XXXIV. "But wouldst thou hear the melodies of Time, Listen when sleep and drowsy darkness roll Over hush'd cities, and the midnight chime Sounds from their hundred clocks, and deep bells toll Whose late, last voice must elegise the whole, - XXXV. Then next a fair Eve-Fay made meek address, As, so much to the earth In showers to the brook so much to fling so much to go In whirlwinds to the clouds that made them grow. XXXVI. "The pastoral cowslips are our little pets, And daisy stars, whose firmament is green; Pansies, and those veil'd nuns, meek violets, Sighing to that warm world from which they screen; And Hyacinth, long since a fair youth seen, Whose tuneful voice, turn'd fragrance in his breath, Kiss'd by sad Zephyr, guilty of his death. XXXVII. "The widow'd primrose weeping to the moon, And saffron crocus in whose chalice bright A cool libation hoarded for the noon Is kept and she that purifies the light, XXXVIII. Then that old Mower stamp'd his heel, and struck With flow'ry chaplets, save when they are found Wither'd? Except to scatter its vain leaves around? For so all gloss of beauty I oppose, And bring decay on every flow'r that blows. XXXIX. "Or when am I so wroth as when I view The wanton pride of Summer;- how she decks The birth-day world with blossoms ever new, As if Time had not lived, and heap'd great wrecks Of years on years? O then I bravely vex And catch the gay Months in their gaudy plight, And slay them with the wreaths about their necks, Like foolish heifers in the holy rite, And raise great trophies to my ancient might.". XL. Then saith another, "We are kindly things, : Lovers, and shake rich odours on the air, XLI. "And we are near the mother when she sits Beside her infant in its wicker bed; And we are in the fairy scene that flits Across its tender brain: sweet dreams we shed, And whilst the tender little soul is fled Away, to sport with our young elves, the while And tickle the soft lips until they smile, XLII. “O then, if ever thou hast breathed a vow At Love's dear portal, or at pale moon-rise And wooed thee from thy careful thoughts within For Love's dear sake, let us thy pity win!" XLIII. Then Saturn fiercely thus:- "What joy have I Whereon, till now, is my great hunger shown, And, but the peopled world is too full grown For hunger's edge, I would consume all youth At one great meal, without delay or ruth! |