| |
| | “Par correr miglior acqua alza le vele, |
| Omai la navicella del mio Intelletto.” |
| DANTE. |
MY soul was mantled with dark shadows, born | |
| Of lonely Fear, disquieted in vain; | |
| Its phantoms hung around the star of morn, | |
| A cloud-like weeping train: | |
| Through the long day they dimmed the autumn gold | 5 |
| On all the glistening leaves, and wildly rolled, | |
| When the last farewell flush of light was glowing, | |
| Across the sunset sky, | |
| O’er its rich isles of vaporous glory throwing | |
| One melancholy dye. | 10 |
| And when the solemn night | |
| Came rushing with her might | |
| Of stormy oracles from caves unknown, | |
| Then with each fitful blast | |
| Prophetic murmurs passed, | 15 |
| Wakening or answering some deep Sybil-tone | |
| Far buried in my breast, yet prompt to rise | |
| With every gusty wail that o’er the wind-harp flies. | |
| |
| “Fold, fold thy wings,” they cried, “and strive no more— | |
| Faint spirit! strive no more: for thee too strong | 20 |
| Are outward ill and wrong, | |
| And inward wasting fires! Thou canst not soar | |
| Free on a starry way, | |
| Beyond their blighting sway, | |
| At heaven’s high gate serenely to adore. | 25 |
| How should’st thou hope earth’s fetters to unbind? | |
| O passionate, yet weak! O trembler to the wind! | |
| |
| “Never shall aught but broken music flow | |
| From joy of thine, deep love, or tearful woe— | |
| Such homeless notes as through the forest sigh, | 30 |
| From the reed’s hollow shaken, | |
| When sudden breezes waken | |
| Their vague, wild symphony. | |
| No power is theirs, and no abiding-place | |
| In human hearts; their sweetness leaves no trace— | 35 |
| Born only so to die! | |
| Never shall aught but perfume faint and vain, | |
| On the fleet pinion of the changeful hour, | |
| From thy bruised life again | |
| A moment’s essence breathe; | 40 |
| Thy life, whose trampled flower, | |
| Into the blessed wreath | |
| Of household-charities no longer bound, | |
| Lies pale and withering on the barren ground. | |
| |
| “So fade, fade on! Thy gift of love shall cling | 45 |
| A coiling sadness round thy heart and brain— | |
| A silent fruitless yet undying thing, | |
| All sensitive to pain! | |
| And still the shadow of vain dreams shall fall | |
| O’er thy mind’s world, a daily darkening pall. | 50 |
| Fold, then, thy wounded wing, and sink subdued | |
| In cold and unrepining quietude!” | |
| |
| Then my soul yielded: spells of numbing breath | |
| Crept o’er it heavy with a view of death— | |
| Its powers like leaves before the night-rain closing; | 55 |
| And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves tossed | |
| On the chill bosom of some desert coast, | |
| Mutely and hopelessly I lay reposing. | |
| When silently it seemed | |
| As if a soft mist gleamed | 60 |
| Before my passive sight, and slowly curling, | |
| To many a shape and hue | |
| Of visioned beauty grew, | |
| Like a wrought banner, fold by fold unfurling. | |
| |
| Oh! the rich scenes that o’er mine inward eye | 65 |
| Unrolling then swept by | |
| With dreamy motion! Silvery seas were there, | |
| Lit by large dazzling stars, and arched by skies | |
| Of southern midnight’s most transparent dyes; | |
| And gemmed with many an island, wildly fair, | 70 |
| Which floated past me into orient day, | |
| Still gathering lustre on the illumined way, | |
| Till its high groves of wondrous flowering-trees | |
| Coloured the silvery seas. | |
| And then a glorious mountain-chain uprose, | 75 |
| Height above spiry height! | |
| A soaring solitude of woods and snows, | |
| All steeped in golden light! | |
| While as it passed, those regal peaks unveiling, | |
| I heard, methought, a waving of dread wings, | 80 |
| And mighty sounds, as if the vision hailing, | |
| From lyres that quivered through ten thousand strings | |
| Or as if waters, forth to music leaping | |
| From many a cave, the Alpine echo’s hall, | |
| On their bold way victoriously were sweeping, | 85 |
| Linked in majestic anthems!—while through all | |
| That billowy swell and fall, | |
| Voices, like ringing crystal, filled the air | |
| With inarticulate melody, that stirred | |
| My being’s core; then, moulding into word | 90 |
| Their piercing sweetness, bade me rise and bear | |
| In that great choral strain my trembling part, | |
| Of tones by love and faith struck from a human heart. | |
| |
| Return no more, vain bodings of the night! | |
| A happier oracle within my soul | 95 |
| Hath swelled to power; a clear unwavering light | |
| Mounts through the battling clouds that round me roll; | |
| And to a new control | |
| Nature’s full harp gives forth rejoicing tones, | |
| Wherein my glad sense owns | 100 |
| The accordant rush of elemental sound | |
| To one consummate harmony profound— | |
| One grand Creation-Hymn, | |
| Whose notes the seraphim | |
| Lift to the glorious height of music winged and crowned. | 105 |
| Shall not those notes find echoes in my lyre, | |
| Faithful though faint? Shall not my spirit’s fire, | |
| If slowly, yet unswervingly, ascend | |
| Now to its fount and end? | |
| Shall not my earthly love, all purified, | 110 |
| Shine forth a heavenward guide, | |
| An angel of bright power—and strongly bear | |
| My being upward into holier air, | |
| Where fiery passion-clouds have no abode, | |
| And the sky’s temple-arch o’erflows with God? | 115 |
| |
| The radiant hope new-born | |
| Expands like rising morn | |
| In my life’s life: and as a ripening rose | |
| The crimson shadow of its glory throws | |
| More vivid, hour by hour, on some pure stream; | 120 |
| So from that hope are spreading | |
| Rich hues, o’er nature shedding | |
| Each day a clearer, spiritual gleam. | |
| |
| Let not those rays fade from me! Once enjoyed, | |
| Father of Spirits! let them not depart— | 125 |
| Leaving the chilled earth without form and void, | |
| Darkened by mine own heart! | |
| Lift, aid, sustain me! Thou, by whom alone | |
| All lovely gifts and pure | |
| In the soul’s grasp endure; | 130 |
| Thou, to the steps of whose eternal throne | |
| All knowledge flows—a sea for evermore | |
| Breaking its crested waves on that sole shore— | |
| Oh, consecrate my life! that I may sing | |
| Of Thee with joy that hath a living spring, | 135 |
| In a full heart of music! Let my lays | |
| Through the resounding mountains waft Thy praise, | |
| And with that theme the wood’s green cloisters fill, | |
| And make their quivering leafy dimness thrill | |
| To the rich breeze of song! Oh! let me wake | 140 |
| The deep religion, which hath dwelt from yore | |
| Silently brooding by lone cliff and lake, | |
| And wildest river-shore! | |
| And let me summon all the voices dwelling | |
| Where eagles build, and caverned rills are welling, | 145 |
| And where the cataract’s organ-peal is swelling, | |
| In that one spirit gathered to adore! | |
| |
| Forgive, O Father! if presumptuous thought | |
| Too daringly in aspiration rise! | |
| Let not Thy child all vainly have been taught | 150 |
| By weakness, and by wanderings, and by sighs | |
| Of sad confession! lowly be my heart, | |
| And on its penitential altar spread | |
| The offerings worthless, till Thy grace impart | |
| The fire from heaven, whose touch alone can shed | 155 |
| Life, radiance, virtue!—let that vital spark | |
| Pierce my whole being, wildered else and dark! | |
| Thine are all holy things—oh, make me Thine! | |
| So shall I, too, be pure—a living shrine | |
| Unto that Spirit which goes forth from Thee, | 160 |
| Strong and divinely free, | |
| Bearing Thy gifts of wisdom on its flight, | |
| And brooding o’er them with a dove-like wing, | |
| Till thought, word, song, to Thee in worship spring, | |
| Immortally endowed for liberty and light. | 165 |
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