Literary Gazette, 16th February, 1822, Page 105
ORIGINAL POETRY
POETIC SKETCHES.
Sketch Sixth.
"She had no thought from him apart,
The idol of her seared heart,
The hope of life's lone pilgrimage,
The light, the blessing of her age!
But hope is like the rainbow's form,
Dying in tears and born in storm;
And all must feel what passing flowers
Are joys we deemed most truly ours."
"Alas, life is a weary voyage, made
Mid storms and rocks, with just a sun ray sent
To lure us on and leave us.“ [1]
Down swept the gathered waters over rocks
Which broke at times the column's foaming line;
Darkening amid the snow-white froth, it swept
Like an all conquering army, and an arch
Of sparkling hues that in the sunbeams played
Seemed to unite it with the sky which hung
Above all calmness and repose: The blue
Ethereal, soft and stainless, well beseemed
A heaven we deem the dwelling-place of peace:
Downwards it rushed; the tall green pines, that hung
Upon the cliffs beside, were covered o'er
With silver spray: there stood those stately trees,
Braving the furious storm, as the proud sons
Of Greece, when Greece was glorious, stood and braved
The tyrant's menace and defied the yoke.
It reached the plain below; a crystal lake
Became its dwelling, where the dimpling wave
Had lost all memory of its former strife:
The willows grew around, and that pale flower
The water-lily floated on its face,
The halcyon plumed his azure wings, nor feared
A coming storm, and in the midst an isle
Rose like a blest shrine to the guardian power
Of that sweet scene. It was a little spot
Shaded by gloomy firs and lighter birch:
Here the wild strawberry shed its first white blossoms,
And the dove built her nest, while the soft gale,
Sighing amid the graceful larches, gave
The only answer to her murmurings.—
- ↑ Neither quote identified
