Старшая из трёх знаменитых сестёр, Шарлотта Бронте (21 апреля 1816 — 31 марта 1855) — одна из самых известных представительниц английского романтизма и реализма.

В августе 1824 года отец отправил Шаpлотту в Кован-Бриджскую школу для дочерей духовенства (две её старшие сестры, Мария и Элизабет, были отправлены туда в июле 1824, а младшая, Эмили, в ноябре). Кован-Бриджская школа послужила прототипом пансиона Ловуд в романе «Джейн Эйр». Плохие условия подорвали и без того слабое здоровье Мэри (род. в 1814) и Элизабет (род. 1815) Бронте. В феврале 1825 года мистер Бронте забрал из школы заболевшую туберкулёзом Мэри; в мае того же года вторая сестра, Элизабет, была отправлена домой, совершенно больная от чахотки. Вскоре после возвращения в Хоэрт сёстры Шарлотты умерли. Двух младших девочек мистер Бронте немедленно забрал домой.

Дома в Хоэртском пасторате Шарлотта и другие оставшиеся в живых дети — Бренуэлл, Эмили и Энн принялись за написание хроники жизней и борьбы жителей их воображаемых королевств. Шарлотта вместе с братом писали истории о вымышленных английских колониях в Африке, центром которых являлась великолепная столица — Стеклянный город (впоследствии — Витрополь). Главными героями и рассказчиками ранних произведений выступали герцог Веллингтон и его сыновья Артур Август Адриан Уэлсли, маркиз Доуро (впоследствии он станет герцогом Заморной и королём Ангрии) и его младший брат лорд Чарлз Альберт Флориан Уэлсли (впоследствии Чарлз Тауншенд). С ним Шарлотта отчасти отождествляла себя, поскольку лорд Чарлз является одним из главных рассказчиков, от чьего лица она ведёт большинство ранних повествований. Ещё одной литературной маской писательницы в эти годы стал капитан Древ — крупнейший поэт, прозаик и драматург Стеклянного города, творческий антагонист Чарлза Уэлсли. Ранние произведения писательницы для печати не предназначались. Они были изданы в основном уже в XX веке благодаря работам исследователей.

В 1831—1832 годах Шарлотта продолжила своё образование в Роу-Хедской школе (Mирфилд); окончив образование, Шарлотта в 1835—1838 годах работала там учительницей. В июне 1839 года Шарлотта получила свою первую должность гувернантки в семье Сиджвиков (откуда быстро ушла из-за плохого обращения), а в 1841 году — вторую, в семье мистера и миссис Уайт. В 1842 году Шарлотта и Эмили отправились в Брюссель, чтобы поступить в школу-интернат, управляемую Константином Эже. Пребывание сестёр в пансионе закончилось в октябре 1842 года, когда умерла их тётя, Элизабет Бренуэлл, заботившаяся о девочках после смерти матери. В январе 1843 Шарлотта вернулась в Брюссель преподавать английский язык. Наконец, в декабре 1843 года Шарлотта решает возвратиться в Хоэрт.

В мае 1846 года Шарлотта, Эмили и Энн опубликовали за свой счёт совместный поэтический сборник под псевдонимами Каррер, Эллис и Эктон Белл. В августе 1847 г. Шарлотта отослала в фирму «Смит, Элдер и компания» рукопись «Джейн Эйр». Роман был принят и напечатан в рекордно короткие сроки.

В период между 1848 и 1854 гг. Шарлотта вела активную литературную жизнь, тем не менее старалась не уезжать из Хоэрта больше чем на несколько недель, так как не хотела покидать своего стареющего отца. В октябре 1849 г. из печати вышел второй из опубликованных романов — «Шерли». «Виллет» был опубликован в январе 1853 года и стал последним произведением, которое Шарлотта успела закончить. Роман «Учитель» уже был издан после её смерти.

Что касается переводов поэзии Шарлотты Бронте на русский язык, то стихотворения старшей из сестёр Бронте переводились весьма нечасто.

Первый относительно крупный корпус её стихотворений был опубликован в 1990 году в сборнике «Джейн Эйр. Стихотворения» (Москва, издательство «Художественная литература») в переводе Татьяны Гутиной.

Впоследствии отдельные стихотворения выходили в переводах Станислава Минакова, Александра Лукьянова, В. Флоровой, Сергея Афонькина, Екатерины Доброхотовой-Майковой и Александра Вироховского и других в составе различных антологий английской поэзии.

Однако попыток издать собрание стихотворений Шарлотты Бронте, хотя бы примерно повторяющее состав сборника 1990 года, не предпринималось до настоящего времени.

Но в сентябре 2026 г. в свет выходит перевод на русский язык их первого сборника «Стихотворения», опубликованного ещё в 1846 г. Над переводами стихотворений Шарлотты Бронте для этой книги работали: Наталья Бухтоярова, Александра Глебовская, Елена Рукомойникова, Анна Скворцова, Татьяна Иванова-Шеленгер и Мария Максимова.

Во время работы над составлением данного сборника были использованы следующие издания:

1. «Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell» (1846, Лондон, издательство «Smith, Elder & Co.»)

2. «Brontё poems. Selection from the poetry of Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell Brontё» (1915, Нью-Йорк — Лондон, издательство «G.P. Putnam’s Sons»)

В настоящем сборнике собраны все стихотворения Шарлотты Бронте, расположенные в хронологическом порядке. Также в данный том также вошли стихотворения, написанные в соавторстве с Патриком Бренуэллом Бронте. При наличии публикаций стихотворений на русском языке в сносках указаны имена переводчиков, а также названия изданий, где они были опубликованы. Если же переводы отсутствуют, то сноски к стихотворениям не приводятся.

В. Щербаков

Poems by Charlotte Brontё

Sunrise

Behold that silvery streak of light

Circling the heavens grey

Encroaching on the reign of night

And heralding the day

Now of a richer deeper tint

The sunny glory grows

Until a stream of heavenly light

Along the horizon flows

Rising it melts into the pale

Soft azure of the sky

How beautiful how glowing bright

Is its ethereal dye

Hung in the saphire arch of heaven,

Above this golden light

The silver crescent of the moon

Seems to the wondering sight

A world in which fair spirits dwell

So pure & fair it beams

So gentle is the pearly light

That softly from it streams

But rises now the glorious sun

Casting the clouds aside

And in his burning chariot forth

Triumphantly doth ride

And at his flaming presence bright

All nature doth rejoice

Earth sky & sea join in his praise

With one united voice

Sweetly the little birds do sing

Warbling their notes in air

While flowrets in their tiny cups

Bright gem like dewdrops bear

1829

Sunset

Beneath a shady tree I sat

Through which with wondrous lustre gleamed

The rays of the departing sun

Which in its golden glory beamed

Among the shady verdant boughs

Ting [e] ing with crimson light

The beauteous emerald foliage

Now like the ruby bright.

All still & peaceful was the scene

And silence reigned around

Save the music of a murmuring stream

Which with its gentle sound

Filled the shady valley where I sat

With a low melodious tone

In concert with the nightingale

And zephyrs gentle moan

At length the robe of twilight spread

O’er all the dark’ning earth

And still & peaceful were the sounds

Of sorrow & of mirth

And silently the little stars

Looked from the azure sky

While Orions golden belt

Shone gloriously on high

1829

The Churchyard

One night, when silence reigned around,

I heard sweet music rise,

Whose harp-like and harmonious sound

Came from the star-decked skies.

And when had died each silver tone,

Thy spirit passed away,

And left me a sad mourner lone,

On this dark earth to stay.

My sister, may it ever be

That from thy home on high

A hymn of peace may check in me

Each dark rebellious sigh.

Then, sister, shall I truly know

That mansions of the blest

Wait, till from weariness below,

My spirit enters rest!

1829

Lines by One who was Tired of Dullness upon the Same Occasion

Sweep the sounding harp string

all ye winds that blow

let it loudly swelling

make sweet music flow

let the thundering drum roll

gladness fly around

merry bells peal & toll

ringing trumpets sound

let the mighty organ

play & peal & swell

roll its floods of sound on

till echoes every dell

sweetly sweetly breath [e] flute

pour thy gentle strains

let thy music rise lute

no more Dullness reigns

sweep the souding harp string

all yee winds that blow

let it loudly swell & ring

make sweet music flow

in your splendid cloud halls

princely Geni dance

till from the vapour walls

bloody lightnings glance

your music is black thunder

therefore let it sound

tear the earth asunder

shake the sky around

fair [i] es of the greenwood

Sing amid the trees

pour of joy a bright flood

dance upon the breeze

drink from the bright flower

crowned with crystal dew

<burnish> with the green bower

buds of snowy hue

no longer hid your name is

ye spirits of the air

for now your mighty fame is

set forth in coulours fair

sweep the sounding harp string

all ye winds that blow

let it loudly swelling

make sweet music flow

1829

Lines spoken by a lawyer on the occasion of the transfer of this magazine

All soberness is past & gone

the reign of gravity is done

frivolity comes in its place

light smiling sits on every face

gone is that grave & gorgeous light

which every page illumind bright

a flimsy torch glare in the stead

of a bright golden sun now fled

Foolish romances now employ

each silly senseless girly & boy

O for the strong hand of the law

to stop it with its powerful claw

at night I lay my weary head

upon my sofa or my bed

in the dark watches of the night

does flash upon my inward sight

visions of times now pass’d away

when dullness did the scepter sway

then to my troubled mind comes peace

Would those bright dreams did never cease

thus sung a lawyer in his cell

when suddenly the midnight bell

rang out a peal both loud & deep

which told it was the hour of sleep

1829

On the great Bay of the Glass Town

1 tis pleasant on some evening fair

after a summers day

when still the breeze & calm the air

& seawaves gently play

2 to view the bay o’er whose still breast

white sails do softly glide

how peacefully its waters rest

like to a sleeping child

3 when the blue concave of the sky

is clear without a stain

& the bright arch of heaven on high

imparts to the wide main

4 its beautiful & saphire glow

while the suns golden light

makes all the western sky to glow

with fair streams like ruby bright

5 then like fair piles of burnished gold

those marble pillars stand

palaces of immortal mould

& castles towring grand

6 while mur’m’ring sound of pomp & mirth

rise from the mighty walls

& wildly mingleing sweep forth

like thund’ring waterfalls

7 till softened into echo’s tone

on the calm sea they die

or rising with the <drearest> moan

on winds of heaven fly

8 to play with them amid the strings

of harps whose magic voice

in the lone dark’ned forest sings

while fairies round rejoice

9 as through tall trees the wild winds moan

& silver moonbeams glance

the harp peals forth with triumphs tone

& spirits mirthful dance

1829

Addressed to the tower of all nations

O thou great thou mighty tower

rising so solemnly

o’er all this splendid glorious city

this city of the sea

thou seeme’st as silently I gaze

a pillar of the sky

so lofty is thy structure

so massive & so high

the dome of heaven is oer thee

hung with it’s silver star’s

the earth is round about the [e]

with it’s eternal bars.

& such a charming dogge [re]

as this was never wrote

not even by the mighty

& high Sir Walter Scott

1829

***

in this fairy land of light

no mortal ere has been

and the dreadful grandeu [r] of this sight

by them hath not been seen

t’would strike them shudering to the earth

like the flash from a thunder cloud

it would quench their light & joyous mirth

and fit them for the shroud

the rising of our palaces

like visions of the deep

and the glory of their structure

no mortal voice can speak

the music of our songs

and our mighty trumpets swell

& the sounding of our silver harps

no mortal tongue can tell

of us they know but little

save when the storm doth rise

and the mighty waves are tossing

agains [t] the arched skys

then oft they see us striding

oe’r the billows snow white foam

or hear us speak in thunder

when we stand in grandeur lone

on the darkest of the mighty clouds

which veil the pearly moon

around us lightning flashing

nights blackness to illume

the music of our songs

and our mighty trumpets

swell & the sounding of our silver

harp [s] no mortal tongue can tell

1829

Harvest in Spain

Now all is joy & gladness, the ripe fruits

Of autumn hang on every orchard bough

The living gold of harvest waves around

The festooned vine empurpled with the grape

Weighed to the ground by clusters rich & bright

As precious amethyst, gives promise fair

Of future plenty. While the almond tree

Springs gracefully from out the verd [ant] earth

Crowned with its em’rald leaves its pleasant fruit

and waveing in the gentle Fragrant breeze

which sweeps o’er orange groves mid myrtle bowers

& plays in Olive woods drinking the dew

which falls like crystal on their tufted leaves

hid by luxuriant foliage from the beam

of the great glorious sun which shines on high

In bright & burning strength casting it rays

to the far corners of the mighty land

enlightning & illuminating all

making it glow with beauty and with joy

& raising songs of gladness and of praise

To God the Father & the king of all

1829

***

Merry England, land of glory

plenty on thee fall

joy dwell on thy castles hoary

gladness in each hall

might be on thy stately towers

beauty in each dell

in thy blossomed vernal bowers

may peace ever dwell

when wars trumpet fierce is sounding

Brit [ain’s] lion roars

Oer the mighty waters bounding

to The foes dark shores

When in battle he stands warlike

And his meteor sword

Gleams amid the fight more starlike

Round him blood is poured

Till his mane is red and gory

And his flashing eye

As he springs to future glory

Is of crimson dye

Now when victory hath assuaged him

Of his thirst for blood

«Neath his oak tree he hath laid him

While around the flood

Of the raging mighty ocean

Guards his own fair land

Standing mid the wild commotion

All serene and grand

1829

Found in the Inn belonging to You

Thou art a sweet & lovely flower

planted in a fairy’s bower

cherished by a bright sunbeam

watered by a silver stream

Thou art a palm tree green & fair

rising from the desert plain

thou art a ray of silver light

streaming o’er the stormy main

When the mighty billows mix

with the hanging cloud

when the light [n] ings flashes

& the thunder roaring loud

Then when some pale star sends out

a gentle pearly ray

the mariners all hail it

as the herald of the day

When the sun shall rise in splendour

ting [e] ing the coursing foam

with the colours of that gorgeous bow

Which arches heavens dome

When the rocking ship shall rest

on the glassy ocean calm

its red flag stirred by the gale

whose breath is sweetest balm

Blowing from Brita [i] n’s shore’s

& her roses red and white

O’er Scotia’s thistle wild

and Erin’s emerald bright

While the music of the harp

and the music of the song

are borne upon the passing wind

in solemn strains along.

1829

On Seeing a Beautiful Statue and a Rich Golden Vase full of Wine, lying beside it in the Desert of Sahara

See that golden goblet shine,

Decked with gems so starry bright,

Crowned with the most sparkling wine,

Casting forth a ruby light.

Emerald leaves its brim encircle

With their brilliant green,

And rich grapes of sapphire purple

Twined with these are seen.

Near a majestic statue

Of purest marble stands,

Rising like a spirit

From the wilderness of sands.

But heark unto that trumpet swell,

Which soundeth long and loud,

Rivalling the music

Of the darkest thunder cloud.

«Tis the signal that from hence,

We both of us must go,

So come my brother dear,

Let it be even so.

1829

The Song of the Ancient Britons on Leaving the Genii Land

Farewell, O thou pleasant land,

Rich are thy fields and fair,

Thy mighty forests they are grand,

But freedom dwells not there.

Thy rugged mountains rise sublime

From the barren desert wild,

And thou wouldst be a pleasant land

If freedom on thee smiled.

Our hearts are sad as we turn from thee

And thy pleasant smiling shore,

To think that not again shall we

Behold thee ever more.

Ere many days are passed away

The sea will between us lie,

And when in freedom’s land we dwell,

For thee we’ll heave a sigh;

Because that o’er thee triumph

Those tyrants of the air,

Who dwell in halls of thunder

And robes of lightning wear.

But now we’re bound afar off,

To our father’s land we go,

Swift foaming billows roll us,

And winds of heaven blow.

There rises freedom’s palace,

Like a tower of burning gold,

Around it roars the ocean,

With its world of waters rolled.

Up to the glorious castle,

Where mighty freedom dwells,

While round her like a tempest,

Sea music sweety swells.

But now we’re bound afar off,

To our father’s land we go,

Swift foaming billows rolling

And winds of heaven blow.

1829

On Seeing the Garden of a Genius

How pleasant is the world

Where mighty genii dwell;

Like a vision is the beauty

Of wild forest, stream and fell.

Their palaces arise

From the green and flowery ground,

While strains of sweetest music

Are floating all around.

Their castles of bright adamant

All mortal strength defy,

Encircled round with genii

Towering like rocks on high.

And now behold that verdant plain

Spangled with star-like flowers,

Watered by purest silver lakes

And crowned with emerald bowers.

In the midst appears a palace

Of yellow topaz bright,

From which streams forth a glory

Of sunny golden light.

O if the dwellers of this land

Heeded their dreadful name,

How all the mortal world would sing

That bright and quenchless fame.

But now the eye of hatred

Follows where ere they go,

In the sea or in the firmament

It tries to work them woe.

They may robe themselves in darkness,

Themselves with lightning crown;

They wield the sword of vengeance

But to them we’ll not bow down.

They may frame in the dark ocean

High palaces of pearl,

Mid the silver orbs of heaven

Their dragon wings unfurl.

And throned on the stars of night

While thunder rolls around,

May bid the earth to wait on them

But vain shall be the sound.

And how pleasant is the world

Where mighty genii dwell;

Like a vision is the beauty

Of wild forest, stream and fell, etc., etc.

1829

Poetry

O when shall our brave land be free,

When shall our castles rise,

In pure and glorious liberty

Before our joyful eyes?

How long shall tyrants ride in state

Upon the thunder cloud,

The arbiters of England state

And of her nobles proud?

Thou sun of liberty arise

Upon our beauteous land;

Terrible vengeance rend the skies,

Let tyrants feel thy hand.

Let tyrants feel thy hand we cry,

And let them see thy gaze;

For they will shrink beneath thy eye

And we will sing thy praise.

The song of vengeance shall arise,

Before the morning sun

Illuminates the arched skies

Or its high course doth run.

The song of vengeance shall not cease

When midnight cometh on,

When the silver moon shines out in peace,

To light the traveler lone.

1829

The Glass Town

«Tis sunset and the golden orb

Has sunk behind the mountains far,

And rises now the silver moon

And sparkles bright the evening dew.

But in the west a crimson light

Along the horizon glows,

Tinting all nature with the bright

Gay colour of the rose.

And over all the eastern sky,

The robe of twilight gray

Is heaving up the heavens nigh,

While the pale milky way

Goes clearer still and clearer,

As vanishes the light,

Till it arches all the firmament,

Like a rainbow of the night.

But the sound of [?roaring waters],

From distance far I hear,

Like the rushing of a cataract

It falls upon my ear.

«Tis the roaring of the multitude

Within those mighty walls,

Whose noise is like to raging

Of rushing waterfalls.

«Tis the great and glorious city,

Whose high ruler doth defy

The mightiest of the armies,

Who their strength against [?him try].

May he ever reign in glory,

May his glittering sword be dyed

In the life blood of his enemies,

Though on the clouds they ride.

May he bring them to the [?city]

With fearful scorn and shame,

May they bow their heads below him

And dread his mighty name.

But now the roaring sound has ceased,

The city is sunk to sleep,

And o’er the world night’s curtain folds,

Mid silence still and deep.

But yet the silver moon shines out,

And the sparkling stars

Are wheeling down the firmament

Their shining, pearly rays.

No sound doth break the silence

Save the merry nightingale,

As it pours its sweet warbling

Down the still and lonely vale.

1829

***

High minded Frenchmen love not the ghost

who rides on the clouds of war

with the eye of an eagle he views your hosts

and grins with delight from afar

For the time in his powerful mind he sees

when like a slave before him led

the kingdom of France shall bow at his knees

& glorify him as its head

Though at this time his brow ma <y> not lour

he looks to the future with Joy

when from his high embattled tower

in his terrible might he shall cry

Kingdom of France I bid thee beware

at the storm which is drawing nigh

Look at the troubled & darkening air

Look at the wrath in mine eye.

1829

***

What is more glorious in nature or art,

Than a bottle of brandy clear?

There’s nothing I like so well for my part,

It rids you of every fear.

It raises your spirits on stillest night,

It carries you lightly along,

It wings you away from this pitiful [?sight],

And disposes your mind for a song.

For a song like mine it makes you wish

And it keeps your eyes from a doze,

Unless you are dull as a kettle of fish,

Then it sends you off to repose.

I hope, high Duke, that you like my song,

Which for your pleasure I chant,

As it is beautiful and not long

Your approbation grant.

1829

***

Lo our mighty chieftains come,

Clothed in glory infinite,

With the sound of harp and drum,

Loud peeling to their might.

On they march in splendor,

To their adamantine thrones,

And there they sit in grandeur,

While our high melodious tones

Are peeling to the arched roof,

Making the palace ring,

Making the mountains echo,

And the desert wild to sing.

O may they reign eternally,

In the glory of their might;

May their armies be victorious,

While they like stars of light.

Illuminate the darksome world,

While their sceptres’ might

Changes the present stars of night,

Into a glorious day.

1829

***

Now sweetly shines the golden sun

The howling wind is still

The glorious light of day is flung

O’er every vale & hill

On yonder bank myself I’ll rest

A blue stream wanders by

In whose smooth wavy liquid breast

Inverted glows the sky

The sweet wild flower’s are loosely cast

In wreaths & clusters round

I’ll watch the waves meandering past

To far off regions bound

I’ll gaze upon the world below

The clear translucent sky

The shrubs & trees that downward grow

The swift clouds sailing by

Each shines with dim and wat’ry gleam

A pale & gentle light

Encircles them with solenn beam

Like glory of the night

The Willow waving o’er my head

Waves also neath my feet

Reflected in the rivers bed

The heavens & branches meet.

Lone drooping to the azure deep

They seem to touch the cloud

& there unmoved they calmly sleep

Not e’en by Zephyrs bowed.

1830

***

I think of thee when the moonbeams play

On the placid water’s face

For thus thy blue eyes lustrous ray

Shone with resembling grace

I think of thee when the snowy swan

Glides calm [l] y down the stream

Its plumes the breezes scarcely fan

Awed by their radiant gleam

For thus I’ve seen the loud winds hush

To pass thy beauty by

With soft caress & playful rush

Mid thy bright tresses fly

And I have seen the wild birds sail

In rings thy head above

While thou hast stood like lily pale

Unknowing of their love

O for the day when once again

Mine eyes will gaze on thee!

But an ocean vast a sounding main

An ever howling sea

Roll us between with their billows green

High tost tempestuously.

1830

***

Long my anxious ear hath listend

For the step that neer returned

And my tearful eye hath glistened

And my heart hath inly burned

But now I rest

Natures self seemed clothed in mourning

Even the starlike wood [l] and flower

With its leaflets fair adorning

Pathway of the Forest Bower

Drooped its head

From the Cavern of the mountain

From the groves that crowned the hill

From the stream & from the fountain

Sounds prophetic murmured still

Betokening greif

Boding winds came fitful sighing

Throug [h] the tall & leafy trees

Birds of omen wildly crying

Sent their yells upon the breeze

Wailing round me

At each sound I paled & trembled

At each step I raised my head

Hearkening if it his resembled

Or if news that he was dead

Were come from far

All my days were days of weeping

Thoughts of grim despair were stirred

Time on leaden feet seemed creeping

Long heart-sickness hope deferred

Cankered my heart

1830

***

«Proudly the sun has sunk to rest

«Behind yon dim & distant hill

«The busy noise of day has ceas’t

«A holy calm the air doth fill

«That softning haze which veils the light

«Of sunset in the gorgeous sky

«Is Dusk, grey harbinger of Night

«Now gliding onward silently

«No sound rings through the solemn vale

«Save murmurs of those tall dark trees

«Who raise eternally their wail

«Bending beneath the twilight breeze

«And my harp peals the woods among

«When Vesper lifts it’s quiet eye

«Comingling with each night birds song

«That chants its vigils pensively

«And here I sit until nights noon

«Hath gemed the heavens with many a star

«And sing beneath the wandring moon

«Who comes high journeying from afar

«O sweet to me is that still hour

«When frown the shades of night around

«Deep’ning the gloom of forest bower

«Filling the air with awe profound

«I hush my harp and hush my song

«Low kneeling ’neath the lofty sky

«I heark the nightingale prolong

«Her strain of wondrous melody

«Forth gushing like a mountain rill

«So rich so deep so clear & free

«She pours it forth o’er dale & hill

«O’er rock, and river, lake and tree.

