The Harp of Erin :: :: University of Virginia Library

All hail again rich Fancy's orient ray,
That gaily gilds this mortal pilgrimage!
Ah! never let her soft'ning tints decay,
And leave a sombre sadness on my page;
But still with flashes bright the soul engage.
While she but deigns to visit my low cell,
Sequester'd from the strife of party rage,
How blest my lot! and Philomel shall dwell
Nigh yonder grot where spar-crown'd rivulets swell.

And often, at the calm of sober eve,
Let Contemplation aid my pensive thought;
While fairy minstrels o'er some fountain grieve,
And mine ear tingles with the death-bell smote.

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Oh! then are purest inspirations wrought,
In all the majesty of dream array'd;
The ray of Heaven, in frenzy'd glances caught,
Then bursts of midnight drear the veily shade;
And dear illusions throng the wild romantic glade.

There was a cunning fay of nimblest flight,
In a dark cave by Ignorance confin'd,
Shut up from every glimpse of heav'nly light,
And every balmy breath of purer wind,
Save one small loop-hole which she did not mind.
Through this the tiny fay made her escape,
Lithe as a willow wand which zephyrs bind:
But soon as out from her vile dungeon deep,
She rose from pigmy height to most gigantic shape.

Indignant at such master's vile control,
She wing'd her journey towards blithe Fairy-land;
Intent to warm the good sir Genius' soul,
And arm with rugged mail his knightly hand;
That he might devastate the adverse band,
And break the baleful influence of their sway;
That by his aid the Redcross might withstand
Enchauntment foul, ne in dark cave decay.
With this good will the fairy took her fleeting way.

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And now arriv'd, she furl'd her pennons light,
And rov'd through many a bow'r and many a grove;
Where laurels flung their arms of verdure bright
Across the way, and join'd embrace above.
The matted green, with roses interwove,
Outvied the syrian hue or damask art:
Such carpeting was sure a seat for Love;
And Love was there, with bevies fair apart,
Mild to the ravish'd eye, and harmless to the heart.

Not that sly boy that wont in Carthage erst
To pierce the bosom of th' unhappy queen;
But one who, every mist of doubt disperst,
Confessed virtue in his modest mien.
With him the white-robed Charities are seen
On yon gemm'd bank, with chaste addresses dancing:
Where oft of yore the satyr-tribe have been;
But Hymen now, and harmless Joy, advancing,
Lead up the quire, to viol soft entrancing.

On one side, skirted by a bushy screen
From Phœbus' ray, a vined lane extends;
Huge oaks, like lofty pillars, rise between,
And at the top each bow'ry column bends.

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Here Genius oft, or with selected friends,
Or Silence' self, his-sober revel keeps:
Swift-feather'd Haste his every call attends;
And when the dewy eye of Cynthia weeps,
Morpheus his pillow crowns with pure ambrosial sleeps.

Here then the fay the blessed owner found,
And told him all her doubts and anxious fears:
The knight, full gen'rous, startled at the sound;
And in a moment all in mail appears:
For Haste had quickly clad him, though in tears
At the departure of so kind a master;
And scarce, poor wretch! her-little bosom cheers,
Unable for the load of such disaster.
But yet she stirs her heart, and then procceds much faster.

Now from the bow'r they haste with wondrous speed,
Many a hillock o'er, and bushy bourn;
The night-bird sung her song with tuneful heed,
Sad sorrowing o'er her lover's willowy urn:
The noisy rook grew clamorous in turn,
And marr'd with envious croak each melting thrill;
The silver stream began with her to mourn,
Yet the rude rook continued croaking still,—
Critic, I wot, that's licens'd aye to kill.

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Sir Genius now the Cave of Error sees;
And pierces every glade, by Truth yled:
She darts fierce noon-day through th' illumin'd trees,
And braids with lucid stars her champion's head.
“Who thus presumes to face my presence dread,
And draws along this hostile line of light?
Who thus unhallow'd burns my downy bed?
I know the now; 'tis Genius, recreant knight:
Imps, bear the ruthless villain from my blasted sight.”

So spoke the darksome fiend, in wild amaze;
Nought did the knight in answer yet rejoin,
But slow presented to his steadfast gaze
A tome which did with golden letters shine;
Perfection (hight) of Minstrelsye divine.
Soon as the name he saw, with conquer'd pride
Thrice he essay'd to kneel before such shrine;
But, as with horrent air each word he eyed,
Lifeless th' enchaunter fell, and fiercely foaming died.

This when sir Genius saw, with mickle joy
A magic horn he to his lips applied;
Stunn'd with the sound, each other fiends destroy,
And lie unmourned by their master's side.

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The while the redcross knight of horror void,
Doth tune the fibres of his breast to pleasure;
And 'mongst the clouds is gloriously espied
The magic horn, of Fame the sounding treasure,
Which gives to every wight renown'd impartial measure.