ODE ON THE OLDEN TIME.

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,
Nocturnos Lemures, portentaque Thessala.

HORAT.

THE skies are blue; the moon reclines
Above the silent grove of pines,

As if devoid of motion;
The ivied abbey frowns forlorn ;
And stilly to the ear are borne
The murmurs of the ocean.

The nightshade springs beside the walk;
Luxuriantly the hemlock stalk

Expands its leaves unthwarted

Above the monumental stones,
Above the epitaphs, and bones,
Of beings long departed

No human dreams disturb the soul,

Whose thoughts, like giant-billows, roll 'Mid darksome ages hoary;

When light upon the human mind Dawn'd faintly, and the world was blind With superstitious story.

When fairies, with their silver bells,
Were habitants of earthly dells,

All sheathed in emerald dresses; And mermaids, from the rock, were seen and every wave between,

At sea,

Combing their dewy tresses.

When wither'd hags their orgies kept,
'Mid darksome night; when Nature slept,
And tempests threaten'd danger;

Sheer, from the precipice to throw
Down-down among the rocks below,

The lorn, benighted stranger.

When grim, before the vision stalk'd
Such figures, as no longer walk d

The upper world, and faces

Of men that on their deathbeds lay,
As Twilight spread her shades of grey,
Were seen in desert places.

Then, glittering to the morning sun,
With casque, and sable morion,

And greaves, and cuirass glancing,
The knight, and vassals at his call,
On battle feud forsook the hall,

A thousand chargers prancing.

Dark deeds were done-and blood was shed

In secret, and the spirit led

To fury, and to madness;

Hearths quench'd; and black walls smoking round;
And children's blood upon the ground;
And widows left in sadness.

Then, from her cloister wall, the nun
Gazed anxious towards the setting sun,
Descending o'er the ocean;

Till startled by the deep-toned bell,

That summon'd her from lonely cell
To even-tide devotion.

L

Then from the tilt, and tournay, came
The youthful knight, with soul of flame,
His lady's rights defending;

The glove upon his cap on high;

And love unto his falcon eye

Redoubled ardour lending.

Or at the Louvre—while his steed
Shot forward with the lightning's speed,
'Mid courtly crowds assembled,

The gallant bore the ring away,

And, turning to his mistress gay,

Their meeting glances trembled.

Now all have pass’d—their halls are bare— The ravens only harbour there ;

And restless owls are whooping

Around the vaults, as if to bring,
Day's rosy lustre withering,—
Departed spirits trooping.

A giant ruin!—grimly frown
Its walls of grey, and roof of brown ;

Its watch-towers dimly throwing

Their shadows in the pure moonlight
Far from them, and to wizard night
A doubled power bestowing.

With hound in leash, and hawk in hood,
The forester, through pale and wood,
From morn till eve was roaming

'Mid scenes majestically wild

Dark mountains huge, o'er mountains piled, Begirt with torrents foaming.

And, o'er the precipices bleak,

At pride of place, the eagle's shriek,
Beneath the tempest scowling,

Dismal he heard, afar from men,
In wastes where foxes made their den,
And famish'd wolves were howling.

No voice is heard-'tis silence all-
The steed hath vanish'd from the stall,
The hawk and hound have perish'd;

Lichens o'erspread the orchard trees,
The flowers and shrubs sigh to the breeze,
For gone are they who cherish'd.