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Thou still
unravished bride of quietness!
Thou foster-child of
silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst
thus express
A flow'ry tale more sweetly than our
rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy
shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe
or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these?
What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to
escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are
sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to
the sensual ear, but, more endeared,
Pipe to the
spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the
trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can
those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst
thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal -yet, do not
grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy
bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your
leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy
melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever
new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For
ever warm and still to be enjoyed,
For ever panting
and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far
above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are
these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O
mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at
the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands
drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or
mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of
its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy
streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul
to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O
Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men
and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the
trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of
thought
As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!
When old
age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain,
in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to
whom thou sayst,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,
-that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to
know."
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