Poetic Sketches Part 9

Meek Maid! that sitting on yon lofty tower, View'st the calm floods that wildly beat below, Be off!--yon sunbeam veils a heavy shower, Which sets my heart with joy a aching, oh!

For why, O maid, with locks of jetty flax, Should grief convulse my heart with joyful knocks?

It is but reasonable you should ax, Because it soundeth like a paradox.

Hear, then, bright virgin! if the rain comes down, 'Twill wet the roads, and spoil my morning ride; But it will also spoil thy bran-new gown, And therefore cure thee of thy cursed pride.

Moral--this sonnet, if well understood, Shows the same thing may bring both harm and good.

LINES,

DELIVERED AFTER THE REPRESENTATION OF A PLAY AT A YOUNG LADIES' BOARDING SCHOOL.

When first the infant bird attempts to fly, And cautious spreads its pinions to the sky, Each happy breeze the timid trav'ller cheers, a.s.sists its efforts, and allays its fears; Return'd--how pleas'd it views the shelt'ring nest From which it rose, with doubt and fear oppress'd.

Like this, is ours; this night we ventur'd out On juv'nile wing, appall'd by many a doubt, Cheer'd by your sanction, every peril o'er, With joy we hail this welcome, friendly sh.o.r.e: Our little band, ambitious now to raise A pleasing off'ring for your wreath of praise On them bestow'd, depute me here to tell The lively feelings that their bosoms swell; For your indulgent and parental part, They feel the triumph of a grateful heart: That, each revolving year shall truly prove, How much they honor, how sincere they love; And for your fostering care will make return By filial duty, and desire to learn.

ON THE DEATH OF

GENERAL SIR RALPH ABERCROMBIE.

Mute, memory stands, at valor's awful shrine, In tears Britannia mourns her hero dead; A world's regret, brave Abercrombie's thine.

For nature sorrow'd as thy spirit fled!

For, not the tear that matchless courage claims To honest zeal, and soft compa.s.sion due, Alone is thine--o'er thy ador'd remains Each virtue weeps, for all once liv'd in you.

Yes, on thy deeds exulting I could dwell, To speak the merits of thy honor'd name; But, ah! what need my humble muse to tell, When rapture's self has echo'd forth thy fame?

Yet, still thy name its energies shall deal, When wild-storms gather round thy country's sun; Her glowing youth shall grasp the gleamy steel, Rank'd round the glorious wreaths which thou hast won!

TO ..........

In vain, sweet Maid! for me you bring The first-blown blossoms of the spring; My tearful cheek you wipe in vain, And bid its pale rose bloom again.

In vain! unconscious, did I say?

Oh! you alone these tears can stay: Alone, the pale rose can renew, Whose sunshine is a smile for you.

Yet not in friendship's smile it lives; Too cold the gifts that friendship gives: The beam that warms a winter's day, Plays coldly in the lap of may.

You bid my sad heart cease to swell; But will you, if its tale I tell, Nor turn away, nor frown the while, But smile, as you were wont to smile?

Then bring me not the blossoms young, That erst on Flora's forehead hung; But round thy radiant temples twine, The flowers whose flaunting mocks at mine.

Give me--nor pinks, nor pansies gay, Nor violets, fading fast away, Nor myrtle, rue, nor rosemary, But give, oh give, thyself to me!

_SONNET_.

TO MELANCHOLY.

To thy unhappy courts a lonely guest I come, corroding Melancholy, where, Sequester'd from the world, this woe-worn breast May yet indulge a solitary tear!

For what should cheer the wretch's struggling heart; What lead him thro' misfortunes gloomy shades; When retrospection wings her keenest dart, And hope's dim land in misery's ocean fades?

Adieu, for ever! visionary joys, Delusive shadows of a short-liv'd hour; The rod of woe invincible, destroys The light, the fairy fabric of your pow'r!

How short of bliss the sublunary reign, How long the clouded days of misery and pain!

PROMETHEUS.

What sov'reign good shall satiate man's desires, Propell'd by hope's unconquerable fires?

Vain, each bright bauble by ambition priz'd; Unwon, 'tis worshipp'd--but possess'd, despis'd: Yet, all defect with virtue shines allied, _His_ mightiest impulse, Genius owes to pride; From conquer'd science grac'd with glorious spoils, He still dares on, demands sublimer toils, And, had not nature check'd his vent'rous wing, His eye had pierc'd her at her primal spring.

Thus, when enwrapt, Prometheus strove to trace Inspir'd perceptions of celestial grace, Th' ideal spirit, fugitive as wind, Art's forceful spells in adamant confin'd; Curv'd with nice chisel, floats the obsequious line, From stone unconscious, beauty beams divine, On magic pois'd, th' exulting structure swims, And spurns attraction with elastic limbs.

While ravish'd fancy vivifies the form, While judgment toils to a.n.a.lyze its charm, While admiration spreads her speaking hands, The lofty artist undelighted stands; He longs to ravish, from the blest abodes, The seal of heaven, the attribute of G.o.ds, To give his labor's more than man can give, Breathe Jove's own breath, and bid the marble live!

Won from her woof, embellishing the skies, Descending Pallas soothes her votry's sighs; Where, 'mid the twilight of o'er-arching groves, By waking visions led, th' enthusiast roves, Like summer suns, by showery clouds conceal'd, With sudden blaze the G.o.ddess shines reveal'd; Behold, she cries, in thy distinguish'd cause, I challenge Jove's inexorable laws!

With life's stol'n essence let the awaken'd stone A superhuman generation own: Defrauded nature shall admire the deed, And time recoil at thy immortal meed.

Impregn'd with action, and convok'd to breathe, Sighs the still form his ardent hands beneath; Electric l.u.s.tres flash from either eye, O'er its pale cheeks suffusing flushes fly, And glossy damps its cl.u.s.t'ring curls adorn, Like dew-drops brightening on the brows of morn; Thro' nerves that vibrates in unfolding chains Foams the warm life-blood, excavating veins, 'Till all infus'd, and organiz'd the whole, The finish'd fabric hails the breathing soul!

Then, wak'd tumultuous in th' alarmed breast, Contending pa.s.sions claim th' etherial guest, And still, as each alternate empire proves, She hopes, she fears, she envies, and she loves, Owns all sensations that divide the span, And eternize the little life of man.