I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Myself in Him, in Light ineffable! Come thou, expressive silence, muse His praise. ΙΙΟ 115 FROM THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE CANTO I The Castle hight of Indolence, Where for a little time, alas! I O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil, And, certes, there is for it reason great; For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail, And curse thy star, and early drudge and late, Withouten that would come a heavier bale, Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale. 5 ΤΟ 15 II In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, With woody hill o'er hill encompassed round, Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found. It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground; And there a season atween June and May, Half prankt with spring, with summer half im- A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, 20 III Was nought around but images of rest: Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between: And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Mean-time, unnumbered glittering streamlets played, 25 And hurled every where their waters sheen; That, as they bickered through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. IV Joined to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, 30 And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, V Full in the passage of the vale, above, A sable, silent, solemn forest stood; Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move, As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood: And up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pines, ay waving to and fro, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow. VI A pleasing land of drowsy-hed it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; 35 40 45 50 VII 55 The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight 355 XL A certain music, never known before, Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight; 360 Whence, with just cause, harp of Æolus it hight. XLI Ah me! what hand can touch the string so fine? Who up the lofty diapason roll Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Then let them down again into the soul: Now rising love they fanned; now pleasing dole 365 XLII Such the gay splendour, the luxurious state, Held their bright court, where was of ladies store; 370 375 XLIII Near the pavilions where we slept, still ran Yet the least entrance found they none at all; 380 385 |