«Till morn comes, & with rosy hand

«Unbars the golden gates of day

«Then as at touch of magic wand

«The earth is clad in fair array

«Then from its couch the skylark springs

«The trembling drops of glittering dew

«Are scattered as with vigorous wings

«It mounts the glorious arch of blue

1830

***

O spirits of the sky were there,

Strange enchantment filled the air:

I have seen from each dark cloud,

Which in gloom those vales did shroud,

White-robed beings glance and fly

And rend the curtain from the sky.

I have seen their wings of light

Streaming o’er the heavens’ height;

I have seen them bend and kiss

Those eternal vales of bliss;

And I’ve seen them fast enshroud

Those Edens of unfading bloom.

O, the darkness of that night!

O, the grandeur of that sight!

None can speak it, none can tell.

Hark! I hear the thunder swell,

Crashing through the firmament;

«Tis by wrathful spirits sent

Warning me to say no more.

Now hath ceased the dreadful roar,

Now a calm is all around;

Not a breath and not a sound

That frozen stillness durst break:

This is Nature’s silent sleep.

Sudden music round me rings;

Now again the spirits dance,

And again the sunbeams glance.

This is light and this is mirth,

All of heaven, not of earth.

Up hath risen purple morn,

Love and joy and life are born.

I veil my eyes with holy fear,

For the coming visions no mortal

May bear!

1830

Written upon the Occasion of the Dinner given to the Literati of the Glass-Town

The splendid Hall is blazing with many a glowing light,

And a spirit-like effulgence mild, a flood of glory bright,

Flows round the stately pillars, nor dimly dies away

In the arched roof of solid stone, but there each golden ray

Shines with a brightened splendour, a radiance rich and fair,

And then falls amid the palace vast, and lightens up the air,

Till the atmosphere around is one continuous flow

Of streaming lustre, brilliant light, and liquid topaz glow.

All beneath this gorgeousness there sits a chosen band

Of genius high and courage bold: the noblest of the land.

The feast is spread, and brightly the purple juice doth shine

In the yellow gold magnificent: the sparkling generous wine!

And all between the thunders of patriotic cheers

Is heard the sounding orchestra, while the inspiring tears

Of a rich southern vineyard are qualified to wish the health

Of some most noble warrior fierce, a nation’s power and wealth.

And then arises slowly an orator of might

And pours a flood of eloquence upon this festal night.

The gentle stream flows dimpling ’mong rhetoric’s bright flowers,

Poises in wild sublimity on eagle’s wing-high towers;

And lost amid the cloudy curtains of his might,

Far beyond the common ken his spirit has taken flight.

For awhile he dwells in glory within the solemn veil,

Then returns upon the smoother seas of beauty fair to sail.

The scene this night is joyous within these palace walls,

But ere ten passing centuries are gone these lofty walls

May stand in darksome ruin: these stately pillars high

May echo back far other sounds than those which sweetly fly

Among their light bold arches, and mingling softly rise

In a wild enchanting melody, which tremulously dies;

The yell of the hyena, the bloody-tiger’s howl,

May be heard in this magnificence, mixed with the lion’s growl;

While in the cold pale moonlight may stand the ruins grey,

These marble columns mouldering, and gladness fled away!

1830

A Wretch in Prison by Murry

O for the song of the gladsome lark

For the morning suns fair beam

Instead of this dungeon deeply dark

Where n [e] ’er its light doth gleam

O for the breath of the fragrant vale

For the woodlands bracing breeze

Blowing like Arabys spicy gale

Amid the stately forest trees

O for the light & elastic spring

For the swift unwearied step

When the sound of the horn makes the high hills ring

With the bounding hunter [s] leap

O for the noise of freedoms voice

Heard in the hunters cry

When the deer has fled like an arrow sped

Or a lightning flash on high

O for the rush for the bold free rush

Of the mighty mountain breeze

Down the rocks away to the dashing spray

Of the roaring rolling seas

O for the light most feirce & bright

Of the heavens cloudy gloom

sound like an earthquake bound

Of the thunders hollow boom

O! that the glad stars through my dungeon bars

Would shed their lustre clear

That the solemn moon would lighten the gloom

Which reigns in silence here

O for some fair light to illume this night

With a swift & silver glance

Through these grates to play, with a pearly ray

And lightly here to dance

1830

Home-Sickness

Of College I am tired. I wish to be at home,

Far from the pompous tutor’s voice and the hated schoolboys’ groan.

I wish that I had freedom to walk about at will,

That I no more was troubled with my Greek and slate and quill.

I wish to see my kitten, to hear my ape rejoice,

To listen to my nightingale’s and parrot’s lovely voice.

And England does not suit me! It’s cold and full of snow,

So different from black Africa’s warm sunny genial glow.

I’m shivering in the daytime and shivering all the night,

I’m called poor startled withered wretch and miserable wight.

And O! I miss my brother! I miss his gentle smile,

Which used so many long dark hours of sorrow to beguile.

I miss my dearest mother; I now no longer find

Ought half so mild as she was, so careful and so kind.

O I have not my father’s, my noble father’s, arms,

To guard me from all wickedness, and keep me safe from harms.

I hear his voice no longer; I see no more his eye

Smile on me in my misery; to whom now shall I fly?

1830

Matin

Long hath earth lain beneath the dark profound

Of Silent-footed, planet-crested night

Now from the chains of slumber soft, unbound

She springs from sleep to hail, the glorious birth of light

A solemn Hush lay on her hills and woods

Now as the day approaches, fast dispelling

For at the touch of the bright orient floods

Thousands of voices rise, in mingled murmurs swelling

First the suns glories tip the lofty hill

Then roll impetuous down the dusky vale

Sings sweet in light the pebbled crystal rill

And joy expands the buds, of flowers that woo the gale

O! I might sing of pastures meads & trees

Whose verdant hue is tinged with solar beams

And I might sing of morns fresh bracing breeze

That with awaking breath, riples the glassy-streams

And of the merry lark who ’soar’s on high

Aye rising in his course toward the sun

Of his descending from the vaulted sky

To the expectant nest, when that sweet song is done

These I could sing, if thou wert near me now

Thou whom I love, my souls most fair delight

If the fair orbs that beam beneath thy brow

Shed on my darkling page their ray divinely bright

But no, great waters of the mighty deep

Howling like famished wolves roll us between

O! sad & bitter drops I mournful weep

To think of those vast leagues, of tossing billows green

Come from the fairy valley where thou dwellest

Shady and green, in Britains favoured isle

Come for all gloom & sadness thou dispellest,

And chase away my greif, with one sweet-sunny smile

Methinks I see thee sitting calm & lonely

Beneath th’ umbrageous elm upon the lawn

Naught near thee but the woodland warblers only

Singing their matin song, and perhaps some gentle fawn

Or pearly dews, with thy light footstep brushing

Tripping as cheerful as the lambkin gay

Beside the cataract that thunderous rushing

Covers its shaken bank, with white churned bells and spray

Hark! Africa unto her desert calls thee

Where the bright sun pours his most fervid beams

Alas! the chain of love for aye enthrals me

My prisoned heart still pants in shifting dreams

I hear thy voice I see thy figure nightly

Thou; comest to me in midnight slum [b] er deep

And through the dark thy blue eyes glimmer brightly

Beaming upon me in, unquiet haunted-sleep

O! How I loved to hear thy low sweet singing

When evening threw her quiet shades around

The moon her mild light through the casement flinging

Seemed from the sky to list the half-angelic-sound

Thou to the scene a calmer beauty lending

With eyes steeped in the lingering light of song

And o’er the harp thy form so graceful bending

What melting notes then stole the dusky air along

O! when within thy still retired bower

Shall I once more hear that entrancing strain

Could I bring back the oft desired hour

My sad bereaved heart might beat with joy again

May I still hope for thy long wished returning?

Come swiftly o’er the dark & raging sea

Come for my soul with hope deferred is burning

Then will I sing a song worthy of morn and thee.

1830

***

Hearken O Mortal to the wail

Which round the wandering night-winds fling,

Soft-sighing ’neath the moonbeams pale,

How low! how old! its murmuring!

No other voice, no other tone,

Disturbs the silence deep;

All, saving that prophetic moan,

Are hushed in quiet sleep.

The moon and each small lustrous star,

That journey through the boundless sky,

Seem, as their radiance from afar

Falls on the still earth silently,

To weep the fresh descending dew

That decks with gems the world:

Sweet teardrops of the glorious blue

Above us wide unfurled.

But, hark! again the sighing wail

Upon the rising breeze doth swell.

Oh! hasten from this haunted vale,

Mournful as a funeral knell!

For here, when gloomy midnight reigns,

The fairies form their ring,

And, unto wild unearthly strains,

In measured cadence sing.

No human eye their sports may see,

No human tongue their deeds reveal;

The sweetness of their melody

The ear of man may never feel.

But now the elfin horn resounds,

No longer mayst thou stay;

Near and more near the music sounds,

Then, Mortal, haste away!

1830

Serenade

Awake! Awake! fair sleeper, Awake and view the night

For the armies clad in diamond mail, now shed abroad their light

Come forth! with me fair sleeper, & perchance upon our ears

While we walk may fall the solemn chime of the music of the spheres.

We will go to the huge forest & hearken to the sound

Like the voices of a hundred streams, that ever rushes round

Of nodding boughs & branches, great plumes — that wave on high

And hide with their thick darkness. the star bespangled sky

And haply as we tread beneath, that black embowred shade

Full on our sight may sudden burst, some moon illumined glade

Where with crowns of radiant adamant, & robes of vernal green

The morrice dancing fairy train, in other times were seen

Or shall we wander by the side, of ancient oceans shore

Where dull thunder of the billows is sounding evermore

And gaze into the mighty depths, whence comes that wildring sound

On the swift winds of heaven, dispersing all around

There dwell great dragons of the deep, & issuing from their caves

Our eyes may view them gliding amid the liquid waves

Or solemnly withdrawn into tenebrious gloom

With noiseless movement ent [e] ring their coral shaded tomb

While still sad music rises from regions far beneath

At which the winds hush every sound of sigh & murmured breath

Unseen the sweet musician, but still the tones — ascend

And e’en the everlasting rocks, their cloud-veild summits bend

It is the maiden of the sea, that sings within her cell

Where she with gold & orient pearl, in glimering gloom doth dwell

And when her, monstrous form is seen swift gliding o’er the deep

The Blood within the sailors veins, in frozen streams doth creep

For mighty winds behind her fly and clouds are round her shed

And lurid lightnings flashing, wreath the green locks on her head

But she shall bode no storm for us to rack the lucid skies

Then awake! Awake fair sleeper, & unclose thine azure eyes

1830

***

The pearl within the shell concealed

Oft sheds a fairer light

Than that whose beauties are revealed

To unrestricted sight.

So she who sweetly shines at home,

And seldom wanders thence,

Is of her partner’s happy dome

The blest intelligence.

The highest talents of her mind,

The sunlight of her heart,

Are all t’ illume her home designed,

And never thence they part.

1830

Lines on seeing the portrait of — [Marian Hume], Painted by De Liste

Radiant creature is thy birth

Of the heavens or of the earth?

For those bright & beaming eyes

Speak the language of the skies

And methinks, upon thy tongue

Dwells the songs by angels sung

Still & tranquil is the beam

That doth from those blue orbs stream

Like the azure moonlight sky

Like the lucid stars on high

Rays of mind are darting thence

Mild & pure intelligence

Art thou then of spirit birth

Not a denizen of earth

No thou’rt but a child of clay

Simply robed in white array

Not a gem is gleaming there

All as spotless snow is fair

Symbol Angel of thy mind

Meek benevolent & kind

Sprightly as some beauteous fawn

Springing up at break of dawn

& Graceful bounding o’er the hills

To the music of the rills

What bright hues thy cheeks adorn

Like the blushes of the Morn!

