The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden with Memoirs of his Life, by the Rev. James Morton |
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THE MERMAID. |
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 | The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden |  |
91
THE MERMAID.
97
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LADY CHARLOTTE CAMPBELL,
WITH
THE MERMAID.
To brighter charms depart, my simple lay,
Than grac'd of old the maid of Colonsay,
When her fond lover, lessening from her view,
With eyes reverted o'er the surge withdrew.
But happier still, should lovely Campbell sing
Thy plaintive numbers to the trembling string,
The Mermaid's melting strains would yield to thee,
Though pour'd diffusive o'er the silver sea.
Than grac'd of old the maid of Colonsay,
When her fond lover, lessening from her view,
With eyes reverted o'er the surge withdrew.
But happier still, should lovely Campbell sing
Thy plaintive numbers to the trembling string,
The Mermaid's melting strains would yield to thee,
Though pour'd diffusive o'er the silver sea.
Go boldly forth—but ah! the listening throng,
Rapt by the Syren, would forget the song!
Lo! while they pause, nor dare to gaze around,
Afraid to break the soft enchanting sound,
While swells to sympathy each fluttering heart,
'Tis not the poet's, but the Syren's art.
Rapt by the Syren, would forget the song!
Lo! while they pause, nor dare to gaze around,
Afraid to break the soft enchanting sound,
While swells to sympathy each fluttering heart,
'Tis not the poet's, but the Syren's art.
98
Go forth, devoid of fear, my simple lay!
First heard, returning from Iona's bay,
When round our bark the shades of evening drew,
And broken slumbers prest our weary crew.
While round the prow the sea-fire, flashing bright,
Shed a strange lustre o'er the waste of night;
While harsh and dismal scream'd the diving gull,
Round the dark rocks that wall the coast of Mull;
As through black reefs we held our venturous way,
I caught the wild traditionary lay;—
A wreath, no more in black Iona's isle
To bloom—but grac'd by high-born beauty's smile.
First heard, returning from Iona's bay,
When round our bark the shades of evening drew,
And broken slumbers prest our weary crew.
While round the prow the sea-fire, flashing bright,
Shed a strange lustre o'er the waste of night;
While harsh and dismal scream'd the diving gull,
Round the dark rocks that wall the coast of Mull;
As through black reefs we held our venturous way,
I caught the wild traditionary lay;—
A wreath, no more in black Iona's isle
To bloom—but grac'd by high-born beauty's smile.
| The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden | |