Читать книгу Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 54, No. 334, August 1843 - Various - Страница 8

I see her still, with many a fair one nigh,

Of every fair the stateliest shape appear:

Like a lone son she shone upon my eye—

I stood afar, and durst not venture near.

Seized, as her presence brighten'd round me, by

The trembling passion of voluptuous fear,

Yet, swift, as borne upon some hurrying wing,

The impulse snatch'd me, and I struck the string!

What then I felt—what sung—my memory hence

From that wild moment would in vain invoke—

It was the life of some discover'd sense

That in the heart's divine emotion spoke;

Long years imprison'd, and escaping thence

From every chain, the SOUL enchanted broke,

And found a music in its own deep core,

Its holiest, deepest deep, unguess'd before.

Like melody long hush'd, and lost in space,

Back to its home the breathing spirit came:

I look'd, and saw upon that angel face

The fair love circled with the modest shame;

I heard (and heaven descended on the place)

Low-whisper'd words a charmèd truth proclaim—

Save in thy choral hymns, O spirit-shore,

Ne'er may I hear such thrilling sweetness more!

"I know the worth within the heart which sighs,

Yet shuns, the modest sorrow to declare;

And what rude Fortune niggardly denies,

Love to the noble can with love repair.

The lowly have the loftiest destinies;

Love only culls the flower that love should wear;

And ne'er in vain for love's rich gifts, shill yearn

The heart that feels their wealth—and can return!"