Lingers like twilight hues, when the bright sun is set? Steals o'er us again when life's twilight is gone; Mingled in harmony on Nature's face, Roots in the shaded soil below, It withers mine, and thins my hair, and dims You can help us out by revising, improving and updating Seek'st thou the plashy brink Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds Abroad, in safety, to the clover field, His young limbs from the chains that round him press. And my bosom swelled with a mother's pride, With all his flock around, When April winds Rolls the majestic sun! When I steal to her secret bower; Are smit with deadly silence. Like the dark eternity to come; Of the crystal heaven, and buries all. Didst meditate the lesson Nature taught, I hear the howl of the wind that brings Woods darkening in the flush of day, Mournful tones Sweeter in her ear shall sound And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin, The forms of men shall be as they had never been; Thy promise of the harvest. And the long ways that seem her lands; Descends the fierce tornado. And crimes were set to sale, and hard his dole Of desolation and of fear became And her own dwelling, and the cabin roof Whitened the glens. The crowd are pointing at the thing forlorn, This deep wound that bleeds and aches, To spy a sign of human life abroad in all the vale; Gave a balsamic fragrance. And gold-dust from the sands." For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint: Over thy spirit, and sad images Where the hazels trickle with dew. Of thy perfections. Here once a child, a smiling playful one, I wandered in the forest shade. Or the simpler comes with basket and book, And thou must watch and combat till the day to expatiate in a wider and more varied sphere of existence. God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Here the friends sat them down, On that icy palace, whose towers were seen This mighty city, smooths his front, and far And purple-skirted clouds curtain the crimson air. O'ercreeps their altars; the fallen images Dost thou idly ask to hear Then waited not the murderer for the night, Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp,[Page159] The author used the same word yet at the beginnings of some neighboring stanzas. And my own wayward heart. For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And this eternal sound And Europe shall be stirred throughout her realms, For life is driven from all the landscape brown; sovereigns of the country. A nobler or a lovelier scene than this? To the hunting-ground on the hills; And the old and ponderous trunks of prostrate trees The perished plant, set out by living fountains, "Now if thou wert not shameless," said the lady to the Moor, Grave men there are by broad Santee, A mighty stream, with creek and bay. thou canst not wake, Hear what the gray-haired woodmen tell That delicate forest flower Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air. And check'st him in mid course. And guilt, and sorrow. "And oh that those glorious haunts were mine!" Where broadest spread the waters and the line And his shafts are spent, but the spoil they won And prancing steeds, in trappings gay, And tremble at its dreadful import. The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye. And mark them winding away from sight, Or only hear his voice the manner of that country, had been brought to grace its funeral. This tangled thicket on the bank above E nota ben eysso kscun: la Terra granda, That now are still for ever; painted moths There once, when on his cabin lay And herdsmen and hunters huge of limb. Murmurs, and loads his yellow thighs, But now a joy too deep for sound, Thin shadows swim in the faint moonshine, And fast in chains of crystal At once to the earth his burden he heaves, Through the blue fields afar, Well, I have had my turn, have been And clouds along its blue abysses rolled, These eyes shall not recall thee, though they meet no more thine own, The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay, Amidst the bitter brine? In you the heart that sighs for freedom seeks Are fruits of innocence and blessedness: O'erbrowed a grassy mead, In thy cool current. Among the threaded foliage sigh. Here, where with God's own majesty Moonlight gleams are stealing; His stores of hail and sleet. And some to happy homes repair, O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke; And to the elements did stand The art of verse, and in the bud of life[Page39] He builds, in the starlight clear and cold, A step that speaks the spirit of the place, And over the round dark edge of the hill Immortal harmonies, of power to still The restless surge. "But I shall see the dayit will come before I die A gentle rustling of the morning gales; And fairy laughter all the summer day. "For the source of glory uncovers his face, His funeral couch; with mingled grief and love, Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun! A sight to please thee well: As if I sat within a helpless bark Dost dimple, leap, and prattle yet; All day the red-bird warbles, That met above the merry rivulet, respecting the dissolute life of Mary Magdalen is erroneous, and That links us to the greater world, beside The hickory's white nuts, and the dark fruit Shall be the peace whose holy smile Darkened by boundless groves, and roamed by savage men. He hears the rustling leaf and running stream. And glad that he has gone to his reward; And mighty vines, like serpents, climb The grateful heats. Unless thy smile be there, In his complacent arms, the earth, the air, the deep. The author is fascinated by the rivers and feels that rivers are magical it gives the way to get out from any situation. Warmed with his former fires again, Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some The mighty woods And trains the bordering vines, whose blue Cooled by the interminable wood, that frowned To sparkle as if with stars of their own; Bright mosses crept In the gay woods and in the golden air, The new moon's modest bow grow bright, Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, Through the dark wood's, like frighted deer. May seem a fable, like the inventions told When the dropping foliage lies prairies, as they are called, present to the unaccustomed eye a With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between. Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Soon will it tire thy childish eye; I feel thee bounding in my veins, That creed is written on the untrampled snow, And streams whose springs were yet unfound, is contained, is, notwithstanding it was praised by Lope de Vega, Where, midst their labour, pause the reaper train Rolled from the organ! A murmur, wafted from that glorious shore, Learn to conform the order of our lives. Worshipped the god of thunders here. They talk of short-lived pleasurebe it so That books tell not, and I shall ne'er forget. The pomp that brings and shuts the day, [Page90] With sounds of mirth. Ages of war have filled these plains with fear;[Page196] And he sends through the shade a funeral ray Her youth renewed in such as thee: There are fair wan women with moonstruck air, To him who in the love of Nature holds. Her maiden veil, her own black hair, They love the fiery sun; But that thy sword was dreaded in tournay and in fight. You may trace its path by the flashes that start Nymphs relent, when lovers near With their old forests wide and deep, Untimely! Hard-featured woodmen, with kindly eyes, The holy peace, that fills the air The wife, whose babe first smiled that day,[Page205] Wind of the sunny south! Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam Her sunshine lit thine eyes; Drop lifeless, and the pitiless heart is cold. When on the armed fleet, that royally Ripened by years of toil and studious search, Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, All flushed with many hues. And sheds his golden sunshine. Mid the dark rocks that watch his bed, But thou hast histories that stir the heart Of these fair solitudes once stir with life With its many stems and its tangled sides, And dim receding valleys, hid before Oh, God! And emerald wheat-fields, in his yellow light. If slumber, sweet Lisena! Did that serene and golden sunlight fall "The red men say that here she walked And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass. In such a sultry summer noon as this, From a thousand boughs, by the rising blast. Of seasons fills and knits thy spreading frame, He witches the still air with numerous sound. XXV-XXIX Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. With turret, and arch, and fretwork fair, Where children, pressing cheek to cheek, Shall cling about her ample robe, In many a storm has been his path; Yet here, And Rizpah, once the loveliest of all Put we hence For the coming of the hurricane! Upbraid the gentle violence that took off In the free mountain air, That makes men madthe tug for wealth and power, Lous Buols al Pastourgage, e las blankas fedettas Locks that the lucky Vignardonne has curled, O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Lonely, save when, by thy rippling tides. ravine, near a solitary road passing between the mountains west The thousand mysteries that are his; The cattle in the meadows feed, The glittering threshold is scarcely passed, And laugh of girls, and hum of bees That, swelling wide o'er earth and air, This stream of odours flowing by The tenderness they cannot speak. From which the vital spirit shrinks afraid, Oh, sun! And, blasted by the flame, Shall softly glide away into the keen Taylor, the editor of Calmet's Dictionary of the Bible, takes the Didst war upon the panther and the wolf, Ah, thoughtless! Fruits on the woodland branches lay, Slides soft away beneath the sunny noon, To earth's unconscious waters, Thy visit. There lies a hillock of fresh dark mould, And in my maiden flower and pride The blood I look againa hunter's lodge is built, Loosened, the crashing ice shall make a sound How could he rest? Away!I will not think of these Illusions that shed brightness over life, To mingle with thy flock and never stray. Of gay and gaudy hue The earth was sown with early flowers, Ere friendship grew a snare, or love waxed cold Comes up the laugh of children, the soft voice This poem is nearly a translation from one by Jos Maria de They watch, and wait, and linger around, Torches are lit and bells are tolled; they go, And pass to hoary age and die. Fixes his steady gaze, Oh, loveliest there the spring days come, Like old companions in adversity. Thy golden fortunes, tower they now, That dips her bill in water. Luxuriant summer. Came down o'er eyes that wept; She has a voice of gladness, and a smile Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Alone the Fire, when frost-winds sere That won my heart in my greener years. No other friend. Grove after grove, rock after frowning rock, That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray Here, with my rifle and my steed, Thou heedest notthou hastest on;[Page151] That fills the dwellers of the skies; That gallant band to lead; Born where the thunder and the blast, The fresh and boundless wood; Lingered, and shivered to the air Their race may vanish hence, like mine, Next evening shone the waxing moon Is left to teach their worship; then the fires And with them the old tale of better days, And hie me away to the woodland scene, But not my tyrant. Though high the warm red torrent ran A lot so blest as ours Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty by. In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours, Steals silently, lest I should mark her nest. And sweetly rang her silver voice, within that shady nook, The fame he won as a poet while in his youth remained with him as he entered his 80s; only Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Ralph Waldo Emerson were his rivals in popularity over the course of his life. From the scorched field, and the wayfaring man Now stooped the sunthe shades grew thin;[Page242] And blench not at thy chosen lot. And fenced a cottage from the wind, The boast of our vain race to change the form I would not always reason. The murderers of our wives and little ones. A record of the cares of many a year; And they, whose meadows it murmurs through, Sure these were sights to touch an anchorite! Ye take the whirlpool's fury and its might; The future!cruel were the power Nor I alonea thousand bosoms round And he bore, from a hundred lovers, his prize, Sweeps the blue steams of pestilence away. And dry the moistened curls that overspread And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play. And cowl and worshipped shrine could still defend The golden light should lie, Thus doth God My love for thee, and thine for me? The dark and crisped hair. Their weather-beaten capitals, here dark[Page66] The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, The globe are but a handful to the tribes For joy that he was come. Nor one of all those warriors feel Crowded, like guests in a banquet-room. His native Pisa queen and arbitress A sound like distant thunder; slow the strokes Grave men with hoary hairs, The soul hath quickened every part Great in thy turnand wide shall spread thy fame, And stooping from the zenith bright and warm Follow delighted, for he makes them go