"Appear!—obey my lyre's command! 15
Come, like the Graces, hand in hand![519]
For ye, though not by birth allied,
Are Sisters in the bond of love;
Nor shall the tongue of envious pride
Presume those interweavings to reprove 20
In you, which that fair progeny of Jove,
Learned[520] from the tuneful spheres that glide
In endless union, earth and sea above."
—I sing[521] in vain;—the pines have hushed their waving:
A peerless Youth expectant at my side, 25
Breathless as they, with unabated craving
Looks to the earth, and to the vacant air;
And, with a wandering eye that seems to chide,
Asks of the clouds what occupants they hide:—
But why solicit more than sight could bear, 30
By casting on a moment all we dare?
Invoke we those bright Beings one by one;
And what was boldly promised, truly shall be done.
"Fear not a constraining measure!
—Yielding to this gentle spell,[522] 35
Lucida![523] from domes of pleasure,
Or from cottage-sprinkled dell,
Come to regions solitary,
Where the eagle builds her aery,
Above the hermit's long-forsaken cell!" 40
—She comes!—behold
That Figure, like a ship with snow-white sail![524]
Nearer she draws; a breeze uplifts her veil;
Upon her coming wait
As pure a sunshine and as soft a gale 45
As e'er, on herbage covering earthly mold,
Tempted the bird of Juno[525] to unfold
His richest splendour—when his veering gait
And every motion of his starry train
Seem governed by a strain 50
Of music, audible to him alone.
"O Lady, worthy of earth's proudest throne!
Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit
Beside an unambitious hearth to sit
Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown; 55
What living man could fear
The worst of Fortune's malice, wert Thou near,
Humbling that lily-stem, thy sceptre meek,
That its fair flowers may from his cheek
Brush the too happy tear?[526] 60
---- Queen, and handmaid lowly!
Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares,
And banish melancholy
By all that mind invents or hand prepares;
O Thou, against whose lip, without its smile 65
And in its silence even, no heart is proof;
Whose goodness, sinking deep, would reconcile
The softest Nursling of a gorgeous palace
To the bare life beneath the hawthorn-roof
Of Sherwood's Archer,[527] or in caves of Wallace—
Who that hath seen thy beauty could content 71
His soul with but a glimpse of heavenly day?
Who that hath loved thee, but would lay
His strong hand on the wind, if it were bent
To take thee in thy majesty away? 75
—Pass onward (even the glancing deer
Till we depart intrude not here;)
That mossy slope, o'er which the woodbine throws
A canopy, is smoothed for thy repose!"
Glad moment is it[528] when the throng 80
Of warblers in full concert strong
Strive, and not vainly strive, to rout
The lagging shower, and force coy Phœbus out,
Met by the rainbow's form divine,
Issuing from her cloudy shrine;— 85
So may the thrillings of the lyre
Prevail to further our desire,
While to these shades a sister Nymph I call.
"Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce,
Come, youngest of the lovely Three,[529] 90
Submissive to the might of verse
And the dear voice of harmony,
By none[530] more deeply felt than Thee!"
—I sang; and lo! from pastimes virginal
She hastens to the tents 95
Of nature, and the lonely elements.
Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen;
But[531] mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green!
And, as if wishful to disarm
Or to repay the potent Charm, 100
She bears the stringèd lute of old romance,
That cheered the trellised arbour's privacy,
And soothed war-wearied knights in raftered hall.
How vivid, yet[532] how delicate, her glee!
So tripped the Muse, inventress of the dance; 105
So, truant in waste woods, the blithe Euphrosyne![533]
But the ringlets of that head
Why are they ungarlanded?
Why bedeck her temples less
Than the simplest shepherdess? 110
Is it not a brow inviting
Choicest flowers[534] that ever breathed,
Which the myrtle would delight in
With Idalian rose enwreathed?
But her humility is well content 115
With one wild floweret (call it not forlorn)
Flower of the winds,[535] beneath her bosom worn—
Yet[536] more for love than ornament.
Open, ye thickets! let her fly,
Swift as a Thracian Nymph o'er field and height! 120
For She, to all but those who love her, shy,
Would gladly vanish from a Stranger's sight;
Though where she is beloved and loves,
Light as the wheeling butterfly she moves;
Her happy spirit as a bird is free, 125
That rifles blossoms on a tree,[537]
Turning them inside out with arch audacity.
Alas! how little can a moment show
Of an eye where feeling plays
In ten thousand dewy rays; 130
A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
—She stops—is fastened to that rivulet's side;
And there (while, with sedater mien,
O'er timid waters that have scarcely left
Their birth-place in the rocky cleft 135
She bends) at leisure may be seen
Features to old ideal grace allied,[538]
Amid their smiles and dimples dignified—
Fit countenance for the soul of primal truth;
The bland composure of eternal youth! 140
What more changeful than the sea?
But over his great tides
Fidelity presides;
And this light-hearted Maiden constant is as he.
High is her aim as heaven above, 145
And wide as ether her good-will;
And, like the lowly reed, her love
Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill:
Insight as keen as frosty star
Is to her charity no bar, 150
Nor interrupts her frolic graces
When she is, far from these wild places,
Encircled by familiar faces.
O the charm that manners draw,
Nature, from thy genuine law![539] 155
If from what her hand would do,
Her voice would utter, aught ensue
Untoward[540] or unfit;
She, in benign affections pure,
In self-forgetfulness secure, 160
Sheds round the transient harm or vague mischance
A light unknown to tutored elegance:[541]
Her's is not a cheek shame-stricken,
But her blushes are joy-flushes;
And the fault (if fault it be) 165
Only ministers to quicken
Laughter-loving gaiety,
And kindle sportive wit—-
Leaving this Daughter of the mountains free[542]
As if she knew that Oberon king of Faery[543] 170
Had crossed her purpose with some quaint vagary,
And heard his viewless bands
Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands.
"Last of the Three, though eldest born,[544]
Reveal thyself, like pensive Morn 175
Touched by the skylark's earliest note,
Ere humbler gladness be afloat.
But whether in the semblance drest
Of Dawn—or Eve, fair vision of the west,
Come with each anxious hope subdued 180
By woman's gentle fortitude,
Each grief, through meekness, settling into rest.
—Or I would hail thee when some high-wrought page
Of a closed volume lingering in thy hand
Has raised thy spirit to a peaceful stand 185
Among the glories of a happier age."