Читать книгу The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, April 1844 - Various - Страница 3

Thou wanderer where the wild wood ceaseless breathes

The sweetly-murmuring strain, from falling rills

Or soft autumnal gales; O! seek thou there

Some fountain gurgling from the rifted rock,

Of pure translucent wave, whose margent green

Is loved by gentlest nymphs, and all the train

Of that chaste goddess of the silver bow;

For silent, shady groves, by purling springs,

Delight the train, and through the gliding hours

Their nimble feet in mazy trances wind;

And oft at eve, the wondering swain hath heard

The Arcadian pipe and breathing minstrelsy,

From joyous troops of those rude deities

Whose homes are on the steep and rocky mount,

Or by the silver wave in woody dell,

And know the shrine, with flowery myrtles veiled,

All lonely placed by that wild mountain stream,

That from the sacred hills, like Hippocrene,

With warbling numbers, softly glides along.

Kneel humbly there, and at the auspicious time,

Invoke the listening spirit to my aid,

That I may fly the nymph of shapely form,

Whose fragrant brow inwoven wreaths adorn,

Of blushing rose and ivy tendrils green.

Then swear for me to deck the favoring shrine

With flowrets, blooming from the lap of Spring,

And on the sculptured pile, with solemn vow,

The tender kid devote in sacrifice.

So may my heaving bosom rest serene,

Nor winged spells incite the soul again

To love the soft eyed maid Zenophyle.