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IV.

I feed the clouds, the rainbows and the flowers

With their ætherial colours; the Moon's globe And the pure stars in their eternal bowers

Are cinctured with my power as with a robe; Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine, Are portions of one power, which is mine.

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I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven,

Then with unwilling steps I wander down Into the clouds of the Atlantic even;

For grief that I depart they weep and frown: What look is more delightful than the smile With which I soothe them from the western isle ?

VI.

I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself and knows itself divine

; All harmony of instrument or verse,

All prophecy, all medicine are mine,
All light of art or nature ; to my song,
Victory and praise in their own right belong.

HYMN OF PAN.

I.

FROM the forests and highlands

We come, we come ;
From the river-girt islands,
Where loud waves are dumb

Listening to my sweet pipings.
The wind in the reeds and the rushes,

The bees on the bells of thyme,
The birds on the myrtle bushes,

The cicale above in the lime,
And the lizards below in the grass,
Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,

Listening to my sweet pipings.

II.

Liquid Peneus was flowing,

And all dark Tempe lay
In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
The light of the dying day,

Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns,
And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,

To the edge of the moist river-lawns,

And the brink of the dewy caves,
And all that did then attend and follow
Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo,

With

envy of my sweet pipings.

III.

I sang of the dancing stars,

I sang of the dædal Earth,
And of Heaven - and the giant wars,
And Love, and Death, and Birth, -

And then I changed my pipings,
Singing how down the vale of Menalus

I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed : Gods and men, we are all deluded thus !

It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed : All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood,

At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

THE TWO SPIRITS.

AN ALLEGORY.

FIRST SPIRIT.

O THOU, who plumed with strong desire

Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire —

Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there

Night is coming!

SECOND SPIRIT.

The deathless stars are bright above;

If I would cross the shade of night, Within my heart is the lamp of love,

And that is day ! And the moon will smile with gentle light On my golden plumes where'er they move ; The meteors will linger round my flight, And make night day.

SONG OF PROSERPINE,

WHILE GATHERING FLOWERS ON THE PLAIN OF ENNA.

I.

SACRED Goddess, Mother Earth,

Thou from whose immortal bosom,
Gods, and men, and beasts have birth,

Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.

II.

If with mists of evening dew
Thou dost nourish these

young

flowers
Till they grow, in scent and hue,

Fairest children of the hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.

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