SONNETS, BY DR JOHN LEYDEN.
HAIL to the placid venerable morn,
That slowly wakes while all the fields are still;
A pensive calm on every breeze is borne,
A graver murmur gurgles from the rill,
And echo answers softer from the hill;
While softer sings the linnet from the thorn,
The sky-lark warbles in a tone less shrill.
Hail, light serene! hail, holy Sabbath morn!
The gales that lately sigh'd along the grove
Have hush'd their downy wings in dead repose;
The rooks float silent by in airy drove,
The sun a mild but solemn lustre throws ;
The clouds that hover'd slow forget to move :
Thus smil'd the day when the first morn arose.
ON PARTING WITH A FRIEND.
WHILE far, dear friend, your parting steps recede,
I frequent turn to gaze with fond delay;
How faint your lineaments and form decay,
Diminish'd to a dim unbodied shade.
Alas! that thus our early friendships fade!
While through the busy vale of life we stray,
And hold the separate tenor of our way,
Thus imperceptibly our minds secede.
Yet sure too soon, thou brother of my heart,
So lately found, but therefore loved the more;
Too soon the moments of affection fly!
Too soon by nature's rigid laws we part;
Surviving friends may o'er our tomb deplore,
But never hear a soft responsive sigh.
METHOUGHT beneath a castle huge I stood,
That seem'd to grow out of a rock sublime,
Through the dominion of its solitude
Augustly frowning at the rage of Time.
Its lofty minarets, indistinct and dim,
Look'd through the brooding clouds; and, as a smile
Of passing sunlight showed these structures grim
Burning like fire, I could have thought the while
That they were warriors keeping watch on high,
All motionless, and sheath'd in radiant panoply.
What mortal feet these rampart heights might scale!
Lo! like black atoms mingling in the sky,
The far-off rooks and their fleet shadows sail;
Scarce hears the soul their melancholy cry.
What lovely colours bathed the frowning brow
Of that imperial mansion! Radiant green,
And purple fading in a yellow glow!
Oh! lovelier ne'er on mossy bank was seen
In vernal joy; while bands of charter'd flowers
Revell'd like fairy sprites along their palace towers.
* Author of " The Isle of Palms," &c., lately published. g
Down sunk the draw-bridge with a thund'ring shock;
And in an instant, ere the eye could know,
Bound the stern castle to th' opposing rock,
And hung in calmness o'er the flood below ;-
A roaring flood, that, born amid the hills,
Forced his lone path through many a darksome glen, Till join'd by all his tributary rills,
From lake and tarn, from marish and from fen,
He left his empire with a kingly glee,
And fiercely bade recoil the billows of the sea.
I felt it was a dream; nor wish'd to wake :
Though dim and pale by fits the vision grew,
And oft that ocean dwindled to a lake,
And cliff and castle from the clouds.withdrew.
Oft, all I heard was but a gentle swell,
Like the wild music of the summer leaves;
Till, like an army mustering in the dell,
The blasts came rushing from their pine-clad caves,
And swept the silence of the scene away,
Even like a city storm'd upon the Sabbath day.*
Though strange my dream, I knew the Scottish strand,
And the bold frith that, rolling fiercely bright,
Far-distant faded mid that mountain land,
As mid dark clouds a sudden shower of light.
Long have my lips been mute in Scotland's praise !
Now is the hour for inspiration's song!
The shadowy stories of departed days
Before my tranced soul in tumult throng,
And I with fearless voice on them will call,
From camp and battle-field, from princely bower and hall.
With only my still shadow by my sight,
And Nature's lifeless things that slept around,
I seem'd to be; when, from the portal wide,
Startling as sudden light, or wandering sound,
Onwards a Figure came, with stately brow,
And, as he glanced upon the ruin'd pile
A look of regal pride," Say, who art thou,
(His countenance brightning with a scornful smile,
He sternly cried,) whose footsteps rash profane
The wild romantic realm where I have willed to reign ?"
*This image is from an unpublished poem of Mr Coleridge.
But ere to these proud words I could reply,
How changed that scornful face to soft and mild!
A witching frenzy glitter'd in his eye,
Harmless, withal, as that of playful child.
And when once more the gracious vision spoke,
I felt the voice familiar to mine ear;
While many a faded dream of earth awoke,
Connected strangely with that unknown seer, Who now stretch'd forth his arm, and on the sand A circle round me traced, as with magician's wand.
Desire or power then had I none to move,
In that sweet prison a delighted thrall;
Died all remembrances of daily love,
Or, if they glimmer'd, vain I held them all.
Alone on that magician could I gaze;
His voice alone compell'd was I to hear,
Wild as the autumnal wind that fitful plays
A wailing dirge unto the dying year,
Amid the silence of the midnight hour,
Out through the ivied window of a mouldering tower.
He felt his might, and sported with my soul,
Even as the sea-wind dallies with a boat,
That now doth fleeter than the billows roll,
Now, as at anchor, on the calm doth float.
Nor heeded he to see my senses lock'd
In the dim maze of wildering phantasy;
But ever and anon my wonder mock'd
With careless looks of gentle tyranny.
Well-used was that magician to the sight
Of souls by him subdued to terror and delight.
How bold the fearful oft in dreams become !
Familiar in the midst of all things strange !
Unshuddering then, with spirits will we roam,
Calm and unconscious of th' unearthly change!
Even so it fared with me; ere long I grew
Familiar with the wizard of my dream,
When, from his lofty breast he slowly drew
What seem'd a Mirror by its glancing gleam,
And bade me therein look, where I might see
Wild sights come floating by in clouds of glamoury.
Then burn'd that glass insufferably bright,
Till closed my eyelids with the sudden pain;
As, when the downward rays of mid-day light
Kindle to fire upon the verdant main.
Ne'er diamond spark outshone the common air
With purer radiance, nor the setting sun
Stream'd on the window of cathedral fair
A deeper blaze, to tell his course was run:
I gazed again; and lo! that Mirror soon
With tenderest lustre smiled, like a September moon.
Unto another world it opening gave.
There, castles stood majestic in their prime,
And mailed chieftains, rising from the grave,
Their banners hung o'er battlements sublime.
Oft changed the magic scene; here Lady bright,
In hazel grove, beneath the western star,
Listed the love-tale of her faithful Knight;
Here the red beacon blazed, and to the war
Fierce clans come rushing, while the blaze illumes
Targe, spear, and battle-axe, and widely-tossing plumes,
How sweet the moon on yon fair abbey shone ! †
Bathing in liquid light, so sadly faint,
The flowerets drooping pale in sculptured stone,
And the still image of each mouldering saint.
And what may bring a Warrior's crested head ‡
Unto these holy courts and cloisters dim?
Thou daring spirit, why disturb the dead?
Yawns the damp tomb, and lo! a spectre grim, ģ
Yet with his dead face beautiful withal,
Lies mid immortal light that fills the vaulted hall.
The abbey melted like a cloud away,
And many a gorgeous pageant charm'd my heart :
But how may I recount in feeble lay
The beauteous marvels of that wizard's art?
No! not unto myself dare I to tell
What various visions o'er that Mirror roll'd,
Till view'd my soften'd soul a lovely dell,
Where upon Yarrow's banks a Minstrel old ||
Did sit, and wake to lords and ladies high
The last-expiring strains of Border Minstrelsy.
* The meeting of Margaret and Cranstoun, in the Lay of the Last Minstrel
† Melrose.
Conclusion of the Lay of the Last Minstrel.
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