VII. As Conscience, to the centre Of Being, smites with irresistible pain, The mouldy vaults of the dull Idiot's brain, And then aghast, as at the world By concords winding with a sway Or, awed he weeps, struggling to quell dismay. Lodged above the starry pole; Pure modulations flowing from the heart Of divine Love, where Wisdom, Beauty, Truth, With Order dwell, in endless youth? Oblivion may not cover VIII. All treasures hoarded by the Miser, Time. And Voice and Shell drew forth a tear IX. The GIFT to King Amphion That walled a city with its melody Was for belief no dream: thy skill, Arion! Where men were monsters. A last grace he craves, So shall he touch at length a friendly strand, X. The pipe of Pan, to Shepherds Couched in the shadow of Menalian Pines, Was passing sweet; the eyeballs of the Leopards, In cadence, and Silenus swang This way and that, with wild-flowers crowned. Ye who are longing to be rid Of Fable, though to truth subservient, hear The Convict's summons in the steeple knell. XI. For terror, joy, or pity, Vast is the compass, and the swell of notes; Far as the woodlands - with the trill to blend Of that shy Songstress, whose love-tale Might tempt an Angel to descend, While hovering o'er the moonlight vale. Of moral music, to unite Wanderers whose portion is the faintest dream Of memory! O that they might stoop to bear As labored minstrelsies through ages wear! O for a balance fit the truth to tell Of the Unsubstantial, pondered well! By one pervading Spirit XII. Of Tones and numbers all things are controlled, Initiation in that mystery old. The Heavens, whose aspect makes our minds as still As they themselves appear to be, Innumerable voices fill With everlasting harmony; The towering Headlands, crowned with mist, Their feet among the billows, know That Ocean is a mighty harmonist; Thy pinions, universal Air, Ever waving to and fro, Are delegates of harmony, and bear Strains that support the Seasons in their round: Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound. XIII. Bread forth into thanksgiving, Ye banded Instruments of wind and chords; Unite, to magnify the Ever-living, Your inarticulate notes with the voice of words! Nor hashed be service from the loving mead, Nor mute the forest hum of noon; Thou too be heard, lone Eagle! freed All worlds, all natures, mood and measure keep XIV. A Voice to Light gave Being; To Time, and Man his earth-born Chronicler; And sweep away life's visionary stir; The Trumpet (we, intoxicate with pride, To archangelic lips applied, The grave shall open, quench the stars. O Silence! are Man's noisy years No more than moments of thy life? Is Harmony, blest Queen of smiles and tears, Tempered into rapturous strife, Thy destined Bond-slave? No! though Earth be dust SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT. SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; I saw her upon nearer view, A countenance in which did meet And now I see with eye serene 1 |