LXXXVII.
He is an evening reveller, who makes[1]
His life an infancy, and sings his fill;[2][3]
At intervals, some bird from out the brakes
Starts into voice a moment, then is still.
There seems a floating whisper on the hill,
But that is fancy—for the Starlight dews
All silently their tears of Love instil,
Weeping themselves away, till they infuse
Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.[4]
LXXXVIII.
Ye Stars! which are the poetry of Heaven!
If in your bright leaves we would read the fate
Of men and empires,—'tis to be forgiven,
That in our aspirations to be great,
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,
And claim a kindred with you; for ye are
A Beauty and a Mystery, and create
In us such love and reverence from afar,
That Fortune,—Fame,—Power,—Life, have named themselves a Star.[5]
- ↑ He is an endless reveller——.—[MS. erased.]
- ↑ Him merry with light talking with his mate.—[MS. erased.]
- ↑ [Compare Anacreon (Εἰς τέττιγα), Carm. xliii. line 15—
Τὸ δὲ γῆρας οὔ σε τείρει.]
- ↑ Deep into Nature's breast the existence which they lose.—[MS.]
- ↑ [For the association of "Fortune" and "Fame" with a star, compare stanza xi. lines 5, 6—
