WHERE lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? What boots the inquiry ?-Neither friend nor foe Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark? Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark! See note to the previous sonnet.-ED. 1 ● GENTLE SLEEP! do they belong to thee, Thou dost love To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove, This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me Now on the water vexed with mockery. 1836. Festively she puts forth in trim array; As vigorous as a lark 1807. 1815. I have no pain that calls for patience, no; A FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by, Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health! Compare Ovid, Meta. Book xi., L. 623; Shakespeare's Macbeth, Act ii., Scene 2; King Henry IV., Part ii., Act iii., Scene 1; Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iii., Scene 2.—ED. FOND words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep! Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost? MICHAEL ANGELO IN REPLY TO THE PASSAGE UPON HIS STATUE OF NIGHT SLEEPING In the first volume of Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836, Wordsworth wrote in MS. two translations of a fragment of Michael Angelo's on Sleep, and a translation of some Latin verses by Thomas Warton on the same subject. These fragments were never included in any edition of his published works, and it is impossible to say to what year they belong. They may appropriately enough find a place after the three sonnets To Sleep, belonging to the year 1806, and before the three translations from Michael Angelo, which follow them.-ED. Night Speaks. GRATEFUL is Sleep, my life in stonebound fast; More grateful still: while wrong and shame shall last, Ah then, lest you awaken me, speak low. 1 1836. The very sweetest words that fancy frames, 1807. GRATEFUL is Sleep, more grateful still to be Then wake me not, I pray you. Hush, speak low. The Latin verse by Thomas Warton, of which the last lines are a translation, is as follows: : Somne veni! quamvis placidissima Mortis imago es, Huc ades, haud abiture citò! nam sic sine vita Vivere quam suave est, sic sine morte mori! Thomas Warton, Fellow of Trinity Coll., Oxford, and Professor of Poetry in that University, is chiefly known by his History of English Poetry (1774-1781).-ED. FROM THE ITALIAN OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Comp. 1806. Pub. 1807. [Translations from Michael Angelo, done at the request of Mr Duppa, whose acquaintance I made through Mr Southey. Mr Duppa was engaged in writing the life of Michael Angelo, and applied to Mr Southey and myself to furnish some specimens of his poetic genius.] I. YES! hope may with my strong desire keep pace, For if of our affections none finds grace 1 In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made 1 1848. none find 1907 The world which we inhabit ? Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee Who such divinity to thee imparts As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts. No mortal object did these eyes behold And my Soul felt her destiny divine, And hope of endless peace in me grew bold: Beyond the visible world she soars to seek (For what delights the sense is false and weak) Ideal Form, the universal mould. The wise man, I affirm, can find no rest In that which perishes: nor will he lend His heart to aught which doth on time depend. |