Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground'
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then, as I am listening
O, THOU, most lovely and most beautiful!
Whether thy doves now lovingly do lull
Thy bright eyes to soft slumbering upon
Some dreamy south wind: whether thou hast gone
Upon the heaven now, or if thou art
Within some floating cloud, and on its heart
Pourest rich-tinted joy; whether thy wheels
Are touching on the sun-forsaken fields,
And brushing off the dew from bending grass,
Leaving the poor green blades to look-alas!
O, thou, through whom all things upon the earth Grow brighter: thou for whom even laughing mirth
Lengthens his note; thou whom the joyous bird
Singeth continuously; whose name is heard
In every pleasant sound: at whose warm glance
All things look brighter: for whom wine doth
dance
More merrily within the brimming vase,
To meet thy lip: thou, at whose quiet pace
Joy leaps on faster, with a louder laugh,
And Sorrow tosses to the sea his staff,
And pushes back the hair from his dim eyes,
To look again upon forgotten skies;
While Avarice forgets to count his gold,
unto thee his wither'd hand doth hold, Fill'd with that heart-blood: thou, to whose high might
All things are made to bow,
Come thou to us, and turn thy looks of light
Upon us now!
O, hear, great goddess! thou whom all obey;
At whose desire rough satyrs leave their play,
And gather wild-flowers, decking the bright hair
Of her they love, and oft blackberries bear
To shame them at her eyes: O, thou! to whom
They leap in awkward mood, within the gloom
Of darkening oak trees, or at lightsome noon
Sing unto thee, upon their pipes, a tune
Of wondrous languishment: thou whose great
Brings up the sea-maids from each ocean-bower,
With many an idle song, to sing to thee,
And bright locks flowing half above the sea,
And gleaming eyes, as if in distant caves
They spied their lovers-(so among the waves
Small bubbles flit, mocking the kindly sun,
With little, laughing brightness)—
O, come, and ere our festival be done,
Our new loves bless!
O, thou who once didst weep, and with sad tears
Bedew the pitying woods !-by those great fears
That haunted thee when thy beloved lay
With dark eyes drown'd in death-by that dull day
When poor ADONIS fell, with many a moan
Among the leaves, and sadly and alone
Breathed out his spirit-O, do thou look on
All maidens who, for too great love, grow wan,
And pity them: come to us when night brings
Her first faint stars, and let us hear the wings
Of thy most beauteous and bright-eyed doves
Stirring the breathless air; let all thy loves
Be flying round thy car, with pleasant songs
Moving upon their lips: come! each maid longs
For thy fair presence-goddess of rich love'
Come on the odorous air;
And, as thy light wheels roll, from us remove
All love-sick care!
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