« НазадПродовжити »
-Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot,
“ Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill ?
-But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still, And the red-deer bound in their gladness free, And the turf is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blowLady, kind lady! oh! let me go.”
“ Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings, The powerful of the earth-the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.”
AND shrink ye from the way
To the spirit's distant shore ? Earth's mightiest men, in arm'd array,
Are thither gone before.
The warrior kings, whose banner
Flew far as eagles fly, They are gone where swords avail them not,
From the feast of victory.
And the seers, who sat of yore
By orient palm or wave,
still fear the grave ?
-We fear, we fear the sunshine
Is joyous to behold,
Or the awful seers of old.
Ye shrink !--the bards whose lays
Have made your deep hearts burn, They have left the sun, and the voice of praise,
For the land whence none return :
And the lovely, whose memorial
Is the verse that cannot die,
From the gaze of human eye.
Would ye not join that throng
Of the earth's departed flowers, And the masters of the mighty song
In their far and fadeless bowers ?
Those songs are high and holy,
But they vanquish not our fear ;
We fain would linger here!
Linger then yet awhile,
As the last leaves on the bough!
That is taken from you now.
There have been sweet singing voices
; There are seats left void in your earthly homes,
Which none again may fill.
Soft eyes are seen no more
That made spring-time in your heart; Kindred and friends are gone before,
And ye still fear to part ?
-We fear not now, we fear not !
Though the way through darkness bends; Our souls are strong to follow them,
Our own familiar friends!
THE BREEZE FROM LAND.
“As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabcan odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with such delay Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many a league, Cheer'd with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles.”
Joy is upon the lonely seas,
When Indian forests pour
Their fragrance from the shore ;
Oh! welcome are the winds that tell
A wanderer of the deep