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Και παγάς φιλέoιμι τον εγγύθεν ήχον ακούειν, ,
“A τέρπει ψοφέoισα τον άγρικoν, ουχί ταράσσει.
FAINT gleams the evening radiance through the sky;
The sober twilight dimly darkens round;
In short quick circles, the shrill bat flits by ;
And the slow vapor curls along the ground.
Now the pleased eye
lone cottage sees On the green mead the smoke long-shadowing play; The redbreast on the blossomed spray
Warbles wild her latest lay ; And lo! the rooks to yon high-tufted trees Wing in long files, vociferous, their way. Calm CONTEMPLATION! 'tis thy favorite hour :
Come, tranquillizing Power!
I view thee on the calmy shore,
When Ocean stills his waves to rest;
Or when, slow-moving on, the surges hoar
Meet with deep, hollow roar,
And whiten o'er his breast; And when the moon with softer radiance gleams, And lovelier heave the billows in her beams.
When the low gales of evening moan along,
I love with thee to feel the calm, cool breeze,
And roam the pathless forest-wilds among,
Listening the mellow murmur of the trees
Full-foliaged, as they wave their heads on high,
And to the winds respond in symphony.
Or lead me where, amid the tranquil vale,
The broken streamlet flows in silver light;
And I will linger where the gale
O'er the bank of violets sighs,
Listening to hear its softened sounds arise,
And hearken the dull beetle's drowsy flight,
And watch the tube-eyed snail
Creep o’er his long, moon-glittering trail,
And mark where radiant through the night Shines in the grass-green hedge the glow-worm's
Thee, meekest Power! I love to meet,
As oft with solitary pace
The ruined abbey's hallowed rounds I trace,
And listen to the echoings of my
Or on some half-demolished tomb,
Whose warning texts anticipate my doom,
Mark the clear orb of night
Cast through the ivied arch a broken light.
Nor will I not in some more gloomy hour
Invoke with fearless awe thine holier power,
Wandering beneath the sacred pile
When the blast moans along the darksome aisle,
And clattering patters all around
The midnight shower with dreary sound.
But sweeter 'tis to wander wild,
By melancholy dreams beguiled,
While the summer moon's pale ray
Faintly guides me on my way
To some lone, romantic glen,
Far from all the haunts of men,
Where no noise of uproar rude
Breaks the calm of solitude ;
But soothing Silence sleeps in all,
Save the neighboring waterfall,
Whose hoarse waters, falling near,
Load with hollow sounds the ear,
And with down-dashed torrent white
Gleam hoary through the shades of night.
Thus, wandering silent on and slow,
I'll nurse Reflection's sacred woe,
And muse upon the happier day
When Hope would weave her visions gay,
Ere Fancy, chilled by adverse fate,
Left sad Reality my mate.
O CONTEMPLATION! when to Memory's eyes
The visions of the long-past days arise,
Thy holy power imparts the best relief,
And the calmed spirit loves the joy of grief.
O my faithful Friend!
O early chosen, ever found the same,
And trusted and beloved! once more the verse
Long-destined, always obvious to thine ear,
And wouldst thou seek the low abode
Where Peace delights to dwell?
Pause, Traveller, on thy way of life;
With many a snare and peril rife
Is that long labyrinth of road;
Dark is the vale of years before:
Pause, Traveller, on thy way,
Nor dare the dangerous path explore Till old Experience comes to lend his leading ray.
Not he who comes with lantern-light
Shall guide thy groping pace aright
With faltering feet and slow.
No: let him rear the torch on high,
And every maze shall meet thine eye,
And every snare,
e; Then with steady step and strong, Traveller, shalt thou march along.
Though Power invite thee to her hall,
Regard not thou her tempting call,
Her splendor's meteor-glare ;
Though courteous Flattery there await,
And Wealth adorn the dome of State,
There stalks the midnight spectre Care:
Peace, Traveller, doth not sojourn there.
If Fame allure thee, climb not thou
To that steep mountain's craggy brow
Where stands her stately pile;
For far from thence doth Peace abide,
And thou shalt find Fame's favoring smile Cold as the feeble sun on Hecla's snow-clad side.
And, Traveller, as thou hop'st to find
That low and loved abode,
Retire thee from the thronging road,
And shun the mob of human-kind.
Ah! hear how old Experience schools ! —
“Fly, fly the crowd of knaves and fools,
And thou shalt fly from woe!
The one thy heedless heart will greet
With Judas-smile, and thou wilt meet
In every fool a foe!”
So safely mayst thou pass from these,
And reach secure the home of Peace,
And Friendship find thee there;
No happier state can mortal know,
No happier lot can Earth bestow,
If Love thy lot shall share.