 | Art and Fashion |  |
219
THE HIDDEN DELL.
O'er a wide heath whose purple bloom had fled,
Or fallen low for winds to sweep about,
Just as Aurora show'd her drowsy head,
As if to wake or slumber still in doubt,
Straight from the path—the rude, broad path, scoop'd out
Abrupt and startling—there appear'd a dell,
From whose green mouth, as from some shrine devout,
The panting waters seem'd with pride to swell,
Then down the rocky cleft with rapid music fell.
Or fallen low for winds to sweep about,
Just as Aurora show'd her drowsy head,
As if to wake or slumber still in doubt,
Straight from the path—the rude, broad path, scoop'd out
Abrupt and startling—there appear'd a dell,
From whose green mouth, as from some shrine devout,
The panting waters seem'd with pride to swell,
Then down the rocky cleft with rapid music fell.
By root, or rock, or hanging bush I sped,
Until a broken arch and gate were seen,
That to a strange deserted garden led;
O'ergrown, and all one melancholy green,
Save here and there some flowery shrub between,
Or ancient statue from its column cast,—
A majesty of grandeur that had been
A memory of the proud and prosperous past,—
Stood haughty in decay—still stately to the last!
Until a broken arch and gate were seen,
That to a strange deserted garden led;
O'ergrown, and all one melancholy green,
Save here and there some flowery shrub between,
Or ancient statue from its column cast,—
A majesty of grandeur that had been
A memory of the proud and prosperous past,—
Stood haughty in decay—still stately to the last!
220
With sighs the woods unto my step replied,
And from the trembling leaves hung many a tear,
Which the stern winds, as angry, brushed aside—
For what might tears avail gaunt ruin here?
Nor grief could change, nor gleam of gladness cheer
The desolation and the blight around:
Yet one lone flower, like infant beauty near,
Kiss'd with its honey'd lip the wither'd ground,
And smiled upon the thorns to which its bloom was bound.
And from the trembling leaves hung many a tear,
Which the stern winds, as angry, brushed aside—
For what might tears avail gaunt ruin here?
Nor grief could change, nor gleam of gladness cheer
The desolation and the blight around:
Yet one lone flower, like infant beauty near,
Kiss'd with its honey'd lip the wither'd ground,
And smiled upon the thorns to which its bloom was bound.
Something, I know not what, detain'd me there:
'Midst grandeur and neglect I wander'd on,
Till, all at once, the path show'd touch of care;
In golden groups the tended flowrets shone,
Bright as Love's footsteps, and as swiftly gone;
A broken rose-stem, with a ribbon tied,
Told of a maiden's hand—some lovely one
Perchance still near: quick sought I every side,
But still nor fluttering veil, nor vestment white espied.
'Midst grandeur and neglect I wander'd on,
Till, all at once, the path show'd touch of care;
In golden groups the tended flowrets shone,
Bright as Love's footsteps, and as swiftly gone;
A broken rose-stem, with a ribbon tied,
Told of a maiden's hand—some lovely one
Perchance still near: quick sought I every side,
But still nor fluttering veil, nor vestment white espied.
Anon the pathway turn'd—a steep ascent—
Then lost itself in venerable shade;
My very breath with toil seem'd almost spent,
When shot a gleam of silver through the glade.
Some bird its home and happy nest had made
By path which human footstep rarely chose;
Willing to seek, and yet to stir afraid,
Tiptoe I followed where the dim boughs close,
And looking down beheld my Maiden of the Rose.
Then lost itself in venerable shade;
My very breath with toil seem'd almost spent,
When shot a gleam of silver through the glade.
221
By path which human footstep rarely chose;
Willing to seek, and yet to stir afraid,
Tiptoe I followed where the dim boughs close,
And looking down beheld my Maiden of the Rose.
Half hid 'mid waves and weeds the maiden stood,
Bathing her beauty in the happy brook,
Whose waters clasp'd her in a pearly flood;
Or, flowing fondly, stole an upward look,
As of her beauty they some portion took;
Then, turning, leapt unto her waist: whilst she
From her white hands the liquid sparkles shook,
And cast them in the air, like diamonds free,
A thousand times more pure, more beautiful to see.
