Nor the light clouds at summer eve unfold
More varied tints of purple, red, and gold.
Some in the pure, translucent, liquid breast
Of crystal lake, fast anchor'd seem'd to rest,
Like golden islets scatter'd far and wide,
By elfin skill in fancy's fabled tide,
Where, as wild eastern legends idly feign,
Fairy, or genii, hold despotic reign.
Others, like vessels gilt with burnished gold,
Their flitting, airy way are seen to hold,
All gallantly equipp'd with streamers gay,
While hands unseen, or chance directs their way;
Around, athwart, the pure ethereal tide,
With swelling purple sail, they rapid glide,
Gay as the bark where Egypt's wanton queen
Reclining on the deck was seen,
At which as gazed the uxorious Roman fool,
The subject world slipped from his dotard rule.
Anon, the gorgeous scene begins to fade,
And deeper hues the ruddy skies invade ;
The haze of gathering twilight nature shrouds,
And pale, and paler wax the changeful clouds.
Then sunk the breeze into a breathless calm;
The silent dews of evening dropp'd like balm ;
The hungry night-hawk from his lone haunt hies,
To chase the viewless insect through the skies;
The bat began his lantern-loving flight,
The lonely whip-poor-will, our bird of night,
Ever unseen, yet ever seeming near,
His shrill note quaver'd in the startled ear;
The buzzing beetle forth did gaily hie,
With idle hum, and careless, blundering eye;
The little trusty watchman of pale night,
The firefly, trimm'd anew his lamp so bright,
And took his merry airy circuit round
The sparkling meadow's green and fragrant bound,
Where blossom'd clover, bathed in palmy dew,
In fair luxuriance, sweetly blushing grew.
CIV.-MANFRED'S SOLILOQUY.
THE stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains.—Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness,
I learn'd the language of another world.
I do remember me, that in my youth,
When I was wandering,-upon such a night
I stood within the Coliseum's wall,
'Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;
The trees which grew along the broken arches
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar
The watch-dog bay'd beyond the Tiber; and
More near from out the Cæsars' palace came
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot-Where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through levell'd battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ;—
But the gladiator's bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!
While Cæsars' chambers and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.-
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up,
As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries,
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old !—
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.—
I SEE them on their winding way,
About their ranks the moonbeams play ;
Their lofty deeds and daring high
Blend with the notes of victory.
And waving arms, and banners bright,
Are glancing in the mellow light:
They're lost-and gone, the moon is past,
The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast;
And fainter, fainter, fainter still
The march is rising o'er the hill.
Again, again, the pealing drum,
The clashing horn-they come, they come;
Through rocky pass, o'er wooded steep
In long and glittering files they sweep.
And nearer, nearer, yet more near,
Their softened chorus meets the ear;
Forth, forth, and meet them on their way;
The trampling hoofs brook no delay;
With thrilling fife and pealing drum,
And clashing horn, they come, they come.
THOUGH friends are false, and leaders fail,
And rulers quake with fear;
Though tamed the shepherd in the vale,
Though slain the mountaineer;
Though Spanish beauty fill their arms,
And Spanish gold their purse-
Sterner than wealth's or war's alarms
Is the wild Guerilla's course.
No trumpets range us to the fight:
No signal sound of drum
Tells to the foe, that, in their might,
The hostile squadrons come.
No sunbeam glitters on our spears,
No warlike tramp of steeds
Gives warning-for the first that hears
Shall be the first that bleeds.
The night-breeze calls us from our bed,
At dew-fall forms the line,
And darkness gives the signal dread
That makes our ranks combine:
Or should some straggling moonbeam lie
On copse or lurking hedge,
'Twould flash but from a Spaniard's eye,
Or from a dagger's edge.
'Tis clear in the sweet vale below,
And misty on the hill ;
The skies shine mildly on our foe,
But lour upon us still.
This gathering storm shall quickly burst
And spread its terrors far,
And at its front we'll be the first,
And with it go to war.
CVII.-I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
I REMEMBER, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!
I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
WHY come not spirits from the realms of glory,
To visit earth as in days of old?
The times of sacred writ, and ancient story;
Is heaven more distant, or is earth more cold?
Oft have I watched, when sunset clouds, receding,
Waved like rich banners of a host gone by,
To catch the gleam of some white pinion speeding
Along the confines of the glowing sky.
And oft, when midnight stars, in distant chillness,
Were calmly burning, listened late and long:
But nature's pulse beat on, with solemn stillness,
Bearing no echo of the scraph's song.
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