Poems (1828) | Page 4

beam.

One glance, and then no more, upon that brow
Brighter than marble
shining through those curls,
Richer than hyacinths when they wave
their bells
In the low breathing of the twilight wind.--
One glance
upon that lip, beside whose hue
The morning rose would sicken and
grow pale,
'Till it was waked again by the soft breath
That steals in
music from those lips of love.
Wert thou a statue I could pine for thee,

But in thy living beauty there is awe;
The sacredness of modesty
enshrines
The ruby lip, bright brow, and beaming eye;--

I dare but
worship what I must not love.
ON THE PORTRAIT

OF THE SON OF J.G. LAMBTON, ESQ., M.P.
BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.
Beautiful Boy--thy heavenward thoughts
Are pictured in thine eyes,

Thou hast no taint of mortal birth,
Thy communing is not of earth,

Thy holy musings rise:
Like incense kindled from on high,

Ascending to its native sky.
And such a head might once have graced
The infant Samuel, when

Call'd by the favour of his God,
The youthful priest the Temple trod

Beloved of Heaven and men!
The same devotion on his brow
As
brightens in thy forehead now.
Or, thou may'st seem to Fancy's eye
One borne by arms Divine;

One, whom on Earth a Saviour bless'd,
And on whose features left
impress'd
The Contact's holy sign:
A light, a halo, and a grace,
So
pure th' expression of that face.
Or, has the Painter's skill alone
Such grace and glory given?

Clothed thee with attributes which seem
Creations of an angel's
dream,
To raise the soul to Heaven?
_No, as he found thee, he
arrayed,
And Genius taught what God had made!_
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM
OF THE LADY OF COUNSELLOR D. POLLOCK.
Joy to thee, Lady! many years of joy
To thee--and thine--that
springtide of the heart,
The bliss of virtuous love, without alloy.

And all that health and gladsome life impart.
How gracefully hast
thou thy task perform'd,
The watchful tender mother, matchless wife;

All woman boasts--thou hast indeed adorn'd--
Thine the high merit
of an useful life.
For ever cheerful, though the Tragic Muse[1]
May
call thee Sister, both in form and mind;
Thou do'st to all those envied

charms transfuse,
Which shine so highly temper'd and refined.
Lady
revered--the sunbeam and the rose
Are poor in beauty to sweet
woman's smiles:
'Tis the bright sunset of life's awful close,
The
Poet's deathless wreath! a spell all grief beguiles!
[Footnote 1: The Lady, to whom these lines are addressed has been
greatly noticed for the strong resemblance she bears to Mrs. Siddons.]
THE HELIOTROPE.
There is a flower, whose modest eye
Is turn'd with looks of light and
love,
Who breathes her softest, sweetest sigh.
Whene'er the sun is
bright above.
Let clouds obscure, or darkness veil,
Her fond idolatry is fled,
Her
sighs no more their sweets exhale.
The loving eye is cold--and dead.
Canst thou not trace a moral here,
False flatterer of the prosperous
hour?
Let but an adverse cloud appear,
And Thou art faithless, as
the Flower!
SONNET.
ON SEEING A YOUNG LADY,
I HAD PREVIOUSLY KNOWN, CONFINED IN A MADHOUSE.
Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon
The sad brief summer of
thy joys hath fled:
How sorrows Friendship for thy hapless doom,

Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead.
Oh! 'twas that beauty's
power which first destroy'd
Thy mind's serenity; its charms but led

The faithless friend, that thy pure love enjoy'd,
To tear the beauteous
blossom from its bed.
How reason shudders at thy frenzied air!
To
see thee smile, with fancy's dreams possess'd;
Or shrink, the frozen
image of despair.
Or, love-enraptured, chant thy griefs to rest:
Oh!
cease that mournful voice, affliction's child,
My heart but bleeds to

hear thy musings wild.
PROMETHEUS.
What sovereign good shall satiate man's desires,
Propell'd by Hope's
unconquerable fires?
Vain each bright bauble by ambition prized;

Unwon, 'tis worshipp'd--but possess'd, despised.
Yet all defect with
virtue shines allied,
His mightiest impulse genius owes to pride.

From conquer'd science graced with glorious spoils,
He still dares on,
demands sublimer toils;
And, had not Nature check'd his vent'rous
wing,
His eye had pierced her at her primal spring.
Thus when, enwrapt, Prometheus strove to trace
Inspired perceptions
of celestial grace,
Th' ideal spirit, fugitive as wind,
Art's forceful
spells in adamant confined:
Curved with nice chisel floats the
obsequious line;
From stone unconscious, beauty beams divine;
On
magic poised, th' exulting structure swims,
And spurns attraction with
elastic limbs.
While ravish'd fancy vivifies the form;
While
judgment toils to analyze its charm;
While admiration spreads her
speaking hands;
The lofty artist undelighted stands.
He longs to
ravish from the bless'd abodes
The seal of heaven, the attribute of
gods;
To give his labour more than man can give,
Breathe Jove's
own breath, and bid the marble live!
Won from her woof, embellishing the skies,
Descending, Pallas
soothes her vot'ry's sighs,
Where, 'midst the twilight of o'er-arching
groves,
By waking visions led, th' enthusiast roves;
Like summer
suns, by showery clouds conceal'd,
With sudden blaze the goddess
shines reveal'd:
Behold, she cries, in thy distinguished cause
I
challenge Jove's inexorable laws!
With life-stol'n essence let th'
awaken'd stone
A super-human generation own.
Defrauded nature
shall admire the deed,
And time recoil at thy immortal meed.
Impregn'd with action, and convoked to breathe,
Sighs the still form

his ardent hands beneath;
Electric lustres flash from either