« НазадПродовжити »
To waft them to some pleasant cave Like a happy thing doth lie;
And seeming in that slumber fair
The Brother of the Sky. And in their beauty win the love
Hues brighter than the ruby-stone Of every orb that shines above.
With radiance gem his wavy zone, Fitz-Owen from his dream awakes,
A million hues, I ween :
Long dazzling lines of snowy white,
Skims through the sunny ray,
Then, like the rainbow's dying gleam, Within the boat in peace is laid :
In the clear wave melts away. Her limbs recline as if in sleep,
And all the beauteous joy seems made Though almost resting on the deep; For that dauntless Youth and sainted Maid, On his dear bosom leans her head,
Whoin God and Angels love:
The light, the clouds, the sea, the gale, Are lifted upwards to the skies,
Around, below, above.
And thus they sail, and sail along,
Without one thought of fear; The boat hath left the lonesome rock, As calm as if the boatman's song And tries the wave again,
Awoke an echoing chear, And on she glides without a fear,
O'er the hills that stretch in sylvan pride So beauteous is the main.
On the Bala Lake's romantic side. Her little sail beneath the sun
And lo! beneath the mellowing light, Gleams radiant as the snow,
That trembles between day and night And o'er the gently-heaving swell
Before the Sun's decline, Bounds like a mountain-roe.
As to the touch of fairy-hand In that frail bark the lovers sit,
Upstarting dim the nameless land With steadfast face and silent breath, Extends its mountain-line. Following the guiding hope of life, It is no cloud that steadfast lies Yet reconciled to death.
Between the Ocean and the Skics; His arm is round her tender side,
No image of a cloud, that flings That moves beneath the press,
Across the deep its shadowy wings; With a mingled beat of solemn awe
Such as oft cheats with visions fair And virgin tenderness.
The heart of home-sick mariner.
That gently draws them on,
When the winds and rain are gone.
The self-moved boat appears to seek They feel their spirits rise;
With gladsome glide a home-like creek, And half forget that the smiling sca In the centre of a bay, Caused all their miseries.
Which the calm and quiet hills surround, Yet safe to them is the trackless brine And touch'd by waves without a sound, As some well-known and rural road Almost as calm as they. Paced in their childhood ;—for they love Each other, and believe in God.
And, what if here fierce savage mer
Glare on them from some darksome den? And well might the refulgent day What would become of this most helpless Thesc Ocean-Pilgrims cheer,
So calmly bright, he can descry
T'hat she is not afraid
To meet and bear her destiny.
One stroke of the dexterous oar--
The sail is furl'd: the boat is moord: How did I love to sigh and weep
For those that sail'd upon the deep,
When, yet a wondering child, From the wild world of waters brought I sat alone at dead of night, By God's protecting hand,
Hanging all breathless with delight
O'er their adventures wild!
Where up among the raving clouds
Thunder and lightning o'er his hend!
And, should he fall—0 thought of dread! And bless, in murmurs soft and low, Waves mountain-high below. The beautiful, the halcyon glow,
How leapt my heart with wildering fears, That bathes the evening-wave.
Gazing on savage islanders Before the setting sun they kneel,
Ranged fierce in long canoe, And through the silent air,
Their poison'd spears, their war-attire, To Him that dwells on that throne of light and plumes twined bright, like wreaths of They pour their souls in prayer.
fire, Their thoughts are floating, like the clouds Round brows of dusky hue! That seek the beauteous West,
What tears would fill my wakeful eyes Their gentleness, their peace the same, When some delicious paradise, The same their home of rest.
(As if a cloud had rold Now Night hath come with the cooling on a sudden from the bursting sun)
Freshening the Ocean where it shone,
No more the pining Mariner
Amid the dash of waves.
On many are the beauteous isles
And wouldst thou think it hard to dwell Unknown to human eye,
Alone within some sylvan cell, That, sleeping 'mid the Ocean-smiles, Some fragrant arch of flowers, In happy silence lie.
