Desultory Thoughts in London Titus and Gisippus, with Other Poems. By Charles Lloyd |
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THE SPELL UNRAVELLED. |
 | Desultory Thoughts in London |  |
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THE SPELL UNRAVELLED.
Written the 6th May, 1820.
“By each one
Of the dear dreams through which I have travell'd,
The cup of my enjoyment from none
Can I take, 'till the spells, one by one,
Which have wither'd ye all, be unravell'd.
Nugæ Canoræ, p. 126.
Of the dear dreams through which I have travell'd,
The cup of my enjoyment from none
Can I take, 'till the spells, one by one,
Which have wither'd ye all, be unravell'd.
Nugæ Canoræ, p. 126.
1
My God, with what words can I dare,Without a presumptuous seeming,
To say that, from Thee, who hear'st prayer,
Life's prospects with blessings are teeming?
2
I talk'd of a “spell” that had boundEach sense, and benumb'd every feeling;
Though my joys in their forms might be found,
That had all their fine essence been stealing.
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3
I was widow'd of love,—tho' possessingOne whom my sad heart fondly sigh'd,
With the tenderest, dearest caressing,
To own as its mistress and bride:—
4
I was childless,—yet children were given,Whose innocent charms might inspire
All that ever reminded of heaven
The heart of a fortunate sire:—
5
And I said, of the manifold “spells”Which withheld from my senses the taste,
Of the exquisite transport which dwells
With gifts which my lot in life grac'd;—
6
The demoniac “spells,” “one by one,”That lay on the path which I travell'd,
“The cup of enjoyment from none
Would I take, 'till they all were unravell'd.”
7
And surely I may, without fear,Call my Maker to witness my truth,
That for many a tedious year
While receded the visions of youth,
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8
Never, never, from hue, shape, or sound,From word never, smile, or caress,
This bosom, an instant, e'er found
A respite from cleaving distress,
9
Till the “spell” which lay o'er my dear ones,—By a mighty, invisible hand,—
Till the heart's pangs, the only severe ones,
Were snapp'd as a sorcerer's wand.
10
I, now, in a smile that has greetedMy eyes both in sorrow and glee,—
In a smile that has never retreated,
Though it met with no welcome from me;
11
Can experience the thrilling delightWhich it gave me in days that are gone!
Though 'twas ever the same to my sight,
Yet it fell on a bosom of stone!
12
My children,—they now can impartNot only the claims which, from duty,
They well may enforce on my heart;
But in all its most exquisite beauty,
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13
Like soft music, the fond gush is givenTo my soul, from the rapturous tie
Reproducing those bless'd days when heaven
'Bout our bed, path, and table, doth lie!
14
My wife!—and my children!—dear names,Which awaken my heart's deepest love,
An earnest such treasure proclaims
Of “the day-spring” which comes from above!
15
When the throbs that await on the pleasuresWhich owe to yourselves their creation,
Are highten'd by spiritual treasures,
They receive then their last consecration!
16
And I feel it, that these, the sure pledgesOf heaven's love are thus heighten'd and blest;
And whatever the sceptic alleges
A pure joy, a pure source must attest!
17
As well might one doubt the reportOf the senses of sight, touch, and taste;
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To the soul where God's “secret” is plac'd.
18
No! a seal there is set to that feelingWhich can be decypher'd by none,
Till a new sense, with mystic revealing,
Informs us that seal is our own.
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