 | The Naiad |  |
33
POEMS.
35
STANZAS.
1
When first I lov'd, my heart was young,And boyish fondness fired my tongue;
But years have fled, delight is gone,
My lip hath learnt a gloomy tone.
2
The day was fair, the day flew by,And left my weary heart to sigh;
The eyes that made my bosom bright,
Have parted with their gentle light.
36
3
I woo'd, as youthful lovers woo,I sigh'd—and hop'd—and prosper'd too;
My breast was young Maria's shrine,
Her dearest thoughts were wreath'd with mine.
4
We sought no stranger forms to greet:—When absent, how we sigh'd to meet!
Nought was so sweet beneath the skies,
As gazing on each other's eyes.
5
We breath'd the morning's merriest air,And heard the wild birds every where;
Their song a mellow pleasure brought,
It seem's the echo of our thought.
37
6
Along the water's edge we stray'd,The light waves sparkled as they play'd;
They danc'd along through grass and flowers,
As bright and happy as our hours.
7
We lov'd to seek some shady spot,Where the cold world was all forgot;
To linger, and our hearts entrance
With elder tales of high romance.
8
Dear were the dreams to her and me,—The waking dreams of faëry;
Of forms that sleep on rocking leaves,
Or haunt the waves on Summer eves.
38
9
Together on the turf we sate,Ere evening's hour was wearing late;
And watch'd the moon ascend on high
Her blue throne in the silent sky.
10
Maria's bosom knew no fears,Her eye a stranger was to tears;
To me her very soul she lent,
And I preserv'd it innocent.
11
That eye is dark, that gentle breastIs loveless now, and chill'd to rest;
That soul is dwelling now on high,—
It lives a star that cannot die.
39
MARGARET.
1
The maid I well remember now,Though time hath travell'd since we met;
She liv'd beneath a mountain's brow,
The youthful Margaret!
2
She was the spirit of the place,With eye so wild, and cheek so fair;
Her form so playful in its grace,
Mock'd her own mountain air.
40
3
The rustic dress became her well,—How dear to trace its beauty now!
And rich the natural ringlets fell
O'er her delightful brow.
4
There was a music in her speech,That gave the heart a soft delight;
Like murmuring waves that kiss the beach
On a still Summer night.
5
With looks and language innocent,She won the heart of Memory;
Which oft in busy scenes hath sent
Thoughts to her silently.
41
6
Her home I saw at day's decline;It was in sooth a lovely spot;
And fair the starry jessamine
Wreath'd o'er the little cot.
7
I lov'd the loud brook's sparkling haste,I lov'd the fields and mountains green;
And her whose fairy presence graced
The wildness of the scene.
8
Oh, should my feet in future daysWander again beside the stream
That by her lonely cottage plays,
My heart would pause and dream:—
42
9
'Twould dream of hours for ever gone,Of hours which never more can be;
Yet she who like a spirit shone,
Would brighten memory.
10
Though wild is life's tempestuous gale,May she escape the stormy hour;
And, like the violet of the vale,
Live an unbroken flower!
11
Oft shall I turn me to the past,And muse upon the hour I met
With her, whose form such brightness cast,—
The youthful Margaret!
43
A TALE.
“—A simple song to thinking hearts.”
Wordsworth.
Wordsworth.
1
‘And who art thou, poor silent one!Whose eyes, enamour'd of the earth,
Look down as if thy days were done,
And all was lost of hope or mirth?
What leads thee oft at fall of night
To haunt this place of tombs, and sit
As if thy soul had ta'en its flight,
And pitying heaven had welcom'd it?’
44
2
“Thou hast a heart,—and I will sayMy fearful tale;—and thou wilt weep:
I'll tell thee why I loathe the day,
And what forbids my breast to sleep.
Thou shalt hear words of sorrow break
From these poor withered lips,—and see
My eye in burning sadness speak:—
List to my tale—I'll tell it thee.
3
“Years have gone by, since o'er this scene,Hope her bright wreath of pleasures wove
Beneath these elms—unheard,—unseen,—
I walk'd all idly with my love:
He offered me a generous heart,
He woo'd me with a guileless tongue;
I knew his passion free from art,
And on his vows with fondness hung.
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4
“Here when the summer day declined,We met with tenderness and truth;
And traced what joys we both should find
After the sunset of our youth:
We pictured innocent delights,
And told them with a tender glee;—
Of cottage pranks, on winter nights,
And children prattling round the knee.
5
“And oh! we stray'd by streamlet too,In fancy, at fair Evening's hour,
When falls her soft and ruddy hue
O'er every leaf, o'er every flower:
We fondly plann'd a gentle home,
Mid clustering trees of evergreen;
And lov'd in wistful thought to roam
Around the visionary scene.
