« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
THE FOUNTAIN. A CONVERSATION.
We talked with open heart, and tongue
A pair of friends, though I was young,
We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat;
And from the turf a fountain broke,
And gurgled at our feet.
'Now, Matthew!' said I, 'let us match This water's pleasant tune
With some old border-song, or catch
Or of the church-clock and the chimes
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old Man replied,
The grey-haired man of glee :
'No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears:
How merrily it goes!
'Twill murmur on a thousand years,
And flow as now it flows.
And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain's brink.
My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.
Thus fares it still in our decay:
Mourns less for what age takes away
The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
With Nature never do they wage
A happy youth, and their old age
But we are pressed by heavy laws;
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.
If there be one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own,
It is the man of mirth.
My days, my Friend, are almost gone,
My life has been approved,
And many love me; but by none
Am I enough beloved.'
'Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains!
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains;
And, Matthew, for thy children dead
I'll be a son to thee!'
At this he grasped my hand, and said,
We rose up from the fountain-side;
Of the green sheep-track did we glide;
And, ere we came to Leonard's rock,
About the crazy old church-clock,
And the bewildered chimes.
THERE WAS A Boy.
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls,
That they might answer him.-And they would shout
Responsive to his call,—with quivering peals,
Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
This boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village-school;
And, through that church-yard when my way has led
INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING THE IMAGINATION IN BOYHOOD AND
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought,
By day or star-light thus from my first dawn
And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage windows blazed through twilight gloom,
I heeded not their summons: happy time
It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud
That cares not for his home. All shod with steel,
And woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,
Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,
That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes,
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
Have I, reclining back upon my heels
Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had rolled
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,