Slow moves the Consul's car between
Bright glittering helms and axes keen;
O'er moonlit rocks, and ramparts bare,
High the Pretorian banners glare.
Afar is heard the torrent's moan,
The winds through rifted caverns groan;
The vulture's huge primeval nest,
Wild toss'd the pine its shatter'd crest;
Darker the blackening forest frown'd
Strange murmurs shook the trembling
ground.
In the old warrior's midnight dream
Gigantic shadows seem'd to gleam,
The Caudine forks, and Canna's field
Again their threatening cohorts yield.
Seated on the Thunderer's throne,
He saw the shapes of gods unknown,
Saw in Olympus' golden hall
The volleyed lightning harmless fall,
The great and Capitolian lord
Dim sink, 'mid nameless forms abhorr'd.
Shook the Tarpeian cliff; around
The trembling Augur felt the sound ;
Saw, God of Light! in deathly shade,
Thy rich, resplendent tresses fade,
And from the empty car of day The ethereal coursers bound away.
Then frequent rose the signal shrill,
Oft heard on Alba's echoing bill,
Or down the Apulian mountains borne,
The mingled swell of trump and horn ;
The stern centurion frown'd to hear
Unearthly voices murmuring near;
Back to his still and Sabine home
Fond thoughts and favorite visions roam.
Sweet Vesta! o'er the woods again
He views thy small and silent fane ;
He sees the whitening torrents leap
And flash round Tibur's mountain-steep;
Sees Persian ensigns wide unroll'd,
Barbaric kings in chains of gold;
O'er the long Appian's crowded street,
Sees trophied arms and eagles meet,
Through the tall arch their triumph pour,
Till rose the trumpet's louder roar;
From a thousand voices nigh
Burst on his ear the banner-cry,
And o'er the concave rocks, the sound
AVRELIVS," smote with stern rebound.
HALF kneeling yet, and half reclining,
She held her harp against her knees: Aloft the ruddy roofs were shining,
And sunset touch'd the trees. From the gold border gleam'd like snow Her foot a crown enrich'd her brow: Dark gems confin'd that crimson vest Close-moulded on her neck and breast.
In silence lay the cloistral court
And shadows of the convent towers:
Well order'd now in stately sort
Those royal halls and bowers.
The choral chaunt had just swept by ;
Bright arms lay quivering yet on high:
Thereon the warriors gaz'd, and then
Glanced lightly at the Queen again.
While from her lip the wild hymn floated,
Such grace in those uplifted eyes
And sweet, half absent looks, they noted
That, surely, through the skies
A Spirit, they deem'd, flew forward ever
Above that song's perpetual river,
And, smiling from its joyous track,
Upon her heavenly face look'd back.
I LEARN'D his greatness first at Lavington: The moon had early sought her bed of brine,
But we discours'd till now each starry sign Had sunk: our theme was one and one
"Two minds supreme," he said, "our earth has known;
One sang in science; one serv'd God in song;
THOU art not, and thou never canst be mine; The die of fate for me is thrown,
No more to me than some resplendent shade
Flung on the canvas by old art divine ;
Or vision of shap'd stone;
Or the far glory of some starry sign
Which hath a beauty unapproachable
To aught but sight, - a throne
High in the heavens and out of reach;
Therefore with this low speech
HE sang so wildly, did the Boy,
That you could never tell
If 't was a madman's voice you heard,
Or if the spirit of a bird
Within his heart did dwell:
A bird that dallies with his voice
Among the matted branches;
Or on the free blue air his note
To pierce, and fall, and rise, and float,
With bolder utterance launches.
None ever was so sweet as he,
The boy that wildly sang to me;
Though toilsome was the way and long,
He led me not to lose the song.
But when again we stood below
The unhidden sky, his feet
Grew slacker, and his note more slow,
But more than doubly sweet.
He led me then a little way
Athwart the barren moor,
And then he stayed and bade me stay
Beside a cottage door;
I could have stayed of mine own will,
In truth, my eye and heart to fill
With the sweet sight which I saw there,
At the dwelling of the cottager.
A little in the doorway sitting,
The mother plied her busy knitting,
And her cheek so softly smil'd,
You might be sure, although her gaze
Was on the meshes of the lace,
Yet her thoughts were with her child.
But when the boy had heard her voice,
As o'er her work she did rejoice,
His became silent altogether,
And slily creeping by the wall,
He seiz'd a single plume, let fall
By some wild bird of longest feather;
And all a-tremble with his freak,
He touch'd her lightly on the cheek.
Oh, what a loveliness her eyes
Gather in that one moment's space,
While peeping round the post she spies
Her darling's laughing face!
Oh, mother's love is glorifying,
On the cheek like sunset lying;
In the eyes a moisten'd light,
Softer than the moon at night!
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