Poetical Sketches :: :: University of Virginia Library

WILD midst the teeming buds of opening May,
Breaking large branches from the flow'ry thorn,
O'er the fern'd hills see ROSAMONDA stray,
Scattering the pearls which the gay leaves adorn!
Her ringlets o'er her temples play,
Flush'd with the orient splendour of the morn.
The sun broke forth-and wide its glories threw,
Blushing along the sky, and sparkling in the dew.
The plains gay-glitter'd with ethereal light;
And the field-melody,
Nature's wild harmony,
Breath'd love, and sang delight!

Fresh ROSAMONDE the glowing scene surveys,
Her youthful bosom inly stung with pain;

Early amid the shadowy trees she strays,
Her shining ears the starting tears restrain;
While tyrant Love within her pulses plays,
O'er the wet grass she flew with wild disdain.
She flew from thought, and far
She sang, and hail'd the morning star.
Her voice was pinion'd on the wind,
Which wafts her notes around;
Encircling zephyrs caught each sound,
And bore them echoing through the wood,
Where pleas'd offended URBAN stood,
With archest smile, yet musical and kind:
Conquering the sigh, she gayly sung,
And scorn loud-trembled on her wiery tongue.

While URBAN stood, and held her in his eyes,
He to his lips applies
The soft-breath'd flute;
Whose notes, when touch'd with art,
Steal to the inmost heart,

And throw the tyrannizing spirit down-
While vanity and pride are charm'd and mute.

Those lays reach'd ROSAMONDA'S ear,
She fluttering, like a bird whom fear
Has drawn within the fascinating serpent's fangs,
Unable to conceal the pangs
Of pride, conflicting with returning love,
To hide her blushes, darts amid the grove:
Sweet showers fast sprinkle from her lovely eyes,
Which drown her short-liv'd scorn;
But as she moves the young musician flies,
Leaves her all wild, sad, weeping, and forlorn!

NOON.

LYSANDER.

THE sun had thrown its noontide ray
Amid the flowers, and scorch'd the plains,
Which panted for refreshing rains;
While gaudy flies their golden wings display,
And bees cull'd sweets to chear a wintry day:
Each beam that darted down
Chas'd lingering shades,
Through the thick umbrage of the trees pervades,
And universal splendour shed around:
The slippery grass, burnt brown with heat,
Unkindly scorch'd the traveller's feet.

And now, oppress'd,
While every creature languid hied to rest,

Amid the blaze LYSANDER bounds along,
Bold as a lion, scorch'd by many a clime;
Far off was heard the echoes of his song,
Responsive to his clear and artless rhyme:
He seeks no shade, nor grotto's cool retreat,
But on, amidst the furzy heath, he press'd;
The heart's warm passions through his pulses beat,
And native fire inspires his manly breast.
He seeks the craggy shore which ocean laves,
And, seated on a rock, surveys the swelling waves:
The eminence th' horizon's scope commands,
The plains surrounding, and the burning strands.
O'er the wild scene he threw a happy look,
Compares the present pleasure with the past;
Gladly he turns each page of Nature's book,
And prays the freedom of his soul may last.
He roll'd his eyes
Across the seas;
Now glancing o'er the glassy waves,

Now mounting to the skies,
Th' immortal prize
Of valiant souls who find deep watery graves.

Thus as he sat, by strong reflection bound,
Up the rough rock ascends a sound,
Which piercingly pervades his ears;
It seem'd the frantic cry of woe,
Which struggling groan'd, without the aid of tears.
The sounds like lightening reach'd his heart; and flush'd
With quick alarm he made no longer stay,
Ardently down the craggy steep he rush'd,
Rough heights he leap'd, impatient of delay,
And tow'rds the sufferer bent his eager way;
Till by the sea he reach'd some rocky caves,
Lash'd by the loud-resounding waves.

There a wild female rent her golden hair,
With raging passions blind;

Her sad young bosom bare,
And frantic seem'd her stormy mind.
Swift tow'rds the sea she flies,
With direful cries;
Driven on by fierce despair,
Mid oozy waves to drown remaining sense of care.

