University of Virginia Library

LINES

ON AN ENAMELLED PARROT IN A GOLDEN CAGE, GIVEN ME BY LADY LONDONDERRY, WITH HER HAIR IN THE CAGE DRAWER.

Though the Scarlet Loory of Manmadin
For his wings may dazzling Sungifts win,
As he bears through the spice-bowers and gum-tree groves
The beauteous boy-sovran of smiles and loves,
(Those loves as sweet to the young fresh Heart
As that honeycomb tipping his deadliest dart,
And rosy and radiantly glowing smiles,
Wild and warm as the Sun-skies of Indian Isles)
This Love-guided Loory though bright it be,
My beautiful bird, is not beauteous like thee.
Though the hues of Eve's Heavens bepaint his wings,
Tho' he bears the young King who hath conquered Kings,
Though where'er he moves he bequeathes to the breeze
A breath of Celestial Amrita-trees—
Of the Camālāta from Paradise bowers—
Of the mystic wreaths of the starry flowers—
The undying and fadeless flowers divine,
Which in beauty of bloom immortal twine
Round the pointed darts in his Rider's quiver,
Flowers—whose freshness and fragrance last on for ever!
Though thus precious this Love-guided Loory may be,
My bird, my fair bird, he must yield to thee!
The Loory that beareth Parvati's Son
Must yield to my brighter and dearer one!
Whose burthen is sweeter than his is even,
Tho' he bears the young Love-god of Brahma's Heaven—
The Son of the Lotus-born—the Heart's Lord
By a myriad vassals obeyed and adored—
The young God of Love a fair burthen may be—
But my bird—a yet fairer belongeth to thee,
For thine is bright Friendship's diviner Power—
No doubt of the heart, and no dream of the hour,
No flash on the waste, and no froth on the wave,
(Still a torrent to breast—and a tempest to brave!)
As Love's darker mystery for ever must be
In a World where the Passions are faithless as free—
Oh! mine, mine brings a welcome and wealthy freight,
Of kind loves, that shall end not in discord and hate,
Of Friendship's calm feelings—the true and the deep,
Which unclouded, unchanged their mild fervours shall keep;
Of remembrances sweet and affections dear,
Say then which doth the loveliest burthen bear?—
And the ring of crisped and of shadowy gold,
Like the locks of young Goddesses worshipped of old
That lies coiled in the drawer of the fairy cage,
(For which champions of yore had arisen to wage
The tournament's gay and chivalrous war—
While that bright Prize had shone like a glittering Star
In the eyes of the combatants gathered from far)
That delicate ring of soft sunny hair,
So airily fine, and so fairily fair!—
What lovelier token could Friendship give
To bid gentle thoughts still in absence live—
What dearer Gift could Affection send,
My loved—my charming—my beautiful Friend?