« VorigeDoorgaan »
Reclining lovers, in the lonely dale, | So twice five miles of fertile ground Poured forth at large the sweetly tortured With walls and towers were girdled round ; heart;
And there were gardens, bright with sinuous rills, Or, sighing tender passion, swelled the gale, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And taught charmed echo to resound their And here were forests ancient as the hills, smart;
Infolding sunny spots of greenery. While flocks, woods, streams around, repose and peace impart.
But O that deep romantic chasm, which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! Each sound too here to languishment inclined, A savage place ! as holy and enchanted Lulled the weak bosom, and induced ease; As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted Aerial music in the warbling wind,
By woman railing for her demon-lover ! At distance rising oft, by small degrees, And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees
seething, It hung, and breathed such soul-dissolving airs, | As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, As did, alas ! with soft perdition please : A mighty fountain momently was forced,
Entangled deep in its enchanting snares, Amid whose swift, half-intermitted burst The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares. Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail ; A certain music, never known before,
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever Here lulled the pensive, melancholy mind; It flung up momently the sacred river. Full easily obtained. Behooves no more, Five miles, meandering with a mazy motion But sidelong, to the gently waving wind, Through wood and dale, the sacred river ran, -To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined ; Then reached the caverns measureless to man, From which, with airy flying fingers light, | And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean, Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, And mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight : Ancestral voices prophesying war. Whence, with just cause, the harp of Æolus it hight.
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves Ah me! what hand can touch the string so fine ? Where was heard the mingled measure Who up the lofty diapason roll
From the fountain and the caves.
It was an Abyssinian maid,
As when seraphic hands a hymn impart : Singing of Mount Abora.
JAMES THOMSON. Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’t would win me
That, with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice !
senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he
could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines ; Where Alph, the sacred river, ran,
if that indeed can be called conposition in which all the images rose Through caverns measureless to man, up before him as things, with a parallel production of the corre.
spondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of Down to a sunless sea.
effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recol.
lection of the whole, and, taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly • "In the summer of the year 1797 the author, then in ill-health, and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this had retired to a lonely farm-house between Porlock and Linton, on moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the 'to his rooin found, to his no sinall surprise and inortification, that effect of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment he was read though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the ing the following sentence, or words of the same substance, in general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight Purchas's Pulgrimage: Here the Khan Kubla commanded a pal or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away, ace to be built, and a stately garden thereunto : and thus ten miles like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had of fertile ground were enclosed with a wall.' The author continued been cast, but, alas ! without the after restoration of the latter." for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external | THE AUTHOR, 1816.
Enter TITANIA, with her train.
COMPLIMENT TO QUEEN ELIZABETH. TITANIA. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy
FROM "MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT 11. SC. 2. song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ;-1 OBERoy. My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou Some, to kill caukers in the musk-rose buds ;
remember'st Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, Since once I sat upon a promontory, To make my small elves coats ; and some keep And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and
• Randolph was a masterly scholar, and a profound student of wonders
the Greek and Latin poets, whose writings he imitated in thos-lanAt our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
guages, and whose influence was marked in his English writings.
He died (1634) at the age of twenty-nine, not fulfilling the fame Then to your offices, and let me rest.
promised by his early years.
That the rude sea grew civil at her song, Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
I remember. Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon OBE. That very time I saw (but thou couldst Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes ; not),
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, Flying between the cold moon and the earth, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab Cupid all arined : a certain aim he took
That plats the manes of horses in the night : At a fair vestal throned by the west,
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, And loosed his love shaft sinartly from his bow, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes : As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft That presses them, and learns them first to bear, Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon, Making them women of good carriage. And the imperial votaress passed on,
SHAKESPEARE. In maiden meditation, fancy free. Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
THE FAIRIES And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
For fear of little men ;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together ;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather !
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home, -On the fore-finger of an alderman,
They live on crispy pancakes Drawn with a team of little atomies
Of yellow tide-foam ; Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Some in the reeds Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
Of the black mountain-lake, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ;
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.
The old King sits ;
He is now so old and gray Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid :
He's nigh lost his wits. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
With a bridge of white mist Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Columbkill he crosses, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
On his stately journeys And in this state she gallops night by night
From Slieveleague to Rosses : Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of Or going up with music love;
On cold starry nights, On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies To sup with the queen straight;
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long; Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: When she came down again Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's uose,
Her friends were all gone. And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ;
They took her lightly back, And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Between the night and morrow; Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
They thought that she was fast asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice :
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lakes,
Watching till she wakes.
