The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
ODE I.—TO FANCY.
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Ode I., “To Fancy,” differs so thoroughly from the copy in the MS. volume, that we are induced to append the latter:
Fancy, bright and winged maid!
In weed of every hue arrayed,
O, when to soothe a lover's pain,
Wilt thou a friendly visit deign?
O, when to minister delight,
Set her I love before my sight?
With her—how blest in low degree!
Without her—what the world to me!
In weed of every hue arrayed,
O, when to soothe a lover's pain,
Wilt thou a friendly visit deign?
O, when to minister delight,
Set her I love before my sight?
With her—how blest in low degree!
Without her—what the world to me!
And, see! she comes, all blushing sweet;
Eager I spring my bliss to meet.
But who is he the virgin leads,
Whom high a flaming torch precedes,
In a gown of stainless lawn
O'er his decent shoulders drawn?
Who, clad in robe of scarlet grain,
The boy that bears her flowing train?
Behind his back a quiver hung,
A bow across his shoulders flung;
His head and heels two wings unfold,
The azure feathers girt with gold?
Hymen! 'tis he; who kind inspires
Joys unfeigned and chaste desires.
And thou of love, deceitful child!
With tiger heart, yet lamb-like mild,
Fantastic by thyself and vain,
But seemly seen in Hymen's train,
If fate be to my wishes kind,
O may I find ye always joined;
But if hard fate my wish deny,
My humble roof come ye not nigh.
And now I gaze o'er all her charms,
Now sink transported in her arms;
Fierce to her lips my lips I join,
Fierce in amorous folds we twine;
Fierce in rage of love compressed,
Swells throbbing to the touch her breast.
Thus rioting in bliss supreme,
Might I enjoy the golden dream!
But, ah! the rapture will not stay,
For see she glides, she glides away!
Eager I spring my bliss to meet.
But who is he the virgin leads,
Whom high a flaming torch precedes,
In a gown of stainless lawn
O'er his decent shoulders drawn?
Who, clad in robe of scarlet grain,
The boy that bears her flowing train?
Behind his back a quiver hung,
A bow across his shoulders flung;
56
The azure feathers girt with gold?
Hymen! 'tis he; who kind inspires
Joys unfeigned and chaste desires.
And thou of love, deceitful child!
With tiger heart, yet lamb-like mild,
Fantastic by thyself and vain,
But seemly seen in Hymen's train,
If fate be to my wishes kind,
O may I find ye always joined;
But if hard fate my wish deny,
My humble roof come ye not nigh.
And now I gaze o'er all her charms,
Now sink transported in her arms;
Fierce to her lips my lips I join,
Fierce in amorous folds we twine;
Fierce in rage of love compressed,
Swells throbbing to the touch her breast.
Thus rioting in bliss supreme,
Might I enjoy the golden dream!
But, ah! the rapture will not stay,
For see she glides, she glides away!
Ah! Fancy, why didst thou decoy
My thoughts into this dream of joy;
Then to forsake me all alone,
To weep my joys, far hence and gone?
Or, back again, benign restore
The kind delusion as before;
Or, to melt the fair unkind,
This scene frame soft into her mind.
My thoughts into this dream of joy;
Then to forsake me all alone,
To weep my joys, far hence and gone?
Or, back again, benign restore
The kind delusion as before;
Or, to melt the fair unkind,
This scene frame soft into her mind.
In whatever arbour laid
Thou find'st reclined my blushing maid,
Retiring from the scorching ray
To hear the feathered poet's lay;
Or view the honey-making bee
Load with sweets her amber thigh;
Or with museful eye behold
The clouds of eve with skirts of gold;
Or, soothed asleep by murmuring stream,
Rapt in contemplation's dream,
Her thoughts do scenes of joy restore,
She hears the sighing youth implore;
In fancy views the visage pale,
That best bespeaks the lover's tale:
O, in that soft and secret hour,
When hate, when anger, have no power;
When sighing love, mild, simple boy!
Courtship, sweet and tender joy,
Alone possess the fair one's heart,
Fancy, let me act my part:
At her feet then make me fall,
And for tender mercy call;
Make sighs and speaking sorrows prove,
Suffering much, how much I love;
Make the muse's lyre complain,
Strung by me in warbling strain;
Make the melodious numbers flow,
Powerful of a lover's woe;
Till, through the moving Orphean art,
I through her ear shall gain her heart.
Thou find'st reclined my blushing maid,
Retiring from the scorching ray
To hear the feathered poet's lay;
Or view the honey-making bee
Load with sweets her amber thigh;
Or with museful eye behold
The clouds of eve with skirts of gold;
Or, soothed asleep by murmuring stream,
Rapt in contemplation's dream,
Her thoughts do scenes of joy restore,
She hears the sighing youth implore;
In fancy views the visage pale,
That best bespeaks the lover's tale:
O, in that soft and secret hour,
When hate, when anger, have no power;
When sighing love, mild, simple boy!
Courtship, sweet and tender joy,
Alone possess the fair one's heart,
Fancy, let me act my part:
At her feet then make me fall,
And for tender mercy call;
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Suffering much, how much I love;
Make the muse's lyre complain,
Strung by me in warbling strain;
Make the melodious numbers flow,
Powerful of a lover's woe;
Till, through the moving Orphean art,
I through her ear shall gain her heart.
Now, Fancy, now the fit is o'er,
The pleasing scene appears no more;
But, when again condemned to mourn,
Oft, Fancy, to my aid return.
The pleasing scene appears no more;
But, when again condemned to mourn,
Oft, Fancy, to my aid return.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |