Πότνια, πότνια νύξ, ὑπνοδότειρα τῶν πολυπόνων βροτῶν, Ερεβόθεν ἔπι· μόλε μόλε κατάπτερο ̓Αγαμεμνόνιον ἐπὶ δόμον· ὑπὸ γὰρ ἀλγέων, ὑπό τε συμφορᾶς διοιχόμεθ, οἰχόμεθα. EURIPIDES. VOICES OF THE NIGHT. PRELUDE. PLEASANT it was, when woods were green, To lie amid some sylvan scene, Or where the denser grove receives Beneath some patriarchal tree A slumberous sound,—a sound that brings The feelings of a dream, As of innumerable wings, As, when a bell no longer swings, O'er meadow, lake, and stream. And dreams of that which cannot die, Dreams that the soul of youth engage And, loving still these quaint old themes, Even in the city's throng I feel the freshness of the streams, That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams, Water the green land of dreams, The holy land of song. Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings The Spring, clothed like a bride, When nestling buds unfold their wings, And bishop's-caps have golden rings, Musing upon many things, I sought the woodlands wide. The green trees whispered low and mild; It was a sound of joy! They were my playmates when a child, And rocked me in their arms so wild; Still they looked at me and smiled, As if I were a boy; And ever whispered, mild and low, 66 Come, be a child once more!" And waved their long arms to and fro, Into the blithe and breathing air, Into the solemn wood, Solemn and silent everywhere! Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer! Like one in prayer I stood. Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines; Abroad their fan-like branches grew, And, where the sunshine darted through, Spread a vapour soft and blue, In long and sloping lines. And, falling on my weary brain, The dreams of youth came back again; Visions of childhood! Stay, oh, stay! Ye were so sweet and wild! And distant voices seemed to say, "It cannot be ! They pass away Other themes demand thy lay: Thou art no more a child! ! F |