Raised like a queen with gracious smile The Ship may pass them in the night, In the midst of this her subject isle, Nor the sailors know what a lovely sight This labyrinth of bowers ? Is resting on the Main;
Could the fair earth, and fairer skies, Some wandering Ship who hath lost her Clouds, breezes, fountains, groves,
To banish from thy heart suffice And never, or by night or day,
All thought of deeper loves? Shall pass these isles again.
Or wouldst thou pine thy life away, There groves that bloom in endless spring To kiss once more the blessed ray Are rustling to the radiant wing
That shines in human eyes? Of birds, in various plumage bright, What though the clustering roses came As rainbow-hues, or dawning light. Like restless gleams of magic flame, Soft-falling showers of blossoms fair, As if they loved thy feet, Float ever on the fragrant air,
To win thee like a summer sprite, Like showers of vernal snow,
With purest touches of delight, And from the fruit-tree, spreading tall, To the Fairy-Queen's retreat! The richly ripen'd clusters fall
Oh! they would bloom and wither too. Oft as sea-breezes blow.
And melt their pearls of radiant dew, The sun and clouds alone possess
Without one look from thee: The joy of all that loveliness;
What pleasure could that beauty give, And sweetly to each other smile
Which, of all mortal things that live, The live-long day--sun, cloud, and isle. None but thyself may see? Now silent lies each shelter'd bay! And where are the birds that cheer'd thing No other visitors have they
eyes, To their shores of silvery sand,
With wings and crests of rainbow dyes, Than the waves that, murmuring in their That wont for aye to glide
Like sunbeams through the shady bowen All hurrying in a joyful band
Charming away the happy hours Come dancing from the sea.
With songs of love or pride?
Soon, soon thou hatest this Paradise; And smiling dreams were given
To cheer her heart; then down he laid That made it fairer than the skics,
His limbs beside the sleeping Maid,
In the face of the starry Heaven.
With a power as deep as death;
In her Lover's tranquil breath.
of home, Air, Earth, and Ocean smile once more, And the gentle sound of her mother's voice And along the forest-fringed shore,
Bade Mary's slumbering soul rejoice. What mirth and music now!
For she in dreams to Wales hath flown, What warm and heavenly tints illume And sits in a cottage of her own, The land that lately seem'd a tomb Beneath its sheltering tree : Where thou wert left to die!
Fitz-Owen's eye is fix'd on here, So bathed in joy this earth appears
While with a timid smile she stira To him, who, blind for lingering years,
Beside her mother's knee. At last beholds the sky.
But the rising sun hath pour'd his beams
And these delightful skies.
And gently they stir his sleeping soul, 'Till the land-breeze her canvas wings should Like the voice of the morning-air.
Soon as the first surprise is past, From the sweet Isle thou scarce wouldst They rise, from their leafy bed,
As cheerful as the new-woke birds
And trusting in the mercifal Power
When the ship sank in the sea,
Cheering their souls with many a smile Fitz-Owen and his darling Maid.
They walk through the woods of this nameThe setting sun, with a pensive glow,
less Isle Had bathed their foreheads bending low, In undisturb'd tranquillity. Nor ceased the voice, or the breath of their
prayer, Till the moonlight lay on the mellow'd air. Well might they deem that wizard's wand Then from the leaves they calmly rose, Had set them down in Fairy-land, As after a night of calm repose,
Or that their souls some beauteous dream And Mary leand her face
obey'd : With a sob of joy on her Lover's breast, They know not where to look or listen, Who with kind tones the Maiden press'd For pools and streams of crystal glisten In a holy pure embrace.
Above, around,-embracing like the air And gently he kiss'd her tearful eyes, The soft-reflected trees; while everywhere And bade her heart lie still,
From shady nook, clear hill, and sunny glade, For there was a power in the gracious skies, The ever-varying soul of music play'd; To shield their saints from ill.
