Poems, &c. (1790) Part 6

The whirling flail, and clacking mill Wake with the early day; And careless children, loud and shrill, With new-made snow-b.a.l.l.s play.

And as she pa.s.s'd each cottage door, They did their gambols cease; And old men shook their locks so h.o.a.r, And wish'd her spirit peace.

For sometimes slow; and sometimes fast, She held her wav'ring pace; Like early spring's inconstant blast, That ruffles evening's face.

At length with weary feet she came, Where in a shelt'ring wood, Whose master bore no humble name, A stately castle stood.

The open gate, and smoking fires, Which cloud the air so thin; And shrill bell tinkling from the spires, Bespoke a feast within.

With busy looks, and hasty tread, The servants cross the hall; And many a page, in buskins red, Await the master's call.

Fair streaming bows of bridal white On ev'ry shoulder play'd; And clean, in lily kerchief dight, Trip'd every houshold maid.

She ask'd for neither lord nor dame, Nor who the mansion own'd; But straight into the hall she came, And sat her on the ground.

The busy crew all crouded nigh, And round the stranger star'd; But still she roll'd her wand'ring eye, Nor for their questions car'd.

"What dost thou want, thou storm-beat' maid, That thou these portals past?

Ill suiteth here thy looks dismay'd, Thou art no bidden guest."

"O chide not!" said a gentle page, And wip'd his tear-wet cheek, "Who would not shun the winter's rage?

The wind is cold and bleak.

"Her robe is stiff with drizly snow, And rent her mantle grey; None ever bade the wretched go Upon his wedding-day."

Then to his lord he hied him straight, Where round on silken seat Sat many a courteous dame and knight.

And made obeisance meet,

"There is a stranger in your hall, Who wears no common mien; Hard were the heart, as flinty wall, That would not take her in.

"A fairer dame in hall or bower Mine eyes did ne'er behold; Tho' shelter'd in no father's tower, And turn'd out to the cold.

"Her face is like an early morn, Dimm'd with the nightly dew; Her skin is like the sheeted torn, Her eyes are wat'ry blue.

"And tall and slender is her form, Like willow o'er the brook; But on her brow there broods a storm, And restless is her look,

"And well her troubled motions shew The tempest in her mind; Like the unshelter'd sapling bough Vex'd with the wintry wind.

"Her head droops on her ungirt breast, And scatter'd is her hair; Yet lady brac'd in courtly vest Was never half so fair."

Reverse, and cold the turning blood The bridegroom's cheek forsook: He shook and stagger'd as he stood, And falter'd as he spoke.

"So soft and fair I know a maid, There is but only she; A wretched man her love betrayed, And wretched let him be."

Deep frowning, turn'd the bride's dark eye, For bridal morn unmeet; With trembling steps her lord did hie The stranger fair to greet.

Tho' loose in scatter'd weeds array'd, And ruffled with the storm; Like lambkin from its fellows stray'd, He knew her graceful form.

But when he spy'd her sunken eye, And features sharp and wan, He heav'd a deep and heavy sigh, And down the big tears ran.

"Why droops thy head, thou lovely maid, Upon thy hand of snow?

Is it because thy love betray'd, That thou art brought so low?"

Quick from her eye the keen glance came Who question'd her to see: And oft she mutter'd o'er his name, And wist not it was he.

Full hard against his writhing brows His clenched hands he prest; Full high his lab'ring bosom rose, And rent its silken vest.

"O cursed be the golden price, That did my baseness prove!

And cursed be my friends advice, That wil'd me from thy love!

"And cursed be the woman's art, That lur'd me to her snare!

And cursed be the faithless heart That left thee to despair!

"Yet now I'll hold thee to my side, Tho' worthless I have been, Nor friends, nor wealth, nor dizen'd bride, Shall ever stand between.

"When thou art weary and depress'd, I'll lull thee to thy sleep; And when dark fancies vex thy breast, I'll sit by thee and weep.

"I'll tend thee like a restless child Where'er thy rovings be; Nor gesture keen, nor eye-ball wild, Shall turn my love from thee.

"Night shall not hang cold o'er thy head, And I securely lie; Nor drizly clouds upon thee shed, And I in covert dry.

"I'll share the cold blast on the heath, I'll share thy wants and pain: Nor friend nor foe, nor life nor death, Shall ever make us twain."

THUNDER.

Spirit of strength, to whom in wrath 'tis given To mar the earth, and shake the vasty heaven: Behold the gloomy robes, that spreading hide Thy secret majesty, lo! slow and wide, Thy heavy skirts sail in the middle air, Thy sultry shroud is o'er the noonday glare: Th' advancing clouds sublimely roll'd on high, Deep in their pitchy volumes clothe the sky; Like hosts of gath'ring foes array'd in death, Dread hangs their gloom upon the earth beneath, It is thy hour: the awful deep is still, And laid to rest the wind of ev'ry hill.

Wild creatures of the forest homeward scour, And in their dens with fear unwonted cow'r.

Pride in the lordly palace is forgot, And in the lowly shelter of the cot The poor man sits, with all his fam'ly round, In awful expectation of thy sound.

Lone on his way the trav'ller stands aghast; The fearful looks of man to heav'n are cast, When, lo! thy lightning gleams on high, As swiftly turns his startled eye; And swiftly as thy shooting blaze Each half performed motion stays, Deep awe, all human strife and labour stills, And thy dread voice alone, the earth and heaven fills.

Bright bursts the lightning from the cloud's dark womb, As quickly swallow'd in the closing gloom.

The distant streamy flashes, spread askance In paler sheetings, skirt the wide expanse.

Dread flaming from aloft, the cat'ract dire Oft meets in middle s.p.a.ce the nether fire.

Fierce, red, and ragged, s.h.i.+v'ring in the air, Athwart mid-darkness shoots the lengthen'd glare.

Wild glancing round, the feebler lightning plays; The rifted centre pours the gen'ral blaze; And from the warring clouds in fury driven,[A]

Red writhing falls the keen embodied bolt of heaven.

[Footnote A: In poetry we have only to do with appearances; and the zig-zag lightning, commonly thought to be the thunder-bolt, is certainly firm and embodied, compared to the ordinary lightning, which takes no distinct shape at all.]

From the dark bowels of the burthen'd cloud Dread swells the rolling peal, full, deep'ning, loud.

Wide ratt'ling claps the heavens scatter'd o'er, In gathered strength lift the tremendous roar; With weaning force it rumbles over head, Then, growling, wears away to silence dread.

Now waking from afar in doubled might, Slow rolling onward to the middle height; Like crash of mighty mountains downward hurl'd, Like the upbreaking of a wrecking world, In dreadful majesty, th' explosion grand Bursts wide, and awful, o'er the trembling land.

The lofty mountains echo back the roar, Deep from afar rebounds earth's rocky sh.o.r.e; All else existing in the senses bound Is lost in the immensity of sound.

Wide jarring sounds by turns in strength convene, And deep, and terrible, the solemn pause between.

Aloft upon the mountain's side The kindled forest blazes wide.

Huge fragments of the rugged deep Are tumbled to the las.h.i.+ng deep.