Poems, third period | Page 5

time,
His arrows of
light on that form shoots the sun--
And he gilds them with all, but he
warms them with none!
THE ALPINE HUNTER.
Wilt thou not the lambkins guard?
Oh, how soft and meek they look,

Feeding on the grassy sward,
Sporting round the silvery brook!

"Mother, mother, let me go
On yon heights to chase the roe!"
Wilt thou not the flock compel
With the horn's inspiring notes?

Sweet the echo of yon bell,
As across the wood it floats!
"Mother,
mother, let me go
On yon heights to hunt the roe!"
Wilt thou not the flow'rets bind,
Smiling gently in their bed?
For no
garden thou wilt find
On yon heights so wild and dread.
"Leave the
flow'rets,--let them blow!
Mother, mother, let me go!"
And the youth then sought the chase,
Onward pressed with headlong
speed
To the mountain's gloomiest place,--
Naught his progress
could impede;
And before him, like the wind,
Swiftly flies the
trembling hind!
Up the naked precipice
Clambers she, with footsteps light,
O'er the
chasm's dark abyss
Leaps with spring of daring might;
But behind,
unweariedly,
With his death-bow follows he.
Now upon the rugged top
Stands she,--on the loftiest height,
Where
the cliffs abruptly stop,
And the path is lost to sight.
There she
views the steeps below,--
Close behind, her mortal foe.
She, with silent, woeful gaze,
Seeks the cruel boy to move;
But,
alas! in vain she prays--
To the string he fits the groove.
When from

out the clefts, behold!
Steps the Mountain Genius old.
With his hand the Deity
Shields the beast that trembling sighs;

"Must thou, even up to me,
Death and anguish send?" he cries,--

Earth has room for all to dwell,--
"Why pursue my loved gazelle?"
DITHYRAMB. [23]
Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes
up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
And Phoebus, the stately, behold!
They come near and nearer,
The heavenly ones all--
The gods with
their presence
Fill earth as their hall!
Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
Sons of the sky?
Pour out to me--pour the full life that ye live!

What to ye, O ye gods! can the mortal one give?
The joys can dwell only
In Jupiter's palace--
Brimmed bright with
your nectar,
Oh, reach me the chalice!
"Hebe, the chalice
Fill full to the brim!
Steep his eyes--steep his
eyes in the bath of the dew, Let him dream, while the Styx is concealed
from his view,
That the life of the gods is for him!"
It murmurs, it sparkles,
The fount of delight;
The bosom grows
tranquil--
The eye becomes bright.

THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD.
The goblet is sparkling with purpled-tinged wine,
Bright glistens the
eye of each guest,
When into the hall comes the Minstrel divine,
To
the good he now brings what is best;
For when from Elysium is
absent the lyre,
No joy can the banquet of nectar inspire.
He is blessed by the gods, with an intellect clear,
That mirrors the
world as it glides;
He has seen all that ever has taken place here,

And all that the future still hides.
He sat in the god's secret councils of
old
And heard the command for each thing to unfold.
He opens in splendor, with gladness and mirth,
That life which was
hid from our eyes;
Adorns as a temple the dwelling of earth,
That
the Muse has bestowed as his prize,
No roof is so humble, no hut is
so low,
But he with divinities bids it o'erflow.
And as the inventive descendant of Zeus,
On the unadorned round of
the shield,
With knowledge divine could, reflected, produce
Earth,
sea, and the star's shining field,--
So he, on the moments, as onward
they roll,
The image can stamp of the infinite whole.
From the earliest age of the world he has come,
When nations
rejoiced in their prime;
A wanderer glad, he has still found a home

With every race through all time.
Four ages of man in his lifetime
have died,
And the place they once held by the fifth is supplied.
Saturnus first governed, with fatherly smile,
Each day then resembled
the last;
Then flourished the shepherds, a race without guile
Their
bliss by no care was o'ercast,
They loved,--and no other employment
they had,
And earth gave her treasures with willingness glad.
Then labor came next, and the conflict began
With monsters and
beasts famed in song;
And heroes upstarted, as rulers of man,
And

the weak sought the aid of the strong.
And strife o'er the field of
Scamander now reigned,
But beauty the god of the world still
remained.
At length from the conflict bright victory sprang,
And gentleness
blossomed from might;
In heavenly chorus the Muses then sang,

And figures divine saw the light;--
The age that acknowledged sweet
phantasy's sway
Can never return, it has fleeted away.
The gods from their seats in the heavens were hurled,
And their
pillars of glory o'erthrown;
And the Son of the Virgin appeared in the
world
For the sins of mankind to atone.
The fugitive lusts of the
sense were suppressed,
And man now first grappled with thought in
his breast.
Each vain and voluptuous charm vanished now,
Wherein the young
world took delight;
The monk and the nun made of penance a vow,

And