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6
“We deem'd how very sweet 'twould be,To labour for our young ones' food;
And in each other's company,
Converse beside the fire of wood;
To seek for rest, unscath'd by care,
And wake at day dawn full of hope;
To wander in the morning air,
And work upon a sunny slope.
7
“Thus would we while the hour away,And part—with promises to meet;
And how we watched the slow-paced day,
Walk to the west with tedious feet!
Again we met—he named the time,—
I promis'd to become a bride;
It was not mine to have the crime
Of treating manliness with pride.
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8
“The night before the marriage morn,We had been lingering sweetly late;
And planning too, to meet at dawn,—
That dawn to me how desolate!
My lover saw me to my cot,
And kiss'd my cheek—and bless'd my sire—
He went—I wept—I met him not
From that lone night:—he died by fire!
9
“'Twas midnight when that flame on highStream'd reddening o'er a cloudy heaven;
'Twas midnight when that awful sky
By fearful shouts and screams was riven:
I woke—the air seemed clear as day,
But coldly sad—and redly light;
I rose—I wander'd on the way,
Mid forms that throng'd that burning night.
48
10
“Great God! it was my lover's cot;The flames were fierce—I stood like stone;
I saw his form—my eyes were hot—
The floor broke in—that form was gone!
I saw no more—my sense grew blind,
Till at my home by tender care
My life awoke,—but not my mind,—
That darkly slept in its despair!
11
“But sense return'd—the sense of what?The sense of utter wretchedness!
The feeling of a hopeless lot;
Of grief which would for ever press:
What then was life? a bitter weight!
A curse upon a weary heart;
And I, so wildly free of late,
In silent suffering went apart.
49
12
“The horror of that fatal nightWas with me;—oh! I lived on fears!—
And shadows rose before my sight,
And fierce flames crackled in my ears:
I long'd for some cold wint'ry spot,
Where snow and bleakness meet the view,
On which to build my lonely cot,
And take my burning bosom to.
13
“I shunn'd all eyes—I shunn'd all light,And shrunk with loathing from the fire
Which in my cottage burnt so bright;
It told a tale too dark—too dire:
In winter's cold I sat alone,
And liv'd but in the days gone by;
And sometimes they have forced a groan,
And charm'd a tear into my eye.
50
14
“But long it was ere I could weep,And long it was ere I could sigh,
A very fever was my sleep;
I dreamt but of the dark red sky,
And of the crashing floor; and then
With terror I awoke, and screams,—
To trace o'er maddening truth again,
And wed reality with dreams.
15
“Years now are past—and here I love,When my heart's hue night-glooms restore,
With melancholy soul to rove,
Where I have walk'd so blest before;
To wander mid the silent tombs,
And linger under every tree
Where in the evening's tender glooms
He sighed to me—and talked to me.
51
16
“He sigh'd as gentle hearts will sigh;He talk'd with all the soul of youth;
There was a lustre in his eye,
That caught its finest ray from truth:
He heard my little griefs with tears,
And drew me nearer to his heart,
And kiss'd my cheek—and hush'd my fears,
And sooth'd my bosom's lightest smart.
17
“There's none to soothe that anguish now,In this cold world I'm all alone;
The tears that o'er my pale cheek flow,
Are now my sole companions grown.
But life decays—and let it pass;—
I shall not long be Sorrow's slave:
A little while—and this wild grass
Will rustle lonely o'er my grave.”
52
18
—‘Poor mourner! oh, thou art indeedTo a dark life of horror bound
He who ordain'd thy heart should bleed,
Alone can heal its aching wound:
No words from earthly lips can cheer
The darkness of thy memory
All that can give a comfort here,
Is to find hearts that weep for thee.’
53
STANZAS.
1
Thou art not lost!—thy spirit givethImmortal peace,—and high it liveth:
Thou art not mute!—with angels blending,
Thy voice is still to me descending.
2
Thou art not absent!—sweetly smilingI see thee yet,—my griefs beguiling:
Soft o'er my slumbers art thou beaming,—
The sunny spirit of my dreaming!
54
3
And when the morn is palely breaking,Thy fair form woo's me on my waking,
Its light my soul is madly drinking,—
It lulls the pain of lonely thinking.
4
Thou art not changed!—thy cheek, unfaded,Blushes,—by raven tresses shaded:—
Thou art not lost!—so fancy talketh,—
Thy spirit in its beauty walketh.
5
It glides all beautifully by me,And gently smiles ere it will fly me;
The blush its dimpling cheek discloses
Is like the hue of youthful roses.
