Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings, And blasts of heaven will aid their flight; They mount--how short a voyage brings The wanderers back to their delight! Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee. Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men; Or thou upon a desert thrown Inheritest the lion's den; Or hast been summon'd to the deep Thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep An incommunicable sleep. I look for ghosts: but none will force Their way to me; 'tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead; For surely then I should have sight Of him I wait for day and night With love and longings infinite. My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass; The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass: I question things, and do not find One that will answer to my mind; And all the world appears unkind. Beyond participation lie My troubles, and beyond relief: If any chance to heave a sigh They pity me, and not my grief. Then come to me, my Son, or send Some tidings that my woes may end! I have no other earthly friend. _W. Wordsworth_ CCLXXXV _HUNTING SONG_ Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day; All the jolly chase is here With hawk and horse and hunting-spear; Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily merrily mingle they, 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray, Springlets in the dawn are steaming, Diamonds on the brake are gleaming; And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' Waken, lords and ladies gay, To the greenwood haste away; We can show you where he lies, Fleet of foot and tall of size; We can show the marks he made When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; You shall see him brought to bay; 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' Louder, louder chant the lay Waken, lords and ladies gay! Tell them youth and mirth and glee Run a course as well as we; Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk; Think of this, and rise with day, Gentle lords and ladies gay! _Sir W. Scott_ CCLXXXVI _TO THE SKYLARK_ Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still!