The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" Were endless imitation. VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, 110 120 IX. O joy! that in our embers That Nature yet remembers The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest ; Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hopes still fluttering in his breast: The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts before which our mortal Nature But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being To perish never ; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, 130 140 150 Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 160 Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, X. Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day What though the radiance which was once so bright Though nothing can bring back the hour Which having been must ever be : In the faith that looks through death, 170 180 XI. And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, The Clouds that gather round the setting sun That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 190 200 "O NIGHTINGALE! THOU SURELY ART." 1807 (?).— 1807. O NIGHTINGALE! thou surely art 66 A creature of a fiery heart: These notes of thine - they pierce and pierce ; Tumultuous harmony and fierce! Thou sing'st as if the God of wine And steady bliss, and all the loves Now sleeping in these peaceful groves. and cooed, I heard a Stock-dove sing or say the song for me! 20 SONG AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE, UPON THE RESTORATION OF LORD CLIFFORD, THE SHEPHERD, TO THE ESTATES AND HONORS OF HIS ANCESTORS. HIGH in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate, A festal strain that hath been silent long : "From town to town, from tower to tower, Her thirty years of winter past, The red rose is revived at last; She lifts her head for endless spring, For everlasting blossoming: ΙΟ |