Sidor som bilder
PDF
ePub
[graphic][merged small][graphic]
[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

влад

And still

[ocr errors]

In poverty, hunger, & dist

a voice of dolorous

dolorous putes,

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]

sary this song of the Sheit!

Mr. Hors

I was Ever thus ! _ Euch hour that came,

[ocr errors]

Still moremitting, bought.

Some newer form of guif or shame,

дис

Some newer

Care

for thought.

[ocr errors]
[graphic]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Written in the spring of 1819, when suffering from physical depression, the precursor of his death, which happened soon after.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk :
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of Summer in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt
mirth !

O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth,

That I might drink, and leave the world un

seen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

SAD IS OUR YOUTH, FOR IT IS EVER Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

[blocks in formation]

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and

dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

THE SUN IS WARM, THE SKY IS CLEAR.

STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES.

THE sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent light:
The breath of the moist air is light
Around its unexpanded buds ;
Like many a voice of one delight,

The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods',

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.

But in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer

eves.

Darkling I listen; and for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death. Called him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now, more than ever, seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight, with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad, In such an ecstasy !

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain

To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down ;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for
home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath

Charmed magic casements opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn the very word is like a bell,

To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu the Fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 't is buried deep In the next valley-glades :

Was it a vision or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:- do I wake or sleep?

JOHN KEATS.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple sea-weeds strown ;

I see the waves upon the shore

Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown : I sit upon the sands alone;

The lightning of the noontide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet, did any heart now share in my

emotion !

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that Content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,

And walked with inward glory crowned,
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround;
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

Yet now despair itself is mild

Even as the winds and waters are;

I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

PERCY BYSSHE SHElley.

ROSALIE.

O, POUR upon my soul again

That sad, unearthly strain

That seems from other worlds to 'plain!
Thus falling, falling from afar,

As if some melancholy star
Had mingled with her light her sighs,
And dropped them from the skies.

« FöregåendeFortsätt »