Classic Poem

To the Summer Haunt of Laura.

Sweet fountain of Vaucluse!
The virgin freshness of whose crystal bed
The ladye, idol of my soul! hath led
Within thy wave her fairy bath to choose!
And thou, O favourite tree!
Whose branches she loved best
To shade her hour of rest —
Her own dear native land's green mulberry!
Roses, whose earliest bud
To her sweet bosom lent
Fragrance and ornament!
Zephyrs, who fan the murmuring flood!
Cool grove, sequestered grot!
Here in this lovely spot
I pour my last sad lay, where first her love I wooed.

If soon my earthly woes
Must slumber in the tomb,
And if my life's sad doom
Must so in sorrow close!
Where yonder willow grows,
Close by the margin lay
My cold and lifeless clay,
That unrequited love may find repose!
Seek thou thy native realm,
My soul! and when the fear
Of dissolution near,
And doubts shall overwhelm,
A ray of comfort round
My dying couch shall hover,
If some kind hand will cover
My miserable bones in yonder hallowed ground!

But still alive for her
Oft may my ashes great
The sound of coming feet!
And Laura's tread gladden my sepulchre'
Relenting, on my grave,
My mistress may, perchance,
With one kind pitying glance
Honour the dust of her devoted slave,
Then may she intercede,
With prayer and sigh, for one
Who, hence for ever gone,
Of mercy stands in need;
And while for me her rosary she tells,
May her uplifted eyes
Win pardon from the skies,
While angels through her veil behold the tear that swells!

Visions of love! ye dwell
In memory still enshrined. —
Here, as she once reclined,
A shower of blossoms on her bosom fell!
And while th' enamoured tree
From all its branches thus
Rained odoriferous,
She sat, unconscious, all humility
Mixed with her golden hair, those blossoms sweet
Like pearls on amber seemed; —
Some their allegiance deemed
Due to her floating robe and lovely feet:
Others, disporting, took
Their course adown the brook:
Others aloft, wafted in airy sport,
Seemed to proclaim, " To-day Love holds his merry court! "

I've gazed upon thee, jewel beyond price!
Till from my inmost soul
This secret whisper stole —
" Of Earth no child art thou, daughter of Paradise! "
Such sway thy beauty held
O'er the enraptured sense,
And such the influence
Of winning smile and form unparalleled!
And I would marvel then
" How came I here, and when,
Wafted by magic wand,
Earth's narrow joys beyond? "
O, I shall ever count
My happiest days spent here by this romantic fount!