Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge)/Effusion 24, in the manner of Spencer

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

EFFUSION XXIV.

IN THE

MANNER OF SPENSER.

O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love
To rest thine head beneath an Olive Tree,
I would, that from the pinions of thy Dove
One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be!
For ô! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,
And fain to her some soothing song would write,
Lest she resent my rude discourtesy,
Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning light,
But broke my plighted word—ah! false and recreant Wight!

Last night as I my weary head did pillow
With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engross'd,
Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow,
As tho' my breast entomb'd a pining ghost.
"From someblest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast,
"Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way;
"But leave me with the matin hour, at most!
"As night-clos'd Flowret to the orient ray^{[errata 1]},
"My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey.

But Love, who heard the silence of my thought,
Contriv'd a too successful wile, I ween:
And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught—
"Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen:
"To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien!"
He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed
The Morning shot her dewy glances keen,

When as I 'gan to lift my drowsy head—
"Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!" the laughing Elfin said.

Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing
Was flutt'ring now, as quickly to depart;
When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string,
With pathless wound it pierc'd him to the heart.
Was there some Magic in the Elfin's dart?
Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance?
For strait so fair a Form did upwards start
(No fairer deck'd the Bowers of old Romance)
That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor mov'd from his sweet Trance!

My Sara came, with gentlest Look divine;
Bright shone her Eye, yet tender was its beam:

I felt the pressure of her Lip to mine!
Whisp'ring we went, and Love was all our theme—
Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem,
He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did 'bide,
That I the living Image of my Dream
Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd—
"O! how shall I behold my Love at even-tide!"

 

Errata

1. Original: Like snowdrop opening to the solar ray was amended to As night-clos'd Flowret to the orient ray: detail