Classic Poem

Yes! let me wander by that flower-bank'd stream
Which pours its fountains out by Praga's wall;
Go! toil for honor in the fields of fame:
Fame — all Bohemia wakens at its call.
Where my young days pass'd by in blissful thought
Is now a dreary solitude to me;
The scenes which peace and love and beauty brought
Are darkness all — because estrang'd from thee.

Thou wert an ever-sparkling light — but now
Art a pale meteor trembling in the sky:
I see thy name carv'd on the maple's bough,
Or by the moon's gold sickle writ on high;
There do my loud sighs wed them to the wind,
And harps aeolian in the grotto play;
Be present to my eyes — as to my mind —
Hither again — O hither bend thy way.

'Midst the dark foliage in the full-moon's light
Thou didst first fan the fire of holiest love;
There did my pure lips pledge their early plight,
While listening nightingales were group'd above.
Hear (saidst thou) hear my words thou blue-bright heaven;
Hear them, thou moon! whom yon fair stars attend;
And if I leave thee — curs'd and unforgiven
Let poison with each breeze, each breathing blend.

O thou wilt see, bewitching, blinding maids,
Maids whoo'er youth's fond dreams supremely reign;
And thou wilt then forget Bohemia's shades,
And thou wilt wear affection's foreign chain.
Those ringlet-tresses — those black, beaming eyes
I know they will intoxicate — I know
How they will dazzle — while thy Kraska flies
Fading and fading more — and dwells with woe.

I hear the rattling troop — I feel the earth
Is shaking 'neath the chargers — so begone.
I hear the drums loud rolling — and the mirth
Of battle-loving heroes — Kwetslaw — on!
On to the banner! yet one kiss — thou bold
Heart-chosen man — fame calls thee — no delay;
Take the sharp steel — 'tis glittering in its hold;
Thy Kraska's hand shall bind it — now away!

Now battle like a Ceskian — and success,
Success walk still unwearied at thy side,
Courageous but discreet — Yet forward press
As cataracts adown the mountain side.
The kiss I give thee now, O let it burn
Like sacred fire upon thy lips — until
To thine enraptur'd maid thou shalt return —
And godlike thoughts her widening bosom fill.