55
6
Thine eye-lids seem not yet concealingIn death, their orbs of matchless feeling;
Their living charms my heart still numbers,—
Ah! sure they do but veil thy slumbers.
7
A lustre o'er thy brow,—delayingLike evening's silvery light,—is playing:
I see thee now—thy dark locks dancing,—
Come,—like the soul of song advancing.
8
As kind thou art!—for still thou'rt meetingThis breast, that gives thee tender greeting;—
And shall I deem thee alter'd?—never:
Thou'rt with me waking—slumbering—ever!—
56
THE FAIRIES.
“—Elves,
“Who sleep in buds the day.”
Collins.
“Who sleep in buds the day.”
Collins.
“—Span long elves that dance about a pool.”
B. Jonson.
B. Jonson.
The moon was wandering quietly
Over the starry spotted sky;
And sending down a silvery light
To deck the melancholy night;—
Green leaves caught a pallid hue,
Fresh grass whitened to the view;
All was still o'er earth and trees,
So reposing was the breeze:—
Here and there a cloud was spread,
Calm and bright above the head,
Steep'd in light the moon had shed.
In the mead, a little lake
Seem'd, like Nature, not awake;
Waveless was its cool, clear breast,
By the moonbeams charm'd to rest;—
And its lilies pure and white,
Breath'd a perfume on the night,
As if to mingle with the quiet light.
Over the starry spotted sky;
And sending down a silvery light
To deck the melancholy night;—
Green leaves caught a pallid hue,
Fresh grass whitened to the view;
All was still o'er earth and trees,
So reposing was the breeze:—
57
Calm and bright above the head,
Steep'd in light the moon had shed.
In the mead, a little lake
Seem'd, like Nature, not awake;
Waveless was its cool, clear breast,
By the moonbeams charm'd to rest;—
And its lilies pure and white,
Breath'd a perfume on the night,
As if to mingle with the quiet light.
I, by meditation led,
On the turf my limbs had spread,
And was gazing on the skies,
With thought-enamour'd soul and eyes.
Fancy wander'd wildly free,
Herself amusing sportively,—
Peopling all the paly air
With forms fantastically fair;
Or in fine imaginings,
Calling forth diviner things
From the filmy clouds,—deep sky—
And stars that beam'd so watchfully.
There I lay—by Fancy wrought
Into most luxurious thought;
When upon my list'ning ear
A soft note stole,—delicious—clear;—
'Twas such as breathes in distant vale,
From a full-hearted nightingale;
That bird, so skill'd a soul to move,
Made up of music and of love:—
It came with gentle, gentle swell,
And richly rose—and finely fell.—
I look'd upon the placid lake,
From which the music seem'd to wake,—
And lo! from out each lily's cup
A fairy started, merrily up,
And with a little rushy wand,
Push'd its flowery boat to land.
On the turf my limbs had spread,
And was gazing on the skies,
With thought-enamour'd soul and eyes.
Fancy wander'd wildly free,
Herself amusing sportively,—
Peopling all the paly air
With forms fantastically fair;
58
Calling forth diviner things
From the filmy clouds,—deep sky—
And stars that beam'd so watchfully.
There I lay—by Fancy wrought
Into most luxurious thought;
When upon my list'ning ear
A soft note stole,—delicious—clear;—
'Twas such as breathes in distant vale,
From a full-hearted nightingale;
That bird, so skill'd a soul to move,
Made up of music and of love:—
It came with gentle, gentle swell,
And richly rose—and finely fell.—
I look'd upon the placid lake,
From which the music seem'd to wake,—
And lo! from out each lily's cup
A fairy started, merrily up,
And with a little rushy wand,
Push'd its flowery boat to land.
59
Round the lily's snowy whiteness
Broke a playful, sparkling brightness;
As if the stars were hurrying there,
Dancing round the watery car,
To gaze on forms so lightly fair.
Deep within the pebbly pool
Stood the palace, bright and cool;—
Transparent were the walls. By night,
The moon sent down its purest light,—
Which, though at first so soft from heaven,
More mellow through the wave was given;—
And even the sun's warm ray at noon,
Went there as gently as the moon.
Broke a playful, sparkling brightness;
As if the stars were hurrying there,
Dancing round the watery car,
To gaze on forms so lightly fair.
Deep within the pebbly pool
Stood the palace, bright and cool;—
Transparent were the walls. By night,
The moon sent down its purest light,—
Which, though at first so soft from heaven,
More mellow through the wave was given;—
And even the sun's warm ray at noon,
Went there as gently as the moon.
From the cups the Fairies darted,
Which, no longer spell-bound, started
Back again to seek for rest
On the lake's translucent breast.
