POSTHUMOUS POEMS. N FINGAL'S CAVE. OT Aladdin magian Ever such a work began; Not the wizard of the Dee "What is this? and what art thou? ?” Here, by turns, his dolphins all, Such a taint, and soon unweave All the magic of the place." So saying, with a Spirit's glance W ΤΟ HAT can I do to drive away Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen! Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty? When every fair one that I saw was fair, When, howe'er poor or particolour'd things, And ever ready was to take her course Unintellectual, yet divine to me; Divine, I say! What sea-bird o'er the sea Winging along where the great water throes? How shall I do To get anew Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more Above, above The reach of fluttering Love, And make him cower lowly while I soar? Foisted into the canon law of love; No, wine is only sweet to happy men ; Seize on me unawares, Where shall I learn to get my peace again? Whose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods, Would fright a Dryad; whose harsh herbaged meads Make lean and lank the starv'd ox while he feeds There bad flowers have no scent, birds no sweet song, And great unerring Nature once seems wrong. O, for some sunny spell To dissipate the shadows of this hell! Say they are gone, with the new dawning light Steps forth my lady bright! O, let me once more rest My soul upon that dazzling breast! Let once again these aching arms be placed, The tender gaolers of thy waist! And let me feel that warm breath here and there To spread a rapture in my very hair, O, the sweetness of the pain! Give me those lips again! Enough! Enough! it is enough for me HYMN TO APOLLO. OD of the golden bow, GOD And of the golden lyre, And of the golden hair, Of the patient year, Where where slept thine ire, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath, Thy laurel, thy glory, The light of thy story, Or was I a worm too low crawling, for death? O Delphic Apollo ! The Thunderer grasp'd and grasp'd, The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd; The eagle's feathery mane For wrath became stiffen'd Went drowsily under, Muttering to be unbound. the sound O why didst thou pity, and for a worm |