Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky; 15
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away--forbidden things--
My heart would feel to be a crime 20
Unless it trembled with the strings.



TO THE RIVER


Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty--the unhidden heart,
The playful maziness of art 5
In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks,
Which glistens then, and trembles,
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles; 10
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies--