Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon’s transparent might,
The breath of the moist air is light,
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds’, the birds’, the ocean floods’,
The City’s voice itself, is soft like Solitude’s.
I see the Deep’s untrampled floor
With green and purple seaweeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore,
Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:
I sit upon the sands alone,
The lightning of the noontide ocean
Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is done,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan;
They might lament for I am one
Whom men love not, and yet regret,
Unlike this day which, when the sun
Shall on its stainless glory set,
Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.
Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o’er my dying brain its last monotony.
Related poetry:
- Stanzas For Music There be none of Beauty’s daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming; And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain […]...
- Lines Written In Dejection When have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long wavering bodies Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most noble ladies, For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone. The holy centaurs of the hills are vanished; I have nothing but the […]...
- Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest “HERE POPE FIRST SUNG!” O, hallow’d Tree! Such is the boast thy bark displays; Thy branches, like thy Patron’s lays, Shall ever, ever, sacred be; Nor with’ring storm, nor woodman’s stroke, Shall harm the POET’S favourite Oak. ‘Twas HERE, he woo’d his MUSE of fire, While Inspiration’s wond’rous art, Sublimely stealing thro’ his heart Did […]...
- Stanzas Written On The Road Between Florence And Pisa Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty. What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? ‘Tis but as a dead […]...
- Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici She left me at the silent time When the moon had ceas’d to climb The azure path of Heaven’s steep, And like an albatross asleep, Balanc’d on her wings of light, Hover’d in the purple night, Ere she sought her ocean nest In the chambers of the West. She left me, and I stay’d alone […]...
- Dejection: An Ode Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms ; And I fear, I fear, My Master dear! We shall have a deadly storm. Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence – I Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence, This night, […]...
- Stanzas IF thou be in a lonely place, If one hour’s calm be thine, As Evening bends her placid face O’er this sweet day’s decline; If all the earth and all the heaven Now look serene to thee, As o’er them shuts the summer even, One momentthink of me! Pause, in the lane, returning home; ‘Tis […]...
- Stanzas WHEN fragrant gales and summer show’rs Call’d forth the sweetly scented flow’rs; When ripen’d sheaves of golden grain, Strew’d their rich treasures o’er the plain; When the full grape did nectar yield, In tepid drops of purple hue; When the thick grove, and thirsty field, Drank the soft show’r and bloom’d a-new; O then my […]...
- Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on – Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way, With the solid darkness black Closing round his vessel’s track: Whilst above the sunless sky, Big with […]...
- Francis II, King of Naples Written after reading Trevelyan’s “Garibaldi And the making of Italy” Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain, Decaying victim of a race of kings, Swift Destiny shook out her purple wings And caught him in their shadow; not again Could furtive plotting smear another stain Across his tarnished honour. Smoulderings Of sacrificial fires burst their rings And […]...
- Lines Written at Thorp Green That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see. And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a […]...
- Written near a Port on a Dark Evening Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore, Night on the ocean settles dark and mute, Save where is heard the repercussive roar Of drowsy billows on the rugged foot Of rocks remote; or still more distant tone Of seamen in the anchored bark that tell The watch relieved; or one deep voice alone Singing the […]...
- Stanzas To Augusta When all around grew drear and dark, And reason half withheld her ray – And hope but shed a dying spark Which more misled my lonely way; In that deep midnight of the mind, And that internal strife of heart, When dreading to be deemed too kind, The weak despair-the cold depart; When fortune changed-and […]...
- Stanzas to a Friend AH! think no more that Life’s delusive joys, Can charm my thoughts from FRIENDSHIP’S dearer claim; Or wound a heart, that scarce a wish employs, For age to censure, or discretion blame. Tir’d of the world, my weary mind recoils From splendid scenes, and transitory joys; From fell Ambition’s false and fruitless toils, From hope […]...
- Lines Written In Early Spring I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through […]...
- Stanzas To Jessy There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone, That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these eyes Have fondly gazed with such delight – By day, that Form their joy supplies, And Dreams restore it, through the night. There is […]...
- Lines Written From Home Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strown, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan; There is a friendly roof, I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire, whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past. And […]...
- Written On Sunday Morning Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. The swelling organ’s peal Wakes not my soul to zeal, Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest Rouse not such ardor in my breast, […]...
- Stanzas For Music: There's Not A Joy The World Can Give There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines in feeling’s dull decay; ‘Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits […]...
- Stanzas Oh, weep not, love! each tear that springs In those dear eyes of thine, To me a keener suffering brings, Than if they flowed from mine. And do not droop! however drear The fate awaiting thee; For my sake combat pain and care, And cherish life for me! I do not fear thy love will […]...
- Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but fair,” it rings me, “Quiet,” it laughs, “and strong!” Oh! spite of the miles and years between us, Spite of your chosen part, I do remember; and I go With laughter in my heart. So […]...
- XII. Written at a Convent IF chance some pensive stranger, hither led, His bosom glowing from majestic views, The gorgeous dome, or the proud landscape’s hues, Should ask who sleeps beneath this lowly bed ‘Tis poor Matilda! To the cloister’d scene, A mourner, beauteous and unknown, she came, To shed her tears unseen; and quench the flame Of fruitless love: […]...
