As often as that eager grasp was made. The phantom parts-but parts to reunite, And reassume his place before her sight.
"Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace,-yonder is thy throne; Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice. Not to appal me have the gods bestow'd This precious boon,-and bless'd a sad abode."
"Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave His gifts imperfect :-Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive, But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain; For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.
"Thou know'st, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek who touch'd the Trojan strand Should die; but me the threat did not withhold: A generous cause a victim did demand; And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain; A self-devoted chief-by Hector slain."
"Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best! Thy matchless courage I bewail no more,
That then, when tens of thousands were depress'd By doubt, propell'd thee to the fatal shore;
Thou found'st-and I forgive thee-here thou art- A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.
"But thou, though capable of sternest deed, Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave; And He, whose power restores thee, hath decreed That thou shouldst cheat the malice of the grave; Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair
As when their breath enrich'd Thessalian air.
"No spectre greets me,--no vain shadow this : Come, blooming hero, place thee by my side! Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss To me, this day a second time thy bride!" Jove frown'd in heaven; the conscious Parcæ throw Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.
"This visage tells thee that my doom is past : Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys Of sense were able to return as fast And surely as they vanish.-Earth destroys Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains: Calm pleasures there abide-majestic pains. "Be taught, O faithful consort, to control Rebellious passion for the gods approve The depth, and not the tumult of the soul; The fervour-not the impotence of love.
Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn When I depart, for brief is my sojourn-
"Ah, wherefore ?-Did not Hercules by force Wrest from the guardian monster of the tomb Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Given back to dwell on earth in beauty's bloom? Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers. "The gods to us are merciful-and they Yet further may relent: for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic, potent over sun and star,
Is love though oft to agony distress'd;
And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast.
"But if thou go'st, I follow- " "Peace!" he said- She look'd upon him and was calm'd and cheer'd ; The ghastly colour from his lips had fled; In his deportment, shape, and mien, appear'd Elysian beauty-melancholy grace-
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away-no strife to heal- The past unsigh'd for, and the future sure; Spake, as a witness, of a second birth For all that is most perfect upon earth :
Of all that is most beauteous-imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler æther, a diviner air,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.
Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earn'd That privilege by virtue.-" Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discern'd, Who from ignoble games and revelry*
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight
While tears were thy best pastime,—day and night: "And while my youthful peers, before my eyes (Each hero following his peculiar bent), Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise By martial sports,-or, seated in the tent, Chieftains and kings in council were detain'd; What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchain'd.
"The wish'd-for wind was given :-I then revolved Our future course, upon the silent sea; And, if no worthier led the way, resolved
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
• For this feature in the character of Protesilaus, see the "Iphigenia in Aulis" of Euripides.
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,- Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. "Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife; On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life,—
The paths which we had trod-these fountains-flowers; My new-plann'd cities, and unfinish'd towers.
"But should suspense permit the foe to cry, 'Behold they tremble -haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die?'- In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurr'd:-but lofty thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.
"And thou, though strong in love, art all too weak In reason, in self-government too slow;
I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
Our bless'd reunion in the shades below.
Th' invisible world with thee hath sympathized; Be thy affections raised and solemnized. "Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend Towards a higher object :-Love was given, Encouraged, sanction'd, chiefly for this end: For this the passion to excess was driven- That self might be annull'd; her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love."
Aloud she shriek'd-for Hermes reappears!
Round the dear shade she would have clung-'tis vain : The hours are past,-too brief had they been years; And him no mortal effort can detain:
Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, He through the portal takes his silent way- And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she lay.
Ah, judge her gently who so deeply loved! Her, who, in reason's spite, yet without crime, Was in a trance of passion thus removed; Deliver'd from the galling yoke of time, And these frail elements-to gather flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers. Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourn'd by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes.-Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertain'd) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died; And ever, when such stature they had gain'd That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits wither'd at the sight A constant interchange of growth and blight
TO THE DAISY.
IN youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill, in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleased when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make,— My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly Nature's love partake Of thee, sweet Daisy !
When soothed a while by milder airs, Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly shades his few grey hairs; Spring cannot shun thee; Whole summer fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy wight! Doth in thy crimson head delight When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the traveller in the lane; If welcomed once, thou count'st it gain; Thou art not daunted,
Nor car'st if thou be set at naught: And oft alone in nooks remote
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
Be violets in their secret mews
The flowers the wanton zephyrs choose; Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling;
Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; Thou art indeed, by many a claim, The poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprison'd by hot sunshine lie Near the green holly,
And wearily at length should fare; He need but look about, and there Thou art!-a friend at hand, to scare His melancholy.
A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couch'd an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension;
Some steady love; some brief delight; Some memory that had taken flight; Some chime of fancy, wrong or right, Or stray invention.
If stately passions in me burn,
And one chance look to thee should turn, I drink, out of an humbler urn, A lowlier pleasure;
The homely sympathy that heeds The common life, our nature breeds; A wisdom fitted to the needs
Of hearts at leisure.
When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise, alert and gay, Then, cheerful flower! my spirits play With kindred gladness:
And when, at dusk, by dews oppress'd, Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness.
And all day long I number yet, All seasons through, another debt, Which I, wherever thou art met, To thee am owing;
An instinct call it, a blind sense; A happy, genial influence,
Coming one knows not how, nor whence, Nor whither going:
Child of the year! that round dost run Thy course, bold lover of the sun, And cheerful when the day's begun As morning leveret,
Thy long-lost praise* thou shalt regain; Dear thou shalt be to future men,
As in old time ;-thou not in vain, Art Nature's favourite.
A WHIRL-BLAST from behind the hill Rush'd o'er the wood with startling sound: Then, all at once, the air was still, And showers of hailstones patter'd round. Where leafless oaks tower'd high above, I sat within an undergrove
Of tallest hollies, tall and green; A fairer bower was never seen. From year to year the spacious floor With wither'd leaves is cover'd o'er,
You could not lay a hair between :
See, in Chaucer and the elder poets, the honours formerly paid to this flower.
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել » |