
I’ve learned those brooks were sparkling all with sunshine,
Though they seem’d stern, dividing life from life;
Could I these mazes thread so swift, and untwine,
How keen an edge were given to Time’s dull knife.
Joy steals from abhorred evil his enhancement,
His proud foot spurns the neck, that aids advancement.
CVI.
There are, who build great domes sparkling with wealth,
Whose wretched pride mounts with palatial walls;
Some, yet more mean, hold riches for their health,
And tire their laded ships and creaking stalls;
Some bend their foolish steps to lofty place,
Cringe, fawn, and hope—to be despised, forgot;
These wisely think, by flattery of the base,
To help their high-placed frames, e’er low they rot:
And, others scorn the world, and serve for hire
A self-erected Heaven, whither they’d soar;
They feed on such vile thoughts, nor know the mire,—
Heaven their sole aim, and Hell sin’s only flaw:
More noble, some live by ambition’s shrine;
To ponder on thy worth, is only mine.
CVII.
’Tis a great aim, this will to wander lonely,
This high ambition, gnawing its heart’s core,
To scorn this life, and live thy dying only,
Along the years that hear thy words no more:
’Tis great, to burst the web that stays thy hand,
Stern to rush on, nor pause, nor look, nor hear;
To escape mute love’s imploring glance and band;
To feel intensely, yet to shed no tear;
As one who swims, fights with wave-baffling arms,
Wrestling with the roaring, wracking, whistling waters,
So, too, resistless urge thy way through harms,
Nor swerve for earth, her sons, or charming daughters:
All this seems great, yet I would rather rest
My troubled fancies in thy loving breast.