And let me as a list'ning child, still sit at A moment caught, then cast away. Truth, wisdom, pureness, temperance, for- O heart! can yield thee refuge then!? None know, if cast when nature first the Would through such peaceful scenes my life Though there the Roman or the Grecian art Ravine, crag, field, and wood, in colours Hath lent, to deck thy plain and moun tain brow, No broken temples, fain at length to bow, Moss-grown and crumbling with the weight of time. Not these o'er thee their mystic splendours throw, Themes eloquent for pencil or for rhyme, As many a soul can tell that pours its thoughts sublime. But thou art sternly artless, wildly free: We worship thee for beauties all thine own: Like damsel, young and sweet, and sure to be Admired, but only for herself alone. With richer foliage ne'er was land o'ergrown, No mightier rivers run, nor mountains rise, Nor ever lakes with lovelier graces shone, Nor wealthier harvests waved in human eyes, Nor lay more liquid stars along more heavenly skies. true and bright. THE RHINE. Он come, gentle pilgrim, Of the old German land. That vision divine Of the past and the present, And as sweet as a song, Roll murm'ring along. It flashes with beauty As bright as can be. With the azure of heaven, Its first waters flow, Escaped from a bow; Gleaming tow'rs of Mayence, Enchanted thou'rt borne In bewildering trance, By life-giving wine- Old Ehrenbreitstein! Cathedral looks down On the crowds at its base, Of the ancient Cologne, While in rapture thy dazzled And wondering eyes Scarce follow the pictures, As bright, as they rise, As the dreams of thy youth, Which thou vainly wouldst stay, But they float, from thy longings, Like shadows away. Thou wilt find on the banks Of the wonderful stream, Full many a spot That an Eden doth seem. THE WARNING. WHEN the days of thy life Have a joy so complete, Contentment so perfect, And rapture so sweet, Then tremble, O mortal! For oft they are given By the Dark One of Earth But to lure thee from heav'n. Awaits thee such bliss, Thy mettlesome steed He will bear thee with speed. Back! back! for a danger Thy foot-path hangs o'er. Fly! fly! or we leave thee, And warn thee no more. Oh listen! oh listen!" |