Calm as beneath its mother's eyes

  In sleep the smiling infant lies,

  So watched by all the stars of night

  Yon landscape sleeps in light.

And while the night-breeze dies away,

  Like relics of some faded strain,

Loved voices, lost for many a day,

  Seem whispering round again.

Oh youth! oh love! ye dreams that shed

Such glory once—where are ye fled?

Pure ray of light that down the sky

  Art pointing like an angel's wand,

As if to guide to realms that lie

  In that bright sea beyond:

Who knows but in some brighter deep

  Than even that tranquil, moonlit main,

Some land may lie where those who weep

  Shall wake to smile again!

With cheeks that had regained their power

  And play of smiles,—and each bright eye

Like violets after morning's shower

  The brighter for the tears gone by,

Back to the scene such smiles should grace

These wandering nymphs their path retrace,

And reach the spot with rapture new

Just as the veils asunder flew

And a fresh vision burst to view.

There by her own bright Attic flood,

The blue-eyed Queen of Wisdom stood;—

Not as she haunts the sage's dreams,

  With brow unveiled, divine, severe;

But softened as on bards she beams

  When fresh from Poesy's high sphere

A music not her own she brings,

And thro' the veil which Fancy flings

O'er her stern features gently sings.

But who is he—that urchin nigh,

  With quiver on the rose-trees hung,

Who seems just dropt from yonder sky,

And stands to watch that maid with eye

  So full of thought for one so young?—

That child—but, silence! lend thine ear,

And thus in song the tale thou'lt hear:—