Classic Poem

It was the time when Autumn with the thrill
Of Summer's farewell kiss was sparkling still,
And each new day had its renewed delights:
Fresh morns, and golden noons, and silver nights,
When forth at eve I took [ left incomplete ]
Calm with the finished labours of the day,
To breathe fresh air and fresher change of thought,
And while the balmy gales my temples sought,
To mark o'er all how Twilight's shadowy hand
Came with its gentle blessing on the land
[The darkening trees that stood between the light
Tufted [ ? ] arrayed, a graceful sight,
In the blue void just moved their silv'ry plumes,
While ever and anon, subtle perfumes
By tricksome airs from bank and briar let free
Swept o'er the sense with long-drawn luxury.
Then would there come from Philomela's throat
The softest, clearest, lowliest, liquid note,
Piercing the calm, like [nectar del .]
Sucked up by sighing airs from founts of pearl.
Such mournful meaning seemed it, as expressed
By spirit suffering in that little breast
Magic transformed, or doomed for small offence
To range the year in gentle penitence.
Nature lay thrilled, and Silence, without might,
Sat with her finger up hushing Delight]

Proud had the day gone past, profuse of gold, —
And welcomed like a conqueror of old,
As with a ling'ring pride he towered along,
With nature's pomp, full gales, and vocal song,
And waving palms, and living tap'stry hung
From tree to tree, by the strong breezes swung.
But now from vale to hill, from hill to sky
Was stillness all and wrapt obscurity
Till the moon rose; and as I gained a mound
That sloped into a dell with groves walled round,
I met, full gaze, her gentleness of light
Bending with calm attention through the night,
As though she came, with mute o'erlifted face,
To view the slumber of that lovely place.
Half dusk with shade it was and half o'erlaid
With the pure silver that the moonlight made,
Which from a neighb'ring brook might scarce be known
So dewy light and chrystal was its tone
But that the stream went babbling on its road
And had a sparkling motion as it flowed
So [ left incomplete ]
The turf felt double to my lightsome feet
The very turf [ cancelled ]
And led me step by step [ left incomplete ]

It seemed a spot shut out from vulgar eyes
For spirits when they [chose del .] to leave the skies,
What time to celebrate a poet's birth
They pay a radiant visit to the earth
While the [ ] homeward swain
Sees the quick fires flash downward to the plain
And often [ ] and often looks behind
At the strange voices calling in the wind.
Often my path I turned, but oftener stood
And ran my sight around the circling wood,
Marking its massy outline in the sky
And fancying oft, with half expectant eye,
To see some fairy train [ cut through ]
Some gentle ghost, for whom such walks are made,
Might take its nightly wand'ring from the shade.
But most I loved to fix my placid look
Not on that shade, nor on that sparkling brook,
Nor yet on that fair light, with calmness fraught,
That seemed to look the silence into thought,
But on one star, sparkling and yet as still,
That in the holier distance seemed to thrill,
Touched haply by the hand that bade it rise
Or trembling to the sounds that woke the skies
And set the spheres afloat in mingling harmonies.
Once, I remember well, 'twas at the time
When Love beset me first and stole my rhime
I woke and from the pillow leaned to see
What light it was that kissed me as I lay
And shed upon the wall a christal ray,
When full upon my eyes with smiles of flame
Like a kind fair the radiant stranger came:

I knew the star, and blessed the sweet surprise
But never had I seen it leave the skies
So bright before, for it withholds' its sway
Unless the [vulgar?] planets are away
As well as from the lustier stare of day.
That month and more (how well I call to mind!)
My mistress and my muse alike were kind,
And the whole world, so blest had been my sight,
Seemed hope, and newness all, and holiday delight
Smit with a rushing mem'ry of the past,
My limbs upon the springy turf I cast
And while the pensive joy o'erflowed my breast,
Thus in my bending thought the star addressed: —

Fair visitant, who from that highest sphere,
Doubtless in range of heav'n, yet smilest here,
Like a blest friend to other climes removed,
Whom distance only makes more fixed and loved,
Whether called Venus when thou bring'st the night,
Or Phosphor, when the strength of morning's light —
(Names giv'n to shew us how thy beauties share
Whate'er in either sex is brightly fair)
Thy sparkling mildness surely must dispense
Some more than common starlight influence,
So touching are thy beams, so made to bless
Earth-pitying souls, and all the man possess
With meek internal light and patient tenderness.
Thee at returning eve, his labours done,
The lover hails, impatient of the sun.