How thy curled & glossy hair

Clusters o’er thy forehead fair

How the sportive ringlets deck

(golden Snow) Thy ivory neck

And thy hands so smooth & white

Folded while the rosy light

Of a summer sunset sky

Gleams around thee gloriously

All the west one crimson flood

Pouring light o’er mount & wood

Beauteous being most divine

I am thine & thou art mine

1830

The Violet

One eye as all the radiant west

Far-beaming with the liquid gold

Of sunset, gilt the mountains crest

Girdling the sky with outlines bold

Flung a broad and mellow light

Around the rocks that rose on high

As pillars for the throne of night

Then shading soft the eastern sky

I stood amid a desert vast

Nor golden field nor mead was there

No tree or grove their shadow cast

Or shook their tresses in the air.

But one wide solemn wilderness

Whose aspect filled the mind with fear

Showed Nature in her sternest dress

With rugged brow and face severe.

Winds ov’er that land have come and gone

But voiceless and unblest with sound

Of living song or human tone

They ceaseless sigh and murmur round

Yet oft the lonely traveler hears

A sugh as of some distant stream

And lo! far off in gloom appears

A mighty waters azure gleam

Life in these wilds has ceased to be

Not e’en the eagle’s royal wing

Waves in the sky. No red-deer free

Make with his cry this desert ring

My heart quaked at the silence dead

The utter silence reigning there

An incubus, an awful dread

With leaden power oppressed the air

At length a gentle breeze up-sprang

With low wild moaning on it swept

It seem Eolian music rang

As softly on the ear they crept

No white sail glideth o’er its breast

No snowy seamew cuts the waves

But all unburdened and at rest

The passing surge that lone shore laves

And watered by that harp-like blast

Thoughts rose within my spirits cell

Of those who in long ages past

Attuned the muses hallowed shell

Of him, the Bard that swept the lyre

Whose sounding strings were stained with gore

Whose aged eyes shot heavenly fire

Beaming beneath his forehead hoar

All honour to that mighty one

Let earth with his great praises ring

Child of the self-illumined sun

How did’st thou strike the trembling string

While music like a mountain flood

Rolled forth as swept thy hand along

Wars, horrid wars and streaming blood

Ensanguished deep thy martial song

Greece thy fair skies have flung their light

On mightiest of this sunlit world

Genius enthroned in glory bright

O’er thee her banner hath unfurled

Now desolate by time decayed

Thy solemn temples mouldring lye

While black groves throw Cimerian shade

Beneath a still transparent sky

Degenerate are thy sons and slaves

Athens and Sparta are no more.

Unswept by swans Euretos laves

As yet its laurel shaded shore

Parnassus now uplifts her head

Forsaken of the holy nine

They from her heights for aye have fled

And now in fair Britania shine

If rising from the silent tomb

Thy tragic bards could see thee now

What solemn clouds of grief and gloom

Would shade each spirit’s lofty brow

How would the haunted air resound

With moanings of each shadowy lyre

How would earth tremble at the sound

And quake before the wailing dire

He that with soft but stately tread

Passed solemn o’er the Grecian stage

What tears of pity would he shed

At sight of thy base vasallage

The tender and the terrible

Commingling each their notes of woe

One strain with rage divine would swell

The other sadly sorrowing flow

Though fair Ausonia too hath sunk

And fallen from her high estate

Though deeply she the cup hath drunk

Of vengeance from the hand of Fate

Yet mid her mighty ruins oft

Some beauteous flower is seen to bloom

Piercing with radiance mildly soft

Her crumbling cities cloudy gloom

Such he that sang Jerusalem

In strains as sweet as ever flows

From harp of Mantuas glorious swain

Though heavens own fire within him glows

But no faint star on thee hath shone

O Greece since set those orbs of light

Each in itself a quenchless sun

Refulgently, divinely bright!

And said I set? No still they beam

With dazzling lustre far on high

Aye sending forth a golden gleam

O’er azure of the vaulted sky

And sons of Albion in the rank

Shine crowned with honorous they have won

For deeply of the fount they drank

The sacred fount of Helicon

Hail army of immortals hail!

O might I ’neath your banners march!

Though faint my lustre faint and pale

Scarce seen amid the glorious arch

Yet joy deep joy would fill my heart

Nature unveil thy awful face

To me a poet’s pow’r impart

Though humble be my destined place

«Twas thus arose my ardent prayer

Amid the desert solitude

It reached the «Mighty Mother’s» ear

She saw me where I lowly stood

And first a voice went sweeping by

On the wild wind that murmured round

From the deep bosom of the sky

Seemed to proceed that solemn sound

Then shadowy vapours gathered fast

Which shut from view the pale moon-light

Swelled louder the triumphant blast

High pealing with tumultuous might

The river’s voice from distance far

Proclaimed some prodigy was nigh

Clouds veil’d from sight each glimmering star

And waned their splendor from the sky

I trembled as a brighter ray

Unknown from whence, illumed the air

Transforming twilight into day

As luna’s beam of silver fair

Now dawned upon my awe-struck eyes

A shape more beauteous than the moon

When radiant with a thousand dyes

The pearls of night her brow adorn

A woman’s form the vision wore

Her lofty forehead touched the sky

Her crown, a rugged mountain hoar

Where plume-like trees waved solemnly

Down fell her mantle white as snow

An azure river girt her round

That liquid belt did circling flow

With faint but never ceasing sound

The heavenly and the terrene globe

In lines of light were pictured fair

On foldings of her spotless robe

Wide floating on the ambient air

Her dusky tresses dark as night

With crescent moon and stars were bound

As through black clouds shone out their light

In rays of glory beaming round

A gracious smile illumed her face

As throned she sate on clouds of light

In attitude of heavenly grace

Beneath an arch like rainbow bright

And sweet as the echoes of the hill

At length her voice the silence broke

In accents calm serene and still

Thus Nature condescending spoke

«Thy prayer hath reached me where I dwell

«In river or in sounding cave

«By woodland bower by hidden dell

«Or under oceans foamy wave

«Thou would’st be one of that bright band

«The favoured children of the sky

«The chosen from each shore and land

«Of deathless fame and memory

«Mortal I grant that high request

«(But dim thy beam and faint thy ray)

«Partake the glory of the blest

«Son of Apollo King of day

«Laurel thy temples may not bind

«In humbler sphere thy fate is set

«That for the more exalted mind

«But take you lowly violet

«And press it mortal to thy heart

«And wreath the floweret round thy brow

«O! never from that token part

««Till death thy energies shall bow

Thus spoke the glorious deity

Then passed in dazzling light away

The mighty sovereign of the sky

Shone never with so bright a ray

I plucked the violet where it grew

Beside a stone, green moss amid

Its lovely leaflets bright with dew

Like modest worth half seen half hid

Years have rolled o’er me since that night

Still doth the flower its perfume shed

Still shall it free from withering blight

Till I lie with the silent dead.

1830

The Evening Walk (A Poem By the Marquis of Douro in Pindaric Metre)

When August glowed with fervid summer pride

And noon had faded into eventide

A fresh breeze through my unclosed lattice playing

Amid a vines young tendrils wanton straying

Asked me with voice more sweet than harp or lute

Or merry dulcimer or gentle Flute

To walk abroad & taste the balmy air

Which violets of the vale & lillies fair

Had filled with fragrance, as it o’er them breathed.

Upon the green grass in rich clusters wreathed

They lay — when the wind passed each raised its head

And o’dorous perfumes softly calmly shed

Pouring delights upon the sweeping gale

E’re twiligh [t] came their beauties bright to veil

Their loveliness in sheltering leaves to fold

While clouds of night high o’er the skies are rolled

& shadows blacken meadow plain & wold

Not unheeded spoke the wind

Murm’ring in my ear

Soon I saw afar behind

The thund’rous city peer

Above its girdling green-robed hills

Above its forests wild & high

And the tower which with wonder fill [s]

Each stranger — clave the sky

No mist slept on it’s head

N [o] cloud begirt it round,

& the majesty about it shed

With awe my spirit bound.

Then I turned away opprest

Toward the glories of the west

I could gaze for aye

On the proud array

Of the sunset heavens at close of day

At the radiant dyes

Which paint the skies

When Appollo to his haven hies

And bathed in seas of golden light

Diving he leaves the world to night

There the roses crimson blend

With purple bright that soft ascend

To the stainless blue

Whose heavenly hue

Robes the vault which distills translucent dew

On the thirsty earth

Giving joyous birth

To the signs of vegetable mirth

& while each clear drop is lit with glory

The pearl-strew [n] plains like a frost looks hoary

On splendour of the gorgeous west

At length I ceased to gaze

& my dazzled eyes sought in the east

The soft restoring haze;

That dusky dun-clad twilight brings

Ever on it’s rosy silent wings

There a belt of paleest red

All th’ horizon circled

Dimly it did wane & fade

With indistinctly melting shade

Into the cerulean sky

As it calmly rose on high

Rivalling the rainbows hue

When it blended with the blue

Eastward I took my lonely way

Attracted by that aspect mild

And as the last transcendant ray

Of the sun o’er verdant nature smiled

I came to a pile of high gaunt rocks

Whose Giant plumes were the shaggy oaks

Now grimly waving

And a mighty stream went howling by

Whose voice arose to the lofty sky

As wildly raving

It chafed its bounds of solid stone

And the desert rung with the ceaseless moan

While the caverned rocks sent back the sound

Which through all that region echoed round—

A while by that impetuous flood

Wrapped in thought I silent stood

Till splashed with spray

I turned away

& Aided by the sinking day

Emerging from that chasm wild

Where in solitude the rocks were piled

I ent [e] red a grassy plain

Embosoned in mountains towring aloft

It smiled with a garb of green herbage soft

Like emeral [d] circlets which fairies trace

When their morrice dance they merrily pace

The enormous gloom was round it cast

Of a forest of frowning Pine-wood vast

Which stretched o’er every mountain grey

Was closed all the night long

& even in meridian day

Night reigned those hills among

For blackened there a shade

By nodding branches made

And in the solemn twiligh [t] mirk

[A] hundred noisesome reptiles lurk

The matted grass or bushy brake

Conceal the slyly creep [ing] snake

While hemlock rears its baleful head

Where thickest is the darkness shed

But no loathsome creature crept

Through that flowry plain

There ’mid sweets the sk [y] lark slept

Chanting in dreams the strain

Which soon the morning skies should thrill

The air of dawn with music fill

When on its spotted breast

The first light gleamed amid some cloud

While far below in misty shroud

The earth is laid at rest

Now above the horizon bar

The quiet moon rose o’er the world

Nights banner decked with many a star

Was silently unfurled

In one continuous sheet of light

& yellow lustre swathed

Meek nature lay & faintly bright

Her hills & tree’s were bathed

With floods of glory

Gushing from on high

On rocks made hoary

By splendour of the sky

The plain, I wandred o’er

Uncertain w [h] ere to go

Until I heard before —

A warbling streamlet flow

Soon I crossed the narrow brook

& my onward way I took

Till I reached a haunted dell

Down the green sides sloping fell

«Broidering moss spread o’er each bank

«Neath my footsteps softly sank

Purple violet’s frequent pept

From where with closed buds they slept

Nestling in their leaves

Coming night had deepened round

On the solitary ground

And the bottom of the dell

As it far receding fell

From the fair moons silver light

Which peirced the gath’ring gloom of night

Indistinct & dark appeare [d]

