Poems Namely, The English Orator; An Address to Thomas Pennant Sonnets; An Epistle to a College Friend; and The Lock Transformed. With notes on The English Orator. By Mr. Polwhele |
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THE LOCK TRANSFORMED.
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THE LOCK TRANSFORMED.
Written 1782.
Dear was the Moment, when the gentle Fair
Gave to my Wishes with consenting Eyes,
A Lock that sever'd from her lovely Hair
Could soften all my Bosom into Sighs!
Gave to my Wishes with consenting Eyes,
A Lock that sever'd from her lovely Hair
Could soften all my Bosom into Sighs!
And dear those Moments that so sweetly stole
A Pang from Absence, and impell'd my Lyre
To wake the fond Emotions of the Soul,
In melting Ardors and a Poet's Fire!
A Pang from Absence, and impell'd my Lyre
To wake the fond Emotions of the Soul,
In melting Ardors and a Poet's Fire!
Then Fancy stream'd her Visions on the Muse,
And many a transitory Form portray'd,
Pictur'd aërial Sylphs in vivid Hues,
And bade their little Wings the Lock o'ershade.
And many a transitory Form portray'd,
Pictur'd aërial Sylphs in vivid Hues,
And bade their little Wings the Lock o'ershade.
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But quick their fluid Shapes dissolve in Air,
And other Beings rise, as Fancy wills—
Lo drawn by Turtles in her Ivory Car,
Appears the Goddess of the Paphian Hills!
And other Beings rise, as Fancy wills—
Lo drawn by Turtles in her Ivory Car,
Appears the Goddess of the Paphian Hills!
And thus: “That Ringlet to my Power resign—
“For from its kindred Tresses tho' it part,
“To give it brighter Beauties shall be mine,
“With all the Skill of imitative Art.
“For from its kindred Tresses tho' it part,
“To give it brighter Beauties shall be mine,
“With all the Skill of imitative Art.
“What tho' the fam'd Belinda's ravish'd Hair
“May add new Glory to the distant Skies—
“Yet shall thy Laura's Lock eclipse the Star
“That vainly shoots, and kindles as it flies!
“May add new Glory to the distant Skies—
“Yet shall thy Laura's Lock eclipse the Star
“That vainly shoots, and kindles as it flies!
“Chang'd to the Semblance of a Female Form
(“The fairest that a Deity can feign)
“Can this with all the Glow of Colors warm,
“Start into mimic Life, to bloom in vain?”
(“The fairest that a Deity can feign)
“Can this with all the Glow of Colors warm,
“Start into mimic Life, to bloom in vain?”
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She said—and from my Hand the Ringlet caught,
And sudden to my wondering Sight display'd
Thy Gift, my Laura, to a Picture wrought,
With all the varied Charms of Light and Shade!
And sudden to my wondering Sight display'd
Thy Gift, my Laura, to a Picture wrought,
With all the varied Charms of Light and Shade!
And “here,” she cried, (while round the fluttering Loves
Breath'd on the roseate Cheeks their softest Blooms)
“Behold a Nymph, more gentle than my Doves,
“Or Zephyr, sighing 'midst my Cyprian Glooms!
Breath'd on the roseate Cheeks their softest Blooms)
“Behold a Nymph, more gentle than my Doves,
“Or Zephyr, sighing 'midst my Cyprian Glooms!
“See the pure Spirit of a native Grace
“To all her Mien a lovelier Air impart!
“And see that meek Expression of a Face
“Where in each genuine Look we read the Heart!
“To all her Mien a lovelier Air impart!
“And see that meek Expression of a Face
“Where in each genuine Look we read the Heart!
“These speaking Eyes a Charm from Nature steal
“Which vainly would the Rhetor's Power supply;
“For ah, more sweetly-eloquent we feel
“The Language of the never-silent Eye!
“Which vainly would the Rhetor's Power supply;
“For ah, more sweetly-eloquent we feel
“The Language of the never-silent Eye!
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“Nor let her Attic Robe escape thy View
“That no vain-tinsell'd Pageantry betrays—
“Such as the Pencil of Apelles drew,
“And Grecian Virgins wore, in antient Days!