Bathing her beauty in the happy brook,
Whose waters clasp'd her in a pearly flood;
Or, flowing fondly, stole an upward look,
As of her beauty they some portion took;
Then, turning, leapt unto her waist: whilst she
From her white hands the liquid sparkles shook,
And cast them in the air, like diamonds free,
A thousand times more pure, more beautiful to see.
Straightway a swan came sailing up the stream,
To which she call'd, and with a timid grace
It sidled near her—quiet as a dream!
The nymph kept, like a statue, in her place;
Then sudden stoop'd, and scatter'd in its face
A thousand wave-drops—back it fled in fear,
Ruffled its brilliant feathers from the chase,
Then slowly round its sidelong course did steer,
Stretch'd its broad wings, and boldly darted near!
To which she call'd, and with a timid grace
It sidled near her—quiet as a dream!
The nymph kept, like a statue, in her place;
Then sudden stoop'd, and scatter'd in its face
A thousand wave-drops—back it fled in fear,
Ruffled its brilliant feathers from the chase,
Then slowly round its sidelong course did steer,
Stretch'd its broad wings, and boldly darted near!
222
As flew the swan so flew the maiden fair;
Then caught a scarf, with which the boughs were drest,
And flung it o'er its wings—it sprang in air!
Flash'd the white waters from its panting breast,
Whilst she laugh'd loud, and mock'd its ruffled crest!
Seeming some creature of ethereal birth;
Ere long a butterfly besought her quest—
Up flew the scarf in light and playful mirth,
The butterfly and maid seem'd both too bright for earth!
Then caught a scarf, with which the boughs were drest,
And flung it o'er its wings—it sprang in air!
Flash'd the white waters from its panting breast,
Whilst she laugh'd loud, and mock'd its ruffled crest!
Seeming some creature of ethereal birth;
Ere long a butterfly besought her quest—
Up flew the scarf in light and playful mirth,
The butterfly and maid seem'd both too bright for earth!
Lured by the sound of waters, soft and shy
From 'neath the woods, a dappled fawn tripp'd slow;
Gazing askance with ever restless eye,
Until half gain'd the singing stream below;
Anon he listen'd—unresolved to go.
Then did the merry drops in music sink:
Onward he leapt all eager for its flow,
And bent his beauteous head as if to drink,
Unconscious he of nymph close watching at the brink.
From 'neath the woods, a dappled fawn tripp'd slow;
Gazing askance with ever restless eye,
Until half gain'd the singing stream below;
Anon he listen'd—unresolved to go.
Then did the merry drops in music sink:
Onward he leapt all eager for its flow,
And bent his beauteous head as if to drink,
Unconscious he of nymph close watching at the brink.
Swift flew the scarf—the dappled fawn was caught!
It plunged, it swerved—away the wavelets flew;
With matchless grace the maid her captive brought
Amidst the weeds, and kept it struggling through;
Then tighter round the silken bandage drew:
It rear'd, it leapt!—the stream in fountains spread!
Oh, Love, the sport, the strife, between the two!
At last a rush of waters o'er her head
O'erpower'd the laughing nymph, and free the glad fawn fled.
It plunged, it swerved—away the wavelets flew;
With matchless grace the maid her captive brought
Amidst the weeds, and kept it struggling through;
223
It rear'd, it leapt!—the stream in fountains spread!
Oh, Love, the sport, the strife, between the two!
At last a rush of waters o'er her head
O'erpower'd the laughing nymph, and free the glad fawn fled.
Swift with the racing fawn I hurried thence,
Nor let one breaking branch my haunt betray,
But left to sweetness and to innocence
The Beauty and her bath, and stepp'd away.
Guarded by angels be her sanctuary!
Still her companions prove the swan and fawn,
Still happy with the butterfly to play,
Bathe in the brook, or dance upon the lawn,
Or meet with lips of song the golden grace of dawn.
Nor let one breaking branch my haunt betray,
But left to sweetness and to innocence
The Beauty and her bath, and stepp'd away.
Guarded by angels be her sanctuary!
Still her companions prove the swan and fawn,
Still happy with the butterfly to play,
Bathe in the brook, or dance upon the lawn,
Or meet with lips of song the golden grace of dawn.
| Art and Fashion | |