Covered with a dusky veil

Through whic [h] no fair object peered

Star illumined faint & pale

From the gloom methought I heard

Music sweet ascend

Like the voice of singing bird,

Sweetly did it blend

Strain of Thrush & nightingale

In one superhuman song

Pensive as a wind-harp’s wail

It poured the air along

Fairies were in the hollow green

Feasting amid wild flowers

And the harmony came from them unseen

Passing in joy the hours

I knew the trip of their little feet

By the rustling grass far down

As o’er it they flew elastic fleet

Where it waved in that region lone

I heard the song of the elves arise

And O twas sweetly flung

On the breeze as it mingled with whose signs

Thus the tiny spirits sung

Come fill with sparkling dew

Each gold & crystal cup

Let the clarion and the horn

Full joyously resound

Lo the lamps of eve are twinkling

And the stars of night are up

And the music of the night-bird

Is gushing all around

The flowers close their leaflets

And listen to the tone

Dull howling through those ancient trees

«Tis the hoarse wild winds moan

That blast has broken from its hold

With might of thunders roar

O’er the trembling vault of heaven rolled

O’er the mountains sumits hoar

Heark how it rushes

And furiously gushes

Adown that narrow vale—

The stern oaks bend

their strong roots rend

«Neath that triumphant gale

Now feirce tumult cease

Loud wind rest in peace

Restrain thy wearying

Tumultuous breath

And let a silence come

Frozen & fast as death

Now stopped the merry danceing

I heard it no more

Yet by light moon beams glancing

I saw the fairies soar

On soft & noiseless silken wing

The calm air gently winnowing

They swiftly rose on high

Then slowly disappeared

And melted in the sky

Now the hush of moonlight lay

On all the hills around

& no murmuring sign of lightsome day

Peirced the still night profound

I yet walked on unheeding

Over the lonely plain

The stars of heaven reading

Like wand’rer on the main

Whe [n] sudden the sound of a torrent fell

Loud rushing on my ear

& I saw through trees a cat’ract swell

That roared impetuous near

Strangely that ceaseless thunder broke

Those vast solitary woods

In silence dead that eloquent spok [e]

It ever rolled its floods

Eagles that shoot on wings athwart the sky

Or soar sublimely wrap [t] in solemn cloud

That build their inaccessible nests on high

Mid oaks, whose knarled trunks in homage bowed

Conceal the erie in their leafy shroud

Sleep sometimes & the Lion doth also rest

In forest den couching till close of day

Till the sun sinking in the crimson west

Shall call him forth again to hunt for prey

& for his royal food the subject beasts to slay

Huge Behemoth shakes not for aye the ground

At night he lays his vast bulk under trees

Whose thick leaves lull him to repose with sound

Of hoarsely murm’ring waters of the seas

When swell the azure waves unswept by wind or breeze.

But running brook & river

Still rush along their way

They stop their courses never

By midnight or noonday

Though stars to soothe their raving

May sweetly o’er them play

Yet still their green bank laveing

They hold the chanelled way

Though quiet moonlights streaming

Unmindful that still ray

Through emerald foliage gleaming

They churn the silver spray

How weary seems that lasting task

Still in motion on to pour

Ne’er in fixed calm to bask

Like mirror by the sounding shore

Then the trees might droop unshaken

Round the quiet bay

And the silence then might waken

Birds to chant their lay

Inarticulate anthems hymning

Perched on slender twig & bough

Their music o’er the surface skimming

While the stream rests from it’s flow

& no longer past meandering

Doth eternal go

When again the river glides

From Binding chains set free

Each majestic wavelet rides

Laden with melody

Bearing it’s tribute waters

Towards the boundless sea

Then in awful billows heaving

With its own loud harmony

These were my thoughts as home my steps I turned

By clouds which sailed along the horizon warned:

I cast one last glance at the lovely moon

To see if yet In the wide heavens she shone

Lo! curtaining mists o’re all the sky were spread

& weary with nightly watching she’d veiled her beauteous head.

1830

The Vision

The gentle, Show’ry Spring had passed away

And no more breathed the fragrant breath of June

Summer had clad in glorious array

Each hill and plain & now the harvest moon

Shone on the waving corn brown Autumn’s golden boon

In that glad time, as twilight softly crept

Over the earth; I wandered to a place

Where stillness reigned As if the whole world slept

For here of noise remained no wearying trace

But deepest silence sat on all nature’s face

It was a wild glen near it frowned huge rocks

Which hung their dark beams o’er its stony bed

And in their caverned sides faint echo mocks

When rolls some fragment down, with rumbling dread

And horrid noise launched from the mountains head.

The valley now was still a midnight calm

Fell on it; as I sat beneath a tree

Whose leaflets glistened with the dew’s mild balm

Wept by the evening stir so freshly free

And filling all the air with soft humidity

«Mong the huge trees which canopied that glen

I saw the sky with many a bright star hung

And through the midst alone sailed glorious gem

The moon who still her trembling lustre flung

Unchanged as when her spheres together tuneful-sung

At intervals her light fell through the trees

And with mild glory silvered all the vale

While Through all those branches whispered not a breeze

No hollow blast did sad and mournful wail

But solemn silence walked beneath the moonbeams pale

Yet black the gaunt rocks rose before my eyes

And their black caverns filled the heart with dread

They stood in grand releif from out the skies

Whose clear vaults arched oer each shaggy head

And from those quivering stars a radian [t] light was shed

I gazed upon this scene till slumber fell

Upon my eyelids, then methought I saw

On my entranced sight a vision swell

Whose glory passed the bound of Natures law

And filled the spirit with a mingl [e] d joy & awe

A land was spread before me where the trees

Formed woods of emrald clearness and high bowers

Through which the [re] whispered many a murmuring breeze

Perfumed with incence of a hundred flowers

Wat [e] red by clouds of light which fell in fragrant showers

I heard sweet voices not like human sound

But tuneful of artic’ late harmony

I saw no shape but oft there floated round

A zephyr soft & breathing from the sky

As if some unseen form in light wings flitted by

At length the air ’gan brighten faint there shone

A rainbow path through all the expanse of blue

And music of a soft melodious tone

Subdued by distance through hea’vens wide arch flew

Falling upon the ear calm as the twilight dew

Louder it rose, sweep harp & timbrel clear

Rang tunefully to many a sweeter voice

These mingling fell upon the list’ning ear

While all the echo’s answered to the noise

And Nature seemed united to rejoice

Then a bright chariot glided through the air

Attended by a glorious company

Of beings radiant surpassing fair

Around them rolled of light a mighty sea

And now the music played with loudest melody

And while this scene slow passed before my eyes

Dazzled with splendor suddenly I woke

& Lo the light dawn tinged the easterns skies

Showing the rugged front of many a rock

And faintly gilding each wide branching oak

1830

Vesper

I’ll hang my lyre amid these ancient treess

And while the sad wind moans the chords among

Sweet forest music of the harp & breeze

Shall steal the circumambient air along

And I will sing meantime a low responsive song

What shall I sing? wilt thou of rising moon

Like a broad shield suspended in the east

Wilt thou attend some melancholy tune

While sleeps thy light upon the rivers breast

Whose swelling wavelets sink when by thy beam carest

No beauteous as thou art thy gentle ear

Would call my music rugged & mid clouds

Thou might’st offended hide thy silver car

And draw o’er heaven dark & sombre shrouds

Concealing all its hosts, marshalled in radiant crowds

What shall I sing then? hark that sudden swell!

That rose in the old forests glimmering light

How like the tone of some old convent bell

Borne to the travellers ear at dead of night

Sounding in utter silence with a tenfold might

The rising wind hath stolen it from the strings

Of my sweet lyre suspended in yon tree

And now the wild wood with rich music rings

And thrilling cadences most bold and free

Are pealing round with heavenly melody

I need not sing, the armies of the skys

Nights empress, & the dryad wood-nymphs fair

Would rather list the tones that now arise

And fill with harmony the twilight air

Sweet sounds for all the winds beneath the stars to bear

Then I will sit & listen, not a voice

Disturbs the unbroken stillness of this hour

No nestling bird, with faintly rustling noise

Raises the leaflets of the vernal bower

OR bends the spray where blooms the fruit betokning flowr

Even the chorister of night is still

Sweet Philomel restrains her customed song

Hushed are the murmers of the unseen rill

Creeping through matted grass & weeds along

Silent I too will be these solemn shades among

1830

Written on the Summit of a High Mountain in the North of England

How lonely is this spot, deep silence reigns,

For ceased has ev’ry human stir and sound;

But Natures voice is heard in gentle strains

Which, with a stilly noise float softly round.

Each leaf which quivers in those giant elms

Falls audibly upon the list’ning ear;

As if it came from distant spirit realms

A warning of some death or danger near.

And now strange thoughts & mournful, slowly rise

Each after other in a gloomy train,

Each quickly born, and each as quickly dies;

Drunk by the whirlpool, of oblivions main.

But sudden bursting from a thick dark cloud,

Lo! the bright sun illumines all the earth,

Tinting with amber light, that wat’ry shroud:

Radiant with beauty as he now walks forth

Behold the valley glows with life and light,

Each raindrop bears a glory in its cell

Of Saphire, ruby, or fair em’rald bright

Rejoicing in its palace clear to dwell.

A wilderness of sweets yon wood appears;

Before a forest full of darksome gloom:

But now a smilling face of joy it wears;

Not such as would befit the churchyard tomb.

But all unseemly mid the gladness stands,

That ancient castle, mossed and grey with age;

Once the resort of warlike feudal bands:

Where oft was heard the battles bloody rage

Now an unbroken stillness reigns around:

No warriors step rings through the arched halls;

No hunting horns sweet thrilling mellow sound,

Or bloodhounds yell reverb [e] rates mid those walls.

The gladsome sunshine suits not with this place,

And golden light seems but to mock the grey

And sorrowing aspect, of its furrowed face;

Too time worn to be joyous with the day.

But when black night o’ershadows with her wing

The prospect; and the solemn nightingale;

Sings while the moon her silver light doth fling

In trem’lous lustre o’er the sleeping vale.

Then awfully that ancient castle tow’rs,

From out its grove of venerable trees;

Amid whose scathed and withered leafless bow’rs,

Howls mournfuly the peircing winter breeze.

Or on some day, when dark and sombre clouds,

Veil dismally the blue etherial sky:

When the deep grandeur of their blackness shrouds,

The sun with all its majesty on high.

When fitful shadows hurry o’er the plain;

And curtain round this mountain’s hoary brow:

Rolling voluminous, a misty train;

Or curled in floating vapours ev’n as now;

Those light soft clouds piled in the ambient air,

Of gentle lustre and of pearly hue:

Calm in the summer twilight, mild, and fair;

Distilling from their pureness, crystal dew.

1830

Young Man Naughty’s Adventure

Murk was the night: nor star, nor moon,

Shone in the cloud-wrapped sky,

To break the dull, tenebrous gloom

Of the arched vault on high,

When Naughty, with his dog and gun,

Walked lonely o’er the moor;

True the shooting-season had not begun,

But poachers commence before.

The howling winds blew fierce around,

The rain drove in his face,

And as Naughty heard the hollow sound

He quickened his creeping pace;

For, as each hoarse, sepulchral blast

Drew slow and solemn near,

It seemed like spirits sailing past

To his affrighted ear.

For he was on a dreadful errand bent

To the ancient witch of the moor:

A delegate by his comrades sent

To consult the beldam hoar.

Now yelled the wind with more terrible din,

Now rattled the rain full fast,

And, noiselessly gliding, forms were seen

As around his eyes he cast;

When a rustling sound in the heather he heard:

Starting, he turned about;

Was it a spirit? Was it a bird?

No, a hare sprang trembling out!

The shot went» Whizz!» and the gun went» Bang!»

A flash illumed the air;

Far and wide the moor with echo rang

As down dropped the luckless hare.

He ran to the spot, and, lo! there lay

A woman on the hard heath bed,

Whose soul had left its breathless clay,

For the witch of the moor was dead!

1830

***

Lo! the light of the morning is flowing

Through radiant portals of gold

Which Aurora in crimson robes glowing

For the horses of fire doth unfold

See Apollo’s burnished car

Glorifies the east afar

As it draws the horizon nigher

As it climbs the heavens higher

Richer grows the amber light

Fairer, more intensely bright

Till floods of liquid splendor roll

O’er all the earth from pole to pole

Hark! the birds in the green forest bower

Have beheld the suns chariot arise

And the humblest the stateliest flower

Are arrayed in more beautiful dyes

Now while the woodland choir are singing

Opening buds fresh odours flinging

And while natures tuneful voice

Calls on all things to rejoice

I cannot join the common gladness

’tis to me a time of sadness

All these sounds of mirth impart

Nought but sorrow to my heart

But I love eve’nings still quiet hour

The whispering twilight breeze

The damp dew’s invisible shower

Conglobing in drops on the trees

Then is heard no sound or tone

But the night-bird singing lone

Peacefully adown the vale

It passes on the balmy gale

Ceases oft the pensive strain

Solemn sinking & again

Philomela sends her song

To wander the night winds along

While silver-robed Luna is beaming

Afar in the heavens on high

And her bright train of planets are gleaming

Like gems in the dome of the sky

From the firmament above

Down they gaze with looks of love

On the minstrel all unheeding

Still their ears entranced feeding

notes of sweetest sound

Gushing forth on all around

Music not unfit for heaven

But to earth in mercy given

Thou dost charm the mourner [s] heart

Thou dost pensive joy impart

Peerless Queen of harmony

How I love thy melody

1830

On Seeing an Ancient Dirk in the Armory of the Tower of All Nations Bloodstained with Three Distinet Spots which marks none have yet been able to erase (By the M [arquis of] Douro)

Dagger what heart hath quivered neath thy blow?

