In sight of the spires, All alive with the fires Of the sun going down to his rest, In the broad open eye of the solitary sky, - They dance, there are three, as jocund as free, Man and Maidens wheel, They themselves make the reel, And their music's a prey which they seize ; They dance not for me, Yet mine is their glee! Thus pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find; Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind, Moves all nature to gladness and mirth. The showers of the spring Rouse the birds, and they sing ; If the wind do but stir for his proper delight, XXIII. THE PILGRIM'S DREAM; OR, THE STAR AND THE GLOW-WORM. A PILGRIM, when the summer day Or heath-besprinkled copse might yield, He paced along; and, pensively, Whose moss-grown root might serve for couch or seat, Fixed on a Star his upward eye; Then, from the tenant of the sky He turned, and watched with kindred look, A Glow-worm, in a dusky nook, The murmur of a neighbouring stream A pregnant dream, within whose shadowy bounds And That which glittered from afar; And (strange to witness!) from the frame Intelligible sounds. Much did it taunt the humbler Light That now, when day was fled, and night Hushed the dark earth, fast closing weary eyes, A very reptile could presume To show her taper in the gloom, As if in rivalship with One Who sate a ruler on his throne "Exalted Star!" the Worm replied, But not for this do I aspire To match the spark of local fire, That at my will burns on the dewy lawn, What favours do attend me here, When this in modest guise was said, In the blue depth, like Lucifer Cast headlong to the pit! Fire raged and, when the spangled floor Of ancient ether was no more, New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought forth : And all the happy Souls that rode Transfigured through that fresh abode, Had heretofore, in humble trust, Shone meekly mid their native dust, The Glow-worms of the earth! 62 THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLEDOVE. lea: This knowledge, from an Angel's voice Where by that dream he had been cheered XXIV. 1818. THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLEDOVE. As often as I murmur here My half-formed melodies, The Turtledove replies: The captive promptly coos; |