Poems (Southey)/Volume 1/To Contemplation
To CONTEMPLATION.
Και παγας φιλεoιμι τον εγγυθεν ηχον ακουειν,Α τερπει ψοφεοισα τον αγρικoν, ουχι ταρασσει.ΜΟΣΧΟΣ.
Faint gleams the evening radiance thro' the sky,The sober twilight dimly darkens round;In short quick circles the shrill bat flits by,And the slow vapour curls along the ground.
Now the pleas'd eye from yon lone cottage seesOn the green mead the smoke long-shadowing play;The Red-breast on the blossom'd sprayWarbles wild her latest lay,And sleeps along the dale the silent breeze.Calm Contemplation, 'tis thy favourite hour!Come fill my bosom, tranquillizing Power!
Meek Power! I view thee on the calmy shoreWhen Ocean stills his waves to rest;Or when slow-moving on the surge's hoarMeet with deep hollow roarAnd whiten o'er his breast;For lo! the Moon with softer radiance gleams,And lovelier heave the billows in her beams.
When the low gales of evening moan along,I love with thee to feel the calm cool breeze,And roam the pathless forest wilds among,Listening the mellow murmur of the treesFull-foliaged, as they lift their arms on highAnd wave their shadowy heads in wildest melody.
Or lead me where amid the tranquil valeThe broken stream flows on in silver light,And I will linger where the galeO'er the bank of violets sighs,Listening to hear its softened sounds arise;And hearken the dull beetle's drowsy flight: And watch the horn-eyed snailCreep o'er his long moon-glittering trail,And mark where radiant thro' the nightMoves in the grass-green hedge the glow-worm's living light.
Thee meekest Power! I love to meet,As oft with even solitary paceThe scatter'd Abbeys hallowed rounds I traceAnd listen to the echoings of my feet.Or on the half demolished tomb,Whole warning texts anticipate my doom:Mark the clear orb of nightCast thro' the storying glass a faintly-varied light.
Nor will I not in some more gloomy hourInvoke with fearless awe thine holier power,Wandering beneath the sainted pileWhen the blast moans along the darksome aisle,And clattering patters all aroundThe midnight shower with dreary sound.
But sweeter 'tis to wander wildBy melancholy dreams beguil'd,While the summer moon's pale rayFaintly guides me on my wayTo the lone romantic glenFar from all the haunts of men,Where no noise of uproar rudeBreaks the calm of solitude.But soothing Silence sleeps in all,Save the neighbouring waterfall,Whose hoarse waters falling nearLoad with hollow sounds the ear,And with down-dasht torrent whiteGleam hoary thro' the shades of night.Thus wandering silent on and slowI'll nurse Reflection's sacred woe,And muse upon the perish'd dayWhen Hope would weave her visions gay,Ere Fancy chill'd by adverse fateLeft sad Reality my mate.
O Contemplation! when to Memory's eyesThe visions of the long-past days arise,Thy holy power imparts the best relief,And the calm'd Spirit loves the joy of grief.1792.