Awake, my first, with thy inspiring tone,
Behold an instrument joy calls his own,
And with responsive foot, on dewy meads,
The sylvan dance of fawn and wood nymph leads.
My next adorns the noble Latin tongue,
Whose numbers flow sonorous, smooth, and strong;
There, should you fail to find the word, perchance
’Twill greet you in the livelier tones of France.
My whole, a fragrant flower—’tis not for me
To eulogize its grace and modesty;
Full oft the poet’s reed hath breathed its fame,
In loftier measures—can’st thou tell its name?
[26]
In stillness of midnight, the cry of my first
On ear of the sleeper affrighted will burst;
The bells peal their loudest each moment of time,
As if life depended on even one chime.
Oh, then is my first in his terror arrayed,
When anger burns fiercely, he may not be stayed.
Again round the hearth-stone are happy hearts met,
From gray-headed sire to the lisping young pet.
The flame doth grow warmer, and brighter the light;
How cheering it maketh the winter’s cold night!
So changeth my first, as the hawk to the dove,
His aspect is here one of comfort and love.
My second, bound neither to inland or coast,
Is one ’mong the many, a numberless host;
Full transient his being; he cometh in spring,
And chill winds of autumn his requiem sing.
Though said to be useful, I frankly confess,
My wish has been often his music were less.
Though peaceful his temper, I can not deny
That rarely by nature he’s suffered to die.
A foe doth he find in the duster and brush,
E’en flowerets allure, his existence to crush;
Like warfare with bodkin Domitian begun,
Hence gathering much of the fame which he won.
My whole doth love best to be out in the night,
And flatters himself on his furnishing light;
Dear Luna is nothing of comfort to him,
For brighter his glory when hers is most dim.
Two lamps he doth carry, and brilliant they are,
As beams which were stolen from eye of a star.
His joy is to frisk from the sunset to dawn;
When morn comes, the pride of his beauty is gone!
In tropical climates he oft’nest doth dwell,
He lighteth the savage—hast never heard tell?
’Tis growing quite dark; oh, I wish he were nigh;
Perchance he would give me his lamps to see by.
[27]
My first is equality, my second inferiority, and my whole superiority.