O'er a hillock, daisy-speck'd,
And with drooping cowslips deck'd,
Cluster'd all the fairy-court,
In the moon-beams form'd to sport.
I listen'd, breathless with delight,
To the elves all wild and bright,
Fluttering on the charmed night.
Their wings so delicately play'd,
That the dew upon the blade
Trembled not—but calmly fair,
Beam'd to make the light more rare.
Some shot upward to the moon,—
Went with thought, and came as soon:—
Others, on the cloud's edge seated,
All the stars surrounding greeted.
But ere long I saw a fairy,
Floating on his pinions airy,
Take a honeysuckle horn
And wind it;—quick the breath was borne
Musically soft, like love,
To the sportive elves above,
On the clouds, or near the moon:—
And, like falling showers at noon
In the beams of April-day,
Down they shot their sparkling way.
“Come,—” said one, with such a voice
As bade the listening heart rejoice;—
'Twas like the air in heaven that lives,—
Or like the breath which evening gives,
When the mind is Fancy's guest,
And the sun salutes the west
With his purple lip, that flushes
The bashful sky with rosy blushes:—
“Come, ye sparklers, come to earth!
“Furl your wings, which fan with mirth:
“All, like summer bloom, descend,—
“On our Fairy-queen attend.
“Make her couch of flowers, that spring
“O'er this meadow;—deftly bring
“The violets, so blue and sweet,
“To throw around her pearly feet:—
“And the lilies seek, and shed,
“To form a pillow for her head.
“On primrose couch her form shall rest,
“With pansies scatter'd near her breast,
“Let the daisy, yellow-hearted,
“With its white leaves starry-parted,
“And the cowslips, yellowy pale,
“Serve her as a flowery veil—
“Catch the moon-beams from her eyes,
“And delight her as she lies!”—
Oh! 'twas a bewitching sight,
To watch these revellers of the night
Wand'ring o'er the silent mead,
To gather flowers to form a bed
For their pretty queen to lie in;—
The air grew fresher with their flying,—
The dew each form's reflection gave,—
And in its sweet sleep laugh'd the wave.
The couch was made,—the young queen shed
Her beauty-brightness o'er the bed;—
Alas!—the breezes from the west
Came to sing her heart to rest;—
They set a floating cloud before
The placid Moon,—and all was o'er;—
The Fairies faded into air,
And left me lying lonely there.
Which, no longer spell-bound, started
Back again to seek for rest
On the lake's translucent breast.
O'er a hillock, daisy-speck'd,
And with drooping cowslips deck'd,
60
In the moon-beams form'd to sport.
I listen'd, breathless with delight,
To the elves all wild and bright,
Fluttering on the charmed night.
Their wings so delicately play'd,
That the dew upon the blade
Trembled not—but calmly fair,
Beam'd to make the light more rare.
Some shot upward to the moon,—
Went with thought, and came as soon:—
Others, on the cloud's edge seated,
All the stars surrounding greeted.
But ere long I saw a fairy,
Floating on his pinions airy,
Take a honeysuckle horn
And wind it;—quick the breath was borne
Musically soft, like love,
To the sportive elves above,
On the clouds, or near the moon:—
61
In the beams of April-day,
Down they shot their sparkling way.
“Come,—” said one, with such a voice
As bade the listening heart rejoice;—
'Twas like the air in heaven that lives,—
Or like the breath which evening gives,
When the mind is Fancy's guest,
And the sun salutes the west
With his purple lip, that flushes
The bashful sky with rosy blushes:—
“Come, ye sparklers, come to earth!
“Furl your wings, which fan with mirth:
“All, like summer bloom, descend,—
“On our Fairy-queen attend.
“Make her couch of flowers, that spring
“O'er this meadow;—deftly bring
“The violets, so blue and sweet,
“To throw around her pearly feet:—
62
“To form a pillow for her head.
“On primrose couch her form shall rest,
“With pansies scatter'd near her breast,
“Let the daisy, yellow-hearted,
“With its white leaves starry-parted,
“And the cowslips, yellowy pale,
“Serve her as a flowery veil—
“Catch the moon-beams from her eyes,
“And delight her as she lies!”—
Oh! 'twas a bewitching sight,
To watch these revellers of the night
Wand'ring o'er the silent mead,
To gather flowers to form a bed
For their pretty queen to lie in;—
The air grew fresher with their flying,—
The dew each form's reflection gave,—
And in its sweet sleep laugh'd the wave.
The couch was made,—the young queen shed
Her beauty-brightness o'er the bed;—
63
Came to sing her heart to rest;—
They set a floating cloud before
The placid Moon,—and all was o'er;—
The Fairies faded into air,
And left me lying lonely there.
| The Naiad | |