As if, at some capricious thing's command, Then, guided by the moon-light pale, Indulging every momentary mood, They walk'd into a sylvan vale,
With voice and instrument, a fairy-band Soft, silent, warm, and deep ;
Beneath some echoing precipice now stood, And there beneath her languid head, Now on steep mountain's rocky battlement, The silken wither'd leaves he spread, Or from the clouds their blended chorus sent, That she might sweetly sleep.
With jocund din to mock the solitude. Then down he sat by her tender side, They gaze with never-sated eyes And, as she lay, with soft touch dried On lengthening lines of flowery dyes, The stealing tears she could not hide ; That through the woods, and up the mounTill sleep, like a faint shadow, fell
tains run: O'er the husht face he loved so well, Not richer radiance robes the Even,
When she ascends her throne in Heaven, Chequering the clouds with their uubending Beside the setting sun.
stems, Scattering the blossomy gems away, And o'er the clouds amid the dark-blue skies, Like the white shower of the ocean-spray, Lifting their rich unfading diadems. Across their path for ever glide or shoot How calm and placidly they rest Birds of such beauty, as might lead Upon the Heavens' indulgent breast, The soul to think that magic power decreed As if their branches never breeze had known! Spirits to dwell therein;
they Light bathes them aye in glancing showers, mute,
And Silence mid their lofty bowers But each doth chant his own beloved strain, Sits on her moveless throne. For ever trenbling on a natural tune, Entranced there the Lovers gaze, The heart's emotions seeming so to suit, Till every human fear decays, That the rapt Lovers are desiring soon, And bliss steals slowly through their quiet That silence never may return again.
souls; Though ever lost to human kind
And all they love, they are resign'd: A cheerful welcome these bright creatures While with a scarce-heard murmur rolls,
Like the waves that break along the shore, And as the Lovers roam from glade to glade, The sound of the world they must see no That shine with sunlight, and with music
List! Mary is the first to speak, Seems but for them the enchanted island Her tender voice still tenderer in her blins;
And breathing o'er her silent husband's cheek, So strong the influence of the fairy-scene, As from an infant's lip, a timid kiss, That soon they feel as if for many a year Whose touch at once all lingering sorrow In love and rapture they had linger’d here,
calms, While with the beauteous things that once Says: God to us in love hath given
A home on earth, most like to Heaven, Long, long ago, or only in the mind Our own sweet Isle of PALMs. By Fancy imaged, lies their native Wales, Its dim-seen hills, and all its streamy vales : Sounds in their souls its rushing mountain- And where shall these happy lovers dwell?
Shall they seek in the cliffs for some mossy Like music heard in youth, remember'd well,
cell? But when or where it rose they cannot tell. Some wilder haunt than ever hermit knew? Delightful woods, and many a cloudless sky, Where they may shun the mid-day heat, Are in their memory strangely floating by, And slumber in a safe retreat, But the faint pageant slowly melts away, When evening sheds her dew; And to the living earth they yield
Or shall they build a leafy nest, Their willing hearts, as if reveal'd
Where they like birds may sport and rest, In all its glory on this mystic day.
By clustering bloom preserved from sun and Like fire, strange flowers around them flame,
rain, Sweet, harmless fire, breathed from some Upon some little radiant mound
Within reach of the freshening sound The silky gossamer that may not burn, That murmurs from the Main? Too wildly beantiful to bear a name. No farther need their footsteps roam: And when the. Ocean sends a breeze, Even where they stand, a sylvan home To wake the music sleeping in the trees, Steals like a thought upon their startled Trees scarce they seem to be; for many a
For Nature's breath with playful power Radiant as dew, or ruby polish'd bright, Hath framed an undecaying bower, Glances on every spray, that bending light With colours heavenly bright. Around the stem, in variegated bows, Beyond a green and level lawn, Appear like some awaken'd fountain-shower, Its porch and roof of roses dawn That with the colour of the evening glows. Through arching trees that lend a mellow
How gleams the bower with countless dyes" And towering o'er these beauteous woods, Unwearied spring fresh bloom supplies, Gigantic rocks were ever dimly seen, Still brightning where they fade. Breaking with solemn gray the tremulous Two noble Palms, the forest's pride,
Guarding the bower on either side, And frowning far in castellated pride; Their straight majestic stems to Hearen While, hastening to the Ocean, hoary floods
nprear: Sent up a thin and radiant mist between, There Beauty sleeps in Grandeur's arms, Softening the beauty that it could not hide. And sheltered there from all alarmus, Lo! higher still the stately Palm-trees rise, Hath nought on earth to fear.
