 | The Outcast, and other poems |  |
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FANCY.
I've seen an eagle sweeping through the sky,
With a swift pinion, and a piercing eye;
I've seen the sun when sinking down in night,
Dye all the clouds in rosy showers of light;
I've seen the moon when stealing o'er the hill,
The quiet vale with silent beauty fill;
I've seen the lake reflect its borders true,
And the mock landscape seem the lovelier view;
I've seen the ocean deeply laid to rest,
With the soft moon-beams sleeping on its breast,
While the blue sky with each bright planet given
In the broad mirror, seemed a dream of heaven;
I've seen the whirlwind stretch its pinions wide,
And o'er the land in fearful terror ride;
I've seen the lightning from the tempest spring,
And through the night its startling splendor fling;
I've seen the rainbow on the vapory shroud,
Smile through the shower—God's signet on the cloud!
I've seen stern winter bind the joyous wave,
And make the lawless mountain stream a slave;
I've seen the breath of spring go forth in might,
And bid the latent blossoms leap to light;
I've seen pale death, the blush of beauty steal,
And the cold brow with deeper beauty seal!
With a swift pinion, and a piercing eye;
I've seen the sun when sinking down in night,
Dye all the clouds in rosy showers of light;
I've seen the moon when stealing o'er the hill,
The quiet vale with silent beauty fill;
I've seen the lake reflect its borders true,
And the mock landscape seem the lovelier view;
I've seen the ocean deeply laid to rest,
With the soft moon-beams sleeping on its breast,
While the blue sky with each bright planet given
In the broad mirror, seemed a dream of heaven;
I've seen the whirlwind stretch its pinions wide,
And o'er the land in fearful terror ride;
I've seen the lightning from the tempest spring,
And through the night its startling splendor fling;
I've seen the rainbow on the vapory shroud,
Smile through the shower—God's signet on the cloud!
I've seen stern winter bind the joyous wave,
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I've seen the breath of spring go forth in might,
And bid the latent blossoms leap to light;
I've seen pale death, the blush of beauty steal,
And the cold brow with deeper beauty seal!
But not the eagle's wing, or searching glance,
Or sun, moon, lake, or ocean's broad expanse;
Not the dark whirlwind, not the lightning's gleam,
Not the soft rainbow, or its peaceful beam;
Not icy winter, not the breath of spring,
Not the deep spell of terror's pallid king;
Not the wide realm that nature calls her own,
Can match the power to wizard Fancy known.
Or sun, moon, lake, or ocean's broad expanse;
Not the dark whirlwind, not the lightning's gleam,
Not the soft rainbow, or its peaceful beam;
Not icy winter, not the breath of spring,
Not the deep spell of terror's pallid king;
Not the wide realm that nature calls her own,
Can match the power to wizard Fancy known.
Say, can the eagle's wing like Fancy fly?
Can his keen vision pierce like Fancy's eye?
Can sun or moon such fairy colors give,
As in the golden dreams of Fancy live?
Can the lone lake, which but one landscape shows,
Vie with a power that endless beauty knows?
Can the smooth ocean, which no more reveals,
Than the blue veil which heaven's deep breast conceals—
Match the bold thought that tears that veil away,
And pours on distant skies the beams of day?
Can all the forms of beauty and of fear,
That nature's wonder-working hand can rear,
Rival the spirit whose superior skill,
Can bring or banish all these forms at will?
No!—Fancy's reign is wider than the waves;
Brighter than all the realms the ocean laves—
Her works are wilder than the sea and air,
Than all the elements, can do or dare.
And when this ‘scroll’ hath passed away in flame,
And all the stars forget its date and name,
Still Fancy's joyous wing shall tireless sweep,
O'er the far shoreless waves of Heaven's ethereal deep!
Can his keen vision pierce like Fancy's eye?
Can sun or moon such fairy colors give,
As in the golden dreams of Fancy live?
Can the lone lake, which but one landscape shows,
Vie with a power that endless beauty knows?
Can the smooth ocean, which no more reveals,
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Match the bold thought that tears that veil away,
And pours on distant skies the beams of day?
Can all the forms of beauty and of fear,
That nature's wonder-working hand can rear,
Rival the spirit whose superior skill,
Can bring or banish all these forms at will?
No!—Fancy's reign is wider than the waves;
Brighter than all the realms the ocean laves—
Her works are wilder than the sea and air,
Than all the elements, can do or dare.
And when this ‘scroll’ hath passed away in flame,
And all the stars forget its date and name,
Still Fancy's joyous wing shall tireless sweep,
O'er the far shoreless waves of Heaven's ethereal deep!
| The Outcast, and other poems | |