Miscellaneous Poems by Henry Francis Lyte |
 |
Fragments
OF AN UNFINISHED POEM, ENTITLED LILLA
A FAIRY TALE |
 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
235
Fragments OF AN UNFINISHED POEM, ENTITLED LILLA A FAIRY TALE
'Tis pleasant to walk the broad sea-shore
When the soul is dark, or the heart is sore.
The waves give forth a soothing sound,
As they boom along the shelving ground;
The crispness of the salt-sea air
Breathes fresh on the fever'd brow of care:
And the waters, melting into the sky,
Send the spirit on to Eternity!
So felt Sir Rupert, as o'er the sands
That skirted his own brave house and lands
He paced, but in dark regardless mood
Of aught that there his attention woo'd.
The sky was clear, and the sun was bright,
The blue waves danced in the shifting light,
And the foam-bells on the sand uproll'd
Like silvery fret on a floor of gold.
The far white ships sail'd stately by,
The sea-mew flitted and laugh'd on high.
But all appear'd in vain to woo
Sir Rupert's thoughts to a livelier hue.
When the soul is dark, or the heart is sore.
The waves give forth a soothing sound,
As they boom along the shelving ground;
The crispness of the salt-sea air
Breathes fresh on the fever'd brow of care:
And the waters, melting into the sky,
Send the spirit on to Eternity!
So felt Sir Rupert, as o'er the sands
That skirted his own brave house and lands
236
Of aught that there his attention woo'd.
The sky was clear, and the sun was bright,
The blue waves danced in the shifting light,
And the foam-bells on the sand uproll'd
Like silvery fret on a floor of gold.
The far white ships sail'd stately by,
The sea-mew flitted and laugh'd on high.
But all appear'd in vain to woo
Sir Rupert's thoughts to a livelier hue.
From that mysterious race I'm sprung
That lived with man, when the world was young:
But ever since envy and lust possess'd,
And ruled and sullied his own pure breast,
They have fled from earthly folly and art,
And dwell in a world of their own apart:
Hiding in Nature's secluded bowers,
Watching and tending her fruits and flowers,
Giving the blossom its scent and hue,
And the fainting leaf its drink of dew;
Spanning the shower with its bright brief arch
Leading the seasons their stately march,
Staying the storm in his fierce career.—
These are the tasks which engage us here.
Not that we less count man our friend,
Or fail on his homely wants to tend.
We note the housewife's honest cares,
And speed her labours all unawares.
We succour the mower down in the mead,
And help the ploughman to sow his seed.
We smooth the pillow where sickness lies,
And shake sweet sleep o'er the infant's eyes.
But we mingle not in man's vain affairs,
Nor darken our path with his fears and cares;
And the Court, the City, the festive hall,
We feel as strangers amidst them all.
That lived with man, when the world was young:
But ever since envy and lust possess'd,
And ruled and sullied his own pure breast,
They have fled from earthly folly and art,
And dwell in a world of their own apart:
Hiding in Nature's secluded bowers,
Watching and tending her fruits and flowers,
237
And the fainting leaf its drink of dew;
Spanning the shower with its bright brief arch
Leading the seasons their stately march,
Staying the storm in his fierce career.—
These are the tasks which engage us here.
Not that we less count man our friend,
Or fail on his homely wants to tend.
We note the housewife's honest cares,
And speed her labours all unawares.
We succour the mower down in the mead,
And help the ploughman to sow his seed.
We smooth the pillow where sickness lies,
And shake sweet sleep o'er the infant's eyes.
But we mingle not in man's vain affairs,
Nor darken our path with his fears and cares;
And the Court, the City, the festive hall,
We feel as strangers amidst them all.
238
'Tis merry, 'tis merry in Colmar towers,
On Rostan's hills, and in Binda's bowers,
In humble cot, and in stately hall;
There are happy looks and hearts in all.
The cloud that hung o'er the whole is fled,
And the broad clear sun laughs out instead.
One influence sweet, one presence bright,
Has quicken'd the darkness into light.
Woman's soft smile is in Colmar found,
And it blesses and gladdens all around.
This Rupert felt, as from day to day
Lilla spread round her gentle sway;
All, all beneath her influence grew
To a better tone, to a brighter hue.
