Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1855-08-17
The LOtus-Eaters.

The charmed sunset fingered low adown
In the red west through mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland and the yellow down
Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale
A land where all things always seemed the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark-faces, pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotus-Eaters came.
Branches they bore of that enchanted STEM
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whose did receive of them,
Ard taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores and if his fellow spake,
His voice thin voices from the grave;
And deep asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
And music III his ears his beating heart did make.
They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the and moon, upon the shore;
And sweet it to dream Of Father-land,
Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some said, We WM return more,
And all at once they sang, 9 O"r island home
Is t0r beyond the 1cGUe We 1C1n 40 l0nger roam.
cHoRIC SONG.
There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses the grass,
Or right-dews on still waters between walls
Of Sliadowy granite, in cleaning pass;
Music that gentler the spirit lies
Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes; skies
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the bissfu
Here are cool moses deep,
And through the the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long leaVed flowers weep,
And from the crasgy ledge the poppy hangs IN sleep
Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from WEAKNESS
All things have why should we toll alone,
We only toll, who the first ofthlngs,
And make perpetual moan,
Still from one sorrow to another thrown;
Nor ever fold wings,
And cease from wanderings,
Nor steep our btows in sumber's holy balm;
Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
s. There is Oy but calm W
Why should only toll, the roof and Of things
Lo in the middle of the wood
The folded leaf is woOed from out the bud
With winds upon the branch and there
Grows green and broad, and takes care,
Sun stepped at noon, and in the
Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
Falls, and floats adown the air,
Lo sweetened with the summer light,
The full.juiced apple, waxing 0yer mellow,
Drops in Il silent autumn night
III its allotted length of days,
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toll,
Fast rooted in the fruitful soil.
Hateful is the dark blue ky!
Vaulted Ger the dark blue sea
D Death is the e end of life ali why
Let US alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in little while our lips dumb.
Let us alone What is it that will last !
All things ere taken from us and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
Let alone. What pleasure we have
To war with evil? Is there any peace
In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest and ripen toward the grave
In sence--ripen, fall, and cease.
Give US long rest or death dark death or dreamu ease
How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream
With shut eyes ever to
Falling asleep in half-dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber-light,
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the hight;
To hear each Others whispered speech;
Eating the Lotus, day by day,
To watch the crsping rippes on the beach,
md tend curV I'M of
To lend hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild minded melancholy,
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heaped over with mound of grass,
Two handtus OF white dust, shut IN an urn of brass
Dear is the memory of our welded lives,
And dear the last embraces of wives
And their tears but ali hath suffered CHANGE
For surely now our household hearths are cold:
Our inherit our looks are strange;
And we should come, like ghosts, to trouble joy.
Or else, the island princes Over-bold
Have eat our substance and the minstrel sings
Before them of the ten-years, Is war in Troy
And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things
Is there confusion in the little isle!
Let what is broken remain.
The Gods are hard to reconcile
'Tis hard to settle order once again
There confusion worse than death,
Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
Long labor unto aged breath,
Sore task to hearts worn out with many wars
And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot'stars'
How sweet (while airs lull us, blowing lowly)
With half-dropt eyelids still,
Beneath heaven dark and holy,
To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
His waters from the purple hill
To hear the dewey echoes calling
From cave to through the thick-twined vine
To hear the emerald-colored water falling
Through many woven aeanthus wreath divins,
Only to hear and see the far-of sparkling briIe,
Only hear sweet, stretched out beneath the pine
s.
he Lotus blooms below the fowery peak
he Lotus blows by every winding creek:
II day the wind breatheS low with meloWer tone:
through every hollow cave and alley lole
ound and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus dust
blown.
Te have had enough of action, and of motion we,
oiled to starboard rolled to larboard when the surge
sesthng free,.
Where the waowing spouted his foam fountains
the sea.
ct us swear an OATH and keep it with equal mind,
Il the hollow Lotus-and to live, and lie reclined
IN the hills like Gods together, careless OF mankind
they their nectar and the bolts are hurled
below them in the Valleys and the clouds are light
eurled
ound their golden houses grded with the cleaning world
Where they smile in secret looking wasted lands
light and famine plague and earthquake roaring dsei
and fiery sands,
anging fights and flaming towns, and sinking ships, an
praying hands.
,ut they smile they find music centred in doleful song