« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
I were as in my boyhood, and could be.
The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
FROM 'PROMETHEUS UNBOUND.'
Semichorus I. of Spirits (as Asia and Panthea pass into the forest).
The path through which that lovely twain
Is curtained out from heaven's wide blue.
Nor aught save where some cloud of dew,
Or, when some star, of many a one
That climbs and wanders through steep night,
Has found the cleft through which alone
Ere it is borne away, away,
By the swift heavens that cannot stay,—
It scatters drops of golden light,
And the gloom divine is all around,
There the voluptuous nightingales
Are awake through all the broad noonday.
When one with bliss or sadness fails,
And through the windless ivy-boughs,
Sick with sweet love, droops dying away
Watching to catch the languid close
The song, and all the woods are mute;
Like many a lake-surrounded flute, Sounds overflow the listener's brain So sweet that joy is almost pain.
[From the same.]
VOICE in the air, singing.
Life of Life! thy lips enkindle
With their love the breath between them; And thy smiles, before they dwindle,
Make the cold air fire,-then screen them
Child of Light! thy limbs are burning
Through the vest which seems to hide them, As the radiant lines of morning
Through the clouds, ere they divide them;
And this atmosphere divinest
Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.
Fair are others; none beholds thee
(But thy voice sounds low and tender,
Like the fairest), for it folds thee
From the sight-that liquid splendour;
Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest,
Its dim shapes are clad with brightness,
And the souls of whom thou lovest
Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!
HYMN OF PAN.
From the forests and highlands
Where loud waves are dumb
Listening to my sweet pipings.
The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
The cicale above in the lime,
Liquid Peneus was flowing,
The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns,
And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,`
And the brink of the dewy caves,
And all that did then attend and follow,
I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dædal earth,
And of heaven, and the Giant wars,
I pursued a maiden, and clasped a reed:
It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
When rocked to rest on their Mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below,
While I sleep in the arms of the Blast.
In a cavern under is fettered the Thunder,
Over earth and ocean with gentle motion
Lured by the love of the Genii that move
Over the rills and the crags and the hills,
Wherever he dream under mountain or stream
And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.