XXV. ODE TO LYCORIS. MAY, 1817. I. AN age hath been when Earth was proud To be sustained; and Mortals bowed Who then, if Dian's crescent gleamed, These swan-like specks of mountain snow, White as the pair that slid along the plains Of heaven, when Venus held the reins! II. In youth we love the darksome lawn And Autumn to the Spring. Thee, thee my life's celestial sign!) Pleased with the harvest hope that runs Before the path of milder suns; Pleased while the sylvan world displays Its ripeness to the feeding gaze; Pleased when the sullen winds resound the knell Of the resplendent miracle. III. But something whispers to my heart That, as we downward tend, Lycoris! life requires an art To which our souls must bend; Then welcome, above all, the Guest Whose smiles, diffused o'er land and sea, Seem to recall the Deity Of youth into the breast: May pensive Autumn ne'er present A claim to her disparagement ! Still, as we nearer draw to life's dark goal, XXVI. TO THE SAME. ENOUGH of climbing toil!— Ambition treads Here, as 'mid busier scenes, ground steep and rough, Or slippery even to peril! and each step, As we for most uncertain recompense Mount toward the empire of the fickle clouds, Each weary step, dwarfing the world below, Unacceptable feelings of contempt, With wonder mixed,- that Man could e'er be tied, In anxious bondage, to such nice array Oh! 't is the heart that magnifies this life, The umbrageous woods are left neath! - how far be But lo! where darkness seems to guard the mouth Of yon wild cave, whose jagged brows are fringed With flaccid threads of ivy, in the still And sultry air depending motionless. Yet cool the space within, and not uncheered Mingling with night, such twilight to compose Long as the heat shall rage, let that dim cave Protect us, there deciphering as we may Diluvian records; or the signs of Earth Interpreting; or counting for old Time His minutes, by reiterated drops, Audible tears, from some invisible source That deepens upon fancy, more and more Drawn toward the centre whence those sighs creep forth To awe the lightness of humanity. Or, shutting up thyself within thyself, We too have known such happy hours together, XXVII. SEPTEMBER, 1819. THE sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields Like a fair sister of the sky, Unruffled doth the blue lake lie, The mountains looking on. And, sooth to say, yon vocal grove, By love untaught to ring, May well afford to mortal ear An impulse more profoundly dear For that from turbulence and heat 1817. |