Now, threatening like a storm-charged cloud;
Now, cooing like a
woodland dove;
Now, up again in roar and wrath
High soaring and wide
sweeping; now,
With sudden fury
dashing down
Full-force on the awaiting woods.
Long waited there, for aspens frail
That
tinkle with a silver bell,
To warn the Zephyr of their love,
When danger is at hand, and wake
The neighbouring boughs, surrendering all
Their
prophetharmony of leaves,
Had caught his earliest windward thought,
And told it trembling; naked birk
Down showering her dishevelled hair,
And like a beauty yielding up
Her fate to all the elements,
Had swayed in answer; hazels close,
Thick brambles and dark brushwood tufts,
And briared brakes that line the dells
With
shaggy beetling brows, had sung
Shrill music, while the
tattered flaws
Tore over them, and now the whole
Tumultuous concords, seized at once
With
savage inspiration,--pine,
And larch, and beech, and fir, and thorn,
And ash, and oak, and oakling, rave
And
shriek, and shout, and whirl, and toss,
And stretch their arms, and split, and crack,
And bend their stems, and bow their heads,
And grind, and groan, and lion-like
Roar to the echo-peopled hills
And ravenous wilds, and crake-like cry
With harsh delight, and cave-like call
With hollow mouth, and harp-like thrill
With
mighty melodies, sublime,
From clumps of column'd pines that wave
A lofty
anthem to the sky,
Fit music for a
prophet's soul -
And like an ocean
gathering power,
And murmuring deep, while down below
Reigns calm profound;--not trembling now
The aspens, but like freshening waves
That fall upon a shingly beach; -
And round the oak a
solemn roll
Of organ
harmony ascends,
And in the upper
foliage sounds
A
symphony of distant seas.
The voice of nature is abroad
This night; she fills the air with balm;
Her
mystery is o'er the land;
And who that hears her now and yields
His being to her yearning tones,
And seats his soul upon her wings,
And broadens o'er the wind-swept world
With her, will gather in the flight
More knowledge of her secret, more
Delight in her beneficence,
Than hours of musing, or the lore
That lives with men could ever give!
Nor will it pass away when morn
Shall look upon the lulling leaves,
And
woodlandsunshine, Eden-sweet,
Dreams o'er the paths of
peaceful shade; -
For every elemental power
Is
kindred to our hearts, and once
Acknowledged,
wedded, once embraced,
Once taken to the unfettered sense,
Once claspt into the naked life,
The union is eternal.
WILL O' THE WISP
Follow me, follow me,
Over brake and under tree,
Thro' the bosky tanglery,
Brushwood and bramble!
Follow me, follow me,
Laugh and leap and scramble!
Follow, follow,
Hill and hollow,
Fosse and burrow,
Fen and furrow,
Down into the bulrush beds,
'Midst the reeds and osier heads,
In the rushy soaking damps,
Where the vapours pitch their camps,
Follow me, follow me,
For a
midnight ramble!
O! what a
mighty fog,
What a merry night O ho!
Follow, follow, nigher, nigher -
Over bank, and pond, and briar,
Down into the croaking ditches,
Rotten log,
Spotted frog,
Beetle bright
With crawling light,
What a joy O ho!
Deep into the
purple bog -
What a joy O ho!
Where like hosts of puckered witches
All the shivering agues sit
Warming hands and chafing feet,
By the blue marsh-hovering oils:
O the fools for all their moans!
Not a forest mad with fire
Could still their teeth, or warm their bones,
Or loose them from their
chilly coils.
What a clatter,
How they chatter!
Shrink and huddle,
All a muddle!
What a joy O ho!
Down we go, down we go,
What a joy O ho!
Soon shall I be down below,
Plunging with a grey fat friar,
Hither,
thither, to and fro,
Breathing mists and whisking lamps,
Plashing in the shiny swamps;
While my cousin Lantern Jack,
With cook ears and
cunning eyes,
Turns him round upon his back,
Daubs him oozy green and black,
Sits upon his rolling size,
Where he lies, where he lies,
Groaning full of sack -
Staring with his great round eyes!
What a joy O ho!
Sits upon him in the swamps
Breathing mists and whisking lamps!
What a joy O ho!
Such a lad is Lantern Jack,
When he rides the black nightmare
Through the fens, and puts a glare
In the friar's track.
Such a
frolic lad, good lack!
To turn a friar on his back,
Trip him, clip him, whip him, nip him.
Lay him sprawling, smack!
Such a lad is Lantern Jack!
Such a tricksy lad, good lack!
What a joy O ho!
Follow me, follow me,
Where he sits, and you shall see!
SONG
Fair and false! No dawn will greet
Thy waking beauty as of old;
The little flower beneath thy feet
Is alien to thy smile so cold;
The merry bird flown up to meet
Young morning from his nest i' the wheat
Scatters his joy to wood and wold,
But scorns the
arrogance of gold.
False and fair! I
scarce know why,
But
standing in the
lonely air,
And
underneath the
blessed sky,
I plead for thee in my
despair; -
For thee cut off, both heart and eye
From living truth; thy spring quite dry;
For thee, that heaven my thought may share,
Forget--how false! and think--how fair!
SONG
Two
wedded lovers watched the rising moon,
That with her strange
mysterious beauty glowing,
Over misty hills and waters flowing,
Crowned the long
twilightloveliness of June:
And thus in me, and thus in me, they spake,
The
solemn secret of fist love did wake.
Above the hills the blushing orb arose;
Her shape encircled by a
radiant bower,
In which the
nightingale with charmed power
Poured forth
enchantment o'er the dark repose:
And thus in me, and thus in me, they said,
Earth's mists did with the sweet new spirit wed.
Far up the sky with ever purer beam,
Upon the
throne of night the moon was seated,
And down the
valley glens the shades retreated,
And silver light was on the open stream.
And thus in me, and thus in me, they sighed,
Aspiring Love has
hallowed Passion's tide.
SONG
I cannot lose thee for a day,
But like a bird with
restless wing
My heart will find thee far away,
And on thy bosom fall and sing,
My nest is here, my rest is here; -
And in the lull of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a sweet refrain,
'His rest is there, his nest is there.'
With thee the wind and sky are fair,
But parted, both are strange and dark;
And
treacherous the quiet air
That holds me singing like a lark,
O
shield my love, strong arm above!
Till in the hush of wind and rain,
Fresh voices make a rich refrain,
'The arm above will
shield thy love.'
DAPHNE
Musing on the fate of Daphne,
Many feelings urged my breast,
For the God so keen desiring,