ENDYMION. THE rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, Had dropt her silver bow On such a tranquil night as this, Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, Its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, In silence and alone To seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep, Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes Of him, who slumbering lies. O, weary hearts! O, slumbering eyes! O, drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, Ye shall be loved again! No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds, as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings ; And whispers, in its song, "Where hast thou stayed so long!" THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. FROM THE GERMAN OF PFIZER. A YOUTH, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wife A blessed child I rocked. I wake! Away that dream, Too long did it remain ! away! So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought; The mother beautiful was brought; But now the dream is wholly o'er, I bathe mine eyes and see; And wander through the world once more, A youth so light and free. and they are wondrous fair, – Two locks, Left me that vision mild; The brown is from the mother's hair, The blond is from the child. - |