 | Poems by Mrs. Opie |  |
135
THE DESPAIRING WANDERER.
Oh! 'tis an hour to misery dear!
No noise but dashing waves I hear,
Save hollow blasts that rush around,
For midnight reigns with horrors crowned.
No noise but dashing waves I hear,
Save hollow blasts that rush around,
For midnight reigns with horrors crowned.
Lo! clouds in swarthy grandeur sweep
Portentous o'er the troubled deep:
O'er the tall rocks' majestic heads,
See, billowy vapour slowly spreads:
And lo! fantastic shapes seem near,
The rocks with added height appear,
And from the mist, to seek the tide,
Gigantic figures darkly glide;
While, with quick step and hurried mien,
The timid fly the fearful scene.
Again loud blasts I shuddering hear,
Which to my mournful soul appear
To toll some shipwrecked sailor's knell!
Of fear, of grief, of death, they tell.
Perhaps they bade yon foaming tide
Unheard-of misery scatter wide.
Hail! dread idea, fancy-taught,....
To me with gloomy pleasure fraught!
I should rejoice the world to see
Distrest, distracted, lost, like me.
Portentous o'er the troubled deep:
O'er the tall rocks' majestic heads,
See, billowy vapour slowly spreads:
136
The rocks with added height appear,
And from the mist, to seek the tide,
Gigantic figures darkly glide;
While, with quick step and hurried mien,
The timid fly the fearful scene.
Again loud blasts I shuddering hear,
Which to my mournful soul appear
To toll some shipwrecked sailor's knell!
Of fear, of grief, of death, they tell.
Perhaps they bade yon foaming tide
Unheard-of misery scatter wide.
Hail! dread idea, fancy-taught,....
To me with gloomy pleasure fraught!
137
Distrest, distracted, lost, like me.
Oh! why is phrensy called a curse?
I deem the sense of misery worse:
Come, Madness, come! though pale with fear
Be joy's flusht cheek when thou art near,
On thee I eager glances bend;
Despair, O Madness, calls thee friend!
Come, with thy visions cheer my gloom,....
Spread o'er my cheek thy feverish bloom,
To my weak form thy strength impart,
From my sunk eye thy lightnings dart!
O come, and on the troubled air
Throw rudely my disordered hair;
Arm me with thy supporting pride,
Let me all ills, all fears deride!
O bid me roam in tattered vest,
Bare to the wintry wind my breast,
Horrors with dauntless eye behold,
And stalk in fancied greatness bold!
Let me, from yonder frowning rock,
With thy shrill scream the billows mock;
With fearless step ascend the steep
That totters o'er the encroaching deep;
And while the swelling main along
Blue lightning's awful splendours throng,....
And while within each warring wave
Unnumbered victims find a grave,
And thunders rend the ear of Night,
Which happy wanderers' souls affright,....
Let me the mountain torrent quaff,
And midst the war of nature....laugh!
I deem the sense of misery worse:
Come, Madness, come! though pale with fear
Be joy's flusht cheek when thou art near,
On thee I eager glances bend;
Despair, O Madness, calls thee friend!
Come, with thy visions cheer my gloom,....
Spread o'er my cheek thy feverish bloom,
To my weak form thy strength impart,
From my sunk eye thy lightnings dart!
O come, and on the troubled air
Throw rudely my disordered hair;
138
Let me all ills, all fears deride!
O bid me roam in tattered vest,
Bare to the wintry wind my breast,
Horrors with dauntless eye behold,
And stalk in fancied greatness bold!
Let me, from yonder frowning rock,
With thy shrill scream the billows mock;
With fearless step ascend the steep
That totters o'er the encroaching deep;
And while the swelling main along
Blue lightning's awful splendours throng,....
And while within each warring wave
Unnumbered victims find a grave,
139
Which happy wanderers' souls affright,....
Let me the mountain torrent quaff,
And midst the war of nature....laugh!
| Poems by Mrs. Opie | |