VIII. O NIGHTINGALE! thou surely art A Creature of ebullient heart:- Thou sing'st as if the God of wine Of shades, and dews, and silent Night; Now sleeping in these peaceful Groves. I heard a Stock-dove sing or say His homely tale, this very day. His voice was buried among trees, Yet to be come at by the breeze: He did not cease; but coo'd-and coo'd; He sang of love with quiet blending, That was the Song-the Song for me! IX. THREE years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse: and with me The Girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain. "She shall be sportive as the Fawn That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs; And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm "The floating Clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The Stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where Rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face. "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy Dell." Thus Nature spake-The work was done How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm, and quiet scene; And never more will be. X. A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seem'd a thing that could not feel No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees, Rolled round in earth's diurnal course With rocks and stones and trees! XI. THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE*. WHEN the Brothers reached the gateway, Eustace pointed with his lance To the Horn which there was hanging; Horn of the inheritance. Horn it was which none could sound, No one upon living ground, Save He who came as rightful Heir To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair. * This Poem and the Ballad which follows it, as they rather refer to the imagination than are produced by it, would not have been placed here but to avoid a needless multiplication of the Classes. |