The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/The Minstrel’s Monitor
THE MINSTREL'S MONITOR.
Silent and dark as the source of yon river,
Whose birth-place we know not, and seek not to know,
Though wild as the flight of the shaft from yon quiver,
Is the course of its waves as in music they flow.
The lily flings o'er it its silver white blossom,
Like ivory barks which a fairy hath made;
The rose o'er it bends with its beautiful bosom,
As though 'twere enamour'd itself of its shade.
The sunshine, like Hope, in its noontide hour slumbers
On the stream, as it loved the bright place of its rest;
And its waves pass in song, as the sea shell's soft numbers
Had given to those waters their sweetest and best.
The banks that surround it are flower-dropt and sunny;
There the first birth of violets' odour-showers weep—
There the bee heaps his earliest treasure of honey,
Or sinks in the depths of the harebell to sleep.
Like prisoners escaped during night from their prison,
The waters fling gaily their spray to the sun;
Who can tell me from whence that glad river has risen?
Who can say whence it[1] springs in its beauty?—not one.
Oh my heart, and my song, which is as my heart's flowing,
Read thy fate in yon river, for such is thine own!
Mid those the chief praise on thy music bestowing,
Who cares for the lips from whence issue the tone?
Dark as its birth-place so dark is my spirit,
Whence yet the sweet waters of melody came:
'Tis the long after-course, not the source, will inherit
The beauty and glory of sunshine and fame.
- ↑ 'its' here is a misprint