Go thou to Rome, XLIX. at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness; And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, 435 And flowering weeds and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead, A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread. 440 L. And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath, A field is spread, on which a newer band 445 Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. 450 LI. Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet Its charge to each; and if the seal is set, 455 LII. The One remains, the many change and pass; Until Death tramples it to fragments. Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! LIII. Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart? And man, and woman; and what still is dear 460 465 470 The soft sky smiles, the low wind whispers near; 'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, 475 No more let Life divide what Death can join together. LIV. That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, 480 485 LV. The breath whose might I have invoked in song Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. SONNET: POLITICAL GREATNESS. NOR happiness, nor majesty, nor fame, Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts, Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit 1821. 490 495 5 10 In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought; 5 How elate This Aziola was some tedious woman, Asked, "Who is Aziola?” I felt to know that it was nothing human, No mockery of myself to fear or hate: And Mary saw my soul, And laughed, and said, "Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl." II. Sad Aziola! many an eventide ΙΟ Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side, 15 And fields and marshes wide, Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird, The soul ever stirred; Unlike and far sweeter than them all. Sad Aziola! from that moment I Loved thee and thy sad cry. A LAMENT. I. OH, world! oh, life! oh, time! On whose last steps I climb Trembling at that where I had stood before; 1821. 20 When will return the glory of your prime? No more-O, never more! Out of the day and night II. A joy has taken flight ; Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight 5 As the wood when leaves are shed, 5 As the night when sleep has fled, As the heart when joy is dead, I am left lone, alone. II. The swallow summer comes again— To fly with thee, false as thou. Vainly would my winter borrow Sunny leaves from any bough. 10 15 |