Original poems on several subjects :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Muses here with Melancholy meet,
Whose looks relax'd a solemn smile dispense;
Something like sorrow, though divinely sweet,
Here gently steals on the half-conscious sense.

The soften'd scenery of declining day,
With clouds of fleecy gold o'erspread the sky,
All earth serene beneath the parting ray,
Who thoughtful e'er beheld, without a sigh?

That sigh, no tribute of unmanly wo,
Affords a proof beyond the ethic page,
That, to conceive the beautiful below,
And to enjoy, transcends the deepest sage.

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Hence too that sigh prophetic to the wise,
Of death, when souls their utmost pow'rs enlarge;
That man immortal's destin'd to the skies,
When Fate all-gracious gives the kind discharge.

Here, no loud clamours of officious Care,
With quick return, upon the ear obtrude;
Scarce mov'd is the surrounding depth of air,
Far distant the approach of footstep rude.

Imagination hence her wing extends,
Beyond the narrow flight of vulgar thought;
The heart with transport beats while she ascends,
Yet whence each quick sensation, idly sought.

With eye elate of rapture and surprise,
Maria each scene, enhanc'd by Eve, surveys;
But, though each look a strange delight implies,
Would she describe it? language disobeys.

The springs of transport exquisitely fram'd,
Nature by magic moves, unknown, though felt;
From Heav'n some secret sudden impulse aim'd,
For eyes suffus'd to flow, and hearts to melt.

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Whether some silent intercourse between
Congenial spirits, on some kind design;
Pure intellectual hints exchang'd unseen,
Mistakes and errours still our search confine.

Without the intervention of the sense,
The apparatus of organic parts,
That human souls can feel, and feel intense,
Reason denies not strictly, nor asserts.

What modes of feeling, consciousness, sense, thought,
Volition, knowledge, loco-motive pow'rs,
With Immaterials reign, are vainly sought,
Howe'er sublime Conjecture's pinion tow'rs.

Nor less perplex'd the anxious human guess,
Whether with man Celestials converse hold,
By means ineffable, thus to impress
Strong proofs of future glories to unfold.

Dreams, when the soul seems to exist apart
From body, motionless, and almost dead,
Save merely the mechanic-beating heart,
Here throw some light through darkness thickly spread.

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When Sleep's strong opiate seals the passive eye,
How disengag'd from flesh the Spirit soars!
With angels, its associates from the sky,
How, quick as thought, all nature it explores!

Time's intervals, and distances of space,
Vainly would interrupt her magic range;
Enormous mountains give, like molehills, place,
And oceans to mere brooks before her change.

Howe'er in mazes infinite involv'd,
Souls hence their native dignity assert,
And independence (else much doubt unsolv'd)
On matter stupid, lifeless, and inert.

But lest our farther search misunderstood,
Maria, thus far the grave dull verse excuse;
Yet Maria oft delights, in pensive mood,
To share retirement with the moral Muse;

And thus, with philosophic cast of thought,
Her sex's endless levity condemns;
By empty forms, and senseless sounds uncaught,
The wave of feathers, and the blaze of gems.

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Try'd by a taste so polish'd and sublime,
Far more than vulgar joys Retirement claims;
When only Wisdom grieves the lapse of time,
And no wish envies what Reflection blames.

Such the calm genial season, to arrive
At somewhat diadems can ne'er bestow,
Though ne'er on Parian marble to survive,
That inward sunshine Vice despairs to know.

When the fond Soul within herself retires,
A little world proud Cæsar ne'er possess'd;
Feels the ecstatic glow of her own fires,
And feasts on pleasures language ne'er express'd.

Say, Maria, what mysterious Pow'r unseen
Acts here? or is it wayward Fancy dreams?
No; Nature here would, by sensations keen,
Awake the soul to great and godlike themes.

Without its cares, its sorrows, and its strife,
Reason would here all mankind should be taught,
To form a proper estimate of life,
A lesson by no dear experience bought.

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Virtue would here, as by ethereal fire,
Touch ev'ry string that vibrates to the heart;
Pity would here with her big woes inspire,
That kindred souls disjoin, and friends dispart.

For what sad eye can glance o'er humankind,
Or the wide world's extensive map survey,
Nor, with the pang of an ingenuous mind,
The frequent debt of manly sorrow pay?

Life's wide horizon one vast cloud o'erspreads,
Through which but seldom shines a kindly ray;
Yon diamonds, that encircle royal heads,
Sparkle so bright, for absent is the day.

Spring clothes the Tulip in her fairest garb,
A blast may her of beauty soon despoil;
Winter disrobes her, like the meanest herb,
Nor knows the florist where she grac'd the soil.

So, youth warm blushes in the virgin's cheek,
But soon these conscious blushes charm no more;
Death, whose untimely visit oft we seek,
Bids Beauty give all her vain triumph o'er.

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But boast not, grave, exult not, tyrant Death,
The soul your utmost reach of pow'r defies;
Your icy hand may stop the fleeting breath,
But not detain the spirit from the skies.

Happy! howe'er vain Fortune's wheel turns round,
Whatever ill on man still presses hard;
Wisdom will ever with success be crown'd,
And Virtue prove her own sublime reward!