Old Colmar's courts no longer wore
Their lorn and desolate air of yore;
A cheerful bustle ran through the place,
Content sat beaming on every face;
And active feet and diligent hands,
Eager to work her light commands;
And all on their various tasks intent,
At their Lady's bidding came and went.
All into life by her eye seem'd warm'd;
All to her own sweet will conform'd;
Till throughout that grim old gothic pile
Order and neatness began to smile;
And comfort lighted up there a home
That stole from the heart all wish to roam.
Nor less did improvement win its way
O'er all that around the castle lay.
The lawn, of late so rugged and wild,
Like emerald velvet now glow'd and smiled.
The walk with mosses and weeds o'erspread
Woo'd the light step o'er its gravelly bed.
Trees and shrubs that had wont to swing
Their long lank arms on the wild-wind's wing,
Were taught to conform their savage will
To the eye of taste and the hand of skill.
The fount, that long had forgot to play,
Sparkled once more in the morning ray.
The vine clung again to the elm-tree tall,
And the plum hung blue on the garden wall.—
And then the flowers, the laughing flowers,
The playmates of Lilla's earliest hours,
How did she revel among them! how
Watch, and nurse, and enjoy them now!
Whether they grew on the wild bank, known
To the wandering bee and the lark alone;
Or bloom'd in the garden's courtly bed,
Like orient beauties in harem bred;
From the queen-like rose to the harebell small,
Gentle and simple she loved them all.
On Rostan's hills, and in Binda's bowers,
In humble cot, and in stately hall;
There are happy looks and hearts in all.
The cloud that hung o'er the whole is fled,
And the broad clear sun laughs out instead.
One influence sweet, one presence bright,
Has quicken'd the darkness into light.
Woman's soft smile is in Colmar found,
And it blesses and gladdens all around.
This Rupert felt, as from day to day
Lilla spread round her gentle sway;
All, all beneath her influence grew
To a better tone, to a brighter hue.
Old Colmar's courts no longer wore
Their lorn and desolate air of yore;
A cheerful bustle ran through the place,
Content sat beaming on every face;
And active feet and diligent hands,
239
And all on their various tasks intent,
At their Lady's bidding came and went.
All into life by her eye seem'd warm'd;
All to her own sweet will conform'd;
Till throughout that grim old gothic pile
Order and neatness began to smile;
And comfort lighted up there a home
That stole from the heart all wish to roam.
Nor less did improvement win its way
O'er all that around the castle lay.
The lawn, of late so rugged and wild,
Like emerald velvet now glow'd and smiled.
The walk with mosses and weeds o'erspread
Woo'd the light step o'er its gravelly bed.
Trees and shrubs that had wont to swing
Their long lank arms on the wild-wind's wing,
Were taught to conform their savage will
To the eye of taste and the hand of skill.
240
Sparkled once more in the morning ray.
The vine clung again to the elm-tree tall,
And the plum hung blue on the garden wall.—
And then the flowers, the laughing flowers,
The playmates of Lilla's earliest hours,
How did she revel among them! how
Watch, and nurse, and enjoy them now!
Whether they grew on the wild bank, known
To the wandering bee and the lark alone;
Or bloom'd in the garden's courtly bed,
Like orient beauties in harem bred;
From the queen-like rose to the harebell small,
Gentle and simple she loved them all.
She loved whatever was lovely here;
And flowers, sweet flowers, to her heart were dear.
She knew their ways, and her joy and pride
Was to gather them round her from every side,
To give them the site which themselves would choose,
To trim their leaves, and to match their hues;
A staff in the weak one's hand to place,
And lift to the sun its small pale face;
To bring the diffident out to view,
The bold to check, and the proud subdue.
Not one of them all but had its share
Of her watchful love and judicious care.
She flitted among them as if on wings,
And talk'd to them all as to living things.
And they as conscious how great their bliss,
Held up their cheeks for a passing kiss;
Flung in her pathway their sweetest scent,
And smiled and nodded as on she went.
And flowers, sweet flowers, to her heart were dear.
She knew their ways, and her joy and pride
Was to gather them round her from every side,
241
To trim their leaves, and to match their hues;
A staff in the weak one's hand to place,
And lift to the sun its small pale face;
To bring the diffident out to view,
The bold to check, and the proud subdue.
Not one of them all but had its share
Of her watchful love and judicious care.
She flitted among them as if on wings,
And talk'd to them all as to living things.
