Juvenilia or, A collection of poems. Written between the ages of twelve and seventeen, by J. H. L. Hunt ... Fourth Edition |
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REMEMBERED FRIENDSHIP. |
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 | Juvenilia |  |
REMEMBERED FRIENDSHIP.
O how delightful was it once to sit
And talk away the hours, my friend belov'd,
Beneath the lamp's dull flame, that palely shed
Its feeble light along the cloister'd walks,
Where oft we'd ramble! o'er our youthful heads
The gloomy arch, that favour'd converse sweet
Of whisper'd vows of friendship, heav'd on high
Its massy vault, along whose time-worn roof
Soft murmurs ran of breathing constancy.
While on my shoulder hung thy easy hand
Beyond thy bosom, not a single thought
That flutter'd from my breast, unheeding stray'd:
Fix'd, and for ever, was my soul in thee!
And wrapt in meditation as I sat,
My beating heart seem'd as it would rise up,
Burst the thin crystal curtain of the tear
That quiver'd on mine eye-lid, and, with bound
Of warm affection, rush to mix with thine!
O sweet, romantic lux'ry! Thee the sons
Of sordid Av'rice, barring out with gold,
From their heart's avenue, the wand'ring steps
Of pilgrim Friendship; thee, the giddy throng,
That heedless plunge into the cloying sweets
Of rich festivity, or wanton bask
In the hot sunshine of unnerving pleasure,
Have never known; or had they tasted once
Thy cup nectarean, Av'rice had unlock'd
His very hoard, and pour'd it in the breast
Of that affection which would more repay
His lib'ral hand; and the loud crash cabal
Of festive Riot, or those fearful joys
Whose very taste is death, had left with tears
Of rapture and repentance, sweetly mixt,
The rich repast and the soft wanton bed,
To clasp fair Friendship to their beating breasts,
And tell her, while each bosom's ardent pant
Seem'd lab'ring to give passage to the soul,
How pure, but how unspeakable, their bliss!
And talk away the hours, my friend belov'd,
Beneath the lamp's dull flame, that palely shed
Its feeble light along the cloister'd walks,
Where oft we'd ramble! o'er our youthful heads
The gloomy arch, that favour'd converse sweet
Of whisper'd vows of friendship, heav'd on high
Its massy vault, along whose time-worn roof
Soft murmurs ran of breathing constancy.
While on my shoulder hung thy easy hand
Beyond thy bosom, not a single thought
26
Fix'd, and for ever, was my soul in thee!
And wrapt in meditation as I sat,
My beating heart seem'd as it would rise up,
Burst the thin crystal curtain of the tear
That quiver'd on mine eye-lid, and, with bound
Of warm affection, rush to mix with thine!
O sweet, romantic lux'ry! Thee the sons
Of sordid Av'rice, barring out with gold,
From their heart's avenue, the wand'ring steps
Of pilgrim Friendship; thee, the giddy throng,
That heedless plunge into the cloying sweets
Of rich festivity, or wanton bask
In the hot sunshine of unnerving pleasure,
Have never known; or had they tasted once
Thy cup nectarean, Av'rice had unlock'd
His very hoard, and pour'd it in the breast
Of that affection which would more repay
His lib'ral hand; and the loud crash cabal
Of festive Riot, or those fearful joys
Whose very taste is death, had left with tears
Of rapture and repentance, sweetly mixt,
The rich repast and the soft wanton bed,
To clasp fair Friendship to their beating breasts,
And tell her, while each bosom's ardent pant
Seem'd lab'ring to give passage to the soul,
How pure, but how unspeakable, their bliss!
27
O when at ev'ning oft along the walks
Where twilight cast his shadow broad and cool,
We joy'd to rove, while o'er each other's neck
We threw our careless arm, how sweet the morn
Pour'd on the earth her pale but mellow light,
Chequer'd with dancing shades, that, from the leaves
Of the o'er-waving tree, fell on her beam.
If chance the mournful mildly-breathing flute
Stole on the list'ning air, like the low voice
Of fair Endymion, when, on the mount
Of grassy Ida, with the song of love
He welcomes early Dian from the sky;
The soothing sounds seem'd soft, as gently soft,
As the attuning of our souls, and then
We stood wrapt up in them, our eager eyes
Fix'd on the vacant air, as tho' to seek
Whence rose the sweet, the pleasing melody.
Or if the viol, with its full brisk note,
Tripp'd gaily on the whisper-sighing breeze,
It seem'd as tho' the Dryads of the wood
Had call'd the crescent Goddess to the chase
With merry hunting song; or smiling Pan
Had gather'd round him, in his rural bow'r,
With reedy pipe, the laughter-loving fawns,
The rough-cloth'd sylvans, and the wood-nymphs wild
That haunt the shady grove, or rudely sport
In the embow'ring forest, leaping round
The waving trees in many an uncouth dance.
O then our hearts went tripping with the sound;
And had light Ariel, spirit of the sky,
Haply been there, it seem'd as tho' our souls
Had on his silken wings pierc'd the thin air,
Crept with him in the cowslip's yellow bell,
Or hung beneath the blossom on the bough,
To find the sweet exhilarating strains.
Where twilight cast his shadow broad and cool,
We joy'd to rove, while o'er each other's neck
We threw our careless arm, how sweet the morn
Pour'd on the earth her pale but mellow light,
Chequer'd with dancing shades, that, from the leaves
Of the o'er-waving tree, fell on her beam.
If chance the mournful mildly-breathing flute
Stole on the list'ning air, like the low voice
Of fair Endymion, when, on the mount
Of grassy Ida, with the song of love
He welcomes early Dian from the sky;
The soothing sounds seem'd soft, as gently soft,
As the attuning of our souls, and then
We stood wrapt up in them, our eager eyes
Fix'd on the vacant air, as tho' to seek
Whence rose the sweet, the pleasing melody.
