 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
290
DREAM-MUSIC; OR, THE SPIRIT-LUTE.
There—Pearl of Beauty! lightly press,
With yielding form, the yielding sand;
And while you sift the rosy shells,
Within your dear and dainty hand,
With yielding form, the yielding sand;
And while you sift the rosy shells,
Within your dear and dainty hand,
Or toss them to the heedless waves,
That reck not how your treasures shine,
As oft you waste on careless hearts
Your fancies, touch'd with light divine,
That reck not how your treasures shine,
As oft you waste on careless hearts
Your fancies, touch'd with light divine,
I'll sing a lay—more wild than gay—
The story of a magic lute;
And as I sing, the waves shall play
An order'd tune, the song to suit.
The story of a magic lute;
And as I sing, the waves shall play
An order'd tune, the song to suit.
In silence flow'd our grand old Rhine;
For on his breast a picture burn'd,
The loveliest of all scenes that shine
Where'er his glorious course has turn'd.
For on his breast a picture burn'd,
The loveliest of all scenes that shine
Where'er his glorious course has turn'd.
291
That radiant morn the peasants saw
A wondrous vision rise in light,
They gazed, with blended joy and awe—
A castle crown'd the beetling height!
A wondrous vision rise in light,
They gazed, with blended joy and awe—
A castle crown'd the beetling height!
Far up amid the amber mist,
That softly wreathes each mountain-spire,
The sky its cluster'd columns kiss'd,
And touch'd their snow with golden fire;
That softly wreathes each mountain-spire,
The sky its cluster'd columns kiss'd,
And touch'd their snow with golden fire;
The vapour parts—against the skies,
In delicate tracery on the blue,
Those graceful turrets lightly rise,
As if to music there they grew!
In delicate tracery on the blue,
Those graceful turrets lightly rise,
As if to music there they grew!
And issuing from its portal fair,
A youth descends the dizzy steps;
The sunrise gilds his waving hair,
From rock to rock he lightly leaps—
A youth descends the dizzy steps;
The sunrise gilds his waving hair,
From rock to rock he lightly leaps—
He comes—the radiant, angel-boy!
He moves with more than human grace;
His eyes are fill'd with earnest joy,
And heaven is in his beauteous face.
He moves with more than human grace;
His eyes are fill'd with earnest joy,
And heaven is in his beauteous face.
292
And whether bred the stars among,
Or in that luminous palace born,
Around his airy footsteps hung
The light of an immortal morn.
Or in that luminous palace born,
Around his airy footsteps hung
The light of an immortal morn.
From steep to steep he fearless springs,
And now he glides the throng amid,
So light, as if still play'd the wings
That 'neath his tunic sure are hid!
And now he glides the throng amid,
So light, as if still play'd the wings
That 'neath his tunic sure are hid!
A fairy lute is in his hand—
He parts his bright, disorder'd hair,
And smiles upon the wondering band,
A strange, sweet smile, with tranquil air.
He parts his bright, disorder'd hair,
And smiles upon the wondering band,
A strange, sweet smile, with tranquil air.
Anon, his blue, celestial eyes
He bent upon a youthful maid,
Whose looks met his in still surprise,
The while a low, glad tune he play'd—
He bent upon a youthful maid,
Whose looks met his in still surprise,
The while a low, glad tune he play'd—
Her heart beat wildly—in her face
The lovely rose-light went and came;
She clasp'd her hands with timid grace,
In mute appeal, in joy and shame!
The lovely rose-light went and came;
She clasp'd her hands with timid grace,
In mute appeal, in joy and shame!
293
Then slow he turn'd—more wildly breathed
The pleading lute, and by the sound
Through all the throng her steps she wreathed,
As if a chain were o'er her wound.
The pleading lute, and by the sound
Through all the throng her steps she wreathed,
As if a chain were o'er her wound.
All mute and still the group remain'd,
And watch'd the charm, with lips apart,
While in those linkéd notes enchain'd,
The girl was led, with listening heart:—
And watch'd the charm, with lips apart,
While in those linkéd notes enchain'd,
The girl was led, with listening heart:—
The youth ascends the rocks again,
And in his steps the maiden stole,
While softer, holier grew the strain,
Till rapture thrill'd her yearning soul!
