{24}
"Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!" |
IN childhood, when with eager eyes |
| The season-measured year I view'd, |
| All garb'd in fairy
guise, |
| Pledged
constancy of good. |
Spring sang of heaven; the summer flowers |
| Bade me gaze on, and did not fade; |
| Even suns o'er autumn's
bowers |
| Heard
my strong wish, and stay'd. |
They came and went, the short-lived four; |
| Yet, as their varying dance they wove, |
| To my young heart each
bore |
| Its own
sure claim of love. {25} |
Far different now;—the whirling year |
| Vainly my dizzy eyes pursue; |
| And its fair tints appear |
| All
blent in one dusk hue. |
Why dwell on rich autumnal lights, |
| Spring-time, or winter's social ring? |
| Long days are fire-side
nights, |
| Brown
autumn is fresh spring. |
Then what this world to thee, my heart? |
| Its gifts nor feed thee nor can bless. |
| Thou hast no owner's part |
| In all
its fleetingness. |
The flame, the storm, the quaking ground, |
| Earth's joy, earth's terror, nought is
thine, |
| Thou must but hear the
sound |
| Of the
still voice divine. |
O priceless art! O princely state! |
| E'en while by sense of change opprest, |
| Within to antedate |
| Heaven's
Age of fearless rest. |
Highwood.
October, 1827. |