Touch'd by each generous thought,
By strong humanity impress'd,
The damsel in his arms he caught,
And held her, struggling, to his breast.
"Why trembles thus thy soul, O wretched maid!
"O agony! too piercing agony!
"Is through thy miserable frame pourtray'd.
"O could my breast relieve thy misery!
"Just heaven! if thou hast pity, ease her pain!
"Her heart will burst! she faints within my arms!-
"Upon my bosom she reclines her charms;
"My falling tears bedew her cheeks in vain!"

He stretch'd her on the shore-
He fetch'd cool water from the seas,
And sprinkled her all o'er,
And fanning her with leaves collects the breeze:
Till on the heavens she op'd her azure eyes,
And, with returning thought and grief, look'd up-
"Ah, wretched me!" she cry'd, with bursting sighs,
"I've plenteous drank at sorrow's bitter cup!
"To GOD I fly; no help on earth I find,
"And from my soul would tear the mortal part;
"Such sad disorders fill the human mind,
"Such deep afflictions rive my guilty heart.

"I far in vice have stray'd;
"And, too severe,
"The parents who ador'd the maid,
"No sighs from my repentant heart would hear:
"Till, raging in despair,
"I franticly resolv'd to die-

"Rather than (sad alternative!) to lie
"Amid the streets, and common insults share."

Stung to the heart, she rose;
Tears stream'd from her fair eyes;
Shame in her cheeks reviv'd the damask rose,
And poignant sorrow burst in bitter sighs:
She wept all silently:
LYSANDER scarce could speak,
Though sometimes, "Cruelty! O cruelty!"
Forth from his lips would break.

With generous passions swell'd his noble breast;
Passions too strong and deep to be express'd;
Pity and rage with equal strivings beat,
And sympathy, wrought high by nat'ral heat:
"By my true soul!" at length he cried,
"As Nature's my director and my guide,
"My heart, chain'd by thy woe,
"Shall neither joy nor comfort know,

"Till I've reveng'd thy wrongs, and giv'n thee ease,
"And, by my love, have set thy troubled soul at peace.
"O! let not misery o'erwhelm thy heart,
"Nor the fair path of life and joy decline;
"Vengeance shall find the authors of thy smart-
"O! fearless rest thy drooping soul on mine,
"Which, like the oak, round which the ivy strays,
"With blessings yet may store thy future days."

The damsel's sorrow, like a furious storm,
Rack'd her celestial system with its rage;
Dire elements in her bosom war did wage,
And the mild radiance of her charms deform.
At length the vivid fires rush'd to her heart,
Tingled in ev'ry vein, blaz'd from her eyes,
While sudden joys before her spirits rise,
And o'er her cheeks warm transient colours dart:

Fir'd by his zeal,
Extatic feelings tinge her frame;
Whose glow the passions of her breast reveal
Bright blossom of a future ripening flame!

EVENING.

GERTRUDE.

IN clouds drew on the evening's close,
Which cross the west in ranges stood,
As pensive GERTRUDE sought the wood,
And there the darkest thicket chose;
While from her eyes amid the wild briar flows
A sad and briny flood.
Dark o'er her head
Roll'd heavy clouds, while showers,
Pefum'd by summer's wild and spicy flowers,
Their ample torrents shed.

Why does she mourn?
Why droop, like flowret nipp'd in early spring?
Alas! her tenderness meets no return!

Love hovers round her with his airy wing,
And warms her youthful heart with vain delight:
While URBAN's graceful form enchants her sight,
And from his eyes shoots forth the poisonous sting,
Another's charms th' impassion'd youth imspir'd,
The sportive ROSAMONDE his genius fir'd.

The drops which glide down GERTRUDE'S cheeks,
Mid bitter agonies did flow;
And though awhile her pallid lips might glow,
'Twas as a blossom blighted soon with woe:
Her disregarded tresses, wet with tears,
Hung o'er her panting bosom straight and sleek;
Her faithful heart was all despondency and fears.

