Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 370, May 16, 1829 - Various - Страница 3

In fields of light, I ride, I ride,

Upon the gust-winds back,

And, when I mark the eventide,

Or gathering of the rack;

Like spirit of a pleasant dream,

I mount upon a sunset beam,

And hie me in a flashing stride,

The dark to dash aside,

In caverns 'neath the vasty deep,

Where sea-snakes in the wreck may creep,

And feed upon man's bone;

Or in the ruins of the past.

Where thoughts that are not used are cast,

And whirlwind, and the earthquake groan

In pity, there, there, am I—

A withered thought—that cannot die.

But I was born within a light

That kindled in the womb.

And I can never feel the night

When all around is gloom;

For joy looked pleased upon my birth,

And cast a ray e'en on the earth;

And fairies spun it in a ring,

With a feather from their wing,

And called it hope—a charm for tears,

And chained it to their silken ears.

And I was formed within a light

That kindled in the womb of night,

Of loathsome withered weeds—

And fate looked on and fanned the flame,

But freed me from the touch of blame,

Of all my evil deeds.

Enchantress waited on my birth,

And bade the hypochondriac walk the earth.

Together, together, yet, O yet we dwell,

A glimpse of heaven in hell

A glimpse of heaven in hell

Which plays, which plays, like lightning on the tempest gloom,

Or life within a catacomb,

Or life within a catacomb,

Pointing the many passions' mood

To strange but universal good.