And in his steps the maiden stole,
While softer, holier grew the strain,
Till rapture thrill'd her yearning soul!
And fainter fell that fairy tune;
Its low, melodious cadence wound,
Most like a rippling rill at noon,
Through delicate lights and shades of sound:
Its low, melodious cadence wound,
Most like a rippling rill at noon,
Through delicate lights and shades of sound:
And with the music, gliding slow,
Far up the steep, their garments gleam;
Now through the palace gate they go;
And now—it vanish'd like a dream!
Far up the steep, their garments gleam;
Now through the palace gate they go;
And now—it vanish'd like a dream!
294
Still frowns above thy waves, O Rhine!
The mountain's wild terrific height,
But where has fled the work divine,
That lent its brow a halo-light?
The mountain's wild terrific height,
But where has fled the work divine,
That lent its brow a halo-light?
Ah! springing arch and pillar pale
Had melted in the azure air!
And she—the darling of the dale—
She too had gone—but how—and where?
Had melted in the azure air!
And she—the darling of the dale—
She too had gone—but how—and where?
Long years roll'd by—and lo! one morn,
Again o'er regal Rhine it came,
That picture from the dream-land borne,
That palace built of frost and flame.
Again o'er regal Rhine it came,
That picture from the dream-land borne,
That palace built of frost and flame.
Behold! within its portal gleams
A heavenly shape—oh! rapturous sight!
For lovely as the light of dreams
She glides adown the mountain-height!
A heavenly shape—oh! rapturous sight!
For lovely as the light of dreams
She glides adown the mountain-height!
She comes! the loved, the long-lost maid!
And in her hand the charméd lute;;
But ere its mystic tune was play'd
She spake—the peasants listen'd mute—
And in her hand the charméd lute;;
But ere its mystic tune was play'd
She spake—the peasants listen'd mute—
295
She told how in that instrument
Was chain'd a world of wingéd dreams;
And how the notes that from it went
Revealed them as with lightning gleams;
Was chain'd a world of wingéd dreams;
And how the notes that from it went
Revealed them as with lightning gleams;
And how its music's magic braid
O'er the unwary heart it threw,
Till he or she whose dream it play'd
Was forced to follow where it drew.
O'er the unwary heart it threw,
Till he or she whose dream it play'd
Was forced to follow where it drew.
She told how on that marvellous day
Within its changing tune she heard
A forest-fountain's plaintive play,
A silver trill from far-off bird;
Within its changing tune she heard
A forest-fountain's plaintive play,
A silver trill from far-off bird;
And how the sweet tones, in her heart,
Had changed to promises as sweet,
That if she dared with them depart,
Each lovely hope its heaven should meet.
Had changed to promises as sweet,
That if she dared with them depart,
Each lovely hope its heaven should meet.
And then she play'd a joyous lay,
And to her side a fair child springs,
And wildly cries—“Oh! where are they!
Those singing-birds, with diamond wings?”
And to her side a fair child springs,
And wildly cries—“Oh! where are they!
Those singing-birds, with diamond wings?”
296
Anon a loftier strain is heard,
A princely youth beholds his dream;
And by the thrilling cadence stirr'd,
Would follow where its wonders gleam.
A princely youth beholds his dream;
And by the thrilling cadence stirr'd,
Would follow where its wonders gleam.
Still play'd the maid—and from the throng—
Receding slow—the music drew
A choice and lovely band along—
The brave—the beautiful—the true!
Receding slow—the music drew
A choice and lovely band along—
The brave—the beautiful—the true!
The sordid—worldly—cold—remain'd,
To watch that radiant troop ascend;
To hear the fading fairy strain;
To see with heaven the vision blend!
To watch that radiant troop ascend;
To hear the fading fairy strain;
To see with heaven the vision blend!
And ne'er again, o'er glorious Rhine,
That sculptured dream rose calm and mute;
Ah! would that now once more 'twould shine,
And I could play the fairy lute!
That sculptured dream rose calm and mute;
Ah! would that now once more 'twould shine,
And I could play the fairy lute!
I'd play, Marié, the dream I see,
Deep in those changeful eyes of thine,
And thou perforce should'st follow me,
Up—up where life is all divine!
Deep in those changeful eyes of thine,
And thou perforce should'st follow me,
Up—up where life is all divine!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |