V. STANZAS WRITTEN IN MY POCKET COPY OF THOMSON'S CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. WITHIN Our happy Castle there dwelt One But go to-morrow, or belike to-day, Seek for him, he is fled; and whither none can say. Thus often would he leave our peaceful home, Full many a time, upon a stormy night, His voice came to us from the neighboring height: Ah! piteous sight it was to see this Man Or like a sinful creature, pale and wan. Down would he sit; and without strength or power Great wonder to our gentle tribe it was Some thought far worse of him, and judged him wrong; But verse was what he had been wedded to; And his own mind did like a tempest strong Come to him thus, and drove the weary Wight along. With him there often walked, in friendly guise, Yet some did think that he had little business here: Sweet Heaven forefend! his was a lawful right; His limbs would toss about him with delight, Expedients, too, of simplest sort he tried: A pipe on which the wind would deftly play; The mysteries that cups of flowers enfold, And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold. He would entice that other Man to hear His music, and to view his imagery: And, sooth, these two were each to the other dear: No livelier love in such a place could be: There did they dwell, from earthly labor free, As happy spirits as were ever seen; If but a bird, to keep them company, ur butterfly, sat down, they were, I ween, As pleased as if the same had been a maiden queen. VI. LOUISA. AFTER ACCOMPANYING HER ON A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION I MET Louisa in the shade, And, having seen that lovely maid, Why should I fear to say That, nymph-like, she is fleet and strong, She loves her fire, her cottage home; In weather rough and bleak; And when against the wind she strains, O might I kiss the mountain rains That sparkle on her cheek! Take all that's mine "beneath the moon," If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls Of some old cave, or mossy nook, VII. STRANGE fits of passion have I known: And I will dare to tell, But in the Lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved looked every day Fresh as a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way, Beneath an evening moon. Upon the moon I fixed my eye, All over the wide lea; With quickening pace my horse drew nigh Those paths so dear to me. And now we reached the orchard-plot; And, as we climbed the hill, The sinking moon to Lucy's cot Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon! And all the while my eyes I kept On the descending moon. My horse moved on; hoof after hoof |