ENDYMION. THE rising moon has hid the stars ; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, Had dropt her silver bow On such a tranquil night as this, Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, Its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, In silence and alone To seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep, Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes Of him, who slumbering lies. O, weary hears! O, slumbering eyes! Are fraught with fear and pain, No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, An angel touched its quivering strings ; And whispers, in its song, "Where hast thou stayed so long!" THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. FROM THE GERMAN OF PFIZER. A YOUTH, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent And straight again is furled. Yet oft I dream, that once a wife Close in my heart was locked, And in the sweet repose of life A blessed child I rocked. I wake! Away that dream,-away So long, that both by night and day It ever comes again. The end lies ever in my thought; The mother beautiful was brought; But now the dream is wholly o'er, I bathe mine eyes and see; And wander through the world once more, A youth so light and free. Two locks, and they are wondrous fair, Left me that vision mild; The brown is from the mother's hair, The blond is from the child. |