THE VALLEY OF UNREST NCE it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven Over the violets there that lie In myriad types of the human eye, And weep above a nameless grave! They wave:- from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops. They weep:- from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems. THE CITY IN THE SEA LO! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers (Time-eaten towers that tremble not) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, The melancholy waters lie. No rays from the holy Heaven come down The viol, the violet, and the vine. Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie. So blend the turrets and shadows there While from a proud tower in the town There open fanes and gaping graves Yawn level with the luminous waves; But not the riches there that lie In each idol's diamond eye, Not the gayly-jewelled dead, Tempt the waters from their bed; For no ripples curl, alas, Along that wilderness of glass; No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea; No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene! But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide; As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven! The waves have now a redder glow, The hours are breathing faint and low; And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence. FAI TO ZANTE AIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers No more no more upon thy verdant slopes! No more! alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no more, Thy memory no more. Accursed ground! Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" HERE are TH things, SILENCE some qualities, some incorporate That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is a twofold Silence sea and shore, Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore, Render him terrorless: his name 's "No More." No power hath he of evil in himself; |