Church, Missionary Of the leaves of many years: 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 Than with these horrid moods be left i' 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; But you never may behold Little John, or Robin bold; Never one, of all the clan, Thrumming on an empty can Some old hunting ditty, while He doth his green way beguile To fair hostess Merriment, Down beside the pasture Trent; For he left the merry tale Messenger for spicy ale. Gone, the merry morris din; Gone, the song of Gamelyn; Gone, the tough-belted outlaw Idling in the "grenè shawe"; All are gone away and past! And if Robin should be cast Sudden from his turfèd grave, And if Marian should have Once again her forest days, She would weep, and he would craze: He would swear, for all his oaks, Fallen beneath the dockyard strokes, Have rotted on the briny seas; She would weep that her wild bees Sang not to her strange! that honey Can't be got without hard money! ODE (1818) Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Yes, and those of heaven commune With the noise of fountains wondrous, Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; Of heaven and its mysteries. 5 10 15 20 15 Of their sorrows and delights; Of their passions and their spites; 20 Of their glory and their shame; What doth strengthen and what maim. 30 35 Souls of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? 25 Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose; Every thing is spoilt by use: Then the hurry and alarm When the soundless earth is muffled, To banish Even from her sky. She will mix these pleasures up Like three fit wines in a cup, 20 25 30 35 Where's the cheek that doth not fade, Too much gazed at? Where's the maid 70 Where's the eye, however blue, At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her With a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her zone 75 80 85 |