DARK-SMILING Maid, I love thee well,
For thou art not the flaunting fair
Who makes externals all her care,
Content to seem what others are;
No, lovely mistress of the spell,
Thy charms are soft, and all prevail,
Tho' shrouded in a mystic veil,
Conceal'd indeed from vulgar eyes,
The more we know, the more we prize,
The better seen, the better lov'd,
The deeper search'd, the fairer prov'd,
Enchantress! who thy charms can tell?
Dark smiling maid! I love thee well.
About thy cave the fairies bound,
And dance their gay fantastic round,
And shadowy circles form,
While riding through the midnight air,
Come goblins gaunt, and sylphids fair,
And spirits of the storm;
And oft they form a warbling choir,
And strike the little elfin lyre,
While to their melodies divine,
I sweep these wandering wires of mine,
These feeble strings whose lowly lays
But mock the hand that o'er them strays.
Charmer! 'tis true thy beauties fade,
When low thy votary's head is laid
They cannot animate anew;
Are dimly seen, and quickly past,
Yet are they lovely while they last,
And unpolluted too:
And since so many joys are vain,
And life has less of joy than pain,
Oh! who shall blame, amid the maze,
Th' enthusiast, who delighted strays?
Thou, thou alone, couldst reconcile
Those form'd to differ and revile,
And honour Truth, thy heavenly guest,
Yet press fair Fiction to thy breast.
Hail, Truth and Fiction! loveliest pair,
Best, brightest, most divine, most fair,
Long, long, each ranked in adverse throng,
And shunned, and scorned, and hated long:
At length she came, the dark-haired maid,
In robes of cloudy blue arrayed,
With girdle formed of wandering rays,
Caught from the sun's refulgent blaze,
And that mysterious veil, so wrought
By artful spirits heavenly taught,
Its mystic beauties only yield
To the fair features it concealed.
Th' Enchantress came, she came in pow'r,
Mistress of that transforming hour,
She breath'd a wild mysterious lay,
And sang and smiled their hate away.
O'er Truth's fair form a robe she threw,
To clothe her with attraction new,
And plucked from Fiction's pinions gay,
The vainer, gaudier plumes away,
Then bade her re-assume her pride,
And soar as lofty, not as wide:
Each paused, each strange affection knew,
And wondered whence their hatred grew,
Felt fresh delight, beheld new charms,
And sunk into each other's arms.
Since then together will they stray,
And sing the same impassioned lay,
The flower that Fiction's garden drest,
Blushes on Truth's celestial breast;
The wires that Truth has strung rejoice,
In unison with Fiction's voice;
They seek the same romantic groves,
Each loves the haunts the other loves;
They climb the steep, explore the dell,
Together roam, together dwell.
Hail, loveliest pair; hail, happiest hour
And hail, all hail, transforming power;
There's many a willing tribute paid,
In Virtue's bane and Vice's aid;
There's many a garland gay supplied,
For baseness, luxury, and pride.
For me! the song I raise shall be
Devoted to the Muse and thee;
My garlands shall not, cannot twine
Around a brighter brow than thine;
I'll breathe thy praise, while praise has breath,
I'll love and cherish thee till death;
Till then I'm garlanding thy brow,
Till then I'll honour thee as now,
And then — farewell, dissolving spell,
Dark smiling maid! farewell, farewell!
For thou art not the flaunting fair
Who makes externals all her care,
Content to seem what others are;
No, lovely mistress of the spell,
Thy charms are soft, and all prevail,
Tho' shrouded in a mystic veil,
Conceal'd indeed from vulgar eyes,
The more we know, the more we prize,
The better seen, the better lov'd,
The deeper search'd, the fairer prov'd,
Enchantress! who thy charms can tell?
Dark smiling maid! I love thee well.
About thy cave the fairies bound,
And dance their gay fantastic round,
And shadowy circles form,
While riding through the midnight air,
Come goblins gaunt, and sylphids fair,
And spirits of the storm;
And oft they form a warbling choir,
And strike the little elfin lyre,
While to their melodies divine,
I sweep these wandering wires of mine,
These feeble strings whose lowly lays
But mock the hand that o'er them strays.
Charmer! 'tis true thy beauties fade,
When low thy votary's head is laid
They cannot animate anew;
Are dimly seen, and quickly past,
Yet are they lovely while they last,
And unpolluted too:
And since so many joys are vain,
And life has less of joy than pain,
Oh! who shall blame, amid the maze,
Th' enthusiast, who delighted strays?
Thou, thou alone, couldst reconcile
Those form'd to differ and revile,
And honour Truth, thy heavenly guest,
Yet press fair Fiction to thy breast.
Hail, Truth and Fiction! loveliest pair,
Best, brightest, most divine, most fair,
Long, long, each ranked in adverse throng,
And shunned, and scorned, and hated long:
At length she came, the dark-haired maid,
In robes of cloudy blue arrayed,
With girdle formed of wandering rays,
Caught from the sun's refulgent blaze,
And that mysterious veil, so wrought
By artful spirits heavenly taught,
Its mystic beauties only yield
To the fair features it concealed.
Th' Enchantress came, she came in pow'r,
Mistress of that transforming hour,
She breath'd a wild mysterious lay,
And sang and smiled their hate away.
O'er Truth's fair form a robe she threw,
To clothe her with attraction new,
And plucked from Fiction's pinions gay,
The vainer, gaudier plumes away,
Then bade her re-assume her pride,
And soar as lofty, not as wide:
Each paused, each strange affection knew,
And wondered whence their hatred grew,
Felt fresh delight, beheld new charms,
And sunk into each other's arms.
Since then together will they stray,
And sing the same impassioned lay,
The flower that Fiction's garden drest,
Blushes on Truth's celestial breast;
The wires that Truth has strung rejoice,
In unison with Fiction's voice;
They seek the same romantic groves,
Each loves the haunts the other loves;
They climb the steep, explore the dell,
Together roam, together dwell.
Hail, loveliest pair; hail, happiest hour
And hail, all hail, transforming power;
There's many a willing tribute paid,
In Virtue's bane and Vice's aid;
There's many a garland gay supplied,
For baseness, luxury, and pride.
For me! the song I raise shall be
Devoted to the Muse and thee;
My garlands shall not, cannot twine
Around a brighter brow than thine;
I'll breathe thy praise, while praise has breath,
I'll love and cherish thee till death;
Till then I'm garlanding thy brow,
Till then I'll honour thee as now,
And then — farewell, dissolving spell,
Dark smiling maid! farewell, farewell!