National Lyrics, and Songs for Music/The Swan and the Sky Lark

For other versions of this work, see The Swan and the Skylark.
2993200National Lyrics, and Songs for Music — The Swan and the Sky-LarkFelicia Hemans


THE SWAN AND THE SKY-LARK.




Adieu, adieu! my plaintive anthem fades
    Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
    In the next valley-glades.
Keats.


Higher still and higher
    From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
    The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

Shelley.


Midst the long reeds that o'er a Grecian stream
Unto the faint wind sigh'd melodiously,
And where the sculpture of a broken shrine
Sent out, thro' shadowy grass and thick wild flowers,

Dim alabaster gleams—a lonely Swan
Warbled his death-chaunt; and a poet stood
Listening to that strange music, as it shook
The lilies on the wave; and made the pines
And all the laurels of the haunted shore
Thrill to its passion. Oh! the tones were sweet,
Ev'n painfully—as with the sweetness rung
From parting love; and to the Poet's thought
This was their language.

"Summer, I depart!
O light and laughing summer, fare thee well!
No song the less thro' thy rich woods will swell,
        For one, one broken heart.

        And fare ye well, young flowers!
Ye will not mourn! ye will shed odour still,
And wave in glory, colouring every rill,
        Known to my youth's fresh hours.


And ye, bright founts, that lie
Far in the whispering forests, lone and deep,
My wing no more shall stir your shadowy sleep—
        —Sweet waters! I must die.

        Will ye not send one tone
Of sorrow thro' the pines?—one murmur low?
Shall not the green leaves from your voices know
        That I, your child, am gone?

        No, ever glad and free!
Ye have no sounds a tale of death to tell,
Waves, joyous waves, flow on, and fare ye well!
        Ye will not mourn for me.

        But thou, sweet boon, too late
Pour'd on my parting breath, vain gift of song!
Why com'st thou thus, o'ermastering, rich and strong,
        In the dark hour, of fate?


Only to wake the sighs
Of echo-voices from their sparry cell;
Only to say—O sunshine and blue skies!
        O life and love, farewell!"


Thus flow'd the death-chaunt on; while mournfully
Low winds and waves made answer, and the tones
Buried in rocks along the Grecian stream,
Rocks and dim caverns of old Prophecy,
Woke to respond: and all the air was fill'd
With that one sighing sound—"Farewell, Farewell!"
—Fill'd with that sound? high in the calm blue heaven
Ev'n then a Sky-lark hung; soft summer clouds
Were floating round him, all transpierced with light,
And midst that pearly radiance his dark wings
Quiver'd with song:—such free triumphant song,
As if tears were not,—as if breaking hearts
Had not a place below—and thus that strain
Spoke to the Poet's ear exultingly.


"The summer is come; she hath said, 'Rejoice!'
The wild woods thrill to her merry voice;
Her sweet breath is wandering around, on high;
—Sing, sing thro' the echoing sky!

"There is joy in the mountains; the bright waves
leap,
Like the bounding stag when he breaks from sleep;
Mirthfully, wildly, they flash along—
—Let the heavens ring with song!

"There is joy in the forests; the bird of night
Hath made the leaves tremble with deep delight;
But mine is the glory to sunshine given—
Sing, sing thro' the echoing heav'n!

"Mine are the wings of the soaring morn,
Mine are the fresh gales with day-spring born:
Only young rapture can mount so high—
—Sing, sing thro' the echoing sky!"


So those two voices met; so Joy and Death
Mingled their accents; and amidst the rush
Of many thoughts, the listening Poet cried,
—"Oh! thou art mighty, thou art wonderful,
Mysterious Nature! Not in thy free range
Of woods and wilds alone, thou blendest thus
The dirge-note and the song of festival;
But in one heart, one changeful human heart
—Aye, and within one hour of that strange world—
Thou call'st their music forth, with all its tones
To startle and to pierce!—the dying Swan's,
And the glad Sky-Lark's—Triumph and Despair!"