Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/500

 Through paths of heavenly blue: Methinks that there are eyes which gaze on me, And jealous spirits breathing near, who be Floating around me, or in pensive mood Throned on some shatter'd column's ivied head, Hymning a warning lay in solitude, Making the silent loneness of the place More chilly, deep, and dead, And more befitting haunt for their aerial race?

Terribly lovely power! I ask of thee, Wherefore so lord it o'er my phantasye, That in the forests moaning sound, And in the cascade's far-off muttered noise, And in the breeze of midnight, and the bound And leap of ocean billows heard afar, I still do deem these are The whispering melodies of things that be Immortal, viewless, formless—not of earth, But heaven descended, and thus softly At midnight mingling their wild mirth: Or, when pale Dian loves to shroud Her fair and glittering form, beneath the veil Of watery mist or dusky fire-edged cloud, And giant shadows sail With stately march athwart the heaven's calm face;