 | The poetical writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck, with extracts from those of Joseph Rodman Drake |  |
IV.
Merrily bounds the morning bark
Along the summer sea,
Merrily mounts the morning lark
The topmost twig on tree,
Merrily smiles the morning rose
The morning sun to see,
And merrily, merrily greets the rose
The honey-seeking bee.
But merrier, merrier far are these,
Who bring, on the wings of the morning breeze,
A music sweeter than her own,
A happy group of loves and graces,
Graceful forms and lovely faces,
All in gay delight outflown;
Outflown from their school-room cages,
School-room rules, and school-room pages,
Lovely in their teens and tresses,
Summer smiles, and summer dresses,
Joyous in their dance and song,
With sweet sisterly caresses,
Arm in arm they speed along
(“Now pursuing, now retreating,
Now in circling troops they meet,
To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their many twinkling feet.
Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare.
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay,
With arms sublime, that float upon the air);”
She comes—the gentle Lady of my Lay,
Well pleased that, for her welcome to prepare,
I borrow music from the Muse of Gray.
Along the summer sea,
Merrily mounts the morning lark
The topmost twig on tree,
Merrily smiles the morning rose
The morning sun to see,
And merrily, merrily greets the rose
The honey-seeking bee.
But merrier, merrier far are these,
Who bring, on the wings of the morning breeze,
A music sweeter than her own,
A happy group of loves and graces,
Graceful forms and lovely faces,
All in gay delight outflown;
Outflown from their school-room cages,
School-room rules, and school-room pages,
Lovely in their teens and tresses,
Summer smiles, and summer dresses,
Joyous in their dance and song,
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Arm in arm they speed along
(“Now pursuing, now retreating,
Now in circling troops they meet,
To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their many twinkling feet.
Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare.
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay,
With arms sublime, that float upon the air);”
She comes—the gentle Lady of my Lay,
Well pleased that, for her welcome to prepare,
I borrow music from the Muse of Gray.
His heroine was the lovely Paphian Queen,
Mine seems the Huntress of the Sylvan scene,
The chaste Diana, with her Nymphs, in gay
And graceful beauty keeping holiday.
Sudden she pauses in the race of joy,
Around the Cradle Bower where sleeps the Boy,
And, with a sunny smile of gladness, sees
His golden ringlets, on the dancing breeze,
Shading his eyelids—and, with quick delight,
Bids her wild Nymphs to wing their merry flight
Home to their morning nests, and leave her care
To watch the slumberer in his rose-leafed chair.
He, in his beauty, to her fancy seems
To be the young Endymion of her dreams
Of yester-evening, when, alone and still,
Waiting the coming of the whip-poor-will,
Our climate's nightingale, her garden bird,
From lips unseen, unknown, this whispered song she heard:
Mine seems the Huntress of the Sylvan scene,
The chaste Diana, with her Nymphs, in gay
And graceful beauty keeping holiday.
Sudden she pauses in the race of joy,
Around the Cradle Bower where sleeps the Boy,
And, with a sunny smile of gladness, sees
His golden ringlets, on the dancing breeze,
Shading his eyelids—and, with quick delight,
Bids her wild Nymphs to wing their merry flight
Home to their morning nests, and leave her care
To watch the slumberer in his rose-leafed chair.
He, in his beauty, to her fancy seems
To be the young Endymion of her dreams
Of yester-evening, when, alone and still,
Waiting the coming of the whip-poor-will,
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From lips unseen, unknown, this whispered song she heard:
“The summer winds are wandering here
In mountain freshness, pure and free,
And all that to the eye are dear
In rock and torrent, flower and tree,
Upon the gazing stranger come,
Till, in his starlight dreams at even,
It seems another Eden-home,
Reared by the word—the breath of Heaven.
In mountain freshness, pure and free,
And all that to the eye are dear
In rock and torrent, flower and tree,
Upon the gazing stranger come,
Till, in his starlight dreams at even,
It seems another Eden-home,
Reared by the word—the breath of Heaven.
“To-morrow—and the stranger's gone,
And other scenes, as bright as this,
May win it from his bosom soon,
And dim its wild-wood loveliness.
But ever round this spot his thought
Will be—while Memory's leaves are green;
The fairy scene may be forgot,
But not the Fairy of the scene.
And other scenes, as bright as this,
May win it from his bosom soon,
And dim its wild-wood loveliness.
But ever round this spot his thought
Will be—while Memory's leaves are green;
The fairy scene may be forgot,
But not the Fairy of the scene.
“The song she sang, the lip that breathed it,
The cheek of rose, the speaking eye,
The brow of snow, the hair that wreathed it,
In their young life and purity,
Will dwell within his heart among
His holiest, longest cherished things,
Themes worthy of a worthier song,
Dear Lady of the mountain springs.”
The cheek of rose, the speaking eye,
The brow of snow, the hair that wreathed it,
In their young life and purity,
Will dwell within his heart among
His holiest, longest cherished things,
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Dear Lady of the mountain springs.”
And who is she—the Fairy of the scene?
A bright-eyed, beautiful maiden of eighteen,
Lovely and learnèd, and well “skilled to rule,”
The Lady-Mentor of a village school,
“Teaching young Girls' ideas how to shoot;
A tree of knowledge, rich in flowers and fruit,
A model heroine in mien and mind,
An “Admirable Crichton” crinolined,
And author of a charming Book that sings
Delightfully concerning wedding-rings,
Tracing the progress of the lightning-dart
Between the bridal finger and the heart,
And proving the arithmetic untrue
Which teaches us that one and one make two,
Whereas the marriage-ring is worn to prove
That two are one—the Algebra of Love.
A bright-eyed, beautiful maiden of eighteen,
Lovely and learnèd, and well “skilled to rule,”
The Lady-Mentor of a village school,
“Teaching young Girls' ideas how to shoot;
A tree of knowledge, rich in flowers and fruit,
A model heroine in mien and mind,
An “Admirable Crichton” crinolined,
And author of a charming Book that sings
Delightfully concerning wedding-rings,
Tracing the progress of the lightning-dart
Between the bridal finger and the heart,
And proving the arithmetic untrue
Which teaches us that one and one make two,
Whereas the marriage-ring is worn to prove
That two are one—the Algebra of Love.
Such is the Lady of my song, and now
She gazes on her young Endymion's brow,
And, fancying—by a sudden thought beguiled,
Herself a mother bending o'er her child,
Unconsciously imprints upon his eyes
A kiss—brimful of all the charities,
Sacredly secret, eloquently mute,
Yet “Musical as is Apollo's lute,”
Of power to lure a swan from off the lake,
Or wooing bluebird from an April tree,
Upsprings the Boy, exclaiming, “I'm awake!”
And shakes his golden locks in frolic glee.
She gazes on her young Endymion's brow,
And, fancying—by a sudden thought beguiled,
Herself a mother bending o'er her child,
Unconsciously imprints upon his eyes
A kiss—brimful of all the charities,
Sacredly secret, eloquently mute,
Yet “Musical as is Apollo's lute,”
189
Or wooing bluebird from an April tree,
Upsprings the Boy, exclaiming, “I'm awake!”
And shakes his golden locks in frolic glee.
One look—and, like an arrow from the string,
Away the maiden went, on laughing wing,
Graciously leaving, ere she homeward flew,
On the green turf impearled with drops of dew,
Farewell impressions of the prettiest foot
That ever graced and charmed a Gaiter Boot.
Away the maiden went, on laughing wing,
Graciously leaving, ere she homeward flew,
On the green turf impearled with drops of dew,
Farewell impressions of the prettiest foot
That ever graced and charmed a Gaiter Boot.
| The poetical writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck, with extracts from those of Joseph Rodman Drake | |