To thee the mourner at her window side,
Mother or child bereaved, or widowed bride,
Lifts up her glistening cheek and thinks that there
New to his wings he skims the unbounded air,
Or that awhile permitted to contrast
His present bliss with all the fev'rish past
He [looks cut through ] [ ] from above
A holy pity hardly weaned from love.
Her little infant, stretching from her knee,
At first half wonders what that grief may be,
Then in the precious drops that glance so bright
[Scrambles?] his little hands with ignorant delight.
These are the links that fasten earth and heav'n;
'Tis then all selfish and all worldly leaven
Quits the pure mind, that like a subtle flame
Darts up the golden chain from whence it came.
Tranced by the touch of heav'n the body sleeps,
The sense that shudders, and the eye that weeps,
And freed, upraised, awakened, and alone,
The disembodied spirit claims its own.

E'en now while gazing upward to thy face,
Thou first and fairest of the starry race,
Thy smile seems travelling [ ] from on high
To win my loos'ning spirit to the sky,
Bathing mine eyes with kisses dipt in balm,
And through the strange enthusiastic calm
Fuming with noiseless whisp'ring, seems to say —
Steal from thy mortal self, and come away

[Not such enchantment looked the son of May
Fresh dropt from heav'n upon a cloudless day,
Nor the young Bacchus, yet unspoiled and fair,
Nor frank Apollo with his laurelled hair.
Nor e'er did [ ? ] vision half so bright
Warm the shut eyes of Phidias, when at night
O'ertoiled, he leaned against the living stone
And dreamt th' immediate Godhead filled its throne.]

Philosophy! Tis she herself aspires
High as the Muse, and mounts with the same fires,
Springing from world to world, and in her flight
Calling the conscious wonders to unite
In thrilling witness of th' immortal soul,
And breathe the grand conviction as they roll.

(a)

To other ears I sing, and fain would draw
Such audience as the star of evening saw
On Sunium's brow, when [Truth, then playful young, cut through ]
On Plato's knee [ cut through ]
While Nature's eloquence [ cut through ]
While the gales whispered, and the waves stole round
Talking beneath as with a spiritual sound
And ocean, vast and viewless, stretched before
The living [ left incomplete ]
And heav'n above bending its thousand eyes,
Seemed ready to disclose its mighty mysteries.

(b)

To loftier hearts I sing, and gentler ears,
With harp new touched to the preluding spheres,
And fain would gather round th' aetherial song
Souls happy to escape the worldly throng.

(c)

Calm spirits that by stream or bow'r enjoy
And by poetic [ ? ]
To [ ] in pure skies
With half arrested step through field or grove,
By springing airs refreshed
And in still spot, blest from unholy stir,
Commune with poet or philosopher

(d)

Calm spirits, inward eyed, who daily read
That book more wond'rous and of holier need
Than all the learned Babel of the shelves,
The meek restraining volume of themselves.

(e)

Calm spirits, the quick eyed, who know to read
Whether their native Muse delight them best
[ ] with native virtues blest
Their country's Muse free as its Liberty

(f)

Strong as its strength, and as its freedom free

(g)

Kindness its climate, flowing as its sea,
Sound in its heart, and as its spirit free

(h)

Or wing their fancy to Italian groves
Where helmed and [ ] embowered laurel-shaded

(i)

Or wing their fancy to the Tuscan groves
And laurel bow'rs that shade luxurious loves

(j)

Or send their fancy upon sunbright wings
With knightly visions held and basking loves

(k)

Or send their fancy upon sparkling wings
To Italy's blue skies and silver springs
Where plumed visions thread the stately groves
And [ ] and peeping pleasure roves
Through laurel shades that hide impassioned loves.