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

With hurrying finger smite the fervid wire:
Th' intolerable rapture tears my soul;
I burn with inspiration's fiercest fire;
In lawless liberty my senses roll
Beyond demurer reason's coy control,
Beyond the sapient bounds by prudence laid;
And while unwonted fantasies inspire,
Amid th' interminable waste of shade,
In mad delirium lost, my daring tour is made.

Carr'd in a cloud of hyacinthine hue,
Pluck'd from the lunar shrine, aloft I rise;
And wond'rous sights, unutterable view,
Ting'd with a thousand strange aye-shifting dyes,
Such as astound the weak and daunt the wise,
But often by th' ecstatic gaze are seen,
When Fancy animates th' enamel'd skies
With radiant hosts minute, of wayward mien,
And dusky moonlight clothes the fay-encircled green.

High o'er the headlong torrents' foamy fall,
Whose waters howl along the rugged steep,
On the loose-jutting rock, or mould'ring wall,
See where gaunt Danger lays him down to sleep!
The piping winds his mournful vigil keep;
The lightnings blue his stony pillow warm;
Anon, incumbent o'er the dreary deep,
The fiend enormous strides the lab'ring storm,
And mid the thund'rous strife expands his giant form.

The vital stream, propell'd from every part,
Tumultuous leaves each veiny channel dry:
The purple flood flows heavy on my heart,
As startled Madness meets my blasted eye.
How lamentable now his loaded sigh,
Of horrible intent, and fix'd despair!
And now again, with agonizing cry,
He beats his boxen cheek, he rends his hair,
'Till in hot tears is quench'd his eyeball's fiery glare.

The sudden light that flash'd athwart his brain,
Dread interval! but more augments his woe;
Oft has that bare head brav'd the dashing rain,
Its brown locks oft been silver'd o'er with snow.

Ye savage tempests, cease awhile to blow;
Ye angry heavens: upfurl your sheeted flame:
From love's deluding cup the poisons flow
That drench in anguish his distracted frame,
That leave him man's fair form without the boasted name,

Ah! who is she, of dark unsettled brow,
That bleeding drags an angel-shape behind,
And quaffs the living gore?—I know her now:
'Tis Jealousy, that monster of the mind,
In whom are thousand contraries combin'd:
Now moping, melancholy, o'er the wild;
Now fretful, rash, unreas'ning, unconfin'd;
In constancy's best blood her hands defil'd,
And strangling in its birth her own devoted child.

From thee, severe, insinuative pest,
Such crimes terrific tragically spring,
As in some tale, by fear's pale lip exprest,
Bid the babe closer to the bosom cling,
And breathe amazement o'er the shudd'ring ring.
Ne'er may thy stealing serpents, that devour
The roses wove in love's purpureal wing,
With cureless venom taint affection's flow'r,
Or coil thy latent deaths in my Anthemoe's bow'r!

Where is thy magic pencil, to pourtray
This scene so fraught with shadows of surprise,
Oh thou who, fir'd by one eccentric ray
Of Shakspeare, bad'st thy wild creation rise,
Revealing mystic rites to mortal eyes?
For lo! from darkness' unexhausted womb,
Spectres of horrid feature, hideous size,
Or unimagin'd pow'r, inform the gloom
With motion and effect, and cheat the hungry tomb.

Here bat-like portents cleave the murky air,
And flap with strident scream the leathern wing;
Some, like the tyger rushing from his lair,
Start from the dense profound with furious spring;
Some in shrill tone their doleful dirges sing;
Some with their iron fangs prepare for prey;
Hiss the fell snakes; the rusty fetters ring;
Groans the rack'd wretch his stubborn soul away;
Or mid th' insatiate blaze half-figur'd goblins play.

Oh for the sprig of sacred misletoe,
Spell-breaking vervain, or as potent rue,
To scare those imps malign who work me woe!
Oh for nine drops of cold nocturnal dew,

O'er my pale front with mutter'd sleight to strew!
Aloof, in sullen apathy repos'd,
Yon demon huge I dread, of deadliest hue:
He rises ghastly, to my path oppos'd.
Ah! close the fearful scene:—the fearful scene is clos'd.

Now down the smooth declivity I float
Of nether ether, to a shelter'd vale;
Where, in its balmy bosom lodg'd remote,
A bevy of bright beings I may hail.
Hark! what sweet murmurs swell he musky gale,
Whose honey'd whispers joy and gladness give;
What tides of lusty health my lungs inhale;
What florid flushes my blank cheeks receive;
Here, in this happy dell, for ever would I live.

Minions of moonlight, let my slow step steal,
Unblam'd and guiltless, on your secret sport;
Removing soft the visionary veil
That wraps from vulgar ken the elfin-court,
Where no unhallow'd visitants resort.
Lo where the lords of Faery-land appear!
Chieftains, and frowning peers of princely port;
Sage counsellors, with piercing eye severe;
And less distinguish'd knights fast trooping in the rear.

The monarch's self majestic terrors grace:
Tipp'd with a horse-fly's tongue, a rush his spear;
A gnat's slight pinion shades his martial face;
A fish's scale his armed shoulders wear,
Lin'd with a scarf of shining gossamer;
Unknown in listed fray the prize to yield,
His rapier is a hornet's sting severe;
Superior to the rest, his shelly shield
Undauntedly he shakes, and overlooks the field.

But, moving slow upon my dazzled sight,
What miracle is this of loveliest charm?
Luxuriate in unspeakable delight,
I feel, I feel my shiv'ring senses warm:
All my best feelings own the fond alarm:
The courteous semblance becks me to her side:
That beamy smile secures me from all harm:
Her mandate I obey with pleasing pride:
'Tis she, the sylphid she, my late aerial bride.

“Full ill,” she cries “my pupil, has thine ear
Receiv'd the moral lore I whilom taught;
Though prodigal of fancy, who will hear
Thy numbers vague, with no instruction fraught,

And destitute of heav'n-descended thought?
Though, slighting the severer rules of art,
With choicest cunning is thy descant wrought,
If thou to lull the sense neglect the heart,
Trust me, advent'rous youth, we suddenly must part.”

She spoke; conviction follow'd as she spoke:
And though uncurb'd imagination scorn
To bend submissive to the servile yoke,
A temporary bondage must be borne.
The flaunting wild rose decks the crabbed thorn:
From surly rules sublimest labours grew.
No more my stricter song must you adorn,
Ye phantoms ever fair and ever new:
Adieu, delightful dreams; ye faery scenes, adieu.

Alluding to Mr. Fuzeli's picture from the Midsummer Night's Dream.

See the poem of the Extravaganza.