Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 329, August 30, 1828 - Various - Страница 4

Young land of beauty, and divine repose!

Art thou a dream? a vision from on high

Unveiling Paradise? uncurt'ning those

Supernal glories, Eden doth supply

To glad immortals? o'er thee, ev'ning glows,

Brilliant, as seraph's blush—pure as his breath—

Smiling an antidote to tears and death!

Young land of beauty! (fancy could not dwell

In lovelier, albeit her rainbow wings

Fold, but in fairy-spheres) a living well

Of sylvan joy art thou, whose thousand springs

Gush, sinless, gladness, peace ineffable,

And that luxuriousness of being, which

Mocks eloquence: warm, holy, ruby, rich.

Young land of beauty! 'neath thy sun-ting'd shades,

Beside thy lake, crystal in roseate light,

Enam'ring music breathes: there, raptur'd maids

In dances, with adoring youths unite;

There, magic voices sigh in song; and glades

With birds and blossoms, all but vital, seem

Entranc'd, like hermit in divinest dream!

Young land of beauty! art thou but a ray

Of intellect, emerg'd from one? and shrin'd,

That thine immortal light may dim the day,

Faint struggling thro' some lowlier, cloudier, mind:

Dream of the painter-poet! oh! we'll say,

Lur'd to ethereal musings by thy thrall,

Tho' dream in part, no dream art thou in all!