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Return, Alpheus ; the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 140 And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears; Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
150 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. For so, to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled ; Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world ; Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
160 Where the great Vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold. Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals grey : He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190 And now was dropt into the western bay. At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
[TO THE NIGHTINGALE.]
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeless doom, in some grove nigh;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
[ON HIS HAVING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF
Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth
That I to manhood am arrived so near ;
Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
Donna leggiadra, il cui bel nome onora
L'erbosa val di Reno e il nobil varco,
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
De' sui atti soavi giammai parco,
Laonde l' alta tua virtù s'infiora.
Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi ed a gli orecchi
Grazia sola di sù gli vaglia, innanti
QUAL in colle aspro, a l'imbrunir di sera,
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Così Amor meco insù la lingua snella
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
F 'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e 'l duro seno
RIDONSI donne e giovani amorosi
Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi :
DIODATI (e te 'l dirò con maraviglia),
Quel ritroso io, ch' amor spreggiar solea
Gia caddi, ov' uom dabben talor s 'impiglia Ne treccie d'oro, nè guancia vermiglia
M' abbaglian sì, ma sotto nova idea
Portamenti alti onesti, e nelle ciglia
Parole adorne di lingua più d'una,
E' cantar che di mezzo l' emispero Traviar ben può la faticosa Luna ;