Where got you that joup o' the lily sheen ?
That bonny snood of the birk sae green ? | And these roses, the fairest that ever was seen ! Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been ?"
By the craggy hillside,
Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace,
But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face ;
As still was her look, and as still was her ee, For pleasure here and there.
As the stillness that lay on the emerant leat,
Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea.
| For Kilmeny had been she knew not where, He shall find the thorpies set
And Kilmeny had seen what she could not In his bed at night.
declare. Up the airy mountain,
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, Down the rushy glen,
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,
When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen,
And a land where sin had never been, -
A land of love, and a land of light,
And the light a pure celestial beam :
The land of vision it would seem,
A still, an everlasting dream.
In yon green-wood there is a waik, Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen ;
| And in that waik there is a wene, But it wasna to meet Duneira's men,
And in that wene there is a maike, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane ; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane. It was only to hear the yorlin sing,
In that green wene Kilmeny lay, And pu' the cress-flower round the spring,
Her bosom happed wi' the flowerets gay ; The scarlet hypp, and the hindberrye,
But the air was soft, and the silence deep, And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree;
And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.
She kend nae mair, nor opened her ee, But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',
Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. And lang may she seek i' the green-wood shaw; Lang the laird of Duneira blame,
She awaked on a couch of the silk sae slim, And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame.
All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim; When many a day had come and fed,
And lovely beings around were rife, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,
Who erst had travelled mortal life ; When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,
And aye they smiled, and 'gan to speer : When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead
“What spirit has brought this mortal here?” bell rung; Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still, “ Lang have I journeyed the world wide," When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, A meek and reverend fere replied ; The wood was sear, the moon i' the wane,
“ Baith night and day I have watched the fair The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, —
Eident a thousand years and mair.
In mind and body, fand I nane.
Till late this bonny maiden I saw,
As spotless as the morning snaw.
Full twenty years she has lived as free
| And she heard a song, -- she beard it sung, As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye. She kend not where; but sae sweetly it rung, I have brought her away frae the snares of men, It fell on her ear like a dream of the morn, -That sin or death she may never ken."
“0, blest be the day Kilmeny was born !
Now shall the land of the spirits see, They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair ; Now shall it ken, what a woman may be ! They kissed her cheek, and they kemed her hair ; The sun that shines on the world sae bright, And round came many a blooming fere,
A borrowed gleid frae the fountain of light ; Saying, “ Bonny Kilmeny, ye 're welcome here ; And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, Women are freed of the littand scorn ;
Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun, 0, blest be the day Kilmeny was born !
Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair ; Now shall the land of the spirits see,
And the angels shall miss them, travelling the air. Now shall it ken, what a woman may be ! But lang, lang after baith night and day, Many a lang year in sorrow and pain,
When the sun and the world have edyed away, Many a lang year through the world we've gane, When the sinner has gane to his waesome doom, Commissioned to watch fair womankind, Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom !” For it's they who nurice the immortal mind. We have watched their steps as the dawning They bore her away, she wist not how, shone,
For she felt not arm nor rest below ;
'T was like the motion of sound or sight;
Unnumbered groves below them grew; We have seen ! we have seen ! but the time must They came, they past, and backward flew, come,
Like floods of blossoms gliding on, And the angels will weep at the day of doom ! In moment seen, in moment gone.
0, never vales to mortal view "., would the fairest of mortal kind
Appeared like those o'er which they flew, Aye keep the holy truths in mind,
That land to human spirits given, That kindred spirits their motions see,
The lowermost vales of the storied heaven ; Who watch their ways with anxious e'e, From whence they can view the world below, And grieve for the guilt of humanitye !
And heaven's blue gates with sapphires glow,-
They bore her far to a mountain green,
And they seated her high on a purple sward, The minds that kythe as the body fair !
And baile her heed what she saw and heard,
And note the changes the spirits wrought ; “() bonny Kilmeny ! free frae stain,
For now she lived in the land of thought. -If ever you seek the world again, -
She looked, and she saw nor sun nor skies, That world of sin, of sorrow and fear, -
But a crystal dome of a thousand dyes ; 0, tell of the joys that are waiting here ; She looked, and she saw nae land aright, And tell of the signs you shall shortly see ; But an endless whirl of glory and light; Of the times that are now, and the times that And radiaut beings went and came, shall be."
Far swifter than wind or the linked Name ;
She hid her een frae the dazzling view;
She saw a sun on a summer sky,
And that land had glens and mountains gray;
In the stream of life that wandered by. | And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen,