Build, at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount, Is with that wholesome office satisfied, 1834. VI. SOFT as a cloud is yon blue Ridge, the Mere An emblem this of what the sober Hour Can do for minds disposed to feel its power! Thus oft, when we in vain have wished away "Tis well, but what are helps of time and place, When wisdom stands in need of nature's grace; Why do good thoughts, invoked or not, descend, Like Angels from their bowers, our virtues to befriend; If yet To-morrow, unbelied, may say, "I come to open out, for fresh display, The elastic vanities of yesterday"? 1834. VII. THE leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill, Of unsubstantial imagery, the dream, Seems, 'mid inverted mountains, not unheard. Grave Creature! shines bright whether, while the moon On thy wings opened wide for smoothest flight, Thou art discovered in a roofless tower, Rising from what may once have been a lady's bower; Or spied where thou sitt'st moping in thy mew Deep in a forest, thy secure abode, Thou giv'st, for pastime's sake, by shriek or shout, A puzzling notice of thy whereabout,— May the night never come, nor day be seen, When I shall scorn thy voice or mock thy mien ! In classic ages men perceived a soul Of sapience in thy aspect, heedless Owl! Thee Athens reverenced in the studious grove; And, near the golden sceptre grasped by Jove, His Eagle's favorite perch, while round him sat The Gods revolving the decrees of Fate, Thou, too, wert present at Minerva's side: Hark to that second larum!- far and wide The elements have heard, and rock and cave re plied. VIII. [This Impromptu appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. It is reprinted, at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off.] THE sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, Among the bushes and trees; There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo's sovereign cry Fills all the hollow of the sky. In London, "and masquerading," With that beautiful, soft half-moon, And all these innocent blisses? On such a night as this is! 1804. IX. COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOR AND BEAUTY. I. HAD this effulgence disapppeared With flying haste, I might have sent, Among the speechless clouds, a look But 't is endued with power to stay, And sanctify one closing day, What is? ah no, but what can be! Time was when field and watery cove While choirs of fervent Angels sang Their vespers in the grove; Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height, Warbled, for heaven above and earth below, Strains suitable to both. Such holy rite, Methinks, if audibly repeated now Than doth this silent spectacle, the gleam, II. No sound is uttered, but a deep And solemn harmony pervades The hollow vale from steep to steep, Called forth by wondrous potency Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues! Herds range along the mountain-side; |