And they as conscious how great their bliss,
Held up their cheeks for a passing kiss;
Flung in her pathway their sweetest scent,
And smiled and nodded as on she went.
They wander down to the broad sea-shore,
But not in his once dark spirit of yore.
Now, not a wild wing that across them flies,
Not a light shell in their path that lies,
Nothing in ocean, or earth, or sky,
Fails to awaken their sympathy.
Or, if the sun with his fiercer rays
Drives their steps to the woodland ways,
The squirrel is there with his chattering glee,
And the jay glad shouting from tree to tree;
And the rabbit stirring the ferns among,
And the pheasant sunning her speckled young,
Oh! nature a golden harvest yields
To all who will glean in her varied fields;
But their brightest tints her objects wear
When those that we love are nigh to share!
But not in his once dark spirit of yore.
242
Not a light shell in their path that lies,
Nothing in ocean, or earth, or sky,
Fails to awaken their sympathy.
Or, if the sun with his fiercer rays
Drives their steps to the woodland ways,
The squirrel is there with his chattering glee,
And the jay glad shouting from tree to tree;
And the rabbit stirring the ferns among,
And the pheasant sunning her speckled young,
Oh! nature a golden harvest yields
To all who will glean in her varied fields;
But their brightest tints her objects wear
When those that we love are nigh to share!
And oh! she was rich in each social wile,
The night of its weariness to beguile!
She spoke, and mute attention hung,
Persuasion dwelt on her silver tongue;
Sweet fancies, clad in sweetest words,
Held the charm'd ear with magic chords,
And judgment clear, and taste refined,
Brought food alike to the heart and mind.
And when her favourite songs she sung,
The birds stay'd theirs;—the soft winds hung
Entranced around her to catch the tone,
And by her music to mend their own.
The night of its weariness to beguile!
She spoke, and mute attention hung,
Persuasion dwelt on her silver tongue;
243
Held the charm'd ear with magic chords,
And judgment clear, and taste refined,
Brought food alike to the heart and mind.
And when her favourite songs she sung,
The birds stay'd theirs;—the soft winds hung
Entranced around her to catch the tone,
And by her music to mend their own.
Each lived for each, one will, one heart;
Without a thought or a wish apart.
As streams, from opposite hills that run,
But meet in the valley, and blend in one,
Their murmurs hush'd, and their wanderings past,
Glide on together in peace at last!
Without a thought or a wish apart.
As streams, from opposite hills that run,
But meet in the valley, and blend in one,
Their murmurs hush'd, and their wanderings past,
Glide on together in peace at last!
SONG.
Weep on! weep on! 'tis a world of woe;
'Tis vain to expect aught else below.
The life of man has but one true tone,
From its infantile cry, to its dying groan.
Each step he takes through a land of gloom,
But carries him onward to the tomb;
And all that he meets with as he goes
Talks to his heart of the solemn close.
'Tis vain to expect aught else below.
244
From its infantile cry, to its dying groan.
Each step he takes through a land of gloom,
But carries him onward to the tomb;
And all that he meets with as he goes
Talks to his heart of the solemn close.
Weep on; there are many with man to weep,
The murmuring winds, and the moaning deep;
The fading flower, and the falling dews,
And the year expiring in dolphin hues.
What says the rainbow's beautiful dream?
Or the sunset's brief but gorgeous gleam?
Or the summer lightning, now come, now gone?—
We shine but to fade! Weep on! weep on!
The murmuring winds, and the moaning deep;
The fading flower, and the falling dews,
And the year expiring in dolphin hues.
What says the rainbow's beautiful dream?
Or the sunset's brief but gorgeous gleam?
Or the summer lightning, now come, now gone?—
We shine but to fade! Weep on! weep on!
Weep on! it is good on this earth to weep:
If we sow in tears, we in joy may reap.
While the hopes that we madly cherish there
But pave the way to some new despair.
Pale is the young cheek's richest bloom
When it strews the path to an early tomb;
And dim the fire of the brightest eye
When a beacon that points to mortality.
If we sow in tears, we in joy may reap.
245
But pave the way to some new despair.
Pale is the young cheek's richest bloom
When it strews the path to an early tomb;
And dim the fire of the brightest eye
When a beacon that points to mortality.
Weep on! weep on!
| Miscellaneous Poems | |