Poems By Edward Quillinan. With a Memoir by William Johnston |
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ON THE REPORTED VISIT OF QUEEN ADELAIDE TO WORDSWORTH. |
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 | Poems |  |
139
ON THE REPORTED VISIT OF QUEEN ADELAIDE TO WORDSWORTH.
That ancient Wizard of the Cumbrian Meres
Hath won, 'tis said, a meed to poets rare,
A visit from a Queen. If so, 'twas well;
And unabased was dignity, howe'er
August, in stooping at that poet's door.
Hath won, 'tis said, a meed to poets rare,
A visit from a Queen. If so, 'twas well;
And unabased was dignity, howe'er
August, in stooping at that poet's door.
Him, the High Druid of the oak-clad fells
And aqueous vales of our romantic North,
The breasts of thousands, yea of millions, own
To be the Seer whose power hath o'er them most
A sway like that of conscience. One whose keen
Mysterious eye peruses minds aright
Ev'n in their shyest depths, and best rebukes
The workings of that intricate machine
For evil, most accelerates the springs
That are the pulses of ingenuous deeds.
And aqueous vales of our romantic North,
The breasts of thousands, yea of millions, own
To be the Seer whose power hath o'er them most
A sway like that of conscience. One whose keen
Mysterious eye peruses minds aright
Ev'n in their shyest depths, and best rebukes
The workings of that intricate machine
For evil, most accelerates the springs
That are the pulses of ingenuous deeds.
140
He, in his sunny childhood, sported wild
Among the wild-flowers and the pensile ferns
That fringe the craggy banks of waterfalls,
Whose pools were arch'd with irises enwoven
Of spray and sunbeams: these into his mind
Pass'd, and were blent with fancies of his own;
And in that interfusion of bright hues
His soul grew up and brighten'd. On the peaks
Of mighty hills he learnt the mysteries
That float 'twixt heaven and earth. The strenuous key
Of cloud-born torrents harmonised his verse
To strength and sweetness: but the voice that brake
The cedars upon Lebanon—none else—
Taught him to rend more stubborn stocks than they,
The obdurate hearts of men: that awful voice,
Which exorcised the serpent-haunted tree
Of knowledge; and the perilous fruit, matured
And chasten'd in the light of gospel-truth,
Forbade not to that old man eloquent.
Among the wild-flowers and the pensile ferns
That fringe the craggy banks of waterfalls,
Whose pools were arch'd with irises enwoven
Of spray and sunbeams: these into his mind
Pass'd, and were blent with fancies of his own;
And in that interfusion of bright hues
His soul grew up and brighten'd. On the peaks
Of mighty hills he learnt the mysteries
That float 'twixt heaven and earth. The strenuous key
Of cloud-born torrents harmonised his verse
To strength and sweetness: but the voice that brake
The cedars upon Lebanon—none else—
Taught him to rend more stubborn stocks than they,
The obdurate hearts of men: that awful voice,
Which exorcised the serpent-haunted tree
Of knowledge; and the perilous fruit, matured
And chasten'd in the light of gospel-truth,
Forbade not to that old man eloquent.
July, 1840.
| Poems | |