In the calm thou o'erstretchest the valleys With thine arms, as if blessings imploring, Like an old king led forth from his palace, When his people to battle are pouring From the city beneath him. To the lumberer asleep 'neath thy booming Thou dost sing of wild billows in motion, Till he longs to be swung 'mid their booming In the tents of the Arabs of ocean, Whose finned isles are their cattle. For the gale snatches thee for his lyre, While he pours forth his mighty desire Whose arms stretch to his playmate. The wild storm makes his lair in thy branches, And thence preys on the continent under; Like a lion, crouched close on his haunches, There awaiteth his leap the fierce thunder, Growling low with impatience. Spite of winter, thou keep'st thy green glory, Lusty father of Titans past number! The snow-flakes alone make thee hoary, Nestling close to thy branches in slumber, And thee mantling with silence. Thou alone know'st the splendor of winter, Thou alone know'st the glory of summer, Gazing down on thy broad seas of forest, On thy subjects, that send a proud murmur Up to thee, to their sachem, who towerest From thy bleak throne to heaven. SI DESCENDERO IN INFERNUM, ADES. O, WANDERING dim on the extremest edge Of God's bright providence, whose spirits sigh That shivers o'er the dead pool stiff and dry, Still by cracked arch and broken shaft I trace A child's play-altar reared of stones and moss, Mute recognition of the all-ruling Grace. How far are ye from the innocent, from those Whose hearts are as a little lane serene, Smooth-heaped from wall to wall with unbroke snows, Or in the summer blithe with lamb-cropped green, Save the one track, where naught more rude is seen Than the plump wain at even Bringing home four months' sunshine bound in sheaves!- Your souls partake its influence, not in vain Its drift of noiseless apple-blooms receives. Looking within myself, I note how thin A plank of station, chance, or prosperous fate In my own heart I find the worst man's mate, That opes to those abysses Where ye grope darkly, — ye who never knew Or home's restraining tendrils round you curled; Ah, side by side with heart's-ease in this world The fatal nightshade grows and bitter rue! One band ye cannot break, the force that clips And grasps your circles to the central light ; Yet strives with you no less that inward might The god in you the creed-dimmed eye eludes; By bigot feet polluted ; Yet they who watch your God-compelled return May see your happy perihelion burn Where the calm sun his unfledged planets broods. |