TO A NIGHTINGALE 153 



THE CAROL OF A BIRD 



(From "The Prisoner of Chillon ") 



A LIGHT broke in upon my brain, 



It was the carol of a bird ; 

 It ceased, and then it came again, 



The sweetest song ear ever heard, 

 And mine was thankful till my eyes 

 Ran over with the glad surprise, 

 And they that moment could not see 

 I was the mate of misery. 



LOKD BYRON. 



TO A NIGHTINGALE 



MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 



My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 

 Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 



One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : 

 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 

 But being too happy in thy happiness, 



That thou, light- winged Dryad of the trees, 



In some melodious plot 

 Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, 

 Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 



O for a draught of vintage, that hath been 

 Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, 



Tasting of Flora and the country-green, 



Dance, and Provensal song, and sun-burnt mirth ! 



