Her bosom heaved she stept aside, As conscious of my look she stept--- Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms, She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.
I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin-pride; And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.
As when far off the warbled strains are heard, That soar on Morning's wing the vales among, Within his cage the imprisoned matin bird Swells the full chorus with a generous song: He bathes no pinion in the dewy light, No father's joy, no lover's bliss he shares,
Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight; His fellows' freedom soothes the captive's cares! Thou, Fayette! who didst wake with startling voice Life's better sun from that long wintry night, Thus in thy country's triumphs shalt rejoice, And mock with raptures high the dungeon's might: For lo! the morning struggles into day,
And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray!
[Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire.]
My pensive Sara! thy soft check reclined Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown
With white-flowered jasmin, and the broad-leaved myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be) Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents
Snatched from yon bean-field! and the world so hushed! The stilly murmur of the distant sea
Tells us of silence. And that simplest lute,
Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark!
How by the desultory breeze caressed,
Like some coy maid half-yielding to her lover,
It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes Over delicious surges sink and rise, Such a soft floating witchery of sound As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land, Where melodies round honey-dropping flowers, Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing! O! the one life, within us and abroad,
Which meets all motion, and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Rhythm in all thought, anu joyance everywhere. Methinks, it should have been impossible
love all things in a world so filled,
Where the breeze warbles and the mute still air, Is Music slumbering on her instrument!
And thus, my love! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;
Full many a thought uncalled and undetained, And many idle flitting phantasies,
Traverse my indolent and passive brain, As wild and various as the random gales That swell and flutter on this subject lute! And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic harps diversely framed, That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, At once the Soul of each, and God of all? But thy more serious eye a mild reproof Darts, O beloved woman! nor such thoughts Dim and unhallowed dost thou not reject, And biddest me walk humbly with my God. Meek daughter in the family of Christ! Well hast thou said and holily dispraised These shapings of the unregenerate mind, Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring. For never guiltiess may I speak of Him, The Incomprehensible save when with awe I praise Him, and with faith that inly feels; Who with His saving mercies healed me, A sinful and most miserable man,
Wildered and dark, and gave me to possess
Peace, and this cot, and thee, heart-honoured Maid!
The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud-and hark, again! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings: save that at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. 'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes meditation with .ts strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, This populous village! Sea, and. hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings on of life, Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame Lies on my low burnt fire, and quivers not; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks, the idling spirit By its own mood interprets, every where Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of thought.
How oft, at school, with most believing mind, Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars, To watch that fluttering stranger! and as oft With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower, Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang From morn to evening, all the hot fair-day, So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear Most like articulate sounds of things to come! So gazed 1, till the soothing things I dreamt, Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams I brooded all the following mora,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye Fixed with mock study on my swimming hook : Save if the door half opened, and I snatched A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up, For still I hoped to see the stranger's face, Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved, My play-mate when we both were clothed alike!
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side, Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm, Fill up the interspersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart With tender gladness, thus to look at thee, And think that thou shalt learn far other lore And in far other scenes! For I was reared In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim, And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars. But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible Of that eternal language, which thy God Utters, who from eternity doth teach Himself in all, and all things in Himself. Great universal Teacher! He shall mould Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall, Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
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