Whence fell these three dark spots to stain the steel.

All else is bright: was it a human Foe

Who did the rankling of thy strong blade feel?

Or has some ruffian grasped that jewelled hilt

And Peirced of innocense the quiet breast.

Hast thou the glorious blood of martyrs spilt

Or torn the mighty warrior’s lofty crest.

Perhaps in gloomy Forest thou hast slain

The tiger or the Lion, — horrid thing —

Till hot blood from his heart thy brightness stain.

Didst thou from him loud roars of anguish wring.

Why midst each glancing sword and shield and spear

Which dart around insufferable day

Dost thou alone tarnished and marked appear

Not sending forth an undefiled ray.

Ages on Ages long have passed away

Since thou wast ruthless in the battle plain,

Since chieftains clad in polished war array

Have with thee triumphed o’er the bloody slain.

Thou hast not yet forgot the purple streams

That slaked of old thy savage thirst for gore.

Black mid the radiance which around it gleams

Appear those remnants of the days of yore.

What spell pronounced by the unholy tongue

O wizard or magician gave command

That those three drops in wrath or treachery wrung

For rolling years untold would steadfast stand

Irraseable by power of mortal hand.

Dagger thou knowst not; voiceless is the crowd

Of ancient arms that clothe this spacious wall.

Voiceless and speechless are those nobles grand

Who bore ye once: now each in gloomy pall

Lies deaf even to his own shrill battle call

Which erst had roused him from the slumber deep

And girt him with a giant’s vigorous might

Sent him like thunder or the whirlwind sweep

To death or victory in the glorious fight

Victry’s reward and death’s eternal night.

1830

Fragment

Now rolls the sounding Ocean

«Neath nights tenebrious wing

How wild is that eternal motion

That sullen slow unceasing swing

Of waves & billows loudly roaring

Under cloud-becurtained skies

Up the scattered foam-bell flies

While down the dashing torrent’s pouring

And rejoicing in the storm

Glides through all the aeriel form

Of some snow [w] hite sea-bird fair

Borne on sleek wings light as air

Now the dull uncertain sound

Of rising wind moans oft around

1830

Line Addressed to Lady Z [enobia] E [lrington] Sent with My Portrait Which She Had Asked Me to Give Her by Marquis Douro

Lady this worthless gift I send

Obeying your command

Now to my poor request attend

And give with willing hand

You have an aspect passing fair

A form of beauteous guise

A Juno-like majestic air

And peircing, radiant eyes

And you have locks whose jetty light

Is like the ravens wing

And O! when from your forehead bright

Those glossy locks you fling;

How down your shoulders fair they stream

And down your stately neck

How richly with their dusky gleam

Your queen-like form they deck

Now from those ample treasures take

One little sportive ring

And I will keep it for your sake

And oft its praises sing

I’ll set it round with orient pearl

Inclosed in case of gold

More I shall prize that single curl

Than precious gems untold

Memmorial though frail yet fair

Of one whose genius bright

Hath glorified our age with glare

Of its unsetting light

And O! if ghastly Death should break

The tie that binds us now

That token unto me shall speak

Of the imperial brow

O’er it gracefully did stray

And bright & burnished shone

Like the vine tendrils wanton play

In times long past & gone.

1830

Pleasure

A Short Poem or Else Not, Say I

True pleasure breathes not city air,

Nor in Art’s temples dwells,

In palaces and towers where

The voice of Grandeur dwells.

No! Seek it where high Nature holds

Her court ’mid stately groves,

Where she her majesty unfolds,

And in fresh beauty moves;

Where thousand birds of sweetest song,

The wildly rushing storm

And hundred streams which glide along,

Her mighty concert form!

Go where the woods in beauty sleep

Bathed in pale Luna’s light,

Or where among their branches sweep

The hollow sounds of night.

Go where the warbling nightingale

In gushes rich doth sing,

Till all the lonely, quiet vale

With melody doth ring.

Go, sit upon a mountain steep,

And view the prospect round;

The hills and vales, the valley’s sweep,

The far horizon bound.

Then view the wide sky overhead,

The still, deep vault of blue,

The sun which golden light doth shed,

The clouds of pearly hue.

And as you gaze on this vast scene

Your thoughts will journey far,

Though hundred years should roll between

On Time’s swift-passing car.

To ages when the earth was yound,

When patriarchs, grey and old,

The praises of their god oft sung,

And oft his mercies told.

You see them with their beards of snow,

Their robes of ample form,

Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow,

Felt seldom passion’s storm.

Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals

Into your inmost mind;

A quiet aura your spirit feels,

A softened stillness kind.

1830

Reflections on the fate of neglected Genius

Mighty winds that sing on high

Wildly, sweetly, mournfully,

Bear my song through heavens dome

Add from your stores some sweeter tone

To fit it for its passage in the sky.

None can tell the bitter anguish

Of those lofty souls that languish!

With Grim Penury still dwelling

Quenched by frowns their sacred fire

All their powers within them swelling

Tortured by neglect to ire

And inly conscious that the radiant light

Of Genius is around them ever shed

What marvel if their high poetic might

Should burst to rage

When hope is vanished

And for the golden haired & bright-eyed queen

A Ghastly band of brooding cares are seen

Genius enthroned in light

Dost thou for those who at thine altars kneel

One passing cloud of greif to dim thy radiance feel

Speak from thy dwelling bright!

Hark! came that voice from thee

Omnipotent and great Divinity

No ’twas but the breeze drew near

And seemed articulate to my ear

Answer thou that Dwell’st on high

Answer from the azure sky

O! this utter silence break

But do I to an unseen shadow speak

A spiritual essence pure divine

Which the hearts of men enshrine

And that sheds a holy ray

Over animated clay

And for him in whom it dwells

Whose heart with generous feeling swells

film from his eyes

And his vision purifies

Of that dim & earthly haze

Through which less favoured mortals gaze

And O! what strange sensations gush

To his expanding soul

With wild & overwhelming rush

& onward silent roll

When some fair scene of nature breaks

At once upon his eye

And to his heart though voiceless speaks

Sweetly and solemnly

Some huge and hoary mountain

A shade tremendous flinging o’er the land

Like a dark cloud that natures mighty hand

Hath piled aloft, cumbering the earth with gloom

And ominous, blackness as the last great day

Were hasting fast & dreadful signs of doom

Tokens of coming terrors, upon the great world lay

Or the blue moonlight heaven

Bathed in a mystery of light

By myriads of glorious planets given

Moving in orbits vast around the central light

Then when the high cerulean vault

Quivers & trembles with their lustre strange

Genius thou dost thy votarys thoughts exalt

To other, mightier worlds, that never, never change!

And winged forms flit rapid o’er his brain

Floating in radiance still and silently

And on his ear swells some celestial strain

Sounding from regions far beyond the sky

None hear the unearthly song save him

And e’en to his entranced ear

Fitful dreamlike and dim

Those midnight sounds appear!

These are the joys of Genius but the grief

The sting of cold neglect, unheeded merit

No cheering ray no balsam of relief

Soothe the heart-peircing pains that rack His spirit

Thousands on Thousand [s] pass the mourner by

Nor heave a sigh nor one kind tear drop lend

In sorrow for his woeful agony

And for the pangs that all his bosom rend

The love of fame the love of deathless glory

Inspires alike the feeble & the strong

The vigourous stripling & the ancient hoary

Would each his nam [e] to future years prolong

Far brighter burns the universal fire

Within his breast whom now I feebly sing

Possessing but that high, and sole desire

That after times should with his praises ring

And thus mid greif & strife he yeilds to death

Then slow & solemn tolls his funeral knell

And broken hearted he resigns his breath

Unhappy child of Genius fare the [e] well

1830

Winter. A Short Poem

Autumn has vanished wiith his train

Of ripened fruits and golden grain

Now the white hoar frost spreads the feilds

Grim Winter now the sceptre weilds

Lowring clouds deface the sky

Veil the solemn worlds on high

Many a storm portending blast

Sweeps with mournful cadence past

And the lonely traveller

Now sees the tempest from afar

Benighted on some desert moor

He hears the distant sullen roar

Sent by the spirit of the storm

From the dark bosom of a cloud

It floats & sounds more near & loud

As in the heavens, black he sees an awful form

It rears its huge & ghastly head

Around which plays an halo red

From out the battlements of air

All gilded by the moonlight fair

Which suddenly as if unbound

Flings a radiance around

Bright’ning with a fitful glory

The grim cloudy giant hoary

Lost again in dessert gloom

It sinks within a vapoury tomb

Meantime the swift descending snow

Comes with one continuous flow

Whitening all the earth around

From the heavens black and louring

Ceaseless & incessant pouring

Till in its winter robe is clothed all the ground

Dismal & deathlike is the scene

But soon arrayed in robes of green

Spring will come, the budding bower

& the snowdrops humble flower

Heralding her coming step

From the verdant earth will peep

While the little birds will sing

At the approach of gentle spring

Soon the rose will ope her bud

And each fair flowret of the wood

The violet dark the primrose pale

The cowslip of the sweeping vale

Will all unfold their fragrant leaves

Purple, crimson and bright gold

A wreath for meadow waste & wold

Their rich united sweets harmoniously weaves

1830

***

Now fall the last drops of the shower,

And sunshine rests on every hill;

The liquid diamonds in each flower

Their cups with trembling radiance fill.

Lo! from Apollo’s golden light

The fertilizing vapours fly,

And reappears in splendour bright

The calmly lustrous sky.

A clearer azure paints the robe

Spread gloriously on high;

A fresher verdure decks the globe

That far beneath doth lie.

How glad and sweet the murmurings

That from blue streams ascend,

While around cool shade the woodland flings

As its boughs to the waters bend.

But now the clouds with densest gloom

Have gather’d in the north,

And methinks I hear the thunders boom

From their dark recess roll forth.

Hushed in heaven and hushed in earth

Every sound of joy and mirth;

For upon that mighty cloud,

Huge and black as Nature’s shroud,

Faint appears a vision fair

Pil’d upon the ambient air;

From its darkness breathes a light,

Softly lustrous, dimly bright.

More distinct the glory grows:

Lo! a shade of light it throws,

And upon the vaulted skies

Now a second arch doth rise.

And as they span the heavens,

Each gleaming like a star,

They seem as some fair vision

That cometh from afar,

With transitory light

Flashing on our mortal sight,

And upon our slumbers stealing,

Strangest scenes in sleep revealing;

At the dawn of daylight, flies

Swift before the opening eyes,

Scarce leaving mem’ry’s shade,

As away they flit and fade.

Never they return again;

Now I close my lightsome strain.

1830

A Traveller’s Meditations

This wide world I have compassed round:

Beheld each distant shore;

I have been where nought but the sullen sound

Was heard of ocean’s roar;

Where boundless liquid plains were spread

Bright in the tropic solar beam,

Afar from the blue arch overhead

Rushed down a burning stream.

O, I have lain while twilight’s robe

Wrapped the heavens and wrapped the globe;

Stretched on the deck for a lonely pillow

List’ning the wind and the rolling billow;

Watching each wave set, sink and rise

Neath the gold light of the evening skies;

While whispered around me the Zephyr calm

Sweeter than music and softer than balm.

Each breeze seemed the voice of a spirit on high

Speaking of peace in the tones of the sky:

Some went past with rushing swell,

Others more mild on the waters fell,

Scarce heaving with their gentle breath

The rippling wavelets snowy wreath,

Subsiding as the moon arose

And threw her light on their liquid snows,

Which melted away and appeared again

Crested by the restless main,

As if, when they saw her silver beam,

They loved to sport in the pearly gleam.

