Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Autumnal twilight lingered o'er
The pearly bed of ocean's stream,
And dimly flung around the shore
The dull expiring solar beam,
That dwelt awhile to mark the track
Of the full sun's refulgent glow,
While waning glories, rolling back,
Illumine all the vale below.

O how I love from towering height
To see the sunbeams melt away,
When jarring winds have sped their flight,
And lights, receding, dimly play
Upon the clear wave tranquilly;
Then mem'ry ushers long-lost dreams,
Clothes airy forms with many a die,
And spreads around extatic beams.

The heart and soul with love expand
When thought flies back on objects dear,
A soft delight, and beauty bland
Steal o'er the mind, and brightly wear
Vestures, that charm when fancy reigns,
And other seasons gilded throng;
Alas! bright reason never deigns
To sanction half the poet's song.

O incense breathed in every breeze,
When youth was sporting on with love,
The vista still can sadly please—
It oft recalls the absent dove,
That raised its soul-delighting strain,
Or warbled forth the tender sigh,
Soothing the heart of wo and pain
With pure and dulcet melody.

See! evening lingers on yon height,
And balmy breezes waft perfume
From flowers, that scent the robe of night,
And spread afar their glowing bloom,
To deck the woodland's vermeil bowers,
Where oft is heard the woodnote wild
Soft stealing o'er the vesper hours,
To charm the ear of fancy's child.

The ideal shades of beauty bring
Visions, that wo will oft beguile,
Dreams often wake the warbling string,
And shed an animated smile

O'er the sad mien, that woes depress;
But oh! my Marietta's voice
My saddest sorrows could repress,
And cause my senses to rejoice.

But where art thou? In skies serene;
The sapphire walks resound the tread
Of thy infantile foot—the scene
Throws a bright halo round the head
Of beauty, robed in living light;
Pellucid, amber streams along
O'er golden sands roll ever bright,
And murmur sweet their undersong.

Ah! can immortal spirits view,
From heaven's bespangled portals high,
The grovelling friends, who oft renew
The sad lament, and heave the sigh?
Can mind such rapt'rous converse hold,
And shed on earth an Eden's bloom,
Or, linger on those streets of gold,
Nor pass the vale, nor heed the tomb?

Alas! that monumental stone,
Amid the lonely-weeping willows,
Points out the path of life alone,
Through deep affliction's stormy billows.
Yet thou, my charm, my earthly heaven,
Nor sin, nor grief, nor sorrow knew,
To thee alone the palm was given,
Ere yet the battle-trumpet blew.

And now, when years have rolled away,
And the gale sighs o'er beauty's dust,
Imagination brings the day
When tender chords of love were burst;
On the dim mirrored wave of time
Affection pure delights to dwell,
And by the rill's symphonious chime
List airy strains, that rise and swell.

Yon levant crescent's silvery glow
Sheds a pure light along the sky,
And, as the curling breezes blow,
It gems the stream of emerald die;
And bright'ning, as the sheeted blaze
Fades on the western skies of blue,
The lunar beams through rack and haze
Glitter o'er gilded dales of dew.

So blithesome scenes of earthly bliss
Fly, marshalled in the train of time,
The melting shade receives a kiss,
And seeks afar a better clime;
While pensive mem'ry o'er the scene
Of blasted joys hangs, fondly dwelling,
And time and distance, prone to wean,
Roll on the tide, the current swelling.

Vivific phantoms cheer the soul,
As cresset lights the wand'rer's way,
The brightest beams of glory roll
From the dun scatt'ring clouds of day;

The glowing woodbine loves the shade,
And flings perfume through brambles rude,
And heaven's most holy esplanade
Is nature's silent solitude.

O sainted shade! the sacred haunt
Of cheerless hours thy grave shall be,
Nor shall my glowing spirit vaunt
A nobler guerdon oh! than thee,
A form to me beyond compare;
But oft thine ear will catch a groan,
Or, heart-fraught sigh for one so fair,
Or yet, a lyric benison.

Thou wert as calm as this mild eve,
When nature smiles to view her form,
Thou wert as pure as dews, that give
Effulgence to the rose of morn;
From purity thy spirit rose
To realms as sheen as yon bright sky,
Where glory o'er devotion throws
An etherial ecstasy.

O could I mount on wings sublime,
Or tread the wavy floods of light,
My lyre would charm the ear of time,
And warble strains of high delight;
Then would I seek some quiet shore
Sacred to thee and lovely Eve,
Then mirth should grate my soul no more,
And blighted love no longer grieve.