THE EXCURSION. BONE-WEARY, many-childed, trouble-tried! This day, drink health from Nature's mountain bowl; Nay, why lament the doom which mocks control? The buried are not lost, but gone before. Then, dry thy tears, and see the river roll O'er rocks, that crown'd yon time-dark heights of yore, Now, tyrant-like, dethroned, to crush the weak no more. The young are with us yet, and we with them: O thank the Lord for all He gives or takesThe wither'd bud, the living flower, or gem! And He will bless us when the world forsakes! Lo! where thy fisher-born, abstracted, takes, With his fix'd eyes, the trout he cannot see! Lo, starting from his earnest dream, he wakes! While our glad Fanny, with raised foot and knee, Bears down at Noe's side, the bloom-bow'd hawthorn tree. Dear children! when the flowers are full of bees; When sun-touch'd blossoms shed their fragrant snow; When song speaks like a spirit, from the trees Whose kindled greenness hath a golden glow; When, clear as music, rill and river flow, With trembling hues, all changeful, tinted o'er By that bright pencil which good spirits know Alike in earth and heaven-'tis sweet, once more, Above the sky-tinged hills to see the storm-bird soar. 'Tis passing sweet to wander, free as air, Blythe truants in the bright and breeze-bless'd day, O Night's long-courted slumbers! bring no rest To men who laud man's foes, and deem the basest best! God! would they handcuff Thee? and, if they could Chain the free air, that, like the daisy, goes To every field; and bid the warbling wood For love-sweet odours, where the woodbine blows stream That leaves them still behind, and mocks their changeless dream. They know ye not, ye flowers that welcome me, Your dewy beauty, when the throstle's song Blue Eyebright!* loveliest flower of all that grow In flower-loved England! Flower, whose hedge-side gaze Is like an infant's! What heart doth not know Thee, cluster'd smiler of the bank! where plays The sunbeam with the emerald snake, and strays * The Germander Speedwell. The dazzling rill, companion of the road Which the lone bard most loveth, in the days When hope and love are young? O come abroad, Blue Eyebright! and this rill shall woo thee with an ode. Awake, blue Eyebright! while the singing wave Its cold, bright, beauteous, soothing tribute drops From many a grey rock's foot, and dripping cave; While yonder, lo, the starting stone-chat hops! While here the cotter's cow its sweet food crops; While black-faced ewes and lambs are bleating there; And, bursting through the briers, the wild ass stopsKicks at the strangers-then turns round to stare— Then lowers his large red ears and shakes his long dark hair. SONG. WHAT! canst thou smile, thou heart of ice? Thou who would'st basely sacrifice, To pet thy meanest prejudice, The holiest hopes of man? Or dost thou sneer, in rage and fear, Well, smile or sneer, and worship still But bow not unto Dagon's will The hearts of honest men. Thy slave-adored Abaddon's name May none but lips like thine proclaim ! Even as thy virtues are! |