While mellow warble, sprightly trill, The tremulous heart excite; And hums the balmy air to still The balance of delight. Time was, blest Power! when youths and maids At peep of dawn would rise, And wander forth, in forest glades Thy birth to solemnize. Though mute the song—to grace the rite Untouched the hawthorn bough, Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight; Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings Warmed by thy influence, creeping things Awake to silent joy : Queen art thou still for each gay plant Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath, Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath To honour thee, sweet May! Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares And if, on this thy natal morn, Hath not departed, stands forlorn Of song Still from the village-green a vow Aspires to thee addrest, Wherever peace is on the brow, Or love within the breast. Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach That never loved before. Stript is the haughty one of pride, Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse To yon exulting thrush the Muse Entrusts the imperfect song; His voice shall chant, in accents clear, Throughout the live-long day, Till the first silver star appear, The sovereignty of May. XXIX TO MAY THOUGH many suns have risen and set Delicious odours! music sweet, Oh for a deathless song to meet That, when a thousand years are told, 1826 Earth, sea, thy presence feel-nor less, With its soft smile the truth express, Partakes a livelier cheer; Since thy return, through days and weeks Have kindled into health! The Old, by thee revived, have said, And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed, Who tripping lisps a merry song But now, when every sharp-edged blast Is quiet in its sheath, His Mother leaves him free to taste Earth's sweetness in thy breath. Thy help is with the weed that creeps That our own hands have drest, And yet how pleased we wander forth "Heaven's bounteous love through me is spread "From sunshine, clouds, winds, waves, "Drops on the mouldering turret's head, "And on your turf-clad graves ! " Such greeting heard, away with sighs 6 Or the rathe primrose as it dies Forsaken' in the shade! Vernal fruitions and desires Are linked in endless chase; While, as one kindly growth retires, Another takes its place. |