Imatges de pàgina
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There, he wheels in downward mazes;
Sunward now his flight he raises,
Catches fire, as seems, and blazes
With uninjured plumes!'-

ANSWER

'Stranger, 'tis no act of courage Which aloft thou dost discern; No bold bird gone forth to forage

'Mid the tempest stern;

But such mockery as the nations
See, when public perturbations
Lift men from their native stations,
Like yon TUFT OF FERN;

'Such it is; the aspiring creature
Soaring on undaunted wing,
(So you fancied) is by nature

A dull helpless thing,

Dry and withered, light and yellow;-
That to be the tempest's fellow !
Wait-and you shall see how hollow
Its endeavouring!'

1817

XVIII

ON SEEING A NEEDLECASE IN THE

F'

FORM OF A HARP

THE WORK OF E. M. S.

ROWNS are on every Muse's face,
Reproaches from their lips are sent,
That mimicry should thus disgrace.
The noble Instrument.

A very Harp in all but size!

Needles for strings in apt gradation! Minerva's self would stigmatize

The unclassic profanation.

Even her own needle that subdued

Arachne's rival spirit,

Though wrought in Vulcan's happiest mood,

Such honour could not merit.

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And this, too, from the Laureate's Child,
A living lord of melody!
How will her Sire be reconciled
To the refined indignity?

I spake, when whispered a low voice,
Bard! moderate your ire;
Spirits of all degrees rejoice
In presence of the lyre.

'The Minstrels of Pygmean bands,
Dwarf Genii, moonlight-loving Fays,
Have shells to fit their tiny hands
And suit their slender lays.

'Some, still more delicate of ear,
Have lutes (believe my words)
Whose framework is of gossamer,
While sunbeams are the chords.

'Gay Sylphs this miniature will court,
Made vocal by their brushing wings,
And sullen Gnomes will learn to sport
Around its polished strings;

'Whence strains to love-sick maiden dear,
While in her lonely bower she tries
To cheat the thought she cannot cheer,
By fanciful embroideries.

'Trust, angry Bard! a knowing Sprite,
Nor think the Harp her lot deplores;
Though 'mid the stars the Lyre shine bright,
Love stoops as fondly as he soars.'

1827

20

30

XIX

TO A LADY

IN ANSWER TO A REQUEST THAT I WOULD WRITE HER A POEM UPON SOME DRAWINGS THAT SHE HAD MADE OF FLOWERS IN THE ISLAND OF MADEIRA

F

AIR Lady! can I sing of flowers

That in Madeira bloom and fade,

I who ne'er sate within their bowers,

Nor through their sunny lawns have strayed?

How they in sprightly dance are worn
By Shepherd-groom or May-day queen,
Or holy festal pomps adorn,

These eyes have never seen.

Yet tho' to me the pencil's art

No like remembrances can give,
Your portraits still may reach the heart
And there for gentle pleasure live;
While Fancy ranging with free scope
Shall on some lovely Alien set
A name with us endeared to hope,
To peace, or fond regret.

Still as we look with nicer care,

Some new resemblance we may trace: A Heart's-ease will perhaps be there,

A Speedwell may not want its place. And so may we, with charmed mind Beholding what your skill has wrought, Another Star-of-Bethlehem find,

A new Forget-me-not.

From earth to heaven with motion fleet

From heaven to earth our thoughts will pass,

A Holy-thistle here we meet

And there a Shepherd's weather-glass;

And haply some familiar name

Shall grace the fairest, sweetest, plant

Whose presence cheers the drooping frame

Of English Emigrant.

Gazing she feels its power beguile

Sad thoughts, and breathes with easier breath; Alas! that meek, that tender smile

Is but a harbinger of death:

And pointing with a feeble hand

She says, in faint words by sighs broken,

Bear for me to my native land

This precious Flower, true love's last token.

ΙΟ

20

30

40

Published 1845

G'

XX

LAD sight wherever new with old

Is joined through some dear homeborn tie; The life of all that we behold

Depends upon that mystery.

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WITH

I

ITHIN her gilded cage confined
I saw a dazzling Belle,

A Parrot of that famous kind
Whose name is NON-PAREIL.

Like beads of glossy jet her eyes;
And, smoothed by Nature's skill,
With pearl or gleaming agate vies
Her finely-curvèd bill.

Her plumy mantle's living hues,
In mass opposed to mass,
Outshine the splendour that imbues
The robes of pictured glass.

And, sooth to say, an apter Mate

Did never tempt the choice

Of feathered Thing most delicate

In figure and in voice.

But, exiled from Australian bowers,

And singleness her lot,

She trills her song with tutored powers,

Or mocks each casual note.

No more of pity for regrets

With which she may have striven!

Now but in wantonness she frets,

Or spite, if cause be given;

Arch, volatile, a sportive bird
By social glee inspired;
Ambitious to be seen or heard,
And pleased to be admired!

ΤΟ

20

II

THIS moss-lined shed, green, soft, and dry,
Harbours a self-contented Wren,
Not shunning man's abode, though shy,
Almost as thought itself, of human ken.

Strange places, coverts unendeared,
She never tried; the very nest,

In which this Child of Spring was reared,
Is warmed, thro' winter, by her feathery breast.

To the bleak winds she sometimes gives
A slender unexpected strain;

Proof that the hermitess still lives,

Though she appear not, and be sought in vain.

Say, Dora! tell me, by yon placid moon,
If called to choose between the favoured pair,
Which would you be,-the bird of the saloon,
By lady-fingers tended with nice care,
Caressed, applauded, upon dainties fed,
Or Nature's DARKLING of this mossy shed?

1825

30

40

B

XXII

THE DANISH BOY

A FRAGMENT

I

ETWEEN two sister moorland rills
There is a spot that seems to lie
Sacred to flowerets of the hills,
And sacred to the sky.

And in this smooth and open dell
There is a tempest-stricken tree;
A corner-stone by lightning cut,
The last stone of a lonely hut;
And in this dell you see

A thing no storm can e'er destroy,
The shadow of a Danish Boy.

In clouds above the lark is heard,
But drops not here to earth for rest;
Within this lonesome nook the bird
Did never build her nest.

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