“That no vain-tinsell'd Pageantry betrays—
“Such as the Pencil of Apelles drew,
“And Grecian Virgins wore, in antient Days!
“'Twas then the Spirit of this Nymph divine
“Shone, to Electra's Bard, in golden Dreams;
“As oft he woo'd the Favors of the Nine
“Amidst the Murmur of Ilyssus' Streams.
“Shone, to Electra's Bard, in golden Dreams;
“As oft he woo'd the Favors of the Nine
“Amidst the Murmur of Ilyssus' Streams.
“But ah—how long—how heavily opprest
“While Athens moulder'd into Dust, she lay—
“With Gothic Darkness brooding o'er her Breast,
“That gloom'd the Sweetness of her Soul away!
“While Athens moulder'd into Dust, she lay—
“With Gothic Darkness brooding o'er her Breast,
“That gloom'd the Sweetness of her Soul away!
“If e'er the Bards of Arno's oliv'd Vale
“A wild Note warbled to the pensive Maid,
“Full soon, unheeding the degenerate Tale,
“She fled, with many a Sigh, from Pisa's Shade.
“A wild Note warbled to the pensive Maid,
“Full soon, unheeding the degenerate Tale,
“She fled, with many a Sigh, from Pisa's Shade.
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“Next, in her favorite Isle, the Harp she strung—
“The British Minstrels triumph'd, as she came—
“Hail'd her—divine Simplicity; and sung
“With all Aonia's Harmony, her Name.
“The British Minstrels triumph'd, as she came—
“Hail'd her—divine Simplicity; and sung
“With all Aonia's Harmony, her Name.
“Mark then her Image, as depictur'd here
“She gives to Zephyr her Æolian Shell;
“And mark that Altar, which low-rising, near
“Yon' Poplar, crowns the solitary Dell.
“She gives to Zephyr her Æolian Shell;
“And mark that Altar, which low-rising, near
“Yon' Poplar, crowns the solitary Dell.
“Glares round its Pedestal no quaint Design;
“Nor aught that meretricious Art can boast:
“To Nature rear'd, the unaspiring Shrine
“Appears, ‘while unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.’
“Nor aught that meretricious Art can boast:
“To Nature rear'd, the unaspiring Shrine
“Appears, ‘while unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.’
“Lo there she bids, arrang'd with happiest Taste,
“The Primrose and the Violet to diffuse
“Their mingled Sweets, and blend in Union chaste
“Their Colors sombred o'er by twilight Dews:
“The Primrose and the Violet to diffuse
“Their mingled Sweets, and blend in Union chaste
“Their Colors sombred o'er by twilight Dews:
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“While my soft Star, that loves, each Evening Hour,
“To hover o'er the Stillness of the Dale,
“Amid the dim Leaves of the Poplar-Bower
“Sheds on the shadowy Shrine, a Lustre pale.
“To hover o'er the Stillness of the Dale,
“Amid the dim Leaves of the Poplar-Bower
“Sheds on the shadowy Shrine, a Lustre pale.
“From thence no spicy Clouds involve the Skies—
“Her humbler Offering are yon' vernal Wreaths—
“And all the Incense of her Sacrifice
“Is but the Incense that a Field-flower breathes!”
“Her humbler Offering are yon' vernal Wreaths—
“And all the Incense of her Sacrifice
“Is but the Incense that a Field-flower breathes!”
She spoke—and gave the Picture to my Care—
And in the rich Possession call'd me blest!
“And place it next thy Heart (she cried) for there
“That heaving Sigh already tells the rest!
And in the rich Possession call'd me blest!
“And place it next thy Heart (she cried) for there
“That heaving Sigh already tells the rest!
“Go then—where Imitation's utmost Art
“Has faintly copied (tho' employ'd by me)
“The bright Original that fires thy Heart—
“Go—and the living Form in Laura see!”
“Has faintly copied (tho' employ'd by me)
“The bright Original that fires thy Heart—
“Go—and the living Form in Laura see!”
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