Poems By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes |
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CANTO THE NINTH.
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197
CANTO THE NINTH.
ARGUMENT.
1. The Genius of Trevalso presiding over Juliet's Garden— Description of it.—2. Since Juliet's disingenuous Behaviour, the Seat of the Feri usurped by Gnomes—The Beauties of her Garden faded and gone.—3. The evil Influence of the Gnome on the Mind of Juliet, in favour of the Nabob.
Long had the Genius of Trevalso-dale,
O'er its green meadows bade his Feri sail,
Fling from its birchen shadows purple gleams,
And from tall poplars sigh o'er silver streams—
Long had he call'd, to please the mournful maid,
To Juliet's garden-bloom, their favourite aid.
O'er its green meadows bade his Feri sail,
Fling from its birchen shadows purple gleams,
And from tall poplars sigh o'er silver streams—
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To Juliet's garden-bloom, their favourite aid.
Soft sloping from the hill above, (where stood
The stuccoed mansion, erst embower'd in wood)
The garden, still to soothe its Juliet's soul,
Down a scoop'd dale its gradual beauty stole,
And round an oval lake, to many a view
Fair-opening, a romantic wildness threw;
As a dark nunnery stretch'd its ivy deep
Beside the wave with reverential sweep,
And, lock'd in hoary slumber, seem'd to rest
Its croslet on the water's crystal breast.
The stuccoed mansion, erst embower'd in wood)
The garden, still to soothe its Juliet's soul,
Down a scoop'd dale its gradual beauty stole,
And round an oval lake, to many a view
Fair-opening, a romantic wildness threw;
As a dark nunnery stretch'd its ivy deep
Beside the wave with reverential sweep,
And, lock'd in hoary slumber, seem'd to rest
Its croslet on the water's crystal breast.
O'er the smooth slope an easy pathway stray'd,
Where arching myrtles wove their fragant shade;
While prattled, from its pebbles, as in talk,
A social streamlet with the shadowy walk;
Till, at the nunnery-window's arbour-seat,
The pathway melted in the dim retreat;
And, as a plaintive leave it seem'd to take,
The stream, in pearly lapses, kiss'd the lake.
Where arching myrtles wove their fragant shade;
While prattled, from its pebbles, as in talk,
A social streamlet with the shadowy walk;
Till, at the nunnery-window's arbour-seat,
The pathway melted in the dim retreat;
And, as a plaintive leave it seem'd to take,
The stream, in pearly lapses, kiss'd the lake.
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There oft the Feri, fond their limbs to lave,
Would catch a sparkle from the quivering wave;
And, if no imp annoy'd the spotless scene,
Glance its pure lustre thro' the myrtle screen.
There would they oft, along the moss-cool banks,
Thro' dripping alders glide in silvery ranks;
Or shoot across the expanse each little car
That glow'd or glitter'd like a falling star,
Or skim the violet beds with printless feet,
Hang o'er each cup, and drink the floral sweet;
Sleek their moist tresses, or with lilies braid,
And dance amid the virgin's arbour-shade.
Would catch a sparkle from the quivering wave;
And, if no imp annoy'd the spotless scene,
Glance its pure lustre thro' the myrtle screen.
There would they oft, along the moss-cool banks,
Thro' dripping alders glide in silvery ranks;
Or shoot across the expanse each little car
That glow'd or glitter'd like a falling star,
Or skim the violet beds with printless feet,
Hang o'er each cup, and drink the floral sweet;
Sleek their moist tresses, or with lilies braid,
And dance amid the virgin's arbour-shade.
'Twas o'er that arbour oft their airy march
They led, and, lighting on a slender larch
Which wav'd the window's broken shafts between,
Drew from its opening buds a clearer green;
Bade o'er the rootwove seat the filbert glow,
And the rich muskrose dart its blush below.
There, for their Juliet, would the Feri shower
Brown nuts in clusters, at the matin-hour;
Heighten, for her, the mulberry's purple hue,
And with nectareous sweets the grape imbue.
They led, and, lighting on a slender larch
Which wav'd the window's broken shafts between,
Drew from its opening buds a clearer green;
Bade o'er the rootwove seat the filbert glow,
And the rich muskrose dart its blush below.
There, for their Juliet, would the Feri shower
Brown nuts in clusters, at the matin-hour;
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And with nectareous sweets the grape imbue.
Ah now, for gentle Fayes, the sullen Gnomes
Scowl o'er Trevalso, thro' pestiferous glooms
Where beechen shades emit a lucid gleam,
And panting herds approach the poison'd stream.
Lo, “swarthy Fairies of the mine,” they chase
From the sweet garden all its charming grace,
Down the slope kindle their phosphoric wheels,
Or plough the foaming lake with rapid keels;
And give the path to cast a sickly glare
From hot pyritic fragments scatter'd there,
While roses all their sickly sweets effuse,
And lilies drink no more refreshing dews.
Scowl o'er Trevalso, thro' pestiferous glooms
Where beechen shades emit a lucid gleam,
And panting herds approach the poison'd stream.
Lo, “swarthy Fairies of the mine,” they chase
From the sweet garden all its charming grace,
Down the slope kindle their phosphoric wheels,
Or plough the foaming lake with rapid keels;
And give the path to cast a sickly glare
From hot pyritic fragments scatter'd there,
While roses all their sickly sweets effuse,
And lilies drink no more refreshing dews.
And whence this wonderous change? Alas! we find
Each source of evil in the subtle mind;
Alas! if Juliet were ingenuous still,
Her guileless soul would bar each cause of ill.
Tho' mildew might the meadowy verdure check,
Her garden were secure from every speck.
Each source of evil in the subtle mind;
Alas! if Juliet were ingenuous still,
Her guileless soul would bar each cause of ill.
Tho' mildew might the meadowy verdure check,
Her garden were secure from every speck.
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Whilst Juliet, by contending passions tost,
Her triumphs o'er the Nabob lov'd to boast,
Or mourn'd her first affection sorely crost,
A dark Gnome, weaving his insidious plan,
The fickle maid determin'd to trepan.
Her triumphs o'er the Nabob lov'd to boast,
Or mourn'd her first affection sorely crost,
A dark Gnome, weaving his insidious plan,
The fickle maid determin'd to trepan.
Amid Treglastan-vale, a pansey grew
No longer boasting its purpureal hue,
Tho' kindred to the little western flower
Hit by love's archery in a magic hour,
That o'er the streamlet rear'd its snowy head,
Ere fainting from the wound it droop'd and bled.
The pansey, nurs'd by many a tingrain sluice,
The demon pluck'd, and mix'd its yellow juice
With mineral banes, and sought the unquiet maid
Who to her bosom woo'd the vesper-shade.
No longer boasting its purpureal hue,
Tho' kindred to the little western flower
Hit by love's archery in a magic hour,
That o'er the streamlet rear'd its snowy head,
Ere fainting from the wound it droop'd and bled.
The pansey, nurs'd by many a tingrain sluice,
The demon pluck'd, and mix'd its yellow juice
With mineral banes, and sought the unquiet maid
Who to her bosom woo'd the vesper-shade.
Ah! trembling while amidst the dusky sprays
Enchanted Cynthia pour'd malignant rays,
Where were ye, Feri? Where, the sweet emprize
To fan the livid beams from Juliet's eyes?
Where, gentle ministers, your wonted skill
To veil your Juliet from the impending ill?
Ah! thro' the lunar beams the demon flew,
And to his drug a direr venom drew;
Hung, viewless, o'er her; plied his wanton freaks,
And stain'd her lids with deleterious streaks.
Enchanted Cynthia pour'd malignant rays,
Where were ye, Feri? Where, the sweet emprize
To fan the livid beams from Juliet's eyes?
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To veil your Juliet from the impending ill?
Ah! thro' the lunar beams the demon flew,
And to his drug a direr venom drew;
Hung, viewless, o'er her; plied his wanton freaks,
And stain'd her lids with deleterious streaks.
END OF THE NINTH CANTO.
| Poems | |