46 ON BROCKLEY COOMB-LINES IN MANNER OF SPENSER Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast I would that from the pinions of thy dove One quill withouten pain yplucked might of snow, Are not so sweet as is the voice of her, My Sara-best beloved of human kind! When breathing the pure soul of tender ness She thrills me with the Husband's promised name! ? 1795. 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 forced fissures of the naked rock The Yew-tree bursts! Beneath its dark green boughs From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast, Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way; But leave me with the matin hour, at most! As night-closed floweret to the orient ray, My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey. But Love, who heard the silence of my thought, (Mid which the May-thorn blends its Contrived a too successful wile, I ween : And whispered to himself, with malice blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest and now have gained 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 prospectand prospectbounding sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear : Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here! LINES IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love To rest thine head beneath an olive-tree, Was there some magic in the Elfin's Mourns the long absence of the lovely dart? Day; Or did he strike my couch with wizard Young Day returning at her promised lance? hour For straight so fair a Form did upwards Weeps o'er the sorrows of her favourite start Flower; (No fairer decked the bowers of old Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she And give me to the bosom of my Love! Shed the warm tear-drop from her smil- Lull with fond woe, and medicine me with sighs! [While finely-flushing float her kisses meek, 1 The expression 'green radiance' is borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth ['An Evening Walk,' 1793], a Poet whose versification is occasionally harsh and his diction too frequently obscure; but whom I deem unrivalled among the writers of the present Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek.] day in manly sentiment, novel imagery, and Chill'd by the night, the drooping Rose of May vivid colouring. [Note by S. T. C. in the editions of 1796-97.] For never guiltless may I speak of him, The Incomprehensible! save when with awe Ere aught of perilous ascent you meet, A mead of mildest charm delays th' unlabouring feet. I praise him, and with Faith that inly Not there the cloud-climb'd rock, sub 60 feels; Who with his saving mercies healed me, A sinful and most miserable man, Wildered and dark, and gave me to sere' lime and vast, In this same pleasant meadow, at your I ween, you wander'd-there collecting flowers Of sober tint, and herbs of med'cinable powers! There for the monarch-murder'd Soldier's tomb You wove th' unfinish'd1 wreath of saddest hues ; And to that holier2 chaplet added bloom 30 The Ivy wreathes yon Oak, whose broad Besprinkling it with Jordan's cleansing defence dews. But lo your Henderson 3 awakes the Muse- His Spirit beckon'd from the mountain's height! You left the plain and soar'd mid richer views! So Nature mourn'd when sunk the First Day's light, With stars, unseen before, spangling her robe of night! A stream there is, which rolls in lazy Still soar, my Friend, those richer views |
