Mazelli, and Other Poems [23]
of her smile!
Seek the dell and seek the bower,
Pluck the bud and pluck the flower,
Search for buds of sweetest breath,
Search for flowers of brightest hue;
Fit to weave the bridal wreath,
Of a maid so fair and true!
[Exeunt.
Note to the Misanthrope
"Then seek we, for the maiden's pillow,
Far beyond the Atlantic's billow,
Love's apple,--and when we have found it,
Draw the magic circles round it."
Considering the Mandrake, many fabulous notions were entertained
by the ancients; and they never attempted to extract it from the
earth, without the previous performance of such ceremonies as they
considered efficacious in preventing the numerous accidents, dangers,
and diseases, to which they believed the person exposed who was
daring enough to undertake its extraction. The usual manner of
obtaining it was this:--When found, three times a circle was drawn
around it with the point of a naked sword, and a dog was then
attached to it and beaten, until by his struggles it was disengaged
from the earth.
It was supposed to be useful in producing dreams, philters, charms
&c.; and also to possess the faculties of exciting love, and
increasing population.
The Emperor Adrian, in a letter to Calexines, writes that he is
drinking the juice of the Mandrake to render him amorous: hence
it was called Love-apple.
It grows in Italy, Spain, and the Levant.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
TO ISABEL
A Beautiful Little Girl.
Fair as some sea-child, in her coral bower,
Decked with the rare, rich treasures of the deep;
Mild as the spirit of the dream whose power
Bears back the infant's soul to heaven, in sleep
Brightens the hues of summer's first-born flower
Pure as the tears repentant mourners weep
O'er deeds to which the siren, Sin, beguiled,--
Art thou, sweet, smiling, bright-eyed cherub child.
Thy presence is a spell of holiness,
From which unhallowed thoughts shrink blushing back,--
Thy smile is a warm light that shines to bless,
As beams the beacon o'er the wanderer's track,--
Thy voice is music, at whose sounds Distress
Unbinds her writhing victim from the rack
Of misery, and charmed by what she hears,
Forgets her woes, and smiles upon her tears.
And when I look upon thee, bearing now
The promise of such loveliness, I ask
If time will blight, that promise; if thy brow,
So sunny now, will learn to wear the mask
Of hollow smiles, or cold deceit, whilst thou
Art learning in thy soul the bitter task
Time teaches to all bosoms, when the glow
Of hope is o'er--but this I may not know.
My path will not be near to thine through life,--
Kind ones will guard and fondly shelter thee;
Me bitterness awaits, and care and strife,
And all that sorrow has of agony;
My future, as my past was, will be rife
With heartaches, and the pangs that "pass not by;"
Each hour shall give thee some new pleasure; years,
Long years can bring me only toil 'and tears.
'Tis meet that it should be so,--I have made
A wreck of my own happiness, and cast
Across my heart, in youth, the dull, deep shade
That wrinkled age flings over all at last
But let it go,--I have too long delayed
The remedy, and what is past is past;--
And could I live those vanished moments o'er,
My heart would wander as it strayed before.
I know not how it is,--my heart is stern,
And little giv'n to thoughts of tenderness;
Yet looking on thy young brow it will yearn,
And in my bosom's innermost recess,
Thoughts that have slumbered long awake and burn
With a wild strength which nothing can repress!
Be still, worn heart, be still; does not the cold
And heavy clay--clod mingle with her mould?
Yes, 'tis that in thy soft check's tender bloom,
Thy black eyes' brightness, in each graceful move,
I trace the lineaments of one to whom
My soul was wedded in an early love,--
'Twas in my boyhood; but the insatiate tomb
Claimed her fair form, and for the realms above
Her spirit fled the earth; oh! how I wept
That mine should in its bondage still be kept.
I mind the
Seek the dell and seek the bower,
Pluck the bud and pluck the flower,
Search for buds of sweetest breath,
Search for flowers of brightest hue;
Fit to weave the bridal wreath,
Of a maid so fair and true!
[Exeunt.
Note to the Misanthrope
"Then seek we, for the maiden's pillow,
Far beyond the Atlantic's billow,
Love's apple,--and when we have found it,
Draw the magic circles round it."
Considering the Mandrake, many fabulous notions were entertained
by the ancients; and they never attempted to extract it from the
earth, without the previous performance of such ceremonies as they
considered efficacious in preventing the numerous accidents, dangers,
and diseases, to which they believed the person exposed who was
daring enough to undertake its extraction. The usual manner of
obtaining it was this:--When found, three times a circle was drawn
around it with the point of a naked sword, and a dog was then
attached to it and beaten, until by his struggles it was disengaged
from the earth.
It was supposed to be useful in producing dreams, philters, charms
&c.; and also to possess the faculties of exciting love, and
increasing population.
The Emperor Adrian, in a letter to Calexines, writes that he is
drinking the juice of the Mandrake to render him amorous: hence
it was called Love-apple.
It grows in Italy, Spain, and the Levant.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
TO ISABEL
A Beautiful Little Girl.
Fair as some sea-child, in her coral bower,
Decked with the rare, rich treasures of the deep;
Mild as the spirit of the dream whose power
Bears back the infant's soul to heaven, in sleep
Brightens the hues of summer's first-born flower
Pure as the tears repentant mourners weep
O'er deeds to which the siren, Sin, beguiled,--
Art thou, sweet, smiling, bright-eyed cherub child.
Thy presence is a spell of holiness,
From which unhallowed thoughts shrink blushing back,--
Thy smile is a warm light that shines to bless,
As beams the beacon o'er the wanderer's track,--
Thy voice is music, at whose sounds Distress
Unbinds her writhing victim from the rack
Of misery, and charmed by what she hears,
Forgets her woes, and smiles upon her tears.
And when I look upon thee, bearing now
The promise of such loveliness, I ask
If time will blight, that promise; if thy brow,
So sunny now, will learn to wear the mask
Of hollow smiles, or cold deceit, whilst thou
Art learning in thy soul the bitter task
Time teaches to all bosoms, when the glow
Of hope is o'er--but this I may not know.
My path will not be near to thine through life,--
Kind ones will guard and fondly shelter thee;
Me bitterness awaits, and care and strife,
And all that sorrow has of agony;
My future, as my past was, will be rife
With heartaches, and the pangs that "pass not by;"
Each hour shall give thee some new pleasure; years,
Long years can bring me only toil 'and tears.
'Tis meet that it should be so,--I have made
A wreck of my own happiness, and cast
Across my heart, in youth, the dull, deep shade
That wrinkled age flings over all at last
But let it go,--I have too long delayed
The remedy, and what is past is past;--
And could I live those vanished moments o'er,
My heart would wander as it strayed before.
I know not how it is,--my heart is stern,
And little giv'n to thoughts of tenderness;
Yet looking on thy young brow it will yearn,
And in my bosom's innermost recess,
Thoughts that have slumbered long awake and burn
With a wild strength which nothing can repress!
Be still, worn heart, be still; does not the cold
And heavy clay--clod mingle with her mould?
Yes, 'tis that in thy soft check's tender bloom,
Thy black eyes' brightness, in each graceful move,
I trace the lineaments of one to whom
My soul was wedded in an early love,--
'Twas in my boyhood; but the insatiate tomb
Claimed her fair form, and for the realms above
Her spirit fled the earth; oh! how I wept
That mine should in its bondage still be kept.
I mind the