ΤΟ HADST thou lived in days of old, And thy humid eyes, that dance Of thy dark hair, that extends As the leaves of hellebore Turn to whence they sprung before. And behind each ample curl Peeps the richness of a pearl. Downward too flows many a tress With a glossy waviness, Full, and round like globes that rise From the censer to the skies Through sunny air. Add too the sweetness Of thy honied voice; the neatness Of thine ancle lightly turn'd: With those beauties scarce discern'd, Kept with such sweet privacy, That they seldom meet the eye Of the little Loves that fly Round about with eager pry. Saving when with freshening lave, PART II. Thou dipp'st them in the taintless wave; In the coolness of the morn. Than twin-sister of Thalia ? Will I call the Graces four. Tell me what thou wouldst have been? Of thy broider'd-floating vest Has placed a golden cuirass there, Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested, Thy locks in knightly casque are rested: O'er which bend four milky plumes, Like the gentle lily's blooms O'er his loins, his trappings glow 6 WHEN by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope! ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head. Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright, And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof. Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow: Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain, To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see our country's honor fade! Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed— Beneath thy pinions canopy my head! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest, And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud ; Brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar: So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head. February, 1815. IMITATION OF SPENSER. Now morning from her orient chamber came Which round its marge reflected woven bowers, There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright, Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle That in that fairest lake had placed been, I could e'en Dido of her grief beguile; Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen: For sure so fair a place was never seen Of all that ever charm'd romantic eye: It seem'd an emerald in the silver sheen Of the bright waters; or as when on high, Through clouds of fleecy white, laughs the cœrulean sky. |