The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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The Descent of Love.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
The Descent of Love.
Ah youthful Love! thy votarist,
Though oft he turns into a jest
Thy freaks or foibles, yet will join
In humble worship at thy shrine,
And eulogize thee morn and even,
As the best, earliest gift of Heaven.
Though oft he turns into a jest
Thy freaks or foibles, yet will join
In humble worship at thy shrine,
And eulogize thee morn and even,
As the best, earliest gift of Heaven.
Thou blushing thing of pain and bliss!
Child of a happier sphere than this!
Wert thou a nursling of the sky,
Foster'd in Paradise on high,
To thrill the radiant breasts above?
No—angels feel not youthful love!
Theirs is a flame we cannot know,
A holy ardour free from woe;
But ours a joy, supreme, intense,
A short and splendid recompense
For an esteem, unbroke, unmoved,
Which man immortal might have proved.
Art thou not then, O virtuous love,
The dearest gift of Heaven above?
Child of a happier sphere than this!
Wert thou a nursling of the sky,
Foster'd in Paradise on high,
To thrill the radiant breasts above?
No—angels feel not youthful love!
Theirs is a flame we cannot know,
A holy ardour free from woe;
But ours a joy, supreme, intense,
A short and splendid recompense
For an esteem, unbroke, unmoved,
Which man immortal might have proved.
Art thou not then, O virtuous love,
The dearest gift of Heaven above?
Blest be thy native home on earth,
The place that own'd thy mystic birth,
When far beneath the golden morn
Was thy seraphic being born.
Where Euphrates and Tigris' strands
Join 'mid the sweet Assyrian lands;
Where that great river rolling blue
Mirror'd the earliest flowers that grew,
When scarce had bud began to blow,
Or blossom deck'd the world below,
Then was the shade of tiny tree
The bed of thy nativity.
The place that own'd thy mystic birth,
When far beneath the golden morn
Was thy seraphic being born.
Where Euphrates and Tigris' strands
Join 'mid the sweet Assyrian lands;
Where that great river rolling blue
Mirror'd the earliest flowers that grew,
When scarce had bud began to blow,
Or blossom deck'd the world below,
377
The bed of thy nativity.
While the first pair of human frame
Lay weeping their immortal blame,
By deep remorse and sorrow toss'd,
For all their gifts and glory lost;
Even then, when grief was at the full,
And no redress their pains to lull,
Thy cherub form from heaven descended,
In all the rays of beauty blended,
And their repentant breasts above
Thou wov'st the holy ties of love;
While by a mystic art unnamed
Of thy fair self the bonds were framed,
And ne'er did heavenly art entwine
A wreath so cheering and divine.
Lay weeping their immortal blame,
By deep remorse and sorrow toss'd,
For all their gifts and glory lost;
Even then, when grief was at the full,
And no redress their pains to lull,
Thy cherub form from heaven descended,
In all the rays of beauty blended,
And their repentant breasts above
Thou wov'st the holy ties of love;
While by a mystic art unnamed
Of thy fair self the bonds were framed,
And ne'er did heavenly art entwine
A wreath so cheering and divine.
Full soon the pair thy presence own'd;
They found their hearts to nature bound
By tie, not proved, nor understood,
A bond of kindred and of blood,
And in delight without alloy
Their hearts rejoiced in nature's joy.
The river flow'd more silvery bright,
The flowers were glowing with delight,
The young twin roses had begun
Their homage to the morning sun,
In odours breathed from bosoms meek,
And made obeisance cheek to cheek.
They found their hearts to nature bound
By tie, not proved, nor understood,
A bond of kindred and of blood,
And in delight without alloy
Their hearts rejoiced in nature's joy.
The river flow'd more silvery bright,
The flowers were glowing with delight,
The young twin roses had begun
Their homage to the morning sun,
In odours breathed from bosoms meek,
And made obeisance cheek to cheek.
In a blest world they seem'd to move,
A world of pathos and of love,
Where all was deck'd in glories new;
The sunbeam kiss'd the morning dew:
The fields were robed in deeper green;
The blue of heaven was more serene;
The birds sang sweeter in the grove,
Hailing the natal morn of love;
Not even from Eden's sacred tree
Was ever pour'd such melody.
A world of pathos and of love,
Where all was deck'd in glories new;
The sunbeam kiss'd the morning dew:
The fields were robed in deeper green;
The blue of heaven was more serene;
The birds sang sweeter in the grove,
Hailing the natal morn of love;
Not even from Eden's sacred tree
Was ever pour'd such melody.
But of all ecstasies refined,
The greatest still remain'd behind,
A new delight thrill'd and subdued,
When eye met eye with love imbued;
When he with raptures scarce terrene
First turn'd his view on nature's queen,
On that dear form whose soften'd charms
Besought protection in his arms;
Whose every look, and smile, and sigh,
Bespoke a chasten'd courtesy.
He saw her eye of deeper blue,
Her cheek grown rosier in its hue,
While her fair bosom's gentle swell
With hallow'd heavings rose and fell;
Then was thy heavenly being blest
With earthly home of holy rest,
And woman's breast was form'd to be
The tabernacle meet for thee.
The greatest still remain'd behind,
A new delight thrill'd and subdued,
When eye met eye with love imbued;
When he with raptures scarce terrene
First turn'd his view on nature's queen,
On that dear form whose soften'd charms
Besought protection in his arms;
Whose every look, and smile, and sigh,
Bespoke a chasten'd courtesy.
He saw her eye of deeper blue,
Her cheek grown rosier in its hue,
While her fair bosom's gentle swell
With hallow'd heavings rose and fell;
Then was thy heavenly being blest
With earthly home of holy rest,
And woman's breast was form'd to be
The tabernacle meet for thee.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |