158 THE GROTTO OF EGERIA. And thoughts that lift themselves, triumphingly, But where is she, the lady of the stream, Yet filled with memories, like a broken heart. With thee, and with the moon and stars, apart, When vanished clouds had left the air all heaven, His only homage, and the flitting boughs And every feeling tuned into a truth, And all the bosom's shattered strings made whole, Light to the soul, and to the senses, love. THE FOUNTAIN'S DEPTHS. Beautiful dreams, that haunt the younger earth, Who hath not his Egeria?-some sweet thought, Or gentle spirit that for ever dwells, And sings of hope, beside the fount of tears! HERVEY. THE FOUNTAIN'S DEPTHS. HE fountain's depths were dim and chill, Though gaily sang the tinkling rill, And softly chimed the distant main ; The blossoms, springing by its side, Sheds down their hues upon its wave, 159 160 THE FOUNTAIN'S DEPTHS. Yet still its ever-gushing tide Was calm and voiceless as the grave. The autumn wind went whistling by, From those untroubled depths replied; And the fringed grass and thrushes thrill, Its source was all serene and still. But when there came a quiet night, And winds were sleeping in their caves, The placid stars, with holy light, Shone down upon its inmost waves; Then fell there from the cloudless skies, Unto its depths so coldly clear, The light of those immortal eyes That gladden heaven's pure atmosphere. And by a silent under-spring The gentle waters ebb away To where the leaping streamlets fling. Some image of the hidden worth Of an unworldly, peaceful heart Thus lit from heaven, thus gladdening earth. BROWNE THE FOUNTAIN OF MARAH. 161 PEACEFUL HOURS. POURS of romance, yes, I have mused away Or, more remote, have sought a gentler scene, By distance tempered, but in mood the same. A symbol meet of perpetuity, E'en thou obey'st at times a loftier power, Like some magician in his feeble hour. Bleak Winter issues from his artic caves, And chains thy strength, and curbs thy headlong waves; Mute as the grave thy rolling thunders cease, And where the tumult maddened-there is peace. THE FOUNTAIN OF MARAH. HERE is the tree the prophet threw Into the bitter wave? Left it no scion where it grew, The thirsting soul to save? GODWIN. |