A Similar Occasion, 17 September, 1825.
Where sucks the bee now? Summer is flying;
Leaves on the grass-plot faded are lying;
...
Thou thing of years departed!
What ages have gone by,
Since here the mournful seal was set
By love and agony!
...
The corn, in golden light,
Waves o'er the plain;
The sickle's gleam is bright;
Full swells the grain.
...
BY the soft green light in the woody glade,
On the banks of moss where thy childhood play'd;
By the household tree thro' which thine eye
...
Torches were blazing clear,
Hymns pealing deep and slow,
Where a king lay stately on his bier,
In the church of Fontevraud.
...
WHERE is the summer, with her golden sun?
-That festal glory hath not pass'd from earth:
For me alone the laughing day is done!
...
Lonely and still are now thy marble halls,
Thou fair Alhambra! there the feast is o'er;
And with the murmur of thy fountain-falls,
...
Thine is a strain to read among the hills,
The old and full of voices;–by the source
Of some free stream, whose gladdening presence fills
...
A WAIL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young,
Amidst her tears the Funeral Chant a mournful mother sung.
...
o
They float before my soul, the fair designs
Which I would body forth to life and power,
...