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Poems and Essays

By the late William Caldwell Roscoe. (Edited with a Prefatory Memoir, by his Brother-in-law, Richard Holt Hutton)
Roscoe, William Caldwell (1823-1859)

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MINOR POEMS.
  
[Clouds and mists and vapours dim]
  
THE FALSE FONTANLEE.
  
F. M.
  
AD PYRRHAM.
  
TO LAURA R.,
  
ARIADNE.
  
A NIGHTINGALE IN EASTBURY WOODS.
  
AFTER THE HUNGARIAN WAR.
  
OPPORTUNITY.
  
LINES AFTER MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO THE PLANET VENUS,
  
[Rarely to our mortal eyes]
  
TO THE MARCH SUN.
  
A DREAM AND NO DREAM.
  
VENIT.
  
[When I asked her, “Wilt thou kiss me?’]
  
THE GOLDEN DAYS.
  
LOVE'S CREED.
  
[On many an English lady's face]
  
EXCUSE.
  
[A presence! a glory celestial!]
  
SONG.
  
OVER THE WEST.
  
“FREI IST DER BURSCH!”
  
TO LITTLE A. C. IN THE GARDEN AT EASTBURY.
  
FOR EVER.
  
AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
AT THE SAME TIME.
  
AT NIGHT, AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
[Why fear that the departed grieves]
  
FORD GREY OF WERKE TO HIS MISTRESS.
  
[I have a thought that fain would speak]
  
“IF IT DIE, IT BRINGETH FORTH MUCH FRUIT.”
  
MUSIC.
  
A BLIND GIRL'S QUESTIONINGS.
  
BEFORE DAWN.
  
BY THE SEASHORE.
  
A VISION.
  
[Lord, at thy feet we do not kneel]
  
THE YEAR OF LOVE.
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SONNETS.
  
A WET AUTUMN.
  
AT THE CHESHIRE POINT, LINLEY WOOD.
  
[Like a musician that with flying finger]
  
AT NIGHT.
  
MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
GIBSON'S STATUE OF AURORA.
  
TO M. S.
  
M. S.
  
TO THE REV. JOHN HAMILTON THOM.
  
[O Muse the Comforter! that in this vale]
  
TO A LADY PREFERRING CALM TO PASSIONATE POETRY.
  
LAUDATRIX TEMPORIS ACTI.
  
MIDNIGHT ON NEW YEAR'S EVE.
  
THE TWO NIGHTS.
  
A CHRISTMAS SONNET.
  
[Sad is my lot; among the shining spheres]
  
TO A FRIEND IN GRIEF.
  
TO A FRIEND.
  
IN DEJECTION. I.
  
IN DEJECTION II.
  
I
  
II
  
III
  
DAYBREAK IN FEBRUARY.
  
SYMBOLS OF VICTORY.
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ELIDUKE, COUNT OF YVELOC.
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ACT I
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Scene I.
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ACT II.
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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VIOLENZIA.
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ACT I.
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ACT II.
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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Scene III.
  
[The bubble of the silver-springing waves]

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29

[Rarely to our mortal eyes]

Rarely to our mortal eyes
Comes perfect Beauty from the skies;
But in some poet's, painter's breast,
Loves rather her white feet to rest;
There sits, and bids his trembling art
Reveal the secret of his heart.
Now only, in the rolling years,
To outward vision she appears;
Treads in our halls, touches our hands,
And moves to music in our bands:
All hearts, like ever-mounting tides,
Are upward drawn where she abides.
Her eyes are twin stars Lucifer
In a quivering atmosphere;
And those cheeks they overshine,
Understained with crimson wine,
Are like torches to our hearts,
Burning up their inmost parts.
Her mouth, O carved miracle,
Is a caverned oracle,
Which more potent whispers fill
Than the old Apollian hill;
And a dear delicious death
Hides in her honey-poisoned breath.
30

Within her tresses, like a grove,
Walks the young enraptured Love;
And his shining face discovers
Often to the eyes of lovers,
Who, struck to find their god so near,
Turn white and red with sudden fear.
She moves like clouds on windy night,
A floating posture of delight;
As if the Music clasping charms
Conveyed her in its airy arms;—
An angel treading transient things,
But needing not the aid of wings.
Within this mansion doth Delight
Dwell, like the Darkness in the Night;
And from the windows looking forth
Of all her aspect, radiant Mirth
Shines like the clustered stars in heaven
When no moon burns or mists are driven.
1846.
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