Yet, if we will one Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way Shall issue out in heavenly day;
And we, on divers shores now cast, Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, All in our Father's house at last.
And ere thou leave him, say thou this, Yet one word more-they only miss The winning of that final bliss,
Who will not count it true, that Love, Blessing, not cursing, rules above, And that in it we live and move.
And one thing further make him know, That to believe these things are so, This firm faith never to forego,
Despite of all which seems at strife With blessing, all with curses rife, That this is blessing, this is life.
(FROM THE ISLE OF PALMS.')
T is the midnight hour :-the beauteous sea, Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven
While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee, Far down within the watery sky reposes. As if the Ocean's heart were stirred With inward life, a sound is heard,
Composed upon Westminster Bridge.
Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep; 'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air,
That lies like a garment floating fair
Above the happy deep.
The sea, I ween, cannot be fanned
By evening freshness from the land,
For the land it is far away;
But God hath willed that the sky-born breeze In the centre of the loneliest seas Should ever sport and play. The mighty Moon she sits above, Encircled with a zone of love,
A zone of dim and tender light
That makes her wakeful eye more bright: She seems to shine with a sunny ray, And the night looks like a mellowed day! The gracious Mistress of the Main
Hath now an undisturbed reign,
And from her silent throne looks down, As upon children of her own,
On the waves that lend their gentle breast In gladness for her couch of rest!
COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE.
ARTH has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty : This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God! the very houses seem asleep And all that mighty heart is lying still!
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
AMELIN Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its walls on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity.
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in their cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.
At last the people in a body
To the Town Hall came flocking:
"Tis clear,' cried they, 'our Mayor's a noddy : And as for our Corporation-shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine For dolts that can't or won't determine What's best to rid us of our vermin ! You hope, because you're old and obese, To find in the furry civic robe ease ! Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking To find the remedy we're lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing !' At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation. An hour they sat in council,
At length the Mayor broke silence : 'For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell; I wish I were a mile hence!
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain- I'm sure my poor head aches again I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!'
Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber door but a gentle tap? 'Bless us,' cried the Mayor, 'what's that? Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? Anything like the sound of a rat
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!'
Come in!' the Mayor cried, looking bigger :
And in did come the strangest figure!
His queer long coat from heel to head Was half of yellow and half of red; And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin; No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, But lips where smiles went out and in— There was no guessing his kith and kin ! And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire:
Quoth one, 'It's as if my great-grandsire, Starting up at the trump of Doom's tone,
Had walked this way from his painted tombstone !'
He advanced to the council table :
And, 'Please your honours,' said he, 'I'm able,
By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep, or swim, or fly, or run, After me so as you never saw ! And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm, The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper; And people call me the Pied Piper.' (And here they noticed, round his neck,
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
To match with his coat of the selfsame check; And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying As if impatient to be playing
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old-fangled.)
'Yet,' said he, 'poor piper as I am,
In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats;
I eased in Asia the Nizam
Of a monstrous brood of vampyre bats : And as for what your brain bewilders, If I can rid your town of rats
Will you give me a thousand guilders?' 'One? fifty thousand!' was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while;
« AnteriorContinuar » |