A ceaseless murmur went up from the ocean

Which told of his never-ending motion,

Of the waves that eternally roll and rage,

War against the solid caverns wage:

Sinking and swelling

Like sea-monster yelling,

Unseen in tenebrious night.

Loud roars the dull thunder

That still surface under,

Far hid from the regions of light

That fathomless tomb,

That kingdom of gloom,

Where darkness aye reigns in his might.

And I have been on the icy hill,

Awe at the thought my soul doth fill.

Unrivalled mid the Alps it towers,

Sternly its form o’er Gallia lowers.

Clad in robe of purest white,

Radiant as the lunar light,

Rearing its bald head on high

To a clear unclouded sky.

Cold and chill immensity,

Subject giants stand around,

Wastes of snow its [?summits] bound

Save where far below is seen

Golden fields and vineyards green,

Fair Ausonia’s fruitful plains,

Where all-giving Ceres reigns.

O’er all the earth I’ve wandered long,

In every land of every tongue,

Now I come to my own loved home,

Ne’er again from its bounds to roam.

What thought those I knew are dead,

Though my kin from earth are fled?

Yet the same woods and rills and trees

Murmur and sing in the same sweet breeze;

And I can sit in the forest bower

And solace my heart with some wild flower,

That looks from the green and grassy ground

And the dead leaflets strewn around;

Speaking, though voiceless and empty of sound,

Bidding all gloomy care depart,

Soothing the passions and calming the heart.

1830

Lines to the Aragva, a River of the Caucasian Mountains (by Douro)

Mighty river, bold gushing

From the mountains snowclad height;

Wildly furious onward rushing,

As nought could thy wrath abey.

Soon shall thy anger cease:

Soon thy waves in peace,

Soft subsiding, still and slow,

Calmly gliding, gently flow.

Lovely valleys sleeping mildly

In the frozen hills embrace;

Ice rocks round them soaring wildly,

Give their beauty fairer grace.

There let thy waters glide,

Verdure on each side

Shall brighten, as the azure waves

Peacefully its green banks doth lave.

When the soft moonbeams are playing

On thy deep and rapid stream,

All in web of light arraying,

Dyed with their own pearly gleam,

Dost see Elbruz’ ghosts

Flit forth in winged hosts,

While with [?hoarse] tumults might

Trembles the ebon ear of night.

Or doth music breathed from heaven

Serenade each giant hill,

Pierce the yawning chasm’s rivers,

E’en stern rocks with sweetness,

Till solemnly and slow

Hark the melodies flow,

See awful Gara listening bends

And Kasibec on high attends?

Now in storms of grandeur pealing,

Faintly now it dies away.

Then again terrific swelling,

Listen to the music play,

On this foamy tide

The last calm robe hath died,

Like the strain of skylark [?loud],

The sounds are into silence gone.

1830

Song by Lord Wellesley

Some love Sorrow’s dismal howls,

Write verses on her sighs and scowls,

And rant about her mourning dress,

Her long black funeral array,

Her veil which shuts out light and day,

And love her not the less;

Although she sits with woeful face

On some old monumental tomb,

Where yellow skulls and bones have place,

Where corpses rot in churchyard gloom.

I wish some eve as thus she’s weeping,

While sober men are soundly sleeping,

Amid the obscurity of night,

From out its grave a ghost would start

And make her throat receive her heart

And give her sore afright.

Or catch her by the long black gown,

No matter how the lady screams,

Into the damp vault drag her down

Where sun or moonlight never beam.

But Cheerfulness full well I know,

And oft I’ve ssen her ruddy face,

Her lips, whence streams of pleasure flow,

And where tones of joy have place.

One moon as the skylark tuned his song

Afar in the heavens on high,

I walked forth, the green fields and upland [?throng],

I list the sweet tones from the sky.

Onward I sprung,

While light music rung

Above and below and around:

For the blackbird, the linnet, the dove and the thrush

Filled the air with a warbling sound.

The fresh breeze of dawn passed over the hills

Laden with incense of flowers;

It sung with the fountain and rippled the rills

And sighed softly through the green bowers.

Joy was in earth and joy was in heaven,

And joy was also in me;

I felt gladness and strength, health and strong might, given

By the wind of the morning [?free].

While I brushed the dew with hasty feet

From golden cups and clover sweet,

I felt on my arm a touch like light,

Or the downy wing of some gentle sprite,

And e’re I could turn myself around,

I heard the sweet tones and the silvery sound

Of an oft-heard, well-known voice:

And one stood by, in a robe that shone

As the soft fair clouds which array the moon;

Her radiant eyes were of lucid blue

And her crown of flowers rich odours threw.

It was her whom all lands and nations bless

And her welcome name is «Cheerfulness’.

She gave me a sign with winning grace,

While dimpled smiles illumed her face.

I followed as she led:

On we passed by moor and lea

Plain and vale and stream and tree,

Over hills where torrents rushed,

Down deep glens where whirlwinds gushed,

Nought could stop our way.

Now Apollo reached the west,

Diving in the ocean’s wave;

Theirs’ bowers afford him rest,

Billows vast his coursers lave.

When we gained a mighty plain

Stretching to the horizon’s bound,

Verdant as the robe of Spring,

Flowers of Summer strowed the ground;

Gloomy silence had her reign,

And the sky’s exalted dome

Shone with glory of the stars,

Beauteous gems of twilight’s throne.

Suddenly a song arose

Through the obscurity of night;

O’er my sight fair visions grew,

Lovely fawns all swiftly flew,

Upsprang a golden light.

Then merry music rang

And bright lamps radiance flung

On thousand burning gems,

Who sent back the dazzling streams;

And the green grassy earth and the mild ambient air

Glowed with the strong insufferable glare.

I viewed it for an instant, then night in double gloom

Fell around on the world, with the silence of the tomb.

The moon no more her pale light shed,

No glimmering stars were o’er my head,

For I lay asleep in a curtained bed;

And when I had wakened

The apparitions all were fled.

Instead of the music’s heavenly strain,

I heard the fast-descending rain

Rattle against my window pane;

I tossed about and strove in vain

To sleep or slumber once again.

So, at length I rose

And put on my clothes.

The whole house slept

So I softly crept

Down the long, winding stair,

And passed the gate by bribing the guard,

And I bent my steps to the poultry yard;

When who should I meet

At the turn of the street

But Tree, with a cock and hen!

I collared the thief and bade him say

Why he was [there] at this time of day;

But Tree got free and skulked away

And I never caught him again.

1830

***

Death is here, I feel his power,

Here are trophies of his might;

Ruthless warrior, that fair flower

Hath fallen beneath thy blight.

He hath cast his dart at thee,

Sister, thou art gone for aye;

He hath set thy spirit free

And it hath fled away.

Soon the grave will be thy bed,

Tears no more shall dim thine eye;

Thou wilt rest that weary head,

All calm and peacefully.

Undisturbed will be thy sleep,

Nought can break its still repose;

Though the worm may o’er thee creep

It cannot raise thy woes.

I have shut thy glazed eye,

I have heard thy funeral knell,

Now I hush the struggling sigh:

Sister, fare thee well!

1830

***

Haste, bring us the wine cup

And let it be full;

Fill, fill it to the brim up!

«Twill [?nock] even the dull,

Set his feet-a-dancing,

Twinkling and glancing,

While the tabor, the pipe and the lute,

The thundering drum and the flute,

Are ringing around,

Hark the merry sound!

Arise, I say, arise guests!

Dismiss care from your guests

See the wine trembles

In purple light,

Its radiance resembles

The amethyst bright.

Sip, guests, sip!

Raise it to your lip.

Fear not the harmless cup,

Drink the sweet nectar up.

List to my song!

«Tis like the nightingale’s singing among

Old forest trees,

Where murmurs the breeze

And bears the rich music the calm air along.

Nature is my dearest mother,

I will never own another,

And I am her child,

Untamable, wild;

Like the strong mountain eagle, my royal brother,

I was cradled like him in a cloud;

And the winds as they rushed or swept

Rocked our cold misty shroud

Till the two innocents slept.

Hah! His strong beak and talons

And the golden ring in his eye:

Methinks I see him now,

A speck in the azure sky.

He is soaring to the thunder,

As swiftly sweeping under

Arched rocks and mountains

Majestically high,

Whose bright silver fountains

Spring up to the sky.

Eagle, farewell, I shall see thee no more.

From my sight thy wings have borne

Thee to Apollo’s chariot soar,

Unwinking mayst thou gaze,

Fearlessly aspire,

Thy circlet of fire

May bear the sun’s most sweet blaze.

1830

***

O blessed, mildly rising morn,

I feel thy sweet fresh breeze,

I see thee wave the springing corn

And the tops of the green, young trees.

When thou com’st stately from the hills,

Thy flowery mantle o’er thee,

Thy praise is sung by a hundred rills

And all the woods adore thee.

They bend their mighty branches low

To kiss the sparkling dews,

Or dip them in the streams which flow

«Mong flowrets of all hues.

Thou art welcomed by the fields and plains

And the lark with gladsome song,

And joy pours gentle his matin strains

On the soft clouds borne along.

The heavens rejoice at thy approach,

The blue arch with fresh glory

Spans the earth spread beneath, like an emerald couch,

And brightens the mountains hoary.

1830

***

O where has Arthur been this night?

Why did he not come?

For long the sun’s fair orb of light

Hath shone in heaven’s dome.

Beneath the greenwood tree he’s slept,

His tester was the sky;

O’er him the midnight stars have wept

Bright dewdrops from on high.

And when the first faint streak of day

Did in the east appear,

His eyes touched by the morning’s ray

Shone out with lustre clear.

He rose, and from his dark brown hair

He shook the gilt’ring gems,

Which nature’s hand had scattered there

As on the forest stems.

The flowers sent up an odour sweet,

As forth he stately stept;

The stag sprang past more light and fleet,

The hare through brushwood crept.

1830

***

To the forest, to the wilderness,

Ah, let me hasten now.

Where ere I go, I still shall see

My master’s lowering brow.

The wood’ black shade won’t hide my grief,

No influence now I have;

But th’ stream will give more quick relief,

I’ll seek a wat’ry grave.

Unto the shore I’ll swiftly fly,

I’ll plunge into the sea;

The foam bells will ascend on high,

When drowning sets me free.

Drown all the ills which life doth give,

O mis’ry in me dwells.

When no longer shall I live,

The tide of sorrow swells.

Suspended from an elm tree tall,

I’ll end my mournful life,

My soul more bitter is than gall,

My heart is full of strife.

I’ll cut my neck with some sharp blade,

I’ll swallow poison dire;

No, now my resolution’s made:

I’ll set myself on fire!

