Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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ON SEEING THREE YOUNG LADIES ON
GRASMERE LAKE. |
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
211
ON SEEING THREE YOUNG LADIES ON GRASMERE LAKE.
Within the compass of a little vale
There lies a Lake unknown in Fairy tale,
Which not a Poet knew in ancient days,
When all the world believed in Ghosts and Fays;
Yet on that Lake I have beheld a Boat
That seemed a fairy Pinnace all afloat,
On some bless'd mission to a distant isle,
To do meet worship to some ruined pile,
Where long of yore the Fairies used to meet
And haply hallow with their last retreat;
For all alone the boat was on the waters,
And in it three of “Beauty's youngest daughters.”
Sometimes at rest, like infant on a pillow,
Then gliding soft as light upon a billow,
When lady's hand drew nigh to lady's breast
The oar, so fond:—yet there it might not rest,
But thence dispatched, went forth like errant knight
For new achievement on the plain so bright.
Oh! when it stopped, the boat, and damsels three
Charming the calm air with their triple glee,
While all the shadows on the lake projected,
Moved little as the mountains they reflected;
It seemed a thing ordained for aye to stay
Just where it was and sleep from day to day.
And when it moved with slide and gentle stroke,
Rippling the shadow of the hanging oak,
Sole motion, only life on all the mere,
'Twas like the motion of the lapsing year,
Which none would more expect or wish to cease
Than his own pulse.
There lies a Lake unknown in Fairy tale,
Which not a Poet knew in ancient days,
When all the world believed in Ghosts and Fays;
Yet on that Lake I have beheld a Boat
That seemed a fairy Pinnace all afloat,
On some bless'd mission to a distant isle,
To do meet worship to some ruined pile,
Where long of yore the Fairies used to meet
And haply hallow with their last retreat;
For all alone the boat was on the waters,
And in it three of “Beauty's youngest daughters.”
Sometimes at rest, like infant on a pillow,
Then gliding soft as light upon a billow,
When lady's hand drew nigh to lady's breast
The oar, so fond:—yet there it might not rest,
But thence dispatched, went forth like errant knight
For new achievement on the plain so bright.
212
Charming the calm air with their triple glee,
While all the shadows on the lake projected,
Moved little as the mountains they reflected;
It seemed a thing ordained for aye to stay
Just where it was and sleep from day to day.
And when it moved with slide and gentle stroke,
Rippling the shadow of the hanging oak,
Sole motion, only life on all the mere,
'Twas like the motion of the lapsing year,
Which none would more expect or wish to cease
Than his own pulse.
The fancy of old Greece
That gave to beauty and to loveliness
The definite outline and the shape express,
Could not conceive, and therefore could not make,
Aught so divine as that still evening Lake,
With shadow deep, with gold and purple glowing,
And those three lovely maids upon its bosom rowing.
That gave to beauty and to loveliness
The definite outline and the shape express,
Could not conceive, and therefore could not make,
Aught so divine as that still evening Lake,
With shadow deep, with gold and purple glowing,
And those three lovely maids upon its bosom rowing.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |