| |
| LONG I follow’d happy guides, | |
| I could never reach their sides; | |
| Their step is forth and, ere the day | |
| Breaks, up their leaguer and away. | |
| Keen my sense, my heart was young, | 5 |
| Right goodwill my sinews strung, | |
| But no speed of mine avails | |
| To hunt upon their shining trails. | |
| On and away, their hasting feet | |
| Make the morning proud and sweet; | 10 |
| Flowers they strew,—I catch the scent; | |
| Or tone of silver instrument | |
| Leaves on the wind melodious trace; | |
| Yet I could never see their face. | |
| On eastern hills I see their smokes | 15 |
| Mix’d with mist by distant lochs. | |
| I met many travellers, | |
| Who the road had surely kept; | |
| They saw not my fine revellers— | |
| These had cross’d them while they slept. | 20 |
| Some had heard their fair report | |
| In the country or the court: | |
| Fleetest couriers alive | |
| Never yet could once arrive, | |
| As they went or they return’d, | 25 |
| At the house where these sojourn’d. | |
| Sometimes their strong speed they slacken | |
| Though they are not overtaken; | |
| In sleep their jubilant troop is near— | |
| I tuneful voices overhear, | 30 |
| It may be in wood or waste— | |
| At unawares ’tis come and past. | |
| Their near camp my spirit knows | |
| By signs gracious as rainbows. | |
| I thenceforward and long after | 35 |
| Listen for their harplike laughter, | |
| And carry in my heart, for days, | |
| Peace that hallows rudest ways. | |
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