When on his roost the cock begins to crow
And beat his wings; and to his work proceeds
The tiller of the soil; and on the dews
The rising sun his flashing rays doth cast:
Upon the panes the morning shower doth beat,
Awaking me from slumber with its sound:
And I arise and bless the filmy clouds,
The birds that tune their notes, the pleasant wind
And the delightful verdure of the meads:
Because, ye walls of unpropitious towns,
I've seen and known ye far too well, where Hate
Haunteth Affliction, where I sorrowing live,
And so shall die, would it were soon! At least
Some scanty pity is allowed my grief
In these abodes by Nature, once, alas!
How kinder far to me! And thou as well,
O Nature, turnest from the wretched; full
Of scorn for woe, thou payest homage vile
To Happiness, the universal queen.
In Heaven and Earth no friend for the ill-starred,
No refuge, death excepted, doth remain!
At times I seat me in a lonely spot,
Upon a hill, or by a calm lake's bank,
Fringed and adorned with flowers taciturn.
There, when full mid-day heat informs the sky,
His peaceful image doth the sun depict,
And to the air moves neither leaf nor herb,
And neither ruffling wave nor cricket shrill,
Nor birds disporting in the boughs above,
Nor fluttering butterfly, nor voice nor step
Afar or near, can sight or hearing find.
Those shores are held in deepest quietude:
Whence I the world and even myself forget,
Seated unmoved; and it appears to me
My body is released, no longer worn
With soul or feeling, and its old repose
Is blended with the silence all around.
O fleeting Love! full many a day is gone
Since from my bosom thou hast ta'en thy flight,
Though fired of yore by most impassioned zeal.
It hath been blighted by the frigid hand
Of cold misfortune, and is turned to ice
Even in the time when it should blossom forth.
The period I remember when thou first
Didst hold thy court within this heart of mine.
It was the time, irrevocably sweet,
When youthful eyes are opened to the scene
Of earthly sorrow, and it smiles on them
As though it were a paradise below.
The guileless heart of youth doth gladly beat
For virgin hopes and for desires sublime;
And the deluded mortal doth prepare
For all the labours of his days to come,
As if they were a joyous festival
And gay carousah--But I scarcely saw,
Love, thine approach, than Fortune harsh destroyed
The tenour of my life, and to these eyes
Nought else was seemly than eternal tears.
But if at times along the sunny meads
In early morn, or when meridian rays
On hills and plains and houses shed their light,
I see the features of a maiden fair;
Or when in the untroubled quietude
Of Summer night my vagrant steps proceed
And guide me to the walls of near abodes,
And I behold the lonely scene, and hear
A maiden's thrilling voice, who in the hours
Of silent night accompanies her work
With joyous lay; emotion moves my heart
That seemed a stone; but it, alas! returns
Ere long to wonted gloom: a stranger now
Is every tender feeling to my soul.
O beauteous moon, unto whose tranquil ray
The forest things display their love; and in
The early dawn the hunter doth complain,
Finding their traces intricate and false,
Erroneous led astray: hail, O benign
Nocturnal Queen! Unwelcome falls thy light
In lonely wood or mountainous recess
Or ruined building empty, on the steel
Of pallid bandit, who with eager ears
Hearkens afar unto the sound of wheels
And horses' hoofs, or to the steps that tread
The quiet road; then suddenly advancing,
With clanking arms, and with a rough, rude voice.
And with death-boding looks, chills with alarm
The wanderer's heart, and leaves him on the earth
Despoiled and well-nigh dead. Unwelcome comes
Within the city precincts, thy clear light
To paramour ignoble, who doth lurk
Near walls and portals, hiding in the shade
Of secret gloom, and standing still and dreading
The lamps that through the windows pour their ray,
And peopled halls. Unwelcome to base minds,
To me benign for ever shall thy sight
Amid the regions be, where nothing else
Than happy hills and spacious fields thou showest
Unto my gaze. And even I was wont,
Though innocent my soul, to accuse thy ray
Divinely fair in scenes inhabited,
When offering me unto the sight of men,
And showing human forms unto mine eye.
Now shall I praise it ever, when I gaze
Upon thee sailing 'mid the clouds, or thou
Serenest ruler of ethereal spheres,
Art looking down upon the abode of earth.
Thou oft shalt see me, taciturn and lone,
Wandering in bowers, or through the verdant meads,
Or on the grass reclining, well content
If I have leisure from deep heart to sigh.