| |
| SPIRIT! who lovest to live unseen, | |
| By brook or pathless dell, | |
| Where wild woods burst the rocks between | |
| And floods, in streams of silver sheen, | |
| Gush from their flinty cell! | 5 |
| |
| Or where the ivy waves her woof, | |
| And climbs the crag alone, | |
| Haunts the cool grotto, daylight proof, | |
| Where loitering drops that wear the roof | |
| Turn all beneath to stone. | 10 |
| |
| Shield me from summer’s blaze of day, | |
| From noontide’s fiery gale, | |
| And, as thy waters round me play, | |
| Beneath the o’ershadowing cavern lay, | |
| Till twilight spreads her veil. | 15 |
| |
| Then guide me where the wandering moon | |
| Rests on Mæcenas’ wall, | |
| And echoes at night’s solemn noon | |
| In Tivoli’s soft shades attune | |
| The peaceful waterfall. | 20 |
| |
| Again they float before my sight | |
| The bower, the flood, the glade; | |
| Again on you romantic height | |
| The Sibyl’s temple towers in light, | |
| Above the dark cascade. | 25 |
| |
| Down the steep cliff I wind my way | |
| Along the dim retreat, | |
| And mid the torrents’ deafening bray | |
| Dash from my brow the foam away, | |
| Where clashing cataracts meet. | 30 |
| |
| And now I leave the rocks below, | |
| And, issuing forth from night, | |
| View on the flakes that sunward flow, | |
| A thousand rainbows round me glow, | |
| And arch my way with light. | 35 |
| |
| Again the myrtles o’er me breathe, | |
| Fresh flowers my path perfume, | |
| Round cliff and cave wild tendrils wreathe, | |
| And from the groves that bend beneath | |
| Low trail their purple bloom. | 40 |
| |
| Thou grove, thou glade of Tivoli, | |
| Dark flood and rivulet clear, | |
| That wind, where’er you wander by, | |
| A stream of beauty on the eye, | |
| Of music on the ear; | 45 |
| |
| And thou that, when the wandering moon | |
| Illumed the rocky dell, | |
| Didst to my charmed ear attune | |
| The echoes of night’s solemn noon,— | |
| Spirit unseen! farewell! | 50 |
| |
| Farewell!—o’er many a realm I go, | |
| My natal isle to greet, | |
| Where summer sunbeams mildly glow, | |
| And sea-winds health and freshness blow | |
| O’er freedom’s hallowed seat. | 55 |
| |
| Yet there, to thy romantic spot | |
| Shall fancy oft retire, | |
| And hail the bower, the stream, the grot, | |
| Where earth’s sole lord the world forgot, | |
| And Horace smote the lyre. | 60 |
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