Aloft is roosted for the night,
He who in proud prosperity
Of colours manifold and bright
Walked round, affronting the daylight;
And higher still, above the bower
Where he is perched, from yon lone Tower
The hall-clock in the clear moonshine
With glittering finger points at nine.
Ah! who could think that sadness here
Hath any sway? or pain, or fear?
A soft and lulling sound is heard
Of streams inaudible by day;
The garden pool's dark surface, stirred
By the night insects in their play,
Breaks into dimples small and bright;
A thousand, thousand rings of light
That shape themselves and disappear
Almost as soon as seen :-and lo!
Not distant far, the milk-white Doe-
The same who quietly was feeding1
On the green herb, and nothing heeding,
When Francis, uttering to the Maid 2
His last words in the yew-tree shade,
Involved whate'er by love was brought
Out of his heart, or crossed his thought,
Or chance presented to his eye,
In one sad sweep of destiny-1
The same fair Creature, who hath found.
Her way into forbidden ground;
Where now-within this spacious plot
For pleasure made, a goodly spot,
With lawns and beds of flowers, and shades
Of trellis-work in long arcades,
And cirque and crescent framed by wall
Of close-clipt foliage green and tall,
Converging walks, and fountains gay,
And terraces in trim array-
Beneath yon cypress spiring high,
With pine and cedar spreading wide
Their darksome boughs on either side,
In open moonlight doth she lie;
Happy as others of her kind,
That, far from human neighbourhood,
Range unrestricted as the wind,
Through park, or chase, or savage wood.
Like a patch of April snow-
Upon a bed of herbage green,
Lingering in a woody glade
Or behind a rocky screen-
Lonely relic! which, if seen
By the shepherd, is passed by
With an inattentive eye.
Nor more regard doth She bestow
Upon the uncomplaining Doe 1
Now couched at ease, thought oft this day
Not unperplexed nor free from pain,
When she had tried, and tried in vain,
Approaching in her gentle way,
To win some look of love, or gain
Encouragement to sport or play;
Attempts which still the heart-sick Maid
Rejected, or with slight repaid.2
Yet Emily is soothed;-the breeze Came fraught with kindly sympathies. As she approached yon rustic Shed 3
1 In edd. 1815 to 1832, a paragraph ends at "Doe !"
Hung with late-flowering woodbine, spread
Along the walls and overhead,
The fragrance of the breathing flowers
Revived1 a memory of those hours
When here, in this remote alcove,
(While from the pendent woodbine came
Like odours, sweet as if the same)
A fondly-anxious Mother strove
To teach her salutary fears
And mysteries above her years.
Yes, she is soothed; an Image faint,
And yet not faint a presence bright
Returns to her-that blessed Saint 2
Who with mild looks and language mild
Instructed here her darling Child,
While yet a prattler on the knee,
To worship in simplicity
The invisible God, and take for guide
The faith reformed and purified.
'Tis flown-the Vision, and the sense
Of that beguiling influence;
"But oh! thou Angel from above,
Mute Spirit of maternal love,3
Into the Sufferer's bosom stealing ;-
Ere she hath reached yon rustic Shed
Yet is she soothed; the viewless breeze,
Comes fraught with kindlier sympathies:
Ere she hath reached yon rustic Shed.
That stood'st before my eyes, more clear
Than ghosts are fabled to appear
Sent upon embassies of fear;
As thou thy presence hast to me
Vouchsafed, in radiant ministry
Descend on Francis; nor forbear
To greet him with a voice, and say;-
'If hope be a rejected stay,
Do thou, my christian Son, beware
Of that most lamentable snare,
The self-reliance of despair!'" 1
Then from within the embowered retreat
Where she had found a grateful seat
Perturbed she issues. She will go !
Herself will follow to the war,
And clasp her Father's knees;-ah, no!
She meets the insuperable bar,
The injunction by her Brother laid;
His parting charge-but ill obeyed
That interdicted all debate,
All prayer for this cause or for that
All efforts that would turn aside
The headstrong current of their fate:
Her duty is to stand and wait;
In resignation to abide.
The shock, AND FINALLY SECURE
O'ER PAIN AND GRIEF A TRIUMPH PURE.2
Descend on Francis :-through the air
Of this sad earth to him repair,
Speak to him with a voice, and say,
"That he must cast despair away!"
2 Italics and capitals first given in ed. 1820.
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