Poems, third period | Page 3

Wearily move on thy horses--
Let, then, thy chariot descend!
Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows,
Lovingly nods and
smiles?--Thy heart must know her!
Joyously speed on thy horses,--
Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods!
Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping,
Into her arms he
springs,--the reins takes Cupid,--
Quietly stand the horses,
Drinking the cooling flood.
Now from the heavens with gentle step descending,
Balmy night
appears, by sweet love followed;
Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,--
Phoebus, the loving one, rests!
THE PILGRIM.
Youth's gay springtime scarcely knowing
Went I forth the world to
roam--
And the dance of youth, the glowing,
Left I in my father's
home,
Of my birthright, glad-believing,
Of my world-gear took I
none,
Careless as an infant, cleaving
To my pilgrim staff alone.


For I placed my mighty hope in
Dim and holy words of faith,

"Wander forth--the way is open,
Ever on the upward path--
Till
thou gain the golden portal,
Till its gates unclose to thee.
There the
earthly and the mortal,
Deathless and divine shall be!"
Night on
morning stole, on stealeth,
Never, never stand I still,
And the future
yet concealeth,
What I seek, and what I will!
Mount on mount arose
before me,
Torrents hemmed me every side,
But I built a bridge that
bore me
O'er the roaring tempest-tide.
Towards the east I reached a
river,
On its shores I did not rest;
Faith from danger can deliver,

And I trusted to its breast.
Drifted in the whirling motion,
Seas
themselves around me roll--
Wide and wider spreads the ocean,
Far
and farther flies the goal.
While I live is never given
Bridge or
wave the goal to near--
Earth will never meet the heaven,
Never can
the there be here!
THE IDEALS.
And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me,
With all thy magic
phantasy,--
With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me,
Wilt thou
with all forever fly?
Can naught delay thine onward motion,
Thou
golden time of life's young dream?
In vain! eternity's wide ocean

Ceaselessly drowns thy rolling stream.
The glorious suns my youth enchanting
Have set in never-ending
night;
Those blest ideals now are wanting
That swelled my heart
with mad delight.
The offspring of my dream hath perished,
My
faith in being passed away;

The godlike hopes that once I cherish

Are now reality's sad prey.
As once Pygmalion, fondly yearning,
Embraced the statue formed by
him,
Till the cold marble's cheeks were burning,
And life diffused
through every limb,
So I, with youthful passion fired,
My longing
arms round Nature threw,
Till, clinging to my breast inspired,
She
'gan to breathe, to kindle too.

And all my fiery ardor proving,
Though mute, her tale she soon could
tell,
Returned each kiss I gave her loving,
The throbbings of my
heart read well.
Then living seemed each tree, each flower,
Then
sweetly sang the waterfall,
And e'en the soulless in that hour
Shared
in the heavenly bliss of all.
For then a circling world was bursting
My bosom's narrow prison-cell,

To enter into being thirsting,
In deed, word, shape, and sound as
well.
This world, how wondrous great I deemed it,
Ere yet its
blossoms could unfold!
When open, oh, how little seemed it!
That
little, oh, how mean and cold!
How happy, winged by courage daring,
The youth life's mazy path
first pressed--
No care his manly strength impairing,
And in his
dream's sweet vision blest!
The dimmest star in air's dominion

Seemed not too distant for his flight;
His young and ever-eager pinion

Soared far beyond all mortal sight.
Thus joyously toward heaven ascending,
Was aught for his bright
hopes too far?
The airy guides his steps attending,
How danced they
round life's radiant car!
Soft love was there, her guerdon bearing,

And fortune, with her crown of gold,
And fame, her starry chaplet
wearing,
And truth, in majesty untold.
But while the goal was yet before them,
The faithless guides began to
stray;
Impatience of their task came o'er them,
Then one by one
they dropped away.
Light-footed Fortune first retreating,
Then
Wisdom's thirst remained unstilled,
While heavy storms of doubt
were beating
Upon the path truth's radiance filled.
I saw Fame's sacred wreath adorning
The brows of an unworthy crew;

And, ah! how soon Love's happy morning,
When spring had
vanished, vanished too!
More silent yet, and yet more weary,


Became the desert path I trod;
And even hope a glimmer dreary


Scarce cast upon the gloomy road.
Of all that train, so bright with gladness,
Oh, who is