The skies disgorg'd, their last large drops refrain,
The cloudy hemisphere's no more perturb'd;
The leafy boughs, that had receiv'd the rain,
With gusts of wind disturb'd,

Shake wild their scattering drops o'er glade and plain;
They fall on GERTRUDE'S breast, and her white garments stain.
Sighing, she threw her mantle o'er her head,
And through the brakes towards her mansion sped;
Unheedingly her vestments drew along,
Sweeping the tears that to the branches hung:
And as she pass'd
O'er the soak'd road, from off the shining grass,
In clods around her feet the moist earth clung.

The clouds dispers'd, again to sight
The evening sun glow'd lambent bright;
And forcing back the lowering shades,
Spread its enlivening beams, and kindled mid the glades:
With high-wrought verdure every object glow'd,
And purple hills their glittering mansions show'd.
The universal gleam invites to sport,
For toil and care cease with the ebbing day;

Th' industrious youths to plains or groves resort,
Dance on the lawn, or o'er the hillocks stray.

GERTRUDE, wandering up a lane,
From among the winding trees,
Fann'd by a refreshing breeze,
Ascends upon the glistening plain.
Across gay Iris flung her bow,
Reflecting each celestial ray;
As if the flowers that deck'd the May
Were there exhal'd, and through its watery pores did glow.

From a fair covert, URBAN'S gay resort,
A whistling pipe in warbling notes respir'd;
The well-known sound invites each youth to sport,
And every heart its harmony inspir'd;
While from each mead,
So thick with daisies spread,

The bounding nymphs with fairy lightness sprung,
And gayly wild their sportive sonnets sung;
The air was scented by the odorous flowers,
Bright sprinkled with the dew of fresh-fall'n show'rs.

Of lively grace, and dimpled smiles,
Slim CYNTHIA, the refin'd,
Came, with neat PHILLIS, full of tricksome wiles;
While SILVIUS stroll'd behind,
Chas'd by the marble-hearted ROSALIND:
The loud and witty large-mouth MADGE,
With her obsequious servant HODGE.

Blythe from the mill, which briskly turning round
Made the young zephyrs breathe a rural sound,
Leap'd CHARLES, gay glowing with industrious heat,
Active to lead in every rustic feat:
Back from his brows he shook his wavy locks,
And turning quick his lively eyes,

His lovely, modest PEGGY spies,
Returning with her aged father's flocks.
Straight with his hand he gave his heart sincere,
Devoid of order danc'd, and whistled loud and clear.

HEBE, a blooming, sprightly fair,
With shallow HED, an ill-match'd pair;
Simple DAPHNE, rosy JOHN,
And ever-blundering HELESON:
From a large mansion, gloom'd by shading trees,
Forth sprung the star-ey'd LUISSE;
Graceful her tresses flow'd around,
Like scatter'd clouds, that catch the moon's pale beams;
Scarcely she seem'd to touch the verdant ground,
But, as inspired, along the plain she streams.
More join the flock;-they spring in air,
Light as wing'd doves, and like to doves they pair;
The sun's last ray now linger'd o'er their head,
And sweets delectable around were spread.

Poor GERTRUDE, hid amongst the trees, survey'd
Each ardent youth, each blooming maid;
And as she gaz'd,
Pleasure by slow degrees within her senses steals:
Her eyes, with tears impearl'd, she rais'd,
Her heart each sweet sensation feels;
Lightly her feet the grassy meadows tread,
While music's power deludes her from her cares;
Among the nymphs, by its soft influence led,
Her sympathetic breast their raptures shares.

Thus while she felt, and join'd the lively throng,
Lo! quick ascends the plain
The glory of each swain,
URBAN, with sportive song,
Whose chearful notes in frolic measures fled;
While ROSAMONDE,
Fleet-footed, glowing ROSAMONDE, he led:
The rapture of the lark her voice sent forth,
Too well, ah! GERTRUDE knew its worth;

Dire tremblings soon her spirits seize:
Could she, vain untaught nymph, aspire to please?
Her body owns no grace,
No smiles, no dimples, deck her eyes or face:
She feels that she has nought to prize;
Yet, totally devoid of art,
Expression's charm was her's, with beaming eyes,
A voice far-reaching, and a feeling heart.

