At midnight by the stream I roved, To forget the form I loved. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam And the shadow of a star Heaved upon Tamaha's stream; But the rock shone brighter far, The rock half sheltered from my view By pendent boughs of tressy yew.-- So shines my Lewti's forehead fair, Gleaming through her sable hair, Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
I saw a cloud of palest hue, Onward to the moon it passed; Still brighter and more bright it grew, With floating colours not a few, Till it reach'd the moon at last: Then the cloud was wholly bright, With a rich and amber light! And so with many a hope I seek And with such joy I find my Lewti; And even so my pale wan cheek Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.
The little cloud-it floats away, Away it goes; away so soon? Alas! it has no power to stay: Its hues are dim, its hues are grey-- Away it passes from the moon! How mournfully it seems to fly, Ever fading more and more, To joyless regions of the sky-- And now 'tis whiter than before! As white as my poor cheek will be, When, Lewti! on my couch I lie, A dying man for love of thee. Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind-- And yet, thou didst not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky, Thin, and white, and very high; I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud: Perhaps the breezes that can fly Now below and now above, Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud Of Lady fair--that died for love. For maids, as well as youths, have perished From fruitless love too fondly cherished. Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind-- For Lewti never will be kind.
Hush! my heedless feet from under Slip the crumbling banks for ever: Like echoes to a distant thunder, They plunge into the gentle river. The river-swans have heard my tread, And startle from their reedy bed. O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure Your movements to some heavenly tune! O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure To see you move beneath the moon, I would it were your true delight To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where Lewti lies When silent night has closed her eyes: It is a breezy jasmine-bower, The nightingale sings o'er her head: Voice of the Night! had I the power That leafy labyrinth to thread, And creep, like thee, with soundless tread, I then might view her bosom white Heaving lovely to my sight, As these two swans together heave On the gently-swelling wave.
Oh! that she saw me in a dream, And dreamt that I had died for care; All pale and wasted I would seem Yet fair withal, as spirits are! I'd die indeed, if I might see Her bosom heave, and heave for me! Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind! To-morrow Lewti may be kind.
Life
As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain Where native Otter sports his scanty stream, Musing in torpid woe a Sister's pain, The glorious prospect woke me from the dream.
At every step it widen'd to my sight - Wood, Meadow, verdant Hill, and dreary Steep, Following in quick succession of delight, - Till all - at once - did my eye ravish'd sweep!
May this (I cried) my course through Life portray! New scenes of Wisdom may each step display, And Knowledge open as my days advance! Till what time Death shall pour the undarken'd ray, My eye shall dart thro' infinite expanse, And thought suspended lie in Rapture's blissful trance.
Limbo
The sole true Something--This ! In Limbo Den It frightens Ghosts as Ghosts here frighten men-- For skimming in the wake it mock'd the care Of the old Boat-God for his Farthing Fare ; Tho' Irus' Ghost itself he ne'er frown'd blacker on, The skin and skin-pent Druggist crost the Acheron, Styx, and with Puriphlegethon Cocytus,-- (The very names, methinks, might thither fright us--) Unchang'd it cross'd--& shall some fated Hour Be pulveris'd by Demogorgon's power And given as poison to annilate Souls-- Even now It shrinks them ! they shrink in as Moles (Nature's mute Monks, live Mandrakes of the ground) Creep back from Light--then listen for its Sound ;-- See but to dread, and dread they know not why-- The natural Alien of their negative Eye.
'Tis a strange place, this Limbo !--not a Place, Yet name it so ;--where Time & weary Space Fettered from flight, with night-mair sense of fleeing, Strive for their last crepuscular half-being;-- Lank Space, and scytheless Time with branny hands Barren and soundless as the measuring sands, Not mark'd by flit of Shades,--unmeaning they As Moonlight on the dial of the day! But that is lovely--looks like Human Time,-- An Old Man with a steady Look sublime, That stops his earthly Task to watch the skies; But he is blind--a Statue hath such Eyes;-- Yet having moon-ward turn'd his face by chance, Gazes the orb with moon-like countenance, With scant white hairs, with foretop bald & high, He gazes still,--his eyeless Face all Eye;-- As 'twere an organ full of silent Sight, His whole Face seemeth to rejoice in Light! Lip touching lip, all moveless, bust and limb, He seems to gaze at that which seems to gaze on him! No such sweet sights doth Limbo Den immure, Wall'd round, and made a Spirit-jail secure, By the mere Horror of blank Naught-at-all, Whose circumambience doth these Ghosts enthral. A lurid thought is growthless, dull Privation, Yet that is but a Purgatory curse; Hell knows a fear far worse, A fear--a future fate.--'Tis positive Negation!
Lines
Composed while climbing the left ascent of Brockley Coomb, Somersetshire, May 1795
With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their wild-wood melody: Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear. Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock That on green plots o'er precipices browze: From the deep fissures of the naked rock The Yew-tree bursts! Beneath its dark green boughs (Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest: - and now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud towers, and Cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!
