"And fare ye well, young flowers
Ye will not mourn! Ye will shed odours 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 forest, lone and deep,
My wing no more shall stir your lovely sleep—
Sweet water, I must die!
"Will ye not send one tone
Of sorrow through the shades? 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 comest 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-chant on; while mournfully
Soft 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 heavens
Ev'n then a skylark sung; 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—as if the tomb
Were of another world; and thus that strain
Spoke to the poet's heart 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, through 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!
Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 31 1832.pdf/3
