 | The Poetical Works of Leigh Hunt |  |
FANCY'S PARTY.
A FRAGMENT.
------Juvat ire per ipsum
Aera, et immenso spatiantem vivere cœlo.
Manilius.
Aera, et immenso spatiantem vivere cœlo.
Manilius.
We take our pleasure through the very air,
And breathing the great heav'n, expatiate there.
And breathing the great heav'n, expatiate there.
In this poetic corner
With books about and o'er us,
With busts and flowers,
And pictured bowers,
And the sight of fields before us;
Why think of these fatalities,
And all their dull realities?
'Tis fancies now must charm us;
Nor is the bliss ideal,
For all we feel,
In woe or weal,
Is, while we feel it, real:
Heaven's nooks they are for getting in,
When weeping weather's setting in.
With books about and o'er us,
With busts and flowers,
And pictured bowers,
And the sight of fields before us;
Why think of these fatalities,
And all their dull realities?
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Nor is the bliss ideal,
For all we feel,
In woe or weal,
Is, while we feel it, real:
Heaven's nooks they are for getting in,
When weeping weather's setting in.
And now and now I see them,
The poet comes upon me,
My back it springs
With a sense of wings,
And my laurel crown is on me;
The room begins to rise with me,
And all your sparkling eyes with me.
The poet comes upon me,
My back it springs
With a sense of wings,
And my laurel crown is on me;
The room begins to rise with me,
And all your sparkling eyes with me.
Far, far away we're going
From care and common-places,
To spots of bliss
As fine to this,
As your's to common faces;
To spots—but rapture dissipates
The pictures it anticipates.—
From care and common-places,
xli
As fine to this,
As your's to common faces;
To spots—but rapture dissipates
The pictures it anticipates.—
And hey, what's this? the walls, look,
Are wrinkling as a skin does;
And now they are bent
To a silken tent,
And there are chrystal windows;
And look! there's a balloon above,
Round and bright as the moon above.
Are wrinkling as a skin does;
And now they are bent
To a silken tent,
And there are chrystal windows;
And look! there's a balloon above,
Round and bright as the moon above.
Now we loosen—now—take care;
What a spring from earth was there!
Like an angel mounting fierce,
We have shot the night with a pierce;
And the moon, with slant-up beam,
Makes our starting faces gleam.
Lovers below will stare at the sight,
And talk of the double moon last night.
What a spring from earth was there!
Like an angel mounting fierce,
We have shot the night with a pierce;
xlii
Makes our starting faces gleam.
Lovers below will stare at the sight,
And talk of the double moon last night.
What a lovely motion now,
Smoothing on like lady's brow!
Over land and sea we go,
Over tops of mountains,
Through the blue and the golden glow,
And the rain's white fountains.
Smoothing on like lady's brow!
Over land and sea we go,
Over tops of mountains,
Through the blue and the golden glow,
And the rain's white fountains.
What a pleasure 'tis to be
Sailing onward smilingly;
Not an effort, not a will,
Yet proceeding swiftly still!
'Tis to join in one sensation
Business both and contemplation;
Active, without toil or stress;
Passive, without listlessness.
Sailing onward smilingly;
Not an effort, not a will,
Yet proceeding swiftly still!
'Tis to join in one sensation
Business both and contemplation;
xliii
Passive, without listlessness.
Now we pierce the chilly shroud
Of a sight-enfolding cloud;
And could almost crowd together,
As at home in wintery weather:
Now we issue forth to light,
With a swift-eyed scorning;
And with gently stooping flight
Slide us down the sunbeams bright,
And travel towards the morning. [OMITTED]
Of a sight-enfolding cloud;
And could almost crowd together,
As at home in wintery weather:
Now we issue forth to light,
With a swift-eyed scorning;
And with gently stooping flight
Slide us down the sunbeams bright,
And travel towards the morning. [OMITTED]
| The Poetical Works of Leigh Hunt | |