Poems by Mrs. Opie :: :: University of Virginia Library

Soft smiling scene, with varied beauties graced,
Where Nature now delights, adorned by Taste,
What power creative from the rugged ground
Called into life the charms that glow around?
O'er yonder hill's once bleak and barren head
Who the bright wreaths of waving foliage spread,
That in rich masses deepening shadows throw,
And spot with quivering light its verdant brow,

While Philomela keeps her vigils there,
And charms with plaintive song the wakeful ear?....
Who midst yon flowery banks expanding wide
Taught the bright stream to roll its deepened tide,....
Woo to its clear expanse the beams of day,
And from its breast reflect the trembling ray,
While the clear wave each neighbouring object shows,
And softened beauty o'er those objects throws?....
Who bade (soft shelter from day's garish power)
Here smile a cottage, and there frown a tower?....
Who thus to Eden changed the untutored waste?....
The wand, the magic wand, was thine, O Taste!
Waked by thy touch, thou badst new beauties grow,
And those already there more brightly glow.

So when Pygmalion saw with fond surprise
Beneath his hand a beauteous form arise,
Still new attractions wantoned o'er the face
When animation waked each latent grace;
The form, the features, both were there before,
But, when with life inspired, they charmed still more;
While the fair wonder to the sight improved,
And graceful soon as beautiful she moved.

But, bright domain! though I thy charms admire,
'Tis not to them I wake my trembling lyre;
'Tis not because such wonders round it rise
I view this mansion with delighted eyes:....
Know that I breathe the tributary lay
Because these scenes not Taste alone obey:

Here true Beneficence delights to shine,
And proudly cries ‘Here power supreme is mine!’
Yes, all around her smiling sway confess;
Lo! peasants own it, and, lo! nobles bless....
Here the lorn exile from his native land
Still feels the pressure of affection's hand;
Torn from the ties misfortune makes more dear,
Soft soothing friendship's voice consoles him here;
And while he seems in this luxuriant plain
To view his native verdant vales again,
This friendly mansion, and its owner's smile,
Can with illusions dearer still beguile:
For looks of welcome to the social dome
Restore the vanished joys of Love and Home;

O'er bleeding memory's wounds a veil they cast,
And make the present charm him like the past.
And she, the cloistered virgin, forced to fly
The fatal blaze of Irreligion's eye,
Forced unprotected amidst foes to roam,
Profaned her altars, and laid waste her home,
Here finds, her weary wakeful wanderings o'er,
A sure asylum from destructive power,....
Here to an altar sacred still repairs,
Nor longer murmurs grief-impeded prayers;
But, far away all thoughts of danger driven,
Unchecked she lifts her ardent soul to heaven.

Ye bounteous rulers of this fair domain,
Whom misery's fainting feet ne'er seek in vain,

Who, not content to bid pale want resign
The numerous slaves that in her fetters pine,
Try (harder task) a balsam to impart
To the deep wounds that rack the feeling heart,....
For you, the sufferer's hope, the exile's friend,
O let my prayers with ardent zeal ascend!
Yet say, what more can Heaven on you bestow?....
In your bright path increasing blessings grow.
But, as so transient is all earthly joy,
Disease can banish it, and death destroy,
Still I for you may Heaven's high throne implore,
And bid its bounty grant one blessing more....
That long its sheltering wing may o'er you wave,
Its mercy guarding what its goodness gave.

But when death's tardy steps at length draw near,
And filial fondness sheds the tender tear,
Blest in that moment, as in all the past,
Bright as your earliest days shall be your last.
Not round your dying couch such shapes shall rise
As haunt the bed where selfish avarice lies;....
No;....at that awful hour, when hope and fear
In long review bid actions past appear,
Which, as the life-blood leaves the sinking heart,
By turns despair and confidence impart,....
Then, as the Ixia's fragrance-breathing flowers,
The snowy pride of Afric's sultry shores,
Ne'er to the breeze their slender leaves unclose
While day's fierce noon in all its lustre glows,

But, when still night's o'erhanging shades prevail,
Expand at once their beauties to the gale,....
So shall the generous deeds, in life's high noon
By you performed and then forgotten soon,
With soothing influence to your memory rise
When the last lustre lingers in your eyes,....
Of death's dark night shall cheer the awful gloom,
And gild the solemn pathway of the tomb.