Gathering round with wings all hoar, Through the dewy mist they soar
Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven Bursts, and then,-as clouds of even
Fleck'd with fire and azure, lie
In the unfathomable sky,- So their plumes of purple grain Starr'd with drops of golden rain Gleam above the sunlight woods, As in silent multitudes
On the morning's fitful gale Through the broken mist they sail; And the vapours cloven and gleaming Follow down the dark steep streaming, Till all is bright, and clear, and still Round the solitary hill.
Beneath is spread like a green sea The waveless plain of Lombardy, Bounded by the vaporous air, Islanded by cities fair; Underneath day's azure eyes, Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, A peopled labyrinth of walls, Amphrite's destined halls, Which her hoary sire now paves With his blue and beaming waves. Lo! the sun upsprings behind, Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined On the level quivering line Of the waters crystalline; And before that chasm of light, As within a furnace bright,
Column, tower, and dome, and spire, Shine like obelisks of fire,
Pointing with inconstant motion
From the altar of dark ocean
To the sapphire-tinted skies;
As the flames of sacrifice
From the marble shrines did rise
As to pierce the dome of gold Where Apollo spoke of old.
Sun-girt City! thou hast been Ocean's child, and then his queen; Now is come a darker day, And thou soon must be his prey, If the power that raised thee here Hallow so thy watery bier.
A less drear ruin then than now With thy conquest-branded brow Stooping to the slave of slaves From thy throne among the waves, Wilt thou be,-when the sea-mew Flies, as once before it flew, O'er thine isles depopulate, And all is in its ancient state, Save where many a palace-gate With green sea-flowers overgrown Like a rock of ocean's own, Topples o'er the abandon'd sea As the tides change sullenly. The fisher on his watery way Wandering at the close of day, Will spread his sail and seize his oar Till he pass the gloomy shore,
Lest thy dead should, from their sleep, Bursting o'er the starlight deep, Lead a rapid masque of death O'er the waters of his path.
Noon descends around me now: 'Tis the noon of autumn's glow, When a soft and purple mist Like a vaporous amethyst, Or an air-dissolvéd star Mingling light and fragrance, far From the curved horizon's bound To the point of heaven's profound,
Fills the overflowing sky; And the plains that silent lie Underneath; the leaves unsodden Where the infant frost has trodden With his morning-wingéd feet Whose bright print is gleaming yet; And the red and golden vines Piercing with their trellised lines The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; The dun and bladed grass no less, Pointing from this hoary tower In the windless air; the flower Glimmering at my feet; the line Of the olive-sandall'd Apennine In the south dimly islanded;
And the Alps, whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun; And of living things each one; And my spirit, which so long Darken'd this swift stream of song,- Interpenetrated lie
By the glory of the sky; Be it love, light, harmony, Odour, or the soul of all
Which from heaven like dew doth fall, Or the mind which feels this verse, Peopling the lone universe.
Noon descends, and after noon Autumn's evening meets me soon, Leading the infantine moon And that one star, which to her Almost seems to minister
Half the crimson light she brings From the sunset's radiant springs: And the soft dreams of the morn (Which like wingéd winds had borne To that silent isle, which lies 'Mid remember'd agonies,
The frail bark of this lone being), Pass, to other sufferers fleeing, And its ancient pilot, Pain,
Sits beside the helm again.
Other flowering isles must be In the sea of life and agony: Other spirits float and flee O'er that gulf: ev'n now, perhaps, On some rock the wild wave wraps, With folding wings they waiting sit For my bark, to pilot it
To some calm and blooming cove, Where for me, and those I love, May a windless bower be built, Far from passion, pain, and guilt, In a dell 'mid lawny hills Which the wild sea-murmur fills, And soft sunshine, and the sound Of old forests echoing round, And the light and smell divine
Of all flowers that breathe and shine. -We may live so happy there, That the spirits of the air
Envying us, may even entice To our healing paradise. The polluting multitude;
But their rage would be subdued
By that clime divine and calm,
And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves; While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical The inspired soul supplies With its own deep melodies; And the Love which heals all strife Circling, like the breath of life, All things in that sweet abode With its own mild brotherhood.
They, not it, would change; and soon Every sprite beneath the moon Would repent its envy vain, And the Earth grow young again!
HYMN TO THE SPIRIT OF NATURE
LIFE of Life! Thy lips enkindle
With their love the breath between them; And thy smiles before they dwindle Make the cold air fire; then screen them In those locks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes.
Child of Light! Thy limbs are burning Through the veil which seems to hide them, As the radiant lines of morning
Through thin clouds, ere they divide them; And this atmosphere divinest
Shrouds thee whereso'er thou shinest.
Fair are others: none beholds Thee; But thy voice sounds low and tender Like the fairest, for it folds thee From the sight, that liquid splendour; And all feel, yet see thee never,— As I feel now, lost for ever!
Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movest Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, And the souls of whom thou lovest Walk upon the winds with lightness Till they fail, as I am failing, Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!
O WORLD! O Life! O Time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more-O never more!
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