Songs of a Stranger by Louisa Stuart Costello |
 |
ON A PICTURE OF CUPID RESTING ON HIS BOW AND
GAZING IN A STREAM. |
 | Songs of a Stranger |  |
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ON A PICTURE OF CUPID RESTING ON HIS BOW AND GAZING IN A STREAM.
Thy bow unstrung, thy beaming eyes
Fix'd on the sparkling waves below,
That, trembling in their glad surprise,
In softer, sweeter, murmurs flow:
Upon the margin of the stream
Thou standest, lost in fancy's dream,
And wondering at the lovely shade
Thy own enchanting form has made.
Fix'd on the sparkling waves below,
That, trembling in their glad surprise,
In softer, sweeter, murmurs flow:
Upon the margin of the stream
Thou standest, lost in fancy's dream,
And wondering at the lovely shade
Thy own enchanting form has made.
And hast thou never known till now
The radiance of that heavenly brow?—
Nor deem'd, until reflected there,
The form that charms the world was fair?
The radiance of that heavenly brow?—
Nor deem'd, until reflected there,
The form that charms the world was fair?
Narcissus-like, thy fairer face,
Thy bending form's celestial grace,
Chains thee, enamour'd, to the spot—
Thy victims and thy sway forgot!
Thy bending form's celestial grace,
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Thy victims and thy sway forgot!
Oh! wake not from that vision's power!
Still rooted, bloom!—a lovely flower:
And let oblivion's veil be spread
O'er bosoms that too long have bled!
As fair, as fix'd, for ever be;—
Gaze on, and let the world be free!
Still rooted, bloom!—a lovely flower:
And let oblivion's veil be spread
O'er bosoms that too long have bled!
As fair, as fix'd, for ever be;—
Gaze on, and let the world be free!
| Songs of a Stranger | |