Vignettes In Verse Part 3

XVI.

To MRS. A.

An Hour was before me, no creature more bright, More airy, more joyous, e'er sprang on my sight.

To catch and to fetter I instantly tried, And "thou art my slave, pretty vagrant," I cried.

I had hold, and securely I thought, of its wing, O! how I shall glory, so lovely a thing To place by the cradle of friendship, and see, With the aid of my captive, if I can be free.

Oh! while she is with me, some means may be found To temper the air and to hallow the ground-- To make those entangling bind-weeds decay, Drive Suspicion, who rear'd them, for ever away, And leave all around, kind, and healthful, and gay!

When this can be compa.s.s'd, I'll build me a bower, And twine in the trellice each sweet-scented flower-- Rare, delicate plants, whose large, fresh leaves shall fling Green shadows, where birds in the stillness may sing.

A place of repose, when the spirit is faint, And the heart wants to utter a pa.s.sing complaint: Of safety; for pure and serene be the air, And nothing unkind or unholy be there!

In this sacred retreat I my cares would confide, And there my half-forming opinions should hide; If true, gather strength for the brightness of day-- If false, in the shade, unreprov'd, die away!

How fondly I nourish'd these hopes, but in vain!

The calm and the stillness I could not retain; My Hour fled away, every wish unfulfill'd, And warm'd not the Friendship Suspicion had chill'd!

XVII.

LINES

_Sent to a Brother on his leaving England_.

May 2, 1816.

FANCIFUL BOUQUET.

_Hopes_ all glowing, _Wishes_ rare, _Blessings_ mixed with many a _Prayer_, Flowers as yet beyond compare, Though flourishing in northern air.

_Farewells_ twined with tender _Fears_, _Golden day-dreams_, gemm'd with tears, _Affections_ nurtur'd many years, Before this perfect bloom appears.

_Thoughts_ of fondness and of pride, _Love-vanities_ we need not hide; _Heart-blossoms_, in its crimson dyed, For you, are here together tied.

And yet they all appear too poor, Though goodness can ensure no more; Though monarchs, whom the world adore, Would purchase such with all their store.

And while this charmed gift we send, We know where'er your footsteps bend, The looks and tones that win the friend, That kindness, nature, truth, attend,

Are yours, and must be with you still, Angelic guards, go where they will, To ward off much surrounding ill, And happiest destinies fulfil.

XVIII.

_Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a conversation similar to the subject, with the Damon of the Story_.

Believing love was all a bubble, And wooing but a needless trouble, Damon grew fond of posied rings, And many such romantic things; But whether it were Fortune's spite, That study wound his brain too tight, Or that his fancy play'd him tricks, He could not on the lady fix.

He look'd around, And often found, A damsel pa.s.sing fair; "_She's good enough,_" he then would cry, And rub his hands, and wink his eye, "_I'll be enamour'd there!_"

He thus resolved; but had not power To hold the humour "_half an hour_"-- And critics, vers'd in Cupid's laws, Pretended they had found a clause, In an old volume on the shelf;-- Which said, if arrows chanc'd to fly, When no bright nymph was pa.s.sing by, And lighted on a vacant breast; The swain, Narcissus-like possest, Strait doated on himself!

If so, his anxious friends declar'd All future trouble might be spar'd: A heart thus pierc'd would never rove, Nor meanly seek a second love; No distance e'er could give him pain-- No rivalry torment his brain.

Self-love will bear a many knocks, A thousand mortifying shocks; One moment languish in despair, The next alert and debonair.

Poor Damon bit his nails and sigh'd, But still he was not satisfied; He could not rest, nor be content, Until to Cupid's court he went.

Of rules establish'd in the place, Or, how to enter with a grace, He own'd he neither knew nor car'd, But thought _such nonsense better spar'd_, And went undaunted and alone To place himself before the throne.

He kiss'd no hand, he bent no knee, Nor measur'd steps of one, two, three, But made a careless, slouching bow, And said, "Your highness will allow, That I am personable, tall, A rather handsome face withal, And fit to serve as volunteer, At least as any present here!

Purblind, and deaf, and long and short, Without distinction here resort; Whilst I, neglected and forgot, Sate daily watching in my cot; And scarcely stirr'd, for fear there might, Arrive that morning or that night A captaincy, or some commission, For I confess I have ambition, And think if none had done me wrong I had not been o'erlook'd so long.

To come then, Sir, I thought my duty, Oh! make me sensible to beauty!

The ice about my bosom melt!

Infuse a warmth it never felt!

I come uncall'd! excuse my boldness!

In truth I could not bear the coldness!"

Half piqued to see him thus intrude, And question in a way so rude; Half tickled at the strange address, Cupid said gravely, "We confess There may be reason in your plea; But still we very much admire Your entering in such strange attire!

We cannot such omissions see, And countenance--It should appear, You know not we are sovereign here!

The soldiers of our chosen band Approach not till we give command.

We every look and action sway, And they with prompt delight obey.

For height, and size, and such like things, We care far less than other kings; But station, learning, no pretence, Can make us with our power dispense.

The warrior must not here look big, The lawyer doffs his forked wig, The portly merchant rich and free, Forgets his pride and bends the knee; The doctor gives his terrors scope, And, like a patient, whines for hope; In short the wise have childish fits, And fools and madmen find their wits.

"Then go--this silly pride subdue, And thou shall be our servant too!

Acquire the courtly way of speech, Not, 'do you hear?' but, 'I beseech.'

And let a suitor's voice and air, Thy grievances and zeal declare, We never scorn a humble prayer!"

Expecting then a heart submiss, He held him forth his hand to kiss; For petrified the while he spoke, With troubled wonder in his look Poor Damon stood; aghast, suspended, But gain'd his senses as he ended; Abruptly turning on his toe, "I thank you, Master Cupid, no!

I am a freeman and a brave, And will not stoop to be a slave.

Your rules will never do for me, I'd rather learn the rule of three-- "And since I find it is the plan, To make me an automaton, I'll case my heart in triple mail, And fence it so completely round, That all this vaunted skill shall fail, Those blunted arrows back rebound; For know, usurper! from this hour, I scorn thy laws, abjure thy power!

From this dear moment I despise The whole artillery of eyes; Reason alone shall be my guide, And Reason's voice shall win my bride.

Some bonny la.s.s shall say I can Love you as well as any man; I will the self-same troth accord, Most gladly take her at her word; And we may just as happy prove Without the fooleries of love.

She must not ask so much attention, As many ladies I could mention; But when I do not want to sway, I'll always let her have her way; And study to oblige her too, When I have nothing else to do; And am not tired, or wish to rest, Or like some other plan the best, For, more than this would be a task, None but thy votaries would ask.

She must have riches, beauty, grace, And modest sweetness in her face."