"Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light,
Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffus'd
A Spirit of activity and life,
That knows no term, cessation, or decay;
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdain'd
For thee to disdain it;
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
A glorious people vibrated again
Go thou to Rome,--at once the Paradise,
The grave, the city, and the wilderness;
MY faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;
It panted for thee like the hind at noon
For the brooks, my love.
O thou, who plum'd with strong desire
Wouldst float above the earth, beware!
A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire--
ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child.
SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como.
Rarely, rarely comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles
Fortunata mmis Machina dicit horas.
Quas manibus premit ilia duas insensa papillas