PHILOMELA°
Reading edition
PHILOMELA°
Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! °4What triumph! hark!—what pain°! °5O wanderer from a Grecian shore,° Still, after many years, in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain °8That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain°— Say, will it never heal? 10And can this fragrant lawn With its cool trees, and night, And the sweet, tranquil Thames, And moonshine, and the dew, To thy rack'd heart and brain 15Afford no balm? Dost thou to-night behold, Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, °18The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild°? Dost thou again peruse 20With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes °21The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame°? Dost thou once more assay [p.91] Thy flight, and feel come over thee, Poor fugitive, the feathery change 25Once more, and once more seem to make resound With love and hate, triumph and agony, °27Lone Daulis,° and the high Cephissian vale°? Listen, Eugenia— °29How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves°! 30Again—thou hearest? Eternal passion! °32Eternal pain°!