Julia Alpinula With The Captive of Stamboul and Other Poems. By J. H. Wiffen |
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THE LEGEND OF THE STATUE. |
 | Julia Alpinula |  |
216
THE LEGEND OF THE STATUE.
[_]
At the entrance of the Temple of the Graces at Woburn Abbey, is an exquisite piece of Sculpture by the celebrated Chantrey, representing his Grace the Duke of Bedford's youngest daughter—Lady Louisa Russell, in the act of pressing a dove to her bosom.
1
Louisa, wandering through the wood,Had caught, one summer noon, a dove,
And, blest beyond expression, stood
The picture of infantine love.
She pressed with Medicéan grace
The bird within her snowy arms,
And downward bent her sunny face,
To kiss away its wild alarms.
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2
It was a needless thought! the birdWas far too happy to depart;
Finding, by every pulse that stirred,
Its warmest nest was on her heart;
And he who chanced that girl to see
So fendly smoothe each ruffled feather,
Wished that the turtle-dove and she
Thus, ever thus, might dwell together.
3
The Sculptor heard that wish of his,And by a magic of his own,
Re-echoed back the parent's bliss,
And fixed the lovely twins in stone.
The statue cannot speak her power,
The mild bird raise its sculptured wings,
Yet, stamped in taste's divinest hour,
We half misdeem them living things.
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4
A ray is in her smile, her eye—It cannot be the beam that falls
From the sun's figure in the sky,—
Without are bowers, around are walls;
Yet brightness radiates round the stone,
Sincere as e'er to feeling rushed,
And sweetness seems in every tone
Late uttered—though the voice is hushed.
5
In that serenely-speaking smile,We live our childhood o'er again,
But sadness chills our cheek the while,
To think we cannot feel as then:
When youth's full fire is in our eyes,
We steal from Venus' car a turtle,
And nestle—who would not? the prize
On glowing hearts with chains of myrtle.
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6
But of the many, cherished thus,How few, fond girl! like thine remain,
Nor, home returning, leave to us,
Chilled heart, dark throe, and vacant chain!
But thou, in life's young loveliness,
From age to age as now shalt stand,
Smiling with transport so to press
Love's turtle with thy little hand.
7
Fit guardian of so fair a shrine!The loveliest of those Graces three
May well like thee her head decline,—
Thou art herself in infancy.
But when few summer-suns make ripe
This flower which glads the parent-stem,
Statue! thy living prototype
Shall burst to bloom, and charm like them.
| Julia Alpinula | |