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Beat it to Earth? or with indignant grief
Th' attemper'd organ, that even saddest thoughts
THE EOLIAN HARP.
Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire.
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)
And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,
Slow sad'ning round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be)
Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents
Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world so hush'd! The stilly murmur of the distant Sea
Tells us of Silence.
And that simplest Lute,
Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark!
How by the desultory breeze caress'd,
Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover,
It pours such sweet upbraidings, as must needs
Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
Over delicious surges sink and rise,
Such a soft floating witchery of sound
As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve
Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing!
And thus, my love! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, Whilst thro' my half-closed eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,
And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;
Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd,
And many idle flitting phantasies,
Traverse my indolent and passive brain,
As wild and various as the random gales
And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic harps diversly fram'd,
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps
At once the Soul of each, and God of All?
But thy more serious eye a mild reproof
A sinful and most miserable Man,
Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess
Peace, and this Cot, and Thee, heart-honor'd Maid!
On having left a Place of Retirement.
Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest Rose