-
Thou still unravish'd bride of
quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow
time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus
express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our
rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legendhaunts
about thy shape
Of deities
or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or
the dales of
Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What
struggle to escape?
What pipes and
timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are
sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play
on;
Not to the sensual
ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of
no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not
leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover,
never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not
grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast
not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be
fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor
ever bid the
Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever
piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy
love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting,
and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That
leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead,
and a parching
tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious
priest,
Lead'st thou that heiferlowing at the skies,
And all
her silken flanks
with garlands drest?
What little town by
river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this
folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy
streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why
thou art desolate,
can e'er return.
O Attic
shape! Fair attitude!
with brede
Of marble men and
maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden
weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of
thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall
this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to
man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is
all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
--May
1819
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