« 上一页继续 »
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover :
And one was round her lover. “Come back! come back!” he cried in grief,
“Across this stormy water ; And I'll forgive your Highland chief
My daughter !-oh! my daughter!” 'Twas vain;—the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing
And he was left lamenting.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
THE waters are flashing,
“Our boat has one sail,
O'er the sea.
And from isle, tower, and rock,
From the lee.
“And fearest thou, and fearest thou ?
I and thou ?”
One boat-cloak did cover
Soft and low;
To and fro.
In the court of the fortress
Like a bloodhound well beaten
Of his name.
To Mary In Heaven.
Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,
That lovest to greet the early morn, Again thou usherest in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy Iover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget?
Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where, by the winding Ayr, we met
To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports past ! Thy image at our last embrace
Ab! little thought we 'twas our last !
Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twined amorous round the raptured scene; The flowers sprung wanton to be prest,
The birds sung love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaimed the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care : Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
THE CHILDREN'S Hour.
H. W. LONGFELLOW. BETWEEN the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.
A whisper, and then a silence ;
Yet I know by their merry eyes
To take me by surprise.
A sudden raid from the hall !
They enter my castle wall ! They climb up into my turret,
O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine; Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, Because
have scaled the wall, Such an old moustache as I am
Is not a match for you all !
And will not let you depart,
In the round-tower of my heart.
Yes, for ever and a day,
And moulder in dust away !