O! I do love thee, meek Simplicity! For of thy lays the lulling simpleness Goes to my heart, and soothes each small distress-- Distress tho' small, yet haply great to me! 'Tis true, on Lady Fortune's gentlest pad I amble on; yet tho' I know not why, So sad I am! but should a friend and I Grow cool and miff, O! I am very sad! And then with sonnets and with sympathy My dreamy bosom's mystic woes I pall; Now of my false friend plaining plaintively, Now raving at mankind in general: But whether sad or fierce, 'tis simple all, All very simple, meek Simplicity.
Sonnet: To The River Otter
Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West! How many various-fated years have past, What happy and what mournful hours, since last I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast, Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ray, But straight with all their tints thy waters rise, Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey, And bedded sand that vein'd with various dyes Gleam'd through thy bright transparence! On my way, Visions of Childhood! oft have ye beguil'd Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! that once more I were a careless Child!
Tell's Birth-Place. Imitated From Stolberg
I. Mark this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William Tell. Here, where stands God's altar dread, Stood his parent's marriage-bed.
II. Here, first, an infant to her breast, Him his loving mother prest; And kissed the babe, and blessed the day, And prayed as mothers used to pray.
III. 'Vouchsafe him health, O God! and give The child thy servant still to live!' But God had destined to do more Through him than through an armed power.
IV. God gave him reverence of laws, Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause-- A spirit to his rocks akin, The eye of the hawk and the fire therein!
V. To Nature and to Holy Writ Alone did God the boy commit: Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft His soul found wings, and soared aloft!
VI. The straining oar and chamois chase Had formed his limbs to strength and grace: On wave and wind the boy would toss, Was great, nor knew how great he was!
VII. He knew not that his chosen hand, Made strong by God, his native land Would rescue from the shameful yoke Of Slavery -- the which he broke!
The Aeolian Harp
My pensive SARA ! thy soft cheek reclined Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love !) And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Slow saddenning round, and mark the star of eve Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be) Shine opposite ! How exquisite the scents Snatch'd from yon bean-field ! and the world so hush'd ! The stilly murmur of the distant Sea Tells us of silence.
And that simplest Lute, Plac'd length-ways in the clasping casement, hark ! How by the desultory breeze caress'd, Like some coy maid half-yielding to her lover, It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Tempt to repeat the wrong ! And now, its strings Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes Over delicious surges sink and rise, Such a soft floating witchery of sound As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve Voyage on gentle gales from Faery-Land, Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers, Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untam'd wing ! O ! the one Life within us and abroad, Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where-- Methinks, it should have been impossible Not to love all things in a world so fill'd ; Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air Is Music slumbering on her instrument.
And thus, my Love ! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, Whilst thro' my half-clos'd eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, And tranquil muse upon tranquility ; Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd, And many idle flitting phantasies, Traverse my indolent and passive brain, As wild and various, as the random gales That swell and flutter on this subject Lute ! And what if all of animated nature Be but organic Harps diversly fram'd, That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, At once the Soul of each, and God of all ? But thy more serious eye a mild reproof Darts, O beloved Woman ! nor such thoughts Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject, And biddest me walk humbly with my God. Meek Daughter in the Family of Christ ! Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd These shapings of the unregenerate mind ; Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring. For never guiltless may I speak of him, The Incomprehensible ! save when with awe I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels ; Who with his saving mercies healed me, A sinful and most miserable man, Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honour'd Maid!
