 | Landscapes in verse |  |
Together now we climb th'aspiring brow
Of yonder tow'ring cliff, where zephyrs bland
Come fresh from heav'n to greet us:—there arriv'd,
Ev'n at the skyey summit, far from men
And near the breath of Gods, we rest awhile;—
Ah! pause to memory precious; grac'd, perchance,
With ev'ry fond endearment honest Love
Dare ask, or innocent Affection give:—
The joy of admiration undisturb'd;—
The ardent gaze of fondness o'er the face
That blooms a thousand graces on the look,
As deep attention draws the varying blush;—
The thrilling glance, that in the trembling heart
Stirs the deep sigh, and pierces ev'ry sense
With aching rapture Love alone can feel;—
The touch which holiest Innocence allows,
A touch, tho' lighter than the gossamer,
Or the thin down that from the thistle flies
When summer zephyrs sport, can shake the frame
More than the hurricane the bending reed;—
The faultering accent;—Passion's lavish praise,
Ah! gracious Flattery!—Silence too, that pleads
Beyond what Tully spoke—an eloquence
Unborrow'd of the tongue, which every heart
In love interprets, feels conviction strong,
That language never yet (tho' breath'd from lips
Where Science dwelt, and Harmony her seat
Had fix'd, to win and to inform the ear)
Could boast—the silent Eloquence of Love.
Of yonder tow'ring cliff, where zephyrs bland
Come fresh from heav'n to greet us:—there arriv'd,
Ev'n at the skyey summit, far from men
And near the breath of Gods, we rest awhile;—
14
With ev'ry fond endearment honest Love
Dare ask, or innocent Affection give:—
The joy of admiration undisturb'd;—
The ardent gaze of fondness o'er the face
That blooms a thousand graces on the look,
As deep attention draws the varying blush;—
The thrilling glance, that in the trembling heart
Stirs the deep sigh, and pierces ev'ry sense
With aching rapture Love alone can feel;—
The touch which holiest Innocence allows,
A touch, tho' lighter than the gossamer,
Or the thin down that from the thistle flies
When summer zephyrs sport, can shake the frame
More than the hurricane the bending reed;—
15
Ah! gracious Flattery!—Silence too, that pleads
Beyond what Tully spoke—an eloquence
Unborrow'd of the tongue, which every heart
In love interprets, feels conviction strong,
That language never yet (tho' breath'd from lips
Where Science dwelt, and Harmony her seat
Had fix'd, to win and to inform the ear)
Could boast—the silent Eloquence of Love.
| Landscapes in verse | |