« AnteriorContinuar »
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherish'd long !
She wept with pity and delight,
She blush'd with love and maiden-shame; And, like the murmurs of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it pass'd;
Till it reach'd the moon at last :
And with such joy I find my Lewti: And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.
saw her bosom heave and swell,
Heave and swell with inward sighs— I could not choose but love to see
Her gentle hosom rise.
The little cloud-it Roats away,
Away it goes; away so soon?
Away it passes from the moon!
Ever fading more and more, To joyless regions of the sky,
And now 't is whiter than before !
When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
O'er rocks, or bare or mossy, with wild foot
I saw a vapor in the sky,
Here Wisdom might resort, and here Remorse, Thin, and white, and very high;
Here too the lovelorn man who, sick in soul, I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud :
And of this busy human heart aweary, Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Worships the spirit of unconscious life Now below and now above,
In tree or wild-lower.—Gentle Lunatic! Have snatch'd aloft the lawny shroud
If so he might not wholly cease to be, Of Lady fair—that died for love.
He would far rather not be that, he is ; For maids, as well as youths, have perish'd
But would be something, that he knows not of, From fruitless love too fondly cherish'd.
In winds or waters, or among the rocks!
But hence, fond wretch ! breathe not contagior. Hush! my heedless feet from under
here! Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
No myrtle-walks are these: these are no groves Like echoes to a distant thunder,
Where Love dare loiter! If in sullen mood They plunge into the gentle river.
He should stray hither, the low stumps shall gore The river-swans have heard my tread,
His dainty feet, the brier and the thorn And startle from their reedy bed.
Make his plumes haggard. Like a wounded bird O beauteous Birds! methinks ye measure Easily caught, ensnare him, O ye Nymphs, Your movements to some heavenly tune!
Ye Oreads chaste, ye dusky Dryades! O beauteous Birds! 't is such a pleasure And you, ye Earth-winds ! you that make at morn To see you inove beneath the moon,
The dew-drops quiver on the spiders' webs! I would it were your true delight
You, O ye wingless Airs ! that creep between To sleep by day and wake all night.
The rigid stems of heath and bitten furze,
Within whose scanty shade, at summer-noon, I know the place where Lewti lies,
The mother-sheep hath worn a hollow bedWhen silerit night has closed her eyes :
Ye, that now cool her fleece with dropless damp, It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
Now pant and murmur with her feeding lamb. The nightingale sings o'er her head :
Chase, chase him, all ye Fays, and elfin Gnomes ! Voice of the Night! had I the power
With prickles sharper than his darts bemock That leafy labyrinth to thread,
His little Godship, making him perforce
This is my hour of triumph! I can now
With my own fancies play the merry fool,
And laugh away worse folly, being free. Oh! that she saw me in a dream,
Here will I seat myself, beside this old,
Hollow, and weedy oak, which ivy-twine
Clothes as with net-work : here will I couch my
limbs, Yet fair withal, as spirits are! I'd die indeed, if I might see
Close by this river, in this silent shade,
As safe and sacred from the step of man
As an invisible world—unheard, unseen,
And list'ning only to the pebbly brook
That murmurs with a dead, yet tinkling sound 1795.
Or to the bees, that in the neighboring trunk
The tendril ringlets from the maiden's brow, TIIE PICTURE, OR THE LOVER'S And the blue, delicate veins above her cheek; RESOLUTION.
Ne'er play'd the wanton-never half-disclosed
The maiden's snowy bosom, scattering thence THROUGUI weeds and thorns, and matted underwood Eye-poisons for some love-distemper'd youth, I force my way; now climb, and now descend
Who ne'er henceforth may see an aspen-grove
Shiver in sunshine, but his feeble heart
Placeless, as spirits, one soft water-sun Shall flow away like a dissolving thing.
Throbbing within them, Heart at once and Eye!
With its soft neighborhood of filmy clouds, Sweet breeze! thou only, if I guess aright,
The stains and shadings of forgotten tears, Liftest the feathers of the robin's breast,
Dimness o'erswum with lustre ! Such the hour That swells its little breast, so full of song,
Of deep enjoyment, following love's brief feuds , Singing above me, on the mountain-ash.
And hark, the noise of a near waterfall! And thou too, desert Stream! no pool of thine,
I pass forth into light-I find myself Though clear as lake in latest summer-eve,
Beneath a weeping birch (most beautiful Did e'er reflect the stately virgin's robe,
Of forest-trees, the Lady of the woods), The face, the form divine, the downcast look
Hard by the brink of a tall weedy rock Contemplative! Behold! her open palm
That overbrows the cataract. How bursts Presses her cheek and brow! her elbow rests The landscape on my sight! Two crescent hills On the bare branch of half-uprooted tree,
Fold in behind each other, and so make That leans towards its mirror! Who erewhile
A circular vale, and land-lock'd, as might seem, Had from her countenance turn'd, or look'd by With brook and bridge, and gray stone cottages, stealth
Half hid by rocks and fruit-trees. At my feet, For fear is true love's cruel nurse), he now
The whortle-berries are bedew'd with spray, With sted fast gaze and unoffending eye,
Dash'd upwards by the furious waterfall. Worships the watery idol, dreaming hopes
How solemnly the pendent ivy mass Delicious to the soul, but fleeting, vain,
Swings in its winnow: all the air is calm. E'en as that phantom-world on which he gazed,
The smoke from cottage-chimneys, tinged with But not unheeded gazed : for see, ah! see,
light, The sportive tyrant with her left hand plucks
Rises in columns ; from this house alone, The heads of tall flowers that behind her grow,
Close by the waterfall, the column slants, Lychnis, and willow-herb, and fox-glove bells :
And feels its ceaseless breeze. But what is this? And suddenly, as one that toys with time,
That cottage, with its slanting chimney-smoke, Scatters them on the pool ! Then all the charm
And close beside its porch a sleeping child, Is broken-all that phantom-world so fair
His dear head pillow'd on a sleeping dogVanishes, and a thousand circlets spread,
One arm between its fore-legs, and the hand And each misshapes the other. Stay awhile,
Holds loosely its small handful of wild-flowers, Poor youth, who scarcely darest lift up thine eyes! Unfilleted, and of unequal lengths. The stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon
A curious picture, with a master's haste The visions will return! And lo! he stays :
Sketch'd on a strip of pinky-silver skin, And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms
Peel'd from the birchen bark! Divinest maid! Come trembling back, unite, and now once more
Yon bark her canvas, and those purple berries The pool becomes a mirror; and behold
Her pencil! See, the juice is scarcely dried Each wild-flower on the marge inverted there,
On the fine skin! She has been newly here; And there the half-uprooted tree-but where,
And lo! yon patch of heath has been her couchO where the virgin's snowy arm, that lean'd
The pressure still remains! O blessed couch! On its bare branch? He turns, and she is gone!
For this mayst thou flower early, and the Sun, Homeward she steals through many a woodland Slanting at eve, rest bright, and linger long
Upon thy purple bells ! O Isabel!. Which he shall seek in vain. Il-fated youth!
Daughter of genius! stateliest of our maids !
More beautiful than whom Alcæus wooed,
The Lesbian woman of immortal song!
O child of genius! stately, beautiful, Behold'st her shadow still abiding there,
And full of love to all, save only me,
And not ungentle e'en to me! My heart,
Needs must the pathway turn, that leads straightway
On to her father's house. She is alone!
The night draws on-such ways are hard to hit
And fit it is I should restore this sketch,
Dropt unawares, no doubt. Why should I yearn
To keep the relic? 't will but idly feed
The passion that consumes me. Let me haste !
She cannot blame me that I follow'd her ; This be my chosen haunt-emancipate
And I may be her guide the long wood through
A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.
Relapses into blessedness, I vow'd it:
A murmur breathed against a lady's ear.
Did you not say you woord her?
SANDOVAL (with a sarcastic smile).
No other than as eastern sages paint,
The God, who floats upon a lotos leaf,
Creates a world, and smiling at the bubble,
And wood, perchance, Relapses into bliss. One whom you loved not !
Ah! was that bliss
Fear'd as an alien, and too vast for man?
Oh! I were most base, For suddenly, impatient of its silence,
Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead.
I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them Met my advances with impassion'd pride, That kindled love with love. And when her sire, Oh! what if all betray me? what if thou?
Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice, Who in his dream of hope already grasp'd
I swore, and with an inward thought that seem'd The golden circlet in his hand, rejected My suit with insult, and in memory
The purpose and the substance of my being, of ancient feuds pour'd curses on my head,
I swore to her, that were she red with guilt, Her blessings overtook and baffled them!
I would exchange my unblench'd state with hers.-
Friend ! by that winding passage, to that bower But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance
I now will go—all objects there will teach me Art inly reasoning whilst thou listenest to me.
Unwavering love, and singleness of heart.
Go, Sandoval! I am prepared to meet her-
Say nothing of me-I myself will seek herAnxiously, Henry! reasoning anxiously.
Nay, leave me, friend! I cannot bear the torment But Oropeza
And keen inquiry of that scanning eye
[EARL HENRY relires into the wood Blessings gather round her! Within this wood there winds a secret passage,
SANDOVAL (alone). Beneath the walls, which opens out at length
O Henry! always strivest thou to be great Into the gloomiest covert of the garden
By thine own act-yet art thou never great The night ere my departure to the army,
But by the inspiration of great passion. She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom, And shape themselves : from Earth to Heaven they
The whirl-blast comes, the desert-sands rise up And to that covert by a silent stream, Which, with one star reflected near its marge,
stand, Was the sole object visible around me.
As though they were the pillars of a temple, No leaflet stirr'd; the air was almost sultry;
Built by Omnipotence in its own honor ! So deep, so dark, so close, the umbrage o'er us!
But the blast pauses, and their shaping spirit No leaflet stirr'd ;-yet pleasure hung upon
Is fled: the mighty columns were but sand,
And lazy snakes trail o'er the level ruins'
TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN,
A rude and scaring note, my friend !
MYRTLE-LEAF that, ill besped,
Pinest in the gladsome ray,
Far from thy protecting spray'
When the Partridge o'er the sheaf
Whirr'd along the yellow vale,
Love the dalliance of the gale
Lightly didst thou, foolish thing.
Heave and flutter to his sighs,