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l'ariccia. life in death.
What thrilling records in our souls will burn,
And moisten, with soft tears, immortal eyes!
And moisten, with soft tears, immortal eyes!
Remembered melodies, or blooms divine,
A line of beauty, or a word of power,
There glow more bright, as on some jewelled shrine,
Earth's gems are consecrate for evermore.
A line of beauty, or a word of power,
There glow more bright, as on some jewelled shrine,
Earth's gems are consecrate for evermore.
These Alban hills, these fair Arcadian shades,
Yon lake's transparent breadth of tenderest blue,
The herds defiling through the sunlit glades,
This hour's Elysian charm shall oft renew.
Yon lake's transparent breadth of tenderest blue,
The herds defiling through the sunlit glades,
This hour's Elysian charm shall oft renew.
These joyous girls, whose eyes dark flashing gleam,
This poor pale corpse, with locked and stony brow,
Not fleeting shadows of a fading dream,
But portions of the Everlasting Now.
This poor pale corpse, with locked and stony brow,
Not fleeting shadows of a fading dream,
But portions of the Everlasting Now.
And thus a palace, stately and divine,
Each chamber by its guardian angel trod;
In joys eternal lives the soul—a shrine
Holy and pure, and consecrate to God.
Each chamber by its guardian angel trod;
In joys eternal lives the soul—a shrine
Holy and pure, and consecrate to God.
