Where, musing, first I caught the flame, That Passion kindles in his dream. Thy soul of Music broke the spell, Ah! long had beauty's eyes in vain Thus vainly did the stars at night THE ANGLER'S SONG. From the river's plashy bank, To its silver cloud-and hark! On his way the woodman sings. On the dim and misty lakes : And the eagle's on his cloud :Whilst the wind, with sighing, woos To its arms the chaste cold ooze, And the rustling reeds pipe loud. Where the embracing ivy holds But when sultry suns are high As it shades the water's edge, When the eye of evening looks Lengthens by the greenwood tree. HYMN TO THE NORTH STAR. The sad and solemn night Has yet her multitude of cheerful fires; Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires : Day, too, hath many a star To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they: Unseen, they follow in his flaming way. Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim, Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him. And thou dost see them rise, Star of the Pole! and thou dost see them set. Alone, in thy cold skies, Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet, Nor join'st the dances of that glittering train, There, at morn's rosy birth, Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air, Chases the day, beholds thee watching there; There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls. G2 Alike, beneath thine eye, The deeds of darkness and of light are done; High towards the star-lit sky Towns blaze-the smoke of battle blots the sun- On thy unaltering blaze The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost, And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast; And, therefore, bards of old, A beauteous type of that unchanging good, The voyager of time should shape his heedful way. SONG OF THE STARS. When the radiant morn of creation broke, And the world in the smile of God awoke, Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath, And orbs of beauty, and spheres of flame, And this was the song the bright ones sung. Away, away, through the wide, wide sky, With her isles of green, and her clouds of white, For the source of glory uncovers his face, Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar,' How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass ! And the path of the gentle winds is seen, Where the small waves dance, and the young woods lean. |