  “The day before V——’s departure for the last time from the country—it was the 4th of August, one of the hottest days of the season—as evening fell, he strolled with an old school-fellow through the cool green avenues and leafy arcades of the neighbouring park, where his friend amused him by pointing out to his attention vast multitudes of Swallows that came swarming from all directions to settle on the roofs and gables of the manor-house. This they do for several days preparatory to their departing, in one collected body, to more genial climates.”—MS. Memoir. I. Joyous Birds! preparing In the clear evening light To leave our dwindled summer day For latitudes more bright! How gay must be your greeting, By southern fountains meeting, To miss no faithful wing of all that started in your flight! II. Every clime and season Fresh gladness brings to you, Howe’er remote your social throngs Their varied path pursue; No winds nor waves dissever— No dusky veil’d for ever, Frowneth across your fearless way in the empyrean blue. III. Mates and merry brothers Were ye in Arctic hours, Mottling the evening beam that sloped Adown old Gothic towers! As blythe that sunlight dancing Will see your pinions’ glancing Scattering afar through Tropic groves the spicy bloom in showers! IV. Haunters of palaced wastes! From king-forlorn Versailles To where, round gateless Thebes, the winds Like monarch voices wail, Your tribe capricious ranges, Reckless of glory’s changes; Love makes for ye a merry home amid the ruins pale. V. Another day, and ye From knosp and turret’s brow Shall, with your fleet of crowding wings, Air’s viewless billows plough, With no keen-fang’d regretting Our darken’d hill-sides quitting, —Away in fond companionship as cheerily as now! Woe for the Soul-endued— The clay-enthrallÈd Mind— Leaving, unlike you, favour’d birds! Its all—its all behind. Woe for the exile mourning, To banishment returning— A mateless bird wide torn apart from country and from kind! VII. This moment blest as ye, Beneath his own home-trees, With friends and fellows girt around, Up springs the western breeze, Bringing the parting weather— Shall all depart together? Ah, no!—he goes a wretch alone upon the lonely seas. VIII. To him the mouldering tower— The pillar’d waste, to him A broken-hearted music make Until his eyelids swim. None heeds when he complaineth, Nor where that brow he leaneth A mother’s lips shall bless no more sinking to slumber dim. IX. Winter shall wake to spring, And ’mid the fragrant grass The daffodil shall watch the rill Like Beauty by her glass But woe for him who pineth Where the clear water shineth, With no voice near to say—How sweet those April evenings pass! X. Then while through Nature’s heart Love freshly burns again, Hither shall ye, plumed travellers, Come trooping o’er the main; The selfsame nook disclosing Its nest for your reposing That saw you revel years ago as you shall revel then. XI. —Your human brother’s lot! A few short years are gone— Back, back like you to early scenes— Lo! at the threshold-stone, Where ever in the gloaming Home’s angels watch’d his coming, A stranger stands, and stares at him who sighing passes on. XII. Joy to the Travail-worn! Omnific purpose lies Even in his bale as in your bliss, Careerers of the skies! When sun and earth, that cherish’d Your tribes, with you have perish’d, A home is his where partings more shall never dim the eyes. |
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