The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

Higher still and higher,
And his burning plumes outspread,

From the earth thou spridgest
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

Like a cloud of fire;
When the morning-star shines dead.

The blue deep thou widgest,
As on the jag of a mountain crag, .

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alii one moment may sit

In the golden lightning
in the light of its golden wings.

Of the sunken sun,
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, O'er which clouds are brightening,
Its ardours of rest and of love,

Thou dost tloat and run ;
And the crimson pall of eve may fall

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
From the depth of heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,

The pale purple even
As still as a brooding doye. .

Melts around thy flight;

Like a star of heaven,
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,

In the broad day-light
Whom mortals call the moon,

Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,

Keen as are the arrows
By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

Of that silver sphere,
Which only the angels hear,

Whose intense lamp narrows
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

In the while dawn clear,
The stars peep behind her and peer;

Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,

All the earth and air
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

With thy voice is loud,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,

As, when night is bare,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,

From one lonely cloud
Are ench paved with the moon and these.

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow'd.

What thou art we know not;
I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone,

What is most like thee?
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl;

From rainbow clouds there flow not
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

Drops so bright to see,
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Over a torrent sea,

Like a poet hidden
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,

In the light of thought,
The mountains its columns be.

Singing hymns unbidden,
The triumphal arch through which I march

Till the world is wrought
With hurricane, fire, and snow,

To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
When the powers of the air are chain'd to my chair,
Is the million-colour'd bow;

Like a high-boro maiden
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

In a palace tower,
While the moist earth was laughing below.

Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour I am the daughter of earth and water,

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower :
And the nursling of the sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

Like a glow-worm golden
I change, but I cannot die.

In a dell of dew,
For after the rain, when with never a stain,

Scattering unbeholden
The pavilion of heaven is bare,

Its aërial hue
And the winds and sunbeams with their convexgleams, Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the
Build up the blue dome of air,

view : I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a rose embower'd
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

In its own green leaves,
I arise and unbuild it again.

By warm winds deflower'd,

Till the scent it gives

Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged TO A SKYLARK.

thieves.
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

Sound of vernal showers
Bird thou never wert,

On the twinkling grass,
That from heaven, or near it,

Rain-awaken'd flowers,
Pourest thy full beart

All that ever was
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

LINE.S WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.

The waves were fiercely vomited
From every tower and every dome,

MONT BLANC.
And dreary light did widely shed

O'er that vast flood's suspended foam, Beneath the smoke which hung its night

I. On the stain'd cope of heaven's light.

The everlasting universe of things

Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, The plank whereon that Lady sate

Now dark-now glittering---now reflecting gloomWas driven through the chasms, about and about, Now lending splendour, where from secret springs Between the peaks so desolate

The source of humau thought its tribute brinus Of the drowning mountain, in and out,

Of waters, with a sound but half its own, As the thistle-beard on a whirlwind sails

Such as a feeble brook will oft assume While the flood was filling those hollow vales.

In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,

Where waterfalls around it leap for ever, At last her plank an eddy crost,

Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river And bore her to the city's wall,

Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.
Which now the flood had reach'd almost:
It might the stoutest heart appal

II.
To hear the fire roar and hiss

Thus thou, Ravine of Arve-dark, deep RavineThrough the domes of those mighty palaces.

Thou many-colour'd, many-voiced vale,

Over whose pines and crags and caverns sail The eddy whirl'd her round and round

Fast clouds, shadows, and sunbeams : awful scene,

Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down Before a gorgeous gate, which stood Piercing the clouds of smoke which bound

From the ice gulfs that gird his secret throne, Its aery arch with light like blood;

Bursting through these dark mountains, like the flame She look'd on that gate of marble clear,

Of lightning through the tempest; thou dost lie, With wonder that extinguish'd fear.

Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging,

Children of elder time, in whose devotion For it was filld with sculptures rarest,

The chainless winds still come and ever came Or forms most beautiful and strange,

To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging Like nothing human, but the fairest

To hear-an old and solemn harmony: Of winged shapes, whose legions range

Thine earthly rainbows stretcli'd across the sweep Throughout the sleep of those that are,

Of the ethereal waterfall, whose veil Like this same Lady, good and fair.

Robes some unsculptured imaye; the strange sleep

Which, when the voices of the desert fail,
And as she look'd, still lovelier grew

Wraps all in its own deep eternity ;-
Those marble forms;- the sculptor sure Thy caverns, echoing to the Arve's commotion
Was a strong spirit, and the hue

A loud lone sound, no other sound can tame: