Hearest thou the blue ring-dove in yonder tree cooing;
The red-breast, the hedge-sparrow, warble their song;
The cuckoo, with sameness of note ever wooing;
Yet ever to pleasure such notes will belong!
And this is the Valley of Nightingales;—listen
To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,
Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,
There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.
Seest thou yon proud ship on the stream adown sailing,
O’er ocean, her course, to strange climes she now bends;
Oh! who may describe the deep sobs or heart-wailing
Her departure hath wrought amongst lovers and friends?
The rocks now re-echo the songs of the sailor
As he cheerfully bounds on his watery way;
But the maiden!—ah! what shall that echo avail her,
When absence and sorrow have worn out the day?
Behold her all breathless, still gazing, pursuing,
And waving, at times, with her white hand adieu;
On the rock now she sits, with fixed eye, the ship viewing;
No picture of fancy—but often too true.
Dost thou see yon flush’d Hectic, of health poor remainder,
With a dark hollow eye, and a thin sunken cheek;
While AFFECTION hangs o’er him with thoughts that have pained her,
And that comfort and hope, still forbid her to speak?[318]
Yes, Friendships! Affections! ye ties the most tender!
Fate, merciless fate, your connection will sever;
To that tyrant remorseless—all, all must surrender!
I once had a Son—here we parted for ever![319]
Now the sun, o’er the earth, rides in glory uncloud
The rocks and the valleys delightedly sing;
The Birds in wild concert, in yonder wood shrouded,
Awake a loud CHORUS to welcome the spring.
And this is the valley of nightingales;—listen
To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,
Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,
There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.
J.