That roar, the prowling lion's Here I am, How fearful to the desert wide! That bleat, how tender! of the dam Shout, cuckoo ! - let the vernal soul Go with thee to the frozen zone; Toll from thy loftiest perch, lone bell-bird, toll At the still hour to Mercy dear, Mercy from her twilight throne Listening to nun's faint throb of holy fear, From rocky steep and rock-bestudded meadows And milder echoes from their cells Then, or far earlier, let us rove Besprinkled with a careless choir, IV. Blest be the song that brightens The blind man's gloom, exalts the veteran's mirth; Unscorned the peasant's whistling breath, that lightens His duteous toil of furrowing the green earth. That beautifies the fairest shore, Yon pilgrims see, in lagging file They move; but soon the appointed way A choral Ave Marie shall beguile, And to their hope the distant shrine Glisten with a livelier ray: Nor friendless he, the prisoner of the mine, Who from the well-spring of his own clear breast Can draw, and sing his griefs to rest. When civic renovation V. Dawns on a kingdom, and for needful haste Thrilling the unweaponed crowd with plumeless heads? Even She whose Lydian airs inspire Peaceful striving, gentle play Of timid hope and innocent desire Shot from the dancing Graces, as they move VI. How oft along thy mazes, Regent of sound, have dangerous Passions trod ! O Thou, through whom the temple rings with praises, And blackening clouds in thunder speak of God, Betray not by the cozenage of sense Thy votaries, wooingly resigned To a voluptuous influence That taints the purer, better mind; But lead sick Fancy to a harp That hath in noble tasks been tried; And, if the virtuous feel a pang too sharp, The uplifted arm of Suicide; And let some mood of thine in firm array Knit every thought the impending issue needs, Ere martyr burns, or patriot bleeds! VII. As Conscience, to the centre Of being, smites with irresistible pain, So shall a solemn cadence, if it enter The mouldy vaults of the dull idiot's brain, And then aghast, as at the world By concords winding with a sway Or, awed, he weeps, struggling to quell dismay. Lodged above the starry pole, - Pure modulations flowing from the heart Of Divine Love, where Wisdom, Beauty, Truth, With Order dwell, in endless youth? Oblivion may not cover VIII. All treasures hoarded by the miser, Time. To the first leagues of tutored passion climb, And voice and shell drew forth a tear Rejoiced that clamorous spell and magic verse IX. The GIFT to King Amphion That walled a city with its melody Was for belief no dream: thy skill, Arion! Could humanize the creatures of the sea, So shall he touch at length a friendly strand, X. The pipe of Pan, to shepherds Couched in the shadow of Manalian pines, Was passing sweet; the eyeballs of the leopards, That in high triumph drew the Lord of vines, How did they sparkle to the cymbal's clang! While Fauns and Satyrs beat the ground In cadence, and Silenus swang This way and that, with wild-flowers crowned. |