260. THE RECOLLECTION. Now the last day of many days For now the Earth has changed its face, We wander'd to the Pine Forest The whispering waves were half asleep, The smile of Heaven lay; It seem'd as if the hour were one Which scatter'd from above the sun We paused amid the pines that stood Tortured by storms to shapes as rude And soothed by every azure breath To harmonies and hues beneath, As tender as its own: Now all the tree-tops lay asleep Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean-woods may be. How calm it was!-the silence there The breath of peace we drew A magic circle traced, A thrilling silent life; To momentary peace it bound Our mortal nature's strife ;— And still I felt the centre of The magic circle there Was one fair Form that fill'd with love The lifeless atmosphere. We paused beside the pools that lie A firmament of purple light Which in the dark earth lay, More boundless than the depth of night And purer than the day— In which the lovely forests grew As in the upper air, More perfect both in shape and hue Than any spreading there. There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, The white sun twinkling like the dawn Sweet views which in our world above Can never well be seen Were imaged by the water's love An atmosphere without a breath, Like one beloved, the scene had lent Its very leaf and lineament With more than truth exprest; Like an unwelcome thought -Though Thou art ever fair and kind, The forests ever green, Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind Than calm in waters seen! P. B. SHELley. 261. BY THE SEA. It is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; Breathless with adoration; the broad sun The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea: Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here, Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, 262. TO THE EVENING STAR. Star that bringest home the bee, And sett'st the weary labourer free! Come to the luxuriant skies, Whilst the landscape's odours rise, From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd Star of love's soft interviews, Of thrilling vows thou art, Too delicious to be riven T. CAMPBELL. 263. DATUR HORA QUIETI. The sun upon the lake is low, The hills have evening's deepest glow, Now all whom varied toil and care In the calm sunset may repair The noble dame on turret high, For Colin's darkening plaid. Now to their mates the wild swans row, By day they swam apart, And to the thicket wanders slow The hind beside the hart. The woodlark at his partner's side All meet whom day and care divide, But Leonard tarries long! SIR W. SCOTT. 264. TO THE MOON. Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless |