 | [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings |  |
MAY AND HER PROTÉGÉ.
The following was dedicated to an English lady who had been twice married. The happiness of the earlier part of her life was blasted by the ill-treatment of a very profligate husband; but her felicity was restored by the second marriage, which was remarkably prosperous. These circumstances will explain some allusions in the poem.
My dear Madam,—The inspiration of your birthday sets even me into a humor for rhyming. What a magical day, to inspire me, of all the stupid people in the world! I hope you will not, true woman-like, be vexed at my making May your Queen, instead of making you the Queen of May, as is usual on such occasions. I could not consign you to a better protector than this blooming nymph; and I think it is fully proved in the enumeration of her past bounties, with which I have the honor to accompany my congratulations on the return of this anniversary.
Sweet May! thy magic charms inspirePoets, as well as birds, to sing;
Each hopes to utter from his lyre
The best turn'd compliment to Spring.
The flowers which start beneath thy tread,
The graces which around thee throng,
Have madden'd every Poet's head,
Since the first Poet lisp'd in song.
But, lovely May! although thy smile
Turns deserts into rosy bow'rs;
Beams forth such raptures as beguile
The wretched of their gloomiest hours;
Yet higher joys thy happy dawn,
Enchanting month! to me unfurl'd,
When, on Amelia's natal morn,
Thou, smiling, gav'st her to the world!
Yes! at that hour didst thou impart
Thy softness to her eye and face,
With thine own warmth inspire her heart,
And o'er her form diffuse thy grace!
Low'r'd awful o'er thy lovely trust,
November would have bid her go,
And skulk into a grave accurst:—
But taught by thee, Heav'n's darling May,
When the black tempest hid the skies,
She bow'd to its o'erwhelming sway,
Then saw a cloudless sun arise!
Yes, lovely May! to thee she owes
That conscious purity of soul,
Which, though it cannot shield from woes,
Spurns their unlimited control!
Drear was the past detested hour!
Her present bliss by contrast charms—
That past, forgotten, through thy pow'r,
In a deserving husband's arms!
Still o'er her destiny preside,
And grant that every future day,
Which, gentle month, shall o'er her glide,
Be soothing and serene as May!
| [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings | |