OT Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began;
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle,
In the passion of his toil,
When he saw the churches seven,
Golden-aisled, built up in heaven,
Gazed at such a rugged wonder,
As I stood its roofing under.
Lo! I saw one sleeping there,
On the marble cold and bare;
While the surges wash'd his feet,
And his garments white did beat
Drench'd about the sombre rocks
On his neck his well-grown locks,
Lifted dry above the main,
Were upon the curl again.
"What is this ? and what art thou?"
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow;
"What art thou? and what is this ?"
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes;
Up he started in a trice:
"I am Lycidas," said he,
"Fam'd in funeral minstrelsy!
This was architectured thus
By the great Oceanus !—
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day;
Here, by turns, his dolphins all,
Finny palmers, great and small,
Come to pay devotion due,
Each a mouth of pearls must strew!
Many a mortal of these days,
Dares to pass our sacred ways;
Dares to touch, audaciously,
This cathedral of the sea!
I have been the pontiff-priest,
Where the waters never rest,
Where a fledgy sea-bird choir
Soars for ever! Holy fire
I have hid from mortal man;
Proteus is my Sacristan!
But the dulled eye of mortal
Hath pass'd beyond the rocky portal:
So for ever will I leave
Such a taint, and soon unweave
All the magic of the place."
So saying with a Spirit's glance
He dived
"When on the summit a cloud enveloped him, and sitting on the stones, as it slowly wafted away, showing a tremendous precipice into the valley below, he wrote these lines."
READ me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in mist! I look into the chasms, and a shroud Vapourous doth hide them,-just so much I wist Mankind do know of hell; I look o'erhead, And there is sullen mist,-even so much Mankind can tell of heaven; mist is spread Before the earth, beneath me,-even such, Even so vague is man's sight of himself!
Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet,—
Thus much I know that, a poor witless elf,
I tread on them,-that all my eye doth meet
Is mist and crag, not only on this height,
But in the world of thought and mental might
LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN.
OULS of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host's Canary wine?
Or are fruits of Paradise
Sweeter than those dainty pies
Of venison ? O generous food!
Drest as though bold Robin Hood
Would, with his maid Marian,
Sup and bowse from horn and can.
I have heard that on a day
Mine host's sign-board flew away,
Nobody knew whither, till
An astrologer's old quill
To a sheepskin gave the story,-
Said he saw you in your glory,
Underneath a new old-sign
Sipping beverage divine,
And pledging with contented smack
The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
Souls of poets dead and gone. What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Taveru?
O! those days are gone away,
And their hours are old and grey,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden-pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have Winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.
No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amazed to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.
On the fairest time of June You may go, with sun or moon Or the seven stars to light you, Or the polar ray to right you;
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