Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clustering summer breaks forth into singing,
And feathered clouds strew flowers round her head.
"The Spirits of the Air live on the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees."
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat ;
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
WINTER! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
He hears me not, but o'er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchained, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath reared his sceptre o'er the world.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning
rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
He takes his seat upon the cliffs the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch, that deal'st
With storms!-till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount
Hecla.
HOU fair-haired Angel of the Evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains,
light
Thy bright torch of love-thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest.
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!
HOLY virgin, clad in purest white,
Unlock heaven's golden gates, and issue
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honeyed dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant Morning, salute the Sun,
Roused like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskined feet appear upon our hills.
HE bell struck one, and shook the silent tower ; The graves gave up their dead: fair Eleanor Walked by the castle-gate, and lookèd in : A hollow groan ran through the dreary vaults
She shrieked aloud, and sunk upon the steps,
On the cold stone her pale cheek.
Of death issue as from a sepulchre,
And all is silent but the sighing vaults.
Chill Death withdraws his hand, and she revives ;
Amazed she finds herself upon her feet,
And, like a ghost, through narrow passages
Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.
Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones
And grinning skulls, and corruptible death
Wrapt in his shroud; and now fancies she hears
Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.
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