- Lines Written In Recapitulation I could not bring this splendid world nor any trading beast In charge of it, to defer, no, not to give ear, not in the least Appearance, to my handsome prophecies, Which here I ponder and put by. I am left simpler, less encumbered, by the consciousness That I shall by no pebble in my […]...
- Stanzas to Flora LET OTHERS wreaths of ROSES twine With scented leaves of EGLANTINE; Enamell’d buds and gaudy flow’rs, The pride of FLORA’S painted bow’rs; Such common charms shall ne’er be wove Around the brows of him I LOVE. Fair are their beauties for a day, But swiftly do they fade away; Each PINK sends forth its choicest […]...
- Stanzas to the Rose SWEET PICTURE of Life’s chequer’d hour! Ah, wherefore droop thy blushing head? Tell me, oh tell me, hap’less flow’r, Is it because thy charms are fled? Come, gentle ROSE, and learn from me A lesson of Philosophy. Thy scented buds, LIFE’S joys disclose; They strew our paths with magic sweets; Where many a thorn like […]...
- Stanzas How often we forget all time, when lone Admiring Nature’s universal throne; Her woods – her wilds – her mountains – the intense Reply of HERS to OUR intelligence! [BYRON, The Island.] I In youth have I known one with whom the Earth In secret communing held – as he with it, In daylight, and […]...
- Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni I The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark now glittering now reflecting gloom Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings Of waters with a sound but half its own, Such as a feeble brook will oft assume, In […]...
- To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion’s lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, Wars, and filial faith, and Dido’s pyre; Landscape-lover, lord of language More than he that sang the “Works and Days,” All the chosen coin of fancy Flashing out from many a golden phrase; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, Tilth […]...
- Ode Written On The First Of December Tho’ now no more the musing ear Delights to listen to the breeze That lingers o’er the green wood shade, I love thee Winter! well. Sweet are the harmonies of Spring, Sweet is the summer’s evening gale, Pleasant the autumnal winds that shake The many-colour’d grove. And pleasant to the sober’d soul The silence of […]...
- In Tempore Senectutis When I am old I will not have you look apart From me, into the cold, Friend of my heart, Nor be sad in your remembrance Of the careless, mad-heart semblance That the wind hath blown away When I am old. When I am old And the white hot wonder-fire Unto the world seem cold, […]...
- 241. Written in Friars' Carse Hermitage (Second Version) THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,-in darkness lost; Hope not sunshine ev’ry hour, Fear not clouds will always lour. As Youth and Love with sprightly dance, Beneath […]...
- Lines Written on the Sea-Coast SWIFT o’er the bounding deep the VESSEL glides, Its streamers flutt’ring in the summer gales, The lofty mast the breezy air derides, As gaily o’er the glitt’ring surf she sails. Now beats each gallant heart with innate joys, Bright hopes and tender fears alternate vie, Dear schemes of pure delight the mind employs, And the […]...
- I. Written at Tinemouth, Northumberland, after a Tempestuous Voyage AS slow I climb the cliff’s ascending side, Much musing on the track of terror past When o’er the dark wave rode the howling blast Pleas’d I look back, and view the tranquil tide, That laves the pebbled shore; and now the beam Of evening smiles on the grey battlement, And yon forsaken tow’r, that […]...
- Ode Written On The First Of January Come melancholy Moralizer come! Gather with me the dark and wintry wreath; With me engarland now The SEPULCHRE OF TIME! Come Moralizer to the funeral song! I pour the dirge of the Departed Days, For well the funeral song Befits this solemn hour. But hark! even now the merry bells ring round With clamorous joy […]...
- Stanzas to Love TELL ME, LOVE, when I rove o’er some far distant plain, Shall I cherish the passion that dwells in my breast? Or will ABSENCE subdue the keen rigours of pain, And the swift wing of TIME bring the balsam of rest? Shall the image of HIM I was born to adore, Inshrin’d in my bosom […]...
- There Be None of Beauty's Daughters There be none of Beauty’s daughters With a magic like Thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmйd ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming: And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain […]...
- For Music THERE be none of Beauty’s daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming: And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain […]...
- Stanzas Composed During A Thunderstorm Chill and mirk is the nightly blast, Where Pindus’ mountains rise, And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies. Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, And lightnings, as they play, But show where rocks our path have crost, Or gild the torrent’s spray. Is yon a cot I saw, though […]...
- Pastoral Stanzas WHEN AURORA’S soft blushes o’erspread the blue hill, And the mist dies away at the glances of morn; When the birds join the music that floats on the rill, And the beauties of spring the young woodlands adorn. To breathe the pure air and enliven my soul, I bound from my cottage exulting and gay; […]...
- Heroic Stanzas Consecrated to the Glorious Memory of His Most Serene and Renowned Highness, Oliver, Late Lord Protector of This Commonwealth, etc. (Oliver Cromwell) Written After the Celebration of his Funeral 1 And now ’tis time; for their officious haste, Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans ere all rites were past […]...