 | Studies of Sensation and Event |  |
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TO A PERSONATION OF ARIEL AT THE THEATRE.
Beautiful Croucher under old Prospero's power!
Ever didst thou hold in sight that jubilee day,
Whose gates should free thee into many a bower,
Where boughs drop blossoms, and where wild bees stray;
The alacrity with which thou didst obey
Sprang from this very expectancy; and how well,
Every expression of thy body did display
This one vivid motive, might peradventure tell,
Thy poet, the Ariel's God, the God of Prospero's cell.
Ever didst thou hold in sight that jubilee day,
Whose gates should free thee into many a bower,
Where boughs drop blossoms, and where wild bees stray;
The alacrity with which thou didst obey
Sprang from this very expectancy; and how well,
Every expression of thy body did display
This one vivid motive, might peradventure tell,
Thy poet, the Ariel's God, the God of Prospero's cell.
For was no fear on thine obedient brow;
Nor pleasuring of the present; eagerly bright,
With hope, and not with joy, did it avow
Impatient anxiousness of coming delight;
While still thy swift form fluttered for flight,
Ever with glanced out head, and bended knees;
A beautiful restlessness, an earth-bound sprite
Listening its own heaven-music tinge the breeze,
Noticing not earth's sands, heeding not earth's green trees.
Nor pleasuring of the present; eagerly bright,
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Impatient anxiousness of coming delight;
While still thy swift form fluttered for flight,
Ever with glanced out head, and bended knees;
A beautiful restlessness, an earth-bound sprite
Listening its own heaven-music tinge the breeze,
Noticing not earth's sands, heeding not earth's green trees.
A thousand eyes did watch thy restless stay;
A thousand ears heard thy fine wits retrieve
Repeated promises of thy jubilee day;
And as for some caged bird whose bonds aggrieve,
They grieved for thee;—but when thou didst enweave
Into thy song, “Do you love me, master? No!”
Oh a thousand hearts did yearn for thy reprieve,
For they felt thy heart with love could overflow,
And that to expend that love thou didst desire to go.
A thousand ears heard thy fine wits retrieve
Repeated promises of thy jubilee day;
And as for some caged bird whose bonds aggrieve,
They grieved for thee;—but when thou didst enweave
Into thy song, “Do you love me, master? No!”
Oh a thousand hearts did yearn for thy reprieve,
For they felt thy heart with love could overflow,
And that to expend that love thou didst desire to go.
“Thing of the elements!” beautifully started
Thy touching question; unconnectedly asked;
Beauteously unconnect,—for when deep-hearted
Have questionings long been, from the heart thus tasked,
They will gush at any time, unbidden, unmasked;
And thy sudden “Do you love me, master? No!”
Told us, that though in cowslip's bell thou hadst basked,—
Ever since thou hadst served the churlish Prospero,
Thou hadst deeply longed that love betwixt ye twain might grow.
Thy touching question; unconnectedly asked;
Beauteously unconnect,—for when deep-hearted
Have questionings long been, from the heart thus tasked,
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And thy sudden “Do you love me, master? No!”
Told us, that though in cowslip's bell thou hadst basked,—
Ever since thou hadst served the churlish Prospero,
Thou hadst deeply longed that love betwixt ye twain might grow.
If a new sound should music through the sky,
How would all hearing drink the challenging tone;
And when thou utteredst thy denying reply
To this questioning of love, as Ariel alone
Only could utter it, suddenly making known
New voice, new human music;—then did burn
Each listener, to divine, ere it were gone,
What feelings toned it; though none might learn,
How many, divine and deep, in that sweet “No” did yearn.
How would all hearing drink the challenging tone;
And when thou utteredst thy denying reply
To this questioning of love, as Ariel alone
Only could utter it, suddenly making known
New voice, new human music;—then did burn
Each listener, to divine, ere it were gone,
What feelings toned it; though none might learn,
How many, divine and deep, in that sweet “No” did yearn.
And when old Prospero's farewell set thee free,
Heavens! how we rose, as brake thy farewell singing
Richly and strong, to hail thy beauteous glee;
We saw thee bend, as though even homeward winging;
We saw thine eyelids quiver beneath the springing
Anew to thine heart, of the memory of thy life,
Where the bee sucks, where summer sounds are ringing;
Merrily, merrily abandoning, rose thy strain,
And our hearts did sink with bliss e'en while thy flight did pain.
Heavens! how we rose, as brake thy farewell singing
Richly and strong, to hail thy beauteous glee;
We saw thee bend, as though even homeward winging;
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Anew to thine heart, of the memory of thy life,
Where the bee sucks, where summer sounds are ringing;
Merrily, merrily abandoning, rose thy strain,
And our hearts did sink with bliss e'en while thy flight did pain.
| Studies of Sensation and Event | |