Here closed the meditative strain ; But air breathed soft that day, The hoary mountain-heights were cheered, And to the Primrose of the Rock I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers, Our vernal tendencies to hope That love which changed-for wan disease, For sorrow that had bent O'er hopeless dust, for withered age— Their moral element, And turned the thistles of a curse Sin-blighted though we are, we too, And in eternal summer lose Our threescore years and ten. To humbleness of heart descends And makes each soul a separate heaven, LAODAMEIA. "WITH sacrifice, before the rising morn Celestial pity I again implore: : Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore !" So speaking, and by fervent love endowed With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, Her countenance brightens-and her eye expands; O terror! what hath she perceived ?—O joy! Mild Hermes spake-and touched her with his wand prayer, Laodameia! that at Jove's command Thy husband walks the paths of upper air: He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space : Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp: But unsubstantial form eludes her grasp "Protesilaos, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: "Great Jove, Laodameia! doth not leave And something also did my worth obtain ; "Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand "Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best! |