1830

***

O There is a land which the sun loves to lighten

Whose bowers are of myrtle whose forests are palm

Whose shores the pure rays of the amethyst brighten

& Whose winds as they murmur are softer than balm

The streams of that land spring in might from their fountains

Rush through the deep valley & o’er the vast plain

Pass swiftly the cloud-crested sky-girdling mountains

As onward bright-bounding they meet the wide main

The boughs of the willow-tree gracefully drooping

Hang over their borders in shadowy gloom

And on the green banks to the clear waters sloping

Flowers bright as the rainbow eternally bloom

There silence asserts not her solemn dominion

There the bird of the wilderness evermore sings

Still tunes the sweet pipe & still waves the soft pinion

While Echo her tribute from far distance brings

But though fair as bright Elysian dreams

These vernal Eden bowers

Yet O this land hath other scenes

Than woods & streams & flowers

High hills that woo the winds of heaven

To breathe upon them from the skies

Rocks tempest shaken, thunder-riven

Whose cliffs like giant turrets rise

Great cataracts rolling down the steep

Shaking the sky & steady shore

Rousing all Nature from her sleep

With hoarse, rebounding, thunderous roar

Trees shaken by the wailing blast

Wave in the dim air mournfully

While sullen sounds float fitful past

Like the dull moaning of the sea

There rubys shed their blood-red ray

There orient em’ralds softly gleam

There diamond [s] flash forth transient day

And emulate the solar beam

But vainly the diamond sheds light thro that land

As though formed by the might of some dark wizards wand

And vainly the rivers flow forth to the sea

In brightness & beauty and sweet melody

And the hills lift their tall stately summits on high

And the winds are called forth from the heart of the sky

And vainly the cataracts roll swift down the steep

To a murmur is softened the roar of the deep

The bright sun in vain to this far land is given

And the Planets look forth from the windows of heaven

The birds sing unheeded in woods fresh & green

And the flowers grow unscented ungathered unseen

The Lion rules the forest & the eagle the air

Mankind is dominionless portionless there

His voice never rung through those wide spreading woods

His bark never stemmed the wild rush of those floods

His foot never trod on the green flowery sward

No beast of these deserts acknowledged him lord

His hand never gathered those gems rich & rare

Mankind is dominionless [portionless there]

1831

A Fragment

Lo! stretched beneath the clust’ring palm

The stately noble lies

Around him dwells a holy calm

Breathed softly from the skies

The zephyrs fan with sweet caress

Recumbent majesty

And loud winds of the wilderness

All silently pass by

The Lion from his desert lair

Comes forth to fierce foray

His red eyes fired by hunger glare

In eager search of prey

He spies him in his dreamless sleep

All on the moonlit ground

And away as with a whirlwind sweep

Behold the monster bound

For holy, holy, is thy rest

Though in the desert laid

A spirit’s spell is o’er thee cast

Amid that palmy shade

O clouds come o’er that vision bright

And soft it fades away

The witchery of mem’ry’s might

Inviting still it’s stay.

But vainly, where my warrior slept

The cold sad moonbeams lie

And where sabean odours wept

The winds of midnight sigh

But while the ocean wilder’d spreads

Afar her thundring plain

And while the light of heaven sheds

Still splendour on the main

I’ll ne’er forget that stately form

That eye’s entrancing light

Whence oft the wildest passion storm

Flashed forth in sudden might

Or in those dark orbs lustre lay

Borne from the worlds of thought

But brightest shone that wondrous ray

From holy regions brought

Where spirits of the favoured few

Alone may ever dwell

Where clearer than Parnanssian dew

A hundred fountains well

The fountains sweet of poesy

That nectar of the sky

Where wreaths of imortality

In hallowed beauty lie

But Lo Diana’s silver bow

Hath quitted human ken

And the chill night winds coldly blow

Adown this lonely glen

O happy may his slumber be

This night in lands afar

Beneath the desert plaintain tree

Beneath the silver star

Or in his gorgeous Indian home

On slave-surrounded bed

All underneath some glorious dome

Whence lamps their glories shed

His dreams are are of some other world

His mighty soul is free

His spirits pinions all unfurled

rise high in radiancy

And music all on earth unknown

Floats solemnly around

And sweeter swells each following tone

With clear seraphic sound

No being of this low earth born

Is worthy of his love

Doth the royal rider of the storm

E’re look upon the dove

Then farewell each rebellious thought

And welcome peace again

Adversity hath wisdom taught

But who shall break the chain

The long long chain, of memory

Which leads to other hours

To other days when happily

I dwelt ’mid Indian bowers

And from the dim clouds of the past

Sweet smiles & glances glide

From those bright lips & dark eyes cast

Where dwells the light of pride

Smiles faded from his lofty brow

Sweet glances past away

For fell upon another now

Their all desired-ray

And now my rivals hated form

Salutes my mental eye

And envys dark unhallowed storm

O’ercasts the tranquil sky

Methinks I see her ringlets play

In the starlight soft & fair

Methinks I see her eyes still ray

Illume the dusky air

O she was fairer than the rose

With morning dew All bright

She shone among a hundred foes

The central orb of light

Their spirit’s were of kindred mould

From the same sweet fountain sprung

And melody of heaven rolled

In music when she sung

How oft beneath the orange grove

By Gambia’s rolling tide

While shone on high the star of love

He wandered with his bride

And while faint light fell on the wave

And fainter music rung

From the green banks which their waters lave

How sweet that lady sung

Between each pause so still & calm

The whispering leaflets spoke

Or wandering zephyr’s soft as balm

Her harps wild echos woke

All winged minstrels of the vale

Now silently repose

And voiceless is the dewy gale

That breathing flower-scents blows

Slow sailing through the clear wide sky

Earths handmaid journeys free

Tracking to all eternity

An ever shoreless sea

The solemn airs of evening sigh

Throug [h] wood & grove & bower

Charged with the mystic harmony

Which thrills this hallowed hour

O once this happiness was mine

When came still even-tide

How often in that balmy time

I’ve wandered by his side.

And while I heard his eloquence

And watched his kindling eye

I saw a lustre beaming thence

Bright as the stars on high

It was as though his spirit lay

Far in those wells of light

As though his souls irradiate day

Shone bright as heaven is bright

But never more O never more

That lustre may I see

A thousand waves between us roar,

Howl, thunder heavily.

And might that distant orient land

Again salute mine eye

And might I walk its burning strand

Beneath its burning sky

Yet cold as sunbeams on the snow

That light would fall on me

Then raging waters ever flow

& thunder heavily

But dim dawn rises in the east

The air with matins rings

I’ll seek my wild, lone place of rest

W [h] ere the stream in silence sings.

1831

***

On the bright scenes around them spread

Lit tenderly with those mild rays

The last the dying sun had shed

The park with its broad slopes of green

Where now the mighty shadows lay

Of tower & turret kindling sheen

With amber lights on stone work grey

For the Ducal Castle like a screen

Stood against the farwell & level ray

Shot still from the refulgent west

O’er Lismore’s town and Gambia’s flood

Kindling the river’s azure breast

Till it ran like a red stream of blood

All this was fair but not to me

And O my heart sank heavily

When from the casement arched & tall

That dimly lit that Norman Hall

I looked far down — —— — ——

1831

Lines on the Celebrated Bewick

The cloud of recent death is past away

But yet a shadow lingers o’er his tomb;

To tell that the pale standard of decay

Is reared triumphantly o’er life’s sullied bloom.

And now the eye bedimmed by tears may gaze

On the fair lines his gifted pencil drew

The tongue unfalt’ring speak [s] its meed of praise

When we behold those scenes to Nature true

True to the common Nature that we see

In England’s sunny fields, her hills, and vales

On the wild bosom of her storm-dark sea

Still heaving to the wind that o’er it wails

How many winged inhabitants of air

How many plume-clad floaters of the deep

The mighty artist drew in forms as fair

As those that now the skies and waters sweep

From the great Eagle, with his lightning eye

His tyrant glance, his talons dyed in blood

To the sweet breather-forth of melody

The gentle merry minstrel of the wood

Each in his attitude of native grace

Looks on the gazer life-like free and bold

And if the rocks be his abiding place

Far off appears the winged marauder’s hold

But if the little builder rears his nest

In the still shadow of green tranquil trees

And singing sweetly ’mid the silence blest

Sits a meet emblem of untroubled peace

A change comes o’er the spirit of our dream

Woods wave around in crested majesty

We almost feel the joyous sunshine’s beam

And hear the breath of the sweet south go by.

Our childhood’s days return, again in thought

We wander in a land of love and light —

And mingled memories joy and sorrow fraught

Gush on our hearts with overwhelming might

Sweet flowers seem gleaming ’mid the tangled grass

Sparkling with spring-drops from the rushing rill

And as these fleeting visions fade and pass

Perchance some pensive tears our eyes may fill

These soon are wiped away, again we turn

With fresh delight, to the enchanted page

Where pictured thoughts that breathe and speak and burn

Still please alike our youth and riper age

There rises some lone rock, all wet with surge

And dashing billows glimmering in the light

Of a wan moon whose silent rays emerge

From clouds that veil their lustre cold and bright

And there ’mongst reeds upon a river’s side

A wild bird sits, and brooding o’er her nest

Still guards the priceless gems her joy and pride

Now ripening ’neath her hope-enlivened breast

We turn the page, before the expectant eye

A traveller stands lone on some desert heath

The glorious sun is passing from the sky

While fall his farewell rays on all beneath

O’er the far hills a purple veil seems flung

Dim herald of the coming shades of night

E’en now Diana’s lamp aloft is hung

Drinking full radiance from the fount of light

O, when the solemn wind of midnight sighs

Where will the lonely trav’ller lay his head

Beneath the tester of the star-bright skies

On the wild moor he’ll find a dreary bed

Now we behold a marble Naiad, placed

Beside a fountain on her sculptured throne

Her bending form with simplest beauty graced

Her white robes gathered in a snowy zone

She from a polished vase pours forth a stream

Of sparkling water to the waves below

Which roll in light & music while the gleam

Of sunshine flings through shade a golden glow

A hundred fairer scenes these leaves reveal

But there are tongues that injure while they praise

I cannot speak the rapture that I feel

When on the work of such a mind I gaze

Then Farewell Bewick genius’ favoured son

Death’s sleep is on thee all thy woes are past

From earth departed, life and labour done

Eternal peace and rest are thine at last

1832

The Bridal

O! There is a wood in a still and deep

And solitary vale,

Where no sound is heard save the wild wind’s sweep

And the lay of the nightingale;

And far in the depth of the leafy trees

An elm grows fair and high,

Where ever the voice of the solemn breeze

Sighs with soft harmony;

And far beneath its trembling shade

Soft moss and green grass grow;

There the violet and wild-rose bud and fade,

There the lily and harebell blow.

A rippling streamlet wanders near,

Unseen in the flow’r-blent grass,

But a murmur is heard full sweet and clear

As its silver waters pass.

«Twas night: a pearly lustre fell

On mountain, wave and tower;

Now spirits wove their magic spell

In many a hidden bower.

I lay within that calm retreat,

The greenwood shade among;

And soon I sunk to slumber sweet,

Lulled by the streamlet’s song.

A strange dream o’er my spirit crept,

As in that shady dell

In silent peace I lay and slept,

While the balm of heaven fell.

Methought I saw a wild deep sea,

And heard a sullen roar

As its mighty waves broke heavily

On the bleak and lonely shore.

I saw two forms of human mould,

Beneath a tall rock’s shade,

Watching the long bright rays of gold

Far in the bright west fade.

One was a young and noble knight,

Stately in plumed pride;

The other was a lady bright,

And she stood by the warrior’s side.

I saw the dark light of the noble’s eye

As he leaned on his white war-steed;

But hers was as blue as the sapphire sky,

And frail was her form as the reed.

The young knight made a solem vow

Of constancy till death;

Truth’s light beamed on his fair marble brow

While he pledged his knightly faith.

The lady smiled a heavenly smile

While showed nor doubt, nor fear,

But there stood in her radiant eye the while

A bright and tender tear.

She took one lock of her golden hair

From all those clust’ring curls

Bound with a garland of florets fair

And a string of orient pearls,

Then gave that token tremblingly

To the soldier by her side,

And he swore again by carth and sea

That she should be his bride.

Now changed the scene. Upon my sight

A lofty palace grew;

And a sun-like splendor, a golden light,

High lamps and torches threw.

The juice of the scorched grape was sparkling bright

With ruby-radiance and blood-red light;

That nectar which lightens the weary soul

Gleamed in the wine-cup and wassail-bowl.

The music of harps and of trumpets rung,

And the strings of the wild guitar were strung;

Full soft were the breathings of viol and lute,

While the clear clarion answered the tones of the flute.

Now white robes fluttered and tall plumes glanced,

While nobles and ladies in bright rings danced,

Gracefully gliding the pillars among

To the sound of the harps and the joyous song.

I knew ’twas a bridal; for under a bower

Of the rose and the myrtle and fair lily flower

Stood that stately noble in plumed pride,

And that sweet, fair lady, his plighted bride.

With the mystic ring on her finger fair,

And the nuptial wreath in her radiant hair,

They are joined; and forever the mingled name

Of Marina and Albion is hallowed to fame.

1832

***

He is gone and all grandeur has fled from the mountain,

All beauty departed from stream and from fountain;

A dark veil is hung

O’er the bright sky of gladness,

And where birds sweetly sung

There’s a murmur of sadness;

The wind sings with a warning tone

Through many a shadowy tree;

I hear in every passing moan

The voice of destiny.

18+

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