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In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 25
Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

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not:

Like a high-born maiden

In a palace-tower,

Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour

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her bower:

Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,

Scattering unbeholden

Its aëreal hue

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it from the view!

Like a rose embowered

In its own green leaves,

By warm winds deflowered,

Till the scent it gives

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Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves:

Sound of vernal showers

On the twinkling grass,

Rain-awakened flowers,

All that ever was

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Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth

surpass:

Teach us, Sprite or Bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine:

I have never heard

Praise of love or wine

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That panted forth a flood of rapture so

divine.

Chorus Hymeneal,

Or triumphal chant,

Matched with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt,

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A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden

want.

What objects are the fountains

Of thy happy strain?

What fields, or waves, or mountains?

What shapes of sky or plain?

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What love of thine own kind? what igno

rance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance

Languor cannot be:

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee:

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Thou lovest - but ne'er knew love's sad

satiety.

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TO NIGHT

SWIFTLY Walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!

Out of the misty eastern cave,

Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear,-
Swift be thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Star-inwrought!

Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand
Come, long-sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn,

I sighed for thee;

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15

When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest.
Lingering like an unloved guest,

I sighed for thee.

Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Wouldst thou me?

Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noontide bee,

Shall I nestle near thy side?

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25

Wouldst thou me?

And I replied,

No, not thee!

TIME LONG PAST ·

as I am

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1820

10

15

Most musical of mourners, weep again!
Lament anew, Urania! He died,

Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, 30 Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride,

The priest, the slave, and the liberticide, Trampled and mocked with many a loathèd rite

Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,
Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite 35
Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the
sons of light.

Most musical of mourners, weep anew!
Not all to that bright station dared to climb:
And happier they their happiness who knew,
Whose tapers yet burn through that night of
time

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