Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

10

The village maid steals through the shade

Her shepherd's suit to hear ;
To beauty shy, by lattice high,

Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above,

Now reigns o’er earth and sky,
And high and low the influence know-
But where is County Guy ?

SIR W. SCOTT.

15

187

TO THE EVENING STAR

5

10

Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even,

Companion of retiring day,
Why at the closing gates of heaven,

Belovéd Star, dost thou delay ?
So fair thy pensile beauty burns

When soft the tear of twilight flows ; So due thy plighted love returns

To chambers brighter than the rose ; To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love

So kind a star thou seem'st to be, Sure some enamour'd orb above

Descends and burns to meet with thee. Thine is the breathing, blushing hour,

When all unheavenly passions fly, Chased by the soul-subduing power

Of Love's delicious witchery. O! sacred to the fall of day,

Queen of propitious stars, appear, And early rise, and long delay,

When Caroline herself is here ! Shine on her chosen green resort,

Whose trees the sunward summit crown, And wanton flowers, that well may court

An angel's feet to tread them down.

15

20 25

Shine on her sweetly-scented road,

Thou star of evening's purple dome, That lead'st the nightingale abroad,

And guid'st the pilgrim to his home. Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath

Embalms the soft exhaling dew, Where dying winds a sigh bequeath

To kiss the cheek of rosy hue.

30

Where, winnow'd by the gentle air,

Her silken tresses darkly flow, And fall upon her brow so fair,

Like shadows on the mountain snow.

35

Thus, ever thus, at day's decline

In converse sweet to wander far-
O bring with thee my Caroline,
And thou shalt be my Ruling Star !

T. CAMPBELL.

40

188

TO THE NIGHT

Swiftly walk over the western wave,

Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave,

Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear Which make thee terrible and dear,

Swift be thy flight !

5

10

Wrap thy form in a mantle grey

Star-inwrought !
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,

Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand-

Come, long-sought !

15

20

25

When I arose and saw the dawn,

I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,

And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn’d to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,

I sigh'd for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried,

· Wouldst thou me?'
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,

Murmur'd like a noontide bee,
· Shall I nestle near thy side ?
Wouldst thou me ??-And I replied,

'No, not thee!'
Death will come when thou art dead,

Soon, too soon-
Sleep will come when thou art fled ;

Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, belovéd Night-
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon !

35 P. B. SHELLEY.

30

189

5

TO A DISTANT FRIEND Why art thou silent ? Is thy love a plant

Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air

Of absence withers what was once so fair ? Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ? Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,

Bound to thy service with unceasing careThe mind's least generous wish a mendicant

For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak !—though this soft warm heart, once free to

hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, Be left more desolate, more dreary cold

11 Than a forsaken bird's-nest fill'd with snow

'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantineSpeak, that my torturing doubts their end may know !

W. WORDSWORTH.

5

190
When we two parted

In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,

To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss ;
Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this !
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;

10 It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame :
I hear thy name spoken

15
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear ?

20 They know not I knew thee

Who knew thee too well :
Long, long shall I rue thee

Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met:

In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,

30
How should I greet thee?-
With silence and tears.

LORD BYRON.

25 5

191 HAPPY INSENSIBILITY In a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember

Their green felicity :
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them,
Nor frozen thawings glue them

From budding at the prime.
In a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember

Apollo's summer look ;
But with a sweet forgetting
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting

About the frozen time.

10

15

Ah, would 'twere so with many

A gentle girl and boy !
But were there ever any
Writhed not at passéd joy ?

20
To know the change and feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbéd sense to steel it-
Was never said in rhyme.

J. KEATS.

192
Where shall the lover rest

Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden's breast,

Parted for ever ?
Where, through groves deep and high, 5

Sounds the far billow,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »