 | ["Daughter of Coelus! as of old", in] Boston prize poems |  |
II.
1.
Mighty Magician! round thy throne,When thou didst wave thy golden wand, how came
The Passions, soothed to gentler frame!
Hope, with her amber hair and azure zone,
Suspicious Fear, and haggard Care,
Revenge, and silent, sad Despair!—
Young Love came smiling through his tears, and Joy
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Though lynx-eyed Jealousy stood near
And listened with a cunning ear;
Whilst Melancholy, from the shade
Of russet woodlands came, sad, broken-hearted maid!
2.
As fervently Pygmalion prestErst the cold marble, till with life it glowed,
So, from thy birth, the passion flowed,
Tempered to chaste sensation, in thy breast,
For the coy nymph of modest eye,
Nature's sweet child, Simplicity,
Till the pure essence of her birth became
Thine, and her's the holy flame,
That burned within thy bosom's sacred shrine:—
And not with love more pure than thine
The daughters fair of Pyrrha's race
Gave to Deucalion's sons their youth and virgin grace.
3.
When thy soul, to rapture wrought,Inspiration's brightness caught,
Freer than the morning wind,
It left this dwindling world behind,
And purer regions sought!
And still thy hand, ambitious ever,
Reached to more sublime endeavour!—
Child of song! thou didst inherit
Amphion's fire and untamed pride,
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Soaring o'er Ismenus' tide.
Yet to more soft enchantment did thy hand
Sweep the light chords of Sappho's thrilling lute,
As by Ilissus' stream in Grecian land
Her fingers taught the chastened chord to suit
A broken spirit,—and the quivering wire
Breathed to the echoing air with Love's decaying fire.
| ["Daughter of Coelus! as of old", in] Boston prize poems | |