Among the stars that have a different birth,-And ever-changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy? 265. P. B. SHFLley. A widow bird sate mourning for her Love Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. There was no leaf upon the forest bare, No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound. P. B. SHELley. 266. TO SLEEP. A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? 267. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw; And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. And my "Stay-stay with us!-rest!-thou art weary and worn!". And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. T. CAMPBELL. 268. A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN. I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold. And nearer to the rivers trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers P. B. SHELley. 269. THE INNER VISION. Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes To pace the ground, if path there be or none, Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene -If Thought and Love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: With Thought and Love companions of our way Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,— The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews W. WORDSWORTH. 270. THE REALM OF FANCY. Ever let the Fancy roam! Pleasure never is at home: At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Through the thought still spread beyond her: Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar. When the soundless earth is muffled, To banish Even from her sky. -Sit thee there, and send abroad Fancy, high-commission'd :-send her! She has vassals to attend her ; From dewy sward or thorny spray ; |