DIRGE. WHERE shall we make her grave? Where shower and singing-bird Therefore let song and dew And o'er that holy earth Oh! then where wild-flowers wave, Where shower and singing-bird A SONG OF THE ROSE. "Cosi fior diverrai che non soggiace All 'acqua, al gelo, al vento ed allo scherno D' una stagion volubile e fugace; E a piu fido Cultor posto in governo, Ad eterna Bellezza odore eterno." PIETRO METASTASIO. ROSE! what dost thou here? Bridal, royal rose ? How, 'midst grief and fear, Canst thou thus disclose That fervid hue of love, which to thy heart-leaf glows? Rose! too much array'd For triumphal hours, Look'st thou through the shade Of these mortal bowers, Not to disturb my soul, thou crown'd one of all flowers! As an eagle soaring Through a sunny sky, As a clarion pouring Notes of victory, So dost thou kindle thoughts, for earthly life too high. Thoughts of rapture, flushing Youthful poet's cheek; Thoughts of glory, rushing Forth in song to break, But finding the spring-tide of rapid song too weak. Yet, oh, festal rose! I have seen thee lying In thy bright repose Pillow'd with the dying, Thy crimson by the lip whence life's quick blood was flying. Summer, hope and love O'er that bed of pain, Met in thee, yet wove Too, too frail a chain In its embracing links the lovely to detain. Smilest thou, gorgeous flower? Of thy beauty's power, Something dimly dwells, At variance with a world of sorrows and farewells. All the soul forth flowing All the proud life glowing In that radiant bloom, Have they no place but here, beneath th' o'ershadowing tomb? Crown'st thou but the daughters Of our tearful race? Heaven's own purest waters Well might wear the trace Of thy consummate form, melting to softer grace. Will that clime enfold thee Shall we not behold thee Bright and deathless there? In spirit-lustre clothed, transcendently more fair? Yes! my fancy sees thee In that light disclose, And its dream thus frees thee From the mist of woes, Darkening thine earthly bowers, O bridal, royal rose! NIGHT-BLOWING FLOWERS. CHILDREN of night! unfolding meekly, slowly To solemn things and deep, From earth, ye seem allied; O dedicated flowers! Ye, from the gaze of crowds your beauty veiling, Dwell from the throng apart, The inmost thought which glows Shut from the sounds wherein the day rejoices, THE WANDERER AND THE NIGHT-FLOWERS. CALL back your odours, lovely flowers, From the night-winds call them back; And fold your leaves till the laughing hours Come forth in the sunbeam's track! |