TRUNK of a Giant now no more! Once did thy limbs to heaven aspire; Once, by a track untried before, Strike as resolving to explore
Realms of infernal fire.*
*Radice in Tartara tendit.-VIRG.
Round thee, alas, no shadows move! From thee no sacred murmurs breathe! Yet within thee, thyself a grove, Once did the eagle scream above, And the wolf howl beneath.
There once the red-cross knight reclined, His resting place, a house of prayer; And, when the death-bell smote the wind From towers long fled by human kind, He knelt and worshipped there!
Then Culture came, and days serene; And village-sports, and garlands gay. Full many a pathway crossed the green ; And maids and shepherd-youths were seen To celebrate the May.
Father of many a forest deep,
Whence many a navy thunder-fraught!
Erst in thy acorn-cells asleep, Soon destined o'er the world to sweep, Opening new spheres of thought!
Wont in the night of woods to dwell, The holy Druid saw thee rise; And, planting there the guardian-spell, Sung forth, the dreadful pomp to swell Of human sacrifice!
Thy singed top and branches bare Now straggle in the evening-sky; And the wan moon wheels round to glare On the long corse that shivers there
Of him who came to die!
AH! little thought she, when, with wild delight, By many a torrent's shining track she flew, When mountain-glens and caverns full of night O'er her young mind divine enchantment threw,
That in her veins a secret horror slept,
That her light footsteps should be heard no more, That she should die-nor watched, alas, nor wept By thee, unconscious of the pangs she bore.
Yet round her couch indulgent Fancy drew The kindred forms her closing eye required.
There didst thou stand-there, with the smile she knew; She moved her lips to bless thee, and expired.
And now to thee she comes; still, still the same As in the hours gone unregarded by!
To thee, how changed, comes as she ever came; Health on her cheek, and pleasure in her eye!
Nor less, less oft, as on that day, appears, When lingering, as prophetic of the truth, By the way-side she shed her parting tears— For ever lovely in the light of Youth!
* On the death of her sister in 1805.
Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor? Aeris et linguæ sum filia;
Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum.-AUSONIUS.
ONCE more, Enchantress of the soul, Once more we hail thy soft controul. -Yet whither, whither didst thou fly? To what bright region of the sky?
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