Robert Laurence Binyon - Douro lyrics

The dripping of the boughs in silence heard Softly; the low note of some lingering bird Amid the weeping vapour; the chill fall Of solitary evening upon all That stirs and hopes and apprehends and grieves, With pining odours of the ruined leaves Have like a dew distilled upon my heart The air of d**h: but now recoiling start Longing and keen remembrance out of sighs; And forward the desiring spirit flies Toward the wild peace of that illumined shore, Which, left behind her, yet still shines before; To Douro, rushing through the mighty hills. Now his great stream with fancied splendour fills Even this brooding twilight; a swift ghost, Journeying forever to the glimmering coast, Where his majestic voice is heard afar, Exulting dim upon that ocean bar. O Douro, gliding by dark woods, and fleet Beneath thy shadowy rocks in the noon heat, How my heart faints to follow after thee On one true course to my deep destined sea! To take no care of dimness or sunshine, Urged ever by an inward way divine, Nor falter in this heavy gloom that brings So thick upon me lamentable things Of earth, and hinders the swift spirit's wings, And clouds the steadfast vision that sustains Alone the trembling heart amid perpetual pains. Dear friend, who thirstest, even as I, to be Heir and possessor of sweet liberty, Once more in memory let us pluck the hour That bloomed so perfect, and renew the power Of joy within our wondering breasts, to feel That freshness of eternal things, and heal All our unhappy thoughts in those pure rays. Not yet the last of these delightful days Into the dark unwillingly has flown, And thou and I upon a hill o'ergrown, That indolently shadows Douro stream, Together watch the wonderful clear dream Of evening. Under the dark shore of pines Noiselessly running, the wide water shines. Curving afar, from where the mountains lift Their burning heads, through many a forest rift The River comes, scenting the spaces free In this broad channel, of his welcoming sea. No more by silent precipices hewn Out of the night, murmuring a lonely tune To craggy Fregeneda; nor where shines Regoa, throned among her purple vines, Impetuously seeking valleys new; But smoothing his broad mirror to the hue And peace of heaven, unhasting now he flows And with the sky unfathomably glows, Even as on yonder shore the woods receive In their empurpled bosoms the warm eve. As when a lover gazes tenderly Upon his loved one, and, as tender, she Hushes her heart, her joy to realize, So hushed, so lovely, so contented lies Earth, by that earnest--gazing glory blest. But on this hither bank that fervent West Is hidden behind us, and the stems around Spring shadowy from the bare and darkling ground. Only a single pine out of the shade Emerges, in what splendour soft arrayed! Magical clearness, warming to the sight As to the touch it would be: plumed with light, Motionless upward the tree soars and burns. But now the dews upon the freshened ferns In the dim hollow gather, and cool scent Of herbage with the pine's pure odour blent, And voices of the villagers below As home, with music, up the stream they row, Greet us descending; every blossom sleeps, And bluer and more blue the evening steeps Water and fragrant gra** and the straight stems In tender mystery. Down a path that hems The hollow, to our waiting boat we come. Pale purple flames shining amid the gloom Signal the autumn crocus: look, afar, Betwixt the tree--tops, the first--ventured star! Soon gliding homeward under shadowy shores And deepened sky, to the repeated oars' Strong chime we hasten. Now along pale sand Our ripple leaps in silver; now the land, High over the swift water darkly ma**ed, Echoes our falling blades as we go past; Until, enthroned upon her hills divine, The city nears us: lights begin to shine Scarce from the stars distinguished, so the gloom Has mingled earth and sky; more steeply loom The banks on either side, at intervals Tufted with trees, or crowned with winding walls; And now at last the river opens large, Filled with the city's murmur; from his marge, Slope over slope, the glimmering terraces Rise, and their scattered lamps' bright images Cast on the wavering water; and we hear The sound of soft bells, and cries faint or near From the dim wharves, or anchored ships, whose spars Entangle in dark meshes the white stars. And pale smoke rising blue on the blue air Sleeps in a thin cloud under heights that bear Towers and roofs lofty against the west, Where yet a clearness lingers. Now the breast Of Douro heaves, foreboding whither bound His currents hasten, and with joyous sound, As though the encountering brine new pulses gave, Lifts, to outrace our speed, his buoyant wave. For, hearken, up the peaceful evening borne Out of the wide sea--gates, low thunders warn Of Ocean beating with his sleepless surge Along the wild sand--marges: the deep dirge Of mariners, that wakes the widow's ear At night, far inland, terrible and near. Fainter, this eve, he murmurs than as oft His troubled music: here, by distance soft, The abrupt volley, the sharp shattering roar, And seethe of foam flung tumbling up the shore, Mingle in one wide rumour, that all round Is heard afar, robing the air with sound. Deep in my heart I hear it. The still night Deepens, as we ascend the homeward height, And loud or low, in following intervals, Over the hills the sound unwearied falls; And as upon my bed my heavy eyes Close up, the drowsing mind re--occupies. O what a vision floats into my sleep! As a night--shutting flower, my senses keep The live day's lingering odours and warm hues, That thought and motion with themselves transfuse, Till sound and light and perfume are but one, Mingled in fires of the embracing sun. Yet still I am aware of Ocean stirred Far off, and like a grave rejoicing heard. Am I awake, or in consenting dreams Pour thither all my thought's tumultuous streams? His voice, to meet them, a deep answer sends: My soul, to listen, her light wing suspends, And, pillowed upon undulating sound, For all desire hath satisfaction found. He calls her thither, where the winds uncage Vast longing, that the unsounded seas a**uage. Breeze after breeze her wingèd pinnace bears Over the living water, that prepares Still widening mystery: she her speed the more Urges, exulting to have lost the shore, Supported by the joy that sets her free, Delighted mistress of her destiny, Fills the wide night with beating of her wing, And is content, for ever voyaging By timeless courses, over worlds unknown, Lifted and lost, abounding and alone.