The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden with Memoirs of his Life, by the Rev. James Morton |
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THE FAN.
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 | The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden |  |
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THE FAN.
ADDRESSED TO A LADY IN 1802.
The fan, as Syrian poets sing,
Was first a radiant angel's wing.
When heaven consign'd each mortal fair
To some pure spirit's guardian care,
When sun-beams slept on Eden's vale,
The rustling pennon wak'd the gale;
And shed from every downy plume,
At tepid noon, a sweet perfume.
As softly smil'd each artless fair,
Her angel left the fields of air,
Sunk in the blushing nymph's embrace
A mortal of terrestrial race.
Was first a radiant angel's wing.
When heaven consign'd each mortal fair
To some pure spirit's guardian care,
When sun-beams slept on Eden's vale,
The rustling pennon wak'd the gale;
And shed from every downy plume,
At tepid noon, a sweet perfume.
As softly smil'd each artless fair,
Her angel left the fields of air,
Sunk in the blushing nymph's embrace
A mortal of terrestrial race.
Hence, many an eastern bard can tell
How for the fair the angels fell:
And those who laugh at beauty's thrall,
I ween, must like the angels fall.
How for the fair the angels fell:
And those who laugh at beauty's thrall,
I ween, must like the angels fall.
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Anacreon wish'd to be a dove,
To flutter o'er his sleeping love;
To drink her humid breath, and blow
The fresh gale o'er her breast of snow;
Breathe o'er her flushing cheek the breeze,
Nay, be her fan the fair to please.—
But I would be nor fan nor dove,
If, dearest, I might be thy love.
To flutter o'er his sleeping love;
To drink her humid breath, and blow
The fresh gale o'er her breast of snow;
Breathe o'er her flushing cheek the breeze,
Nay, be her fan the fair to please.—
But I would be nor fan nor dove,
If, dearest, I might be thy love.
| The Poetical Remains of the late Dr. John Leyden | |