But never elsewhere in one place I knew So many nightingales; and far and near, In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, They answer and provoke each other's song, With skirmish and capricious passagings, And murmurs musical and swift jug jug,
And one low piping sound more sweet than all- Stirring the air with such a harmony,
That should you close your eyes, you might almost Forget it was not day! On moon-lit bushes,
Whose dewy leaflets are but half disclosed,
You may perchance behold them on the twigs,
Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full, Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade Lights up her love-torch.
A most gentle Maid,
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home Hard by the castle, and at latest eve (Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate
To something more than Nature in the grove)
Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes, That gentle Maid! and oft a moment's space, What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, Hath heard a pause of silence; till the moon Emerging, hath awakened earth and sky With one sensation, and these wakeful birds Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy, As if some sudden gale had swept at once A hundred airy harps! And she hath watched Many a nightingale perched giddily
On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze, And to that motion tune his wanton song Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.
Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve, And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell! We have been loitering long and pleasantly, And now for our dear homes.-That strain again! Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe, Who, capable of no articulate sound,
Mars all things with his imitative lisp,
How he would place his hand beside his ear, His little hand, the small forefinger up,
And bid us listen! And I deem it wise
To make him Nature's play-mate. He knows well The evening-star; and once, when he awoke
In most distressful mood (some inward pain
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream) I hurried with him to our orchard-plot,
And he beheld the moon, and, hushed at once, Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears,
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well!- It is a father's tale: But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up Familiar with these songs, that with the night He may associate joy. Once more, farewell, Sweet Nightingale! Once more, my friends! farewell.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN THE HARTZ FOREST.
I STOOD On Brocken's* sovran height, and saw Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills, A surging scene, and only limited
By the blue distance. Heavily my way Downward I dragged through fir groves evermore, Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom heard, The sweet bird's song became a hollow sound; And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly, Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct From many a note of many a waterfall,
And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet stones The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell Leaped frolicsome, or old romantic goat Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on In low and languid mood:† for I had found That outward forms, the loftiest, still receive Their finer influence from the Life within ;- Fair cyphers else: fair, but of import vague Or unconcerning, where the heart not finds History or prophecy of friend, or child, Or gentle maid, our first and early love, Or father, or the venerable name
Of our adored country! O thou Queen, Thou delegated Deity of Earth,
O dear, dear England! how my longing eye Turned westward, shaping in the steady clouds Thy sands and high white cliffs !
My native Land! Filled with the thought of thee this heart was proud, Yea, mine eye swam with tears that all the view From sovran Brocken, woods and woody hills, Floated away, like a departing dream,
* The highest mountain in the Hartz, and indeed in North Germany. -When I have gazed
From some high eminence on goodly vales,
And cots and villages embowered below,
The thought would rise that all to me was strange
Amid the scenes so fair, nor one small spot
Where my tired mind might rest, and call it home.
Southey's Hymn to the Penates
Feeble and dim! Stranger, these impulses Blame thou not lightly; nor will I profane, With hasty judgment or injurious doubt, That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel That God is everywhere! the God who framed Mankind to be one mighty family,
Himself our Father, and the World our Home.
BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.
BESIDES the Rivers, Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides; and within a few paces of the Glaciers, the Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers with its flowers of loveliest blue."
HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc ! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee,
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy : Till the dilating Soul, enwrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing-there
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my Heart, awake! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the Vale! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink : Companion of the morning-star at dawn, Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald wake, O wake, and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?
And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! Who called you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns called you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jagged Rocks, For ever shattered and the same for ever? Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?
And who commanded (and the silence came,) Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain- Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?— God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountain-storm! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Ye signs and wonders of the element ! Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!
Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast- Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low In adoration, upward from thy base
Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,
To rise before me-Rise, O ever rise,
Rise like a cloud of incense, from the Earth : Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
COMPOSED ON THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RECITATION OF A POEM ON THE GROWTH OF AN INDIVIDUAL MIND.
FRIEND of the wise! and teacher of the good! Into my heart have I received that lay More than historic, that prophetic lay Wherein (high theme by thee first sung aright) Of the foundations and the building up Of a Human Spirit thou hast dared to tell What may be told, to the understanding mind Revealable; and what within the mind By vital breathings secret as the soul Of vernal growth, oft quickens in the heart Thoughts all too deep for words!-
Theme hard as high Of smiles spontaneous, and mysterious fears, (The first-born they of Reason and twin-birth) Of tides obedient to external force, And currents self-determined, as might seem, Or by some inner power; of moments awful,
Now in thy inner life, and now abroad,
When power streamed from thee, and thy soul received The light reflected, as a light bestowed-
Of fancies fair, and milder hours of youth, Hyblean murmurs of poetic thought Industrious in its joy, in vales and glens Native or outland, lakes and famous hills! Or on the lonely high-road, when the stars Were rising; or by secret mountain-streams, The guides and the companions of thy way!
Of more than Fancy, of the Social Sense Distending wide, and man beloved as man, Where France in all her towns lay vibrating Like some becalmed bark beneath the burst Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud Is visible, or shadow on the main.
For thou wert there, thine own brows garlanded, Amid the tremor of a realm aglow,
Amid a mighty nation jubilant,
When from the general heart of human kind Hope sprang forth like a full-born Deity!
-Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck down, So summoned home ward, thenceforth calm and sure From the dread watch-tower of man's absolute self, With light unwaning on her eyes, to look Far on-herself a glory to behold, The Angel of the vision! Then (last strain) Of Duty, chosen laws controlling choice, Action and joy!-An Orphic song indeed,
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