 | Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) |  |
45
SONNETS TO MADELINE.
I never see thee, fairy Madeline,
But that I find some new, endearing grace,
Some beauty playing o'er thine earnest face,
Some gentle loveliness before unseen.
Thus he who plucks from Flora's gay demesne
The bulbul's flower, the softly blushing rose,
Will find each hour its corolla unclose
Some secret sweet its tinted leaves between.
The flower of Love! an emblem just of thee;
For while it charms the still delighted eye,
Admiring thought doth in its odors see
The type of mind throned on thy forehead high:
I'd call thee, sweet one, “Rose,” but that I ween
The sweetest of all names is—Madeline.
But that I find some new, endearing grace,
Some beauty playing o'er thine earnest face,
Some gentle loveliness before unseen.
Thus he who plucks from Flora's gay demesne
The bulbul's flower, the softly blushing rose,
Will find each hour its corolla unclose
Some secret sweet its tinted leaves between.
The flower of Love! an emblem just of thee;
For while it charms the still delighted eye,
Admiring thought doth in its odors see
The type of mind throned on thy forehead high:
I'd call thee, sweet one, “Rose,” but that I ween
The sweetest of all names is—Madeline.
Where is the realm by bulwarks stern surrounded,
Adorned with palaces and gardens fair,
With flowers that fling their fragrance on the air,
And by unsleeping hostile nations bounded?
And who the queen that there, enthroned on high,
Smiles at the strain her troubadour has sounded,
And sheds the cheering sunshine of her eye
To warm the love on which her empire's founded?
Those bulwarks firm are Virtue, Honor, Faith;
That palace-splendor Wisdom's varied lore;
Affection's type those flowers of odorous breath;
While Passion's hosts beleague them evermore.
That realm's my heart! and crowned with myrtle green
Upon its throne of roses reigns my Madeline!
Adorned with palaces and gardens fair,
With flowers that fling their fragrance on the air,
And by unsleeping hostile nations bounded?
And who the queen that there, enthroned on high,
Smiles at the strain her troubadour has sounded,
And sheds the cheering sunshine of her eye
To warm the love on which her empire's founded?
Those bulwarks firm are Virtue, Honor, Faith;
That palace-splendor Wisdom's varied lore;
Affection's type those flowers of odorous breath;
While Passion's hosts beleague them evermore.
That realm's my heart! and crowned with myrtle green
Upon its throne of roses reigns my Madeline!
46
Fragrance and freshness fill the balmy air
These silent garden walks and shades around,
And 'mid their cool retreats a lake is found,
Bright flowers reflecting in its mirror clear;
And see—a blushing rose, low bending here,
Its petals bathing in the dimpling tide,
As though it yielded like a trembling bride
To the lake's wooings of its kisses dear!
And thus my soul wooes thee, my Madeline;
Thus its deep thoughts reflect thy vernal charms,
And kneeling thus 'twould woo thee, beauty's queen,
To bend in grace unto my upstretched arms,
And like the kisses of that garden wave,
Thus let my stainless love thy lips' carnation lave.
These silent garden walks and shades around,
And 'mid their cool retreats a lake is found,
Bright flowers reflecting in its mirror clear;
And see—a blushing rose, low bending here,
Its petals bathing in the dimpling tide,
As though it yielded like a trembling bride
To the lake's wooings of its kisses dear!
And thus my soul wooes thee, my Madeline;
Thus its deep thoughts reflect thy vernal charms,
And kneeling thus 'twould woo thee, beauty's queen,
To bend in grace unto my upstretched arms,
And like the kisses of that garden wave,
Thus let my stainless love thy lips' carnation lave.
I dreamed, Italia!—'mid thy ruined fanes
And crumbling columns, where the ivy clung,
I sadly gazed on ancient gods' remains,
By pagans worshipped and by poets sung;
When, lo! the moon a crown of glory flung
Upon an image as divine as fair,
With swelling bust and step as light as air,
Instinct with life, those marble gods among:
It grew in beauty on my ravished sight,
Until the faultless Venus stood revealed;
It grew in beauty, like a young delight,
Till gentle ecstasies my bosom sealed,
And still it grew in beauty—for serene
Upon my wakened sense my Madeline was seen.
And crumbling columns, where the ivy clung,
I sadly gazed on ancient gods' remains,
By pagans worshipped and by poets sung;
When, lo! the moon a crown of glory flung
Upon an image as divine as fair,
With swelling bust and step as light as air,
Instinct with life, those marble gods among:
It grew in beauty on my ravished sight,
Until the faultless Venus stood revealed;
It grew in beauty, like a young delight,
Till gentle ecstasies my bosom sealed,
And still it grew in beauty—for serene
Upon my wakened sense my Madeline was seen.
| Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) | |