Or if the viol, with its full brisk note,
Tripp'd gaily on the whisper-sighing breeze,
It seem'd as tho' the Dryads of the wood
Had call'd the crescent Goddess to the chase
With merry hunting song; or smiling Pan
Had gather'd round him, in his rural bow'r,
With reedy pipe, the laughter-loving fawns,
The rough-cloth'd sylvans, and the wood-nymphs wild
That haunt the shady grove, or rudely sport
In the embow'ring forest, leaping round
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O then our hearts went tripping with the sound;
And had light Ariel, spirit of the sky,
Haply been there, it seem'd as tho' our souls
Had on his silken wings pierc'd the thin air,
Crept with him in the cowslip's yellow bell,
Or hung beneath the blossom on the bough,
To find the sweet exhilarating strains.
And now, when Ev'ning to the ebon Night
(Ebon, or haply, if along the sky
The bright'ning moon with broad effulgent ray
Gleams thro' the hov'ring shade that o'er the earth
Hangs dew distilling, fairer and serene)
Gives up her peaceful reign, in the smooth bed
Of grateful rest we dropt our wearied limbs.
Yet for a while, before the gentle sweets
Of sleep had clos'd our eyes, how oft we lay
Admiring, thro' the casement open'd wide,
The spangled glories of the sky, whose face,
Like the broad tail of Juno's stately bird,
Purpled with eyes, spread glorious to our view.
While from behind the silver-bosom'd clouds,
Scatter'd around like swelling flakes of snow,
At intervals fair Luna bursting forth,
Pour'd splendour round: so from the lawless bed
Of wanton Paris, when the laughing Morn
Melted in streaming radiance from the sky,
Rose matchless Helen, beaming blushing grace
And love resistless on the rising day:
So Cytherea from the frothy wave
Rose in luxuriant beauty, when the hours
Beheld her birth, and Zephyr's gentle gale
With the rich perfume of the breathing Spring,
Wafted the beauteous Goddess to the shore
Of her lov'd Cyprus, while the circling nymphs
That rule the waters of the hoary deep,
Press'd, on the billowy bosom of the sea,
Around her floating chariot, and with shouts
Of gladdening triumph bade old Triton swell
His echoing chonc, and wake all nature round.
(Ebon, or haply, if along the sky
The bright'ning moon with broad effulgent ray
Gleams thro' the hov'ring shade that o'er the earth
Hangs dew distilling, fairer and serene)
Gives up her peaceful reign, in the smooth bed
Of grateful rest we dropt our wearied limbs.
Yet for a while, before the gentle sweets
Of sleep had clos'd our eyes, how oft we lay
Admiring, thro' the casement open'd wide,
The spangled glories of the sky, whose face,
Like the broad tail of Juno's stately bird,
Purpled with eyes, spread glorious to our view.
While from behind the silver-bosom'd clouds,
Scatter'd around like swelling flakes of snow,
At intervals fair Luna bursting forth,
Pour'd splendour round: so from the lawless bed
Of wanton Paris, when the laughing Morn
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Rose matchless Helen, beaming blushing grace
And love resistless on the rising day:
So Cytherea from the frothy wave
Rose in luxuriant beauty, when the hours
Beheld her birth, and Zephyr's gentle gale
With the rich perfume of the breathing Spring,
Wafted the beauteous Goddess to the shore
Of her lov'd Cyprus, while the circling nymphs
That rule the waters of the hoary deep,
Press'd, on the billowy bosom of the sea,
Around her floating chariot, and with shouts
Of gladdening triumph bade old Triton swell
His echoing chonc, and wake all nature round.
'Twas then we rais'd our sacred thoughts to heav'n,
Blessing his holy works, and calling down
The dew of bliss upon each other's head;
While o'er our eyelids Sleep, with hand unseen,
Slowly drew on his “gradual dusky veil,”
And round our pillow threw a thousand sweets
That tempt soft slumber, or with odour mild
Soothe hard Fatigue; our waking souls, meantime,
Dreamt of our cloistered walks, and many a tale
Told underneath the gothic arch antique,
In humming whisper, or the chearful laugh
Sent back by Echo from the distant aisle.
Friendship would never leave us; from the hour
Silent and solemn, when the setting sun
Robes in rich purple all the western sky,
To the gay smiling reign of dewy Morn,
Beaming with orient brightness, and again
From lively morn to that still fresh'ning hour,
When Eve's light breezes fan the tepid air,
And Sol once more sinks in his glowing bed.
Congenial souls, soft harmony, rich peace,
And pleasure, mixt with innocence and ease,
Were all our own; they rul'd the fleeting hour,
Beam'd in each eye, and in each bosom thrill'd.
Blessing his holy works, and calling down
The dew of bliss upon each other's head;
While o'er our eyelids Sleep, with hand unseen,
Slowly drew on his “gradual dusky veil,”
And round our pillow threw a thousand sweets
That tempt soft slumber, or with odour mild
Soothe hard Fatigue; our waking souls, meantime,
Dreamt of our cloistered walks, and many a tale
Told underneath the gothic arch antique,
In humming whisper, or the chearful laugh
Sent back by Echo from the distant aisle.
30
Silent and solemn, when the setting sun
Robes in rich purple all the western sky,
To the gay smiling reign of dewy Morn,
Beaming with orient brightness, and again
From lively morn to that still fresh'ning hour,
When Eve's light breezes fan the tepid air,
And Sol once more sinks in his glowing bed.
Congenial souls, soft harmony, rich peace,
And pleasure, mixt with innocence and ease,
Were all our own; they rul'd the fleeting hour,
Beam'd in each eye, and in each bosom thrill'd.
| Juvenilia | |