The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies; It seemed he never, never could redeem From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes, So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.

Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,Tumultuous, and, in chords that tenderest be, [mute, He played an ancient ditty, long since In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy: "

Close to her ear touching the melody, Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan;

He ceased, she panted quick, and suddenly Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone: Upon his knees he sank, pale as smoothsculptured stone.

:0:

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 1792-1822.

THE PINE FOREST.

WE wandered to the pine forest
That skirts the ocean foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.

The whispering waves were half asleep,
The clouds were gone to play,
And on the bosom of the deep

The smile of heaven lay;

It seemed as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies,
Which scattered from above the sun
A light of Paradise.

We paused amid the pines that stood
The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
As serpents interlaced.

And soothed by every azure breath
That under heaven is blown,

To harmonies and hues beneath,
As tender as its own.

Now all the tree-tops lay asleep,
Like green waves on the sea,

As still as in the silent deep
The ocean woods may be.

How calm it was !-the silence there
By such a chain was bound,
That even the busy woodpecker
Made stiller by her sound

The inviolable quietness;

The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. There seemed, from the remotest seat Of the wide mountain waste, To the soft flower beneath our feet, A magic circle traced: A spirit interfused around, A thrilling silent life, To momentary peace it bound

Our mortal nature's strife ;And still, I felt, the centre of

The magic circle there

Was one fair form, that filled with love
The lifeless atmosphere.

We paused beside the pools that lie
Under the forest bough,
Each seemed as 'twere a little sky
Gulfed in a world below:
A firmament of purple light,
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,
And purer than the day-
In which the lovely forests grew,
As in the upper air,

More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any spreading there. [lawn,
There lay the glade and neighbouring
And through the dark green wood
The white sun twinkling like the dawn
Out of a speckled cloud.

Sweet views, which in our world above
Can never well be seen,
Were imaged by the water's love
Of that fair forest green.
And all was interfused beneath
With an Elysian glow,

An atmosphere without a breath,
A softer day below.

Like one beloved the scene had lent
To the dark water's breast

Its every leaf and lineament

With more than truth exprest, Until an envious wind crept by, Like an unwelcome thought, Which from the mind's too faithful eye Blots one dear image out.

THE RAVINE.

I REMEMBER

Two miles on this side of the fort, the road Crosses a deep ravine; 'tis rough and

narrow,

And winds with short turns down the precipice;

And in its depth there is a mighty rock,
Which has, from unimaginable years,

Sustained itself with terror and with toil
Over a gulf, and with the agony [down;
With which it clings seems slowly coming
Even as a wretched soul, hour after hour,
Clings to the mass of life; yet, clinging,
leans,
[abyss
And, leaning, makes more dark the dread
In which it fears to fall. Beneath this crag,
Huge as despair, as if in weariness

The melancholy mountain yawns. Below
You hear, but see not, the impetuous

ever.

The meeting boughs and implicated leaves
Wove twilight o'er the Poet's path, as led
By love, or dream, or god, or mightier
Death,
[bank,

He sought in Nature's dearest haunt, some
Her cradle, and his sepulchre. More dark
And dark the shades accumulate-the oak,
Expanding its immeasurable arms,
Embraces the light beech. The pyramids
Of the tall cedar overarching, frame
Most solemn domes within, and far below,
Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky,
The ash and the acacia floating hang
Tremulous and pale. Like restless
serpents, clothed

In rainbow and in fire, the parasites, Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around

The grey trunks, and as gamesome infants' eyes,

With gentle meanings and most innocent wiles, [that love, Fold their beams round the heart of those These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs,

Uniting their close union; the woven leaves Make network of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns

Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with pèrfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms

Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jasmine,

A soul-dissolving odour, to invite To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell,

Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades

[a well, Like vaporous shapes half seen; beyond, Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent

wave,

Images all the woven boughs above,
And each depending leaf, and every speck
Of azure sky, darting between their chasms;
Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves
Its portraiture, but some inconstant star
Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair,
Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon,
Or gorgeous insect floating motionless,
Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings
Have spread their glories to the gaze of

noon.

A MOUNTAIN SCENE.

ON every side now rose Rocks, which in unimaginable forms Lifted their black and barren pinnacles In the light of evening, and its precipice Obscuring the ravine, disclosed above, 'Mid toppling stones, black gulfs, and yawning caves, [tongues Whose windings gave ten thousand various To the loud stream. Lo! where the pass expands

Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, And seems, with its accumulated crags, To overhang the world: for wide expand Beneath the wan stars and descending moon Islanded seas, blue mountains, mighty [gloom

streams,

Dim tracts and vast, robed in the lustrous Of leaden-coloured even, and fiery hills

Yet the grey precipice, and solemn pine, And torrent, were not all: one silent nook Was there. Even on the edge of that vast mountain,

Upheld by knotty roots and fallen rocks, It overlooked in its serenity [stars. The dark earth, and the bending vault of It was a tranquil spot, that seemed to smile Even in the lap of horror. Ivy clasped The fissured stones with its entwining arms, And did embower with leaves for ever green, And berries dark, the smooth and even space

Of its inviolate floor; and here The children of the autumnal whirlwind bore, [decay, In wanton sport, those bright leaves, whose Red, yellow, or ethereally pale,

Rival the pride of summer. 'Tis the haunt Of every gentle wind, whose breath can

teach

The wilds to love tranquillity.

:0:

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

1777-1844.

THE FALL OF POLAND.

O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile, [smile,

And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to When leagued Oppression poured to Nor[hussars,

thern wars Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, [trumpet horn; Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her

The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight,

The dullest sailer wearing bravely now, So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow.

[high:

And oh, the little warlike world within! The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy,* The hoarse command, the busy humming din, When, at a word, the tops are manned on Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry, [tackle glides; While through the seaman's hand the Or schoolboy midshipman that, standing by, Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides, And well the docile crew that skilful urchin [guides.

White is the glassy deck without a stain, Where on the watch the staid lieutenant walks:

Look on that part which sacred doth remain For the lone Chieftain, who majestic stalks Silent and feared by all: not oft he talks With aught beneath him, if he would pre[baulks That strict restraint, which, broken, ever Conquest and Fame; but Britons rarely [strength to nerve. From law, however stern, which tends their

serve

swerve

Till the broad sun withdraws his lessening Then must the pennant-bearer slacken sail, That lagging barks maymake their lazyway, Ah! grievance sore, and listless dull delay, To waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze!

[day,

What leagues are lost before the dawn of
Thus loitering pensive on the willing seas,
The flapping sail hauled down to halt for
logs like these!

The moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!
Long streams of light o'er dancing waves
expand;
[believe;
Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids
Such be our fate when we return to land!
Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand
Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love:
A circle there of merry listeners stand,
Or to some well-known measure featly move
Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were
free to rove.

'Tis night, when Meditation bids us feel We have once loved, though love is at an end:

The heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal, Though friendless now, will dream it had a friend.

[to bend, Who with the weight of years would wish When Youth itself survives young Love and joy?

Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend, Death hath but little left him to destroy ! Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side,
To gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere,
The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and
Pride,
[year.

And flies unconscious o'er each backward
None are so desolate but something dear,
Dearer than self, possesses or possessed
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear;
A flashing pang! of which the weary breast
Would still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart
divest.

To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,

And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, [fold;

With the wild flock that never needs a Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean: This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled.

[of men, But, 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; [tress!

Minions of splendour shrinking from disNone that, with kindred consciousness

endued,

If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flattered, followed, sought, and sued:

This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

MOONLIGHT.

THE moon is up, and yet it is not night; Sunset divides the sky with her: a sea