She turn'd around-
The flying breezes loosen'd to the air
Her ill-beseeming vests, her scatter'd hair:
So sad she look'd, so artless was her woe,
As from a thinking mind had drawn a tear;
But joy through every vein had stole,
And mirth shut out the sympathetic glow.
The heart's gay dance admits of no controul,
Sweet joys but seldom through our senses steal;
Tis pity then we should forget to feel.

Gay wicked wit amid the circles spread,
And wanton round the lively sallies sped;
Each neat-trimm'd maiden laugh'd with playful glee,
Whom whispering swains divert with mimickry.
Fair ROSAMONDE, whose rival bosom burn'd,
With taunting mirth directs young URBAN'S eyes;
He, with mischievous archness, smiles return'd,
Amid whose circles wounding satires rise;
Their sportive feet still beat the flowery ground,
While wicked looks, and jests, and jeers went round.

Pierc'd by their insults, stung with bitter smart,
Sad fell poor GERTRUDE'S tears, high heav'd her heart.
Distant she flew, and siting on a stone,
Conceal'd, gave sorrow vent, and wept alone:
Till 'mid her grief, a virtuous just disdain
Came to her aid, and made her bosom glow;
With shame she burns, she blushes at her woe,
And wonders at her weakness and her pain.

"Unhappy maid!" she cry'd, "thou art to blame,
"Thus to expose thy virtuous breast to shame:
"Poor heart! thy love is laugh'd at for its truth;
"Yet 'tis a holy treasure, though disdain'd,
"And wantonly by thoughtlessness profan'd;
"Ah! why then waste the blessings of thy youth?
"No more fair reason's sacred light despise;
"Thy heart may blessings find
"That dwell not in the eyes,
"But in the virtues of the feeling mind."

NIGHT.

SOLEMN is night, when Silence holds her reign,
And the hush'd winds die on the heaving main;
When no short gleam of scatter'd light appears,
Nor lunar beams make faint the nobler stars;
Then those whom inward cares deprive of rest
Pour forth the secret sorrows of the breast.

Such was the night-smooth glides the bark along,
From whence young HENRY breath'd his thoughtful song;
Pacing the deck, he threw his eyes around
The thick-starr'd firmament, and vast profound;
The patient winds scarce whistled o'er the waist,
The burning waves the vessel's prow embrac'd;
The nitrous air unclouded glow'd on high,
With northern meteors trembling through the sky.

"Eternal Power!" he cried, "with justice fraught,
"O! teach a wretch to curb each stubborn thought,
"Whose passions reason's powers no more restrain,
"Grown wanton midst intolerable pain.

"Pierc'd by ingratitude, I rove forlorn,
"My faithful heart from strong affection's torn;
"A willing exile on the dangerous main,
"Unshook by storms, while calms breathe peace in vain.
"Oft with unmanly tenderness I mourn;
"And, tortur'd by imagination, burn;
"Sighs in a natural cadence close each song,
"And tones of anguish vibrate on my tongue.

"All is now hush'd, still as the silent grave,
"The breeze scarce swells the smooth unruffled wave,
"Which glittering with celestial lustre bright,
"Reflects the spangled heaven's ethereal light:

"O! how sublime this tract, for man design'd!
"Vast the perceptions of his rapid mind!
"Strongly to earth his young affections cling,
"While Fancy waves her bright and various wing;
"But soon each hope of earthly bliss is cross'd,
"Nipt in the bud, or in possession lost;
"Blushing, our empty wishes we survey,
"When we our passions with their motives weigh.

"Deeply I feel this still and solemn hour,
"Impress'd with GOD'S immeasurable power;
"While worlds unnumber'd 'mid yon ether burn,
"And thoughts immense pour in where'er I turn.
"How much man errs, whose soul, with thought sublime,
"Looks on tow'rds endless bliss thro' boundless time!
"When he to earthly passions gives dire sway,
"Or mourns those joys which of themselves decay!