Poems (1806) :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Tis not for vulgar souls to feel
Those sacred sympathies refin'd,
That o'er the Poet's bosom steal,
When nature, to his glowing mind,
Each varied form, each colour gives,
Where rich the bloom of beauty lives.

II

For him yon' smooth and swelling green
In contrast with the craggy steep,
Hath charms, by common eyes unseen,
As o'er the lawn with shadowy sweep
That oak's luxuriant foliage flows,
And to the summer-sunbeam glows.

III

His fancy-roving eye perceives
New pleasure in the lucid stream,
That to the rose's opening leaves
Reflects a crimson-tinctur'd gleam;

And wanders down the daisied vale
To the tall aspin, quivering-pale.

IV

For him yon fawns in many a maze
The splendor of the morning court;
Or group'd, enjoy the genial blaze,
As satiate of their frolic sport;
And, with a charm unfelt by few,
The setting glory still pursue.

V

He sees some faery power illume
The orient hills with richer light,
Chasing the mist's disparted gloom:
He sees, upon the mountain-height,
Some faery power the pencil hold
To paint the evening-cloud with gold.

VI

There, as the deep and stilly shade
On night's pale bosom seems to rest,
And from the glimmering azure fade
The last cool tints that streak the west;
He heaves—though others wonder why—
He cherishes the pensive sigh.

VII

If then, a livelier passion move
The Poet's breast, to nature true;
If in such scenes, with looks of love,
He trace a more attractive hue;

His heart what exstacy inspires,
The female form when beauty fires.

VIII

Light, as on air, her steps advance!
Others may gaze with pleasur'd eye—
He casts a more enamour'd glance,
He breathes a more delicious sigh!
Others may hail the enchanting sight—
He faints with tremulous delight!

IX

The blush of languishing sixteen
Which mantles to emotions warm;
That winning negligence of mien;
Those graces of the finest form;
Those shadowy tresses wild, which rove
To kiss the heaving bloom of love.

X

And melting o'er the accordant keys
Touch'd by her rosy fingers fleet,
Those tones, which, as the dying breeze,
Mix with a voice divinely sweet—
Others unwonted ardours boast;
But, O Letitia, he is lost!

XI

Nor less his vivid feelings prize
The gay Honoria's artless youth;
Oft as her more effulgent eyes,
Beaming intelligence and truth,
And, kindling quick with fancy, dart
The expression of the untroubled heart;

XII

Ere with a spirit unreprest
Her easy converse steal the hours,
Where shines, in blessing others blest,
A soul unconscious of its powers!
Ere yet a woodnote warbled wild
Proclaim her, Nature's favourite child.

XIII

And if a Laura's glance so meek,
So gentle—so retir'd an air,
Her native loveliness bespeak;
While as the radiance of the star,
That softly gilds the evening-dew,
Her's is a trembling lustre too;

XIV

O, if her heart such feelings breathe,
So tender as her blushes tell,
His hand shall weave a modest wreath
To suit her timid sweetness well;
And ever to her worth awake,
Shall guard it for his Laura's sake.

XV

Such are the forms he values most—
Waves the rich foliage o'er the lawn;
The dales their roseate treasures boast;
In sunny mazes sports the fawn;
The rills their liquid amber pour—
Still, still he fondly fancies more.

XVI

“Come, lovely Laura! grace the shade—
“O come, to harmonize the whole!”
Yet, if he meet the melting maid,
Her beauty fills his ravish'd soul!
The lawn, the shade, new charms may own—
The charms he sees in her alone!

Here the author would be understood only to express that tremulous sensibility—that fine perception of the beautiful, which is inserparable from the Poetical Mind.