MICHAEL VÖRÖSMARTY A weil deeked table set jOf' cheer. O, foy and pleasure, Joy and pleasure, The meadow lands are ours for pleasure." • • • • "My sorrows and my foys are bound To one who faitbless roams around, And on a light love's wing doth stray. Who now can hear My piaints so drear 1 This spot so calm Brings my heart balm. The rocky cliff re-echoes every tone But I receive no answer to my moan. Were I an eagle free And my hearl burned so sore, Soon on strong wings l'd be Up near the heaven's door. And from the sun I would gain fire to burn The callous leaves that coldly from me turn. I can but voice My dolorous cry ; Alas, poor bird, Can only die. • 0, break, my heart, and cease as doth my song ; What arl thou but my song so sadly strong 1 " The nightingale, the forest's very heart, Thus to the WOf'ld her sOf'row did impart : And when the wood thus speaks the world is still And listens how with woe her heart doth thrill. 143 Other poems are of an entirely opposite character, full of emotion, exaltation, excitement. In them Vörös marty treats of the highest subjects in the grandest style. His imagination passes all bounds, it gleams, it fiashes, it rushes like a stream of lava. He soars to great heights and beholds visions which he enables us partly to