The Dwellers in that lovely bower, That to this Eden bore
deep, May here in truth be found.
In glory risen o'er this refulgent Isle, Fronting the bower, eternal woods.
And still the Sun retired to rest too soon; Darkening the mountain-solitudes,
And each night with more gracious smile, With awe the soul oppress :
Guarding the lovers when they sleep, There dwells, with shadowy glories crown'd, Hath watch'd the holy Moon. Rejoicing in the gloom profound,
Through many a dim and dazzling glade, The Spirit of the Wilderness.
They in their restless joy have stray'd,
Have wander'd round each ocean-bay,
Serene as night, and bright as day,
Untouch'd by wind or wave. So musical a stream.
Happy their doom, though strange and wild, But who shall dare in thought to paint And soon their souls are reconciled Yon fairy-waterfall?
For ever here to live, and here to die. Still moisten’d by the misty showers, Why should they grieve? a constant mirth From fiery-red, to yellow soft and faint, With music fills the air and earth, Fantastic bands of fearless flowers
And beautifies the sky. Sport o'er the rocky wall;
High on the rocks the wild-flowers shine And ever, through the shrouding spray, In beauty bathed, and joy divine : Whose diamonds glance as bright as they, In their dark nooks to them are given Float birds of graceful form, and gorgeous The sunshine and the dews of Heaven.
The fish that dart like silver-gleams Or dazzling white as snow;
Are happy in their rock-bound streams, While, as the passing sun illumes
Happy as they that roam the Ocean's breast; The river's bed, in silent pride
Though far away on sounding wings
Around his secret nest.
Lament, when one unclouded smile
And often in their listening souls And looking left-wards from the bower, By a delightful awe subdued, What glory meets thee there!
God's voice, like mellow thunder, rolls Por lo! the heaven-encircled Sea
All through the silent solitude. Outspreads his dazzling pageantry, As if the whole creation were his own, And the Isle, on which thy feet now stand, Five days have fled !- The Sun again, In beauty rose at his command,
Like an angel, o'er the brightening Main And for his joy alone.
Uplifts his radiant head; Beyond his billows rolling bright,
And full upon yon dewy bower, The Spirit dares not wing her flight; The warm tints of the dawning hour For where, upon the boundless deep, Mid warmer still are shed. Should she, if wearied, sink to sleep? The Sun pours not his light in vain Back to the beauteous Isle of Palms On them who therein dwell:-a strain Glad she returns; there constant calms of pious music, through the morning-calm The bays, that sleep like inland-lakes,invest: Wakening unwonted echoes, wildly rings, Delighiful all ;-but to your eyes,
And kneeling there to Mercy's fane, O blessed Pair! one circlet lies
While flowers supply their incense-balm, More fair than all the rest.
At the foot of yon majestic Palm At evening, throngh that silent bay The Maid her matins sings. With beating hearts ye steer'd your way, It is the Sabbath-morn:-since last Yet trusting in the guiding love of Heaven; From Heaven it shone, what awful things, And there, upon your bended knees,
have past! To the unseen Pilot of the Seas
In their beloved vessel as it rollid Your speechless prayers were given. In pride and beauty o'er the waves of gold, From your bower-porch the skiff behold Then were they sailing free from all alarms,