Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

Download links will be available after you disable the ad blocker and reload the page.

Mazelli, and Other Poems

Download options:

  • 149.09 KB
  • 394.22 KB
  • 211.42 KB



MAZELLI Canto I.I."Stay, traveller, stay thy weary steed,The sultry hour of noon is near,Of rest thy way-worn limbs have need,Stay, then, and, taste its sweetness here.The mountain path which thou hast spedIs steep, and difficult to tread,And many a farther step 'twill cost,Ere thou wilt find another host;But if thou scorn'st not humble fare,Such as the pilgrim loves to share,—Not luxury's enfeebling spoil,But bread secured by patient toil—Then lend thine ear to my request,And be the old man's welcome guest.Thou seest yon aged willow tree,In all its summer pomp arrayed,'Tis near, wend thither, then, with me,My cot is built beneath its shade;And from its roots clear waters burstTo cool thy lip, and quench thy thirst:—I love it, and if harm should, comeTo it, I think that I should weep;'Tis as a guardian of my home,So faithfully it seems to keepIts watch above the spot where IHave lived so long, and mean to die.Come, pardon me for prating thus,But age, you know, is garrulous;And in life's dim decline, we holdThrice dear whate'er we loved of old,—The stream upon whose banks we played,The forest through whose shades we strayed,The spot to which from sober truthWe stole to dream the dreams of youth,The single star of all Night's zone,Which we have chosen as our own,Each has its haunting memoryOf things which never more may be."II.Thus spake an aged man to oneWho manhood's race had just begun.His form of manhood's noblest lengthWas strung with manhood's stoutest strength,And burned within his eagle eyeThe blaze of tameless energy—Not tameless but untamed—for lifeSoon breaks the spirit with its strifeAnd they who in their souls have nursedThe brightest visions, are the firstTo learn how Disappointment's blightStrips life of its illusive light;How dreams the heart has dearest heldAre ever first to be dispelled;How hope, and power, and love, and fame,Are each an idly sounding name,A phantom, a deceit, a wile,That woos and dazzles to beguile.But time had not yet tutored him,The youth of hardy heart and limb,Who quickly drew his courser's bit;For though too haughty to submit,In strife for mastery with men,Yet to a prayer, or a caress,His soul became all gentleness,—An infant's hand might lead him then:So answered he,—"In sooth the wayMy steed and I have passed to-day,Is of such weary, winding length,As sorely to have tried our strength,And I will bless the bread and saltOf him who kindly bids me halt."Then springing lightly to the ground,His girth and saddle he unbound,And turning from the path aside,The steed and guest, the host and guide,Sought where the old man's friendly doorStood ever open to the poor:The poor—for seldom came the great,Or rich, the apers of their state,That simple, rude abode to see,Or claim its hospitality.III.From where the hermit's cottage stood,Beneath its huge old guardian tree,The gazer's wand'ring eye might see,Where, in its maze of field and wood,And stretching many a league away,A broad and smiling valley lay:—Lay stilly calm, and sweetly fair,As if Death had not entered there;As if its flowers, so bright of bloom,Its birds, so gay of song and wing,Would never lose their soft perfume,Would never, never cease to sing....