The olian Harp

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 Myrtle,     (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)     And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,     Slow saddenning 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.     [spacer][spacer]And that simplest Lute,     Plac'd 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 upbraiding, 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     Voyage on gentle gales from Faery-Land,     Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers,     Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,     Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untam'd wing!     O! the one Life within us and abroad,     Which meets all motion and becomes its soul,     A light in sound, a sound-like power in light,     Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where--     Methinks, it should have been impossible     Not to love all things in a world so fill'd ;     Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air     Is Music slumbering on her instrument.     And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope     Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,     Whilst thro' my half-clos'd eye-lids I behold     The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,     And tranquil muse upon tranquility ;     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     That swell and flutter on this subject Lute!     And what if all of animated nature     Be but organic Harps diversly fram'd,     That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps     Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,     At once the Soul of each, and God of all?     But thy more serious eye a mild reproof     Darts, O belovd Woman ! nor such thoughts     Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject,     And biddest me walk humbly with my God.     Meek Daughter in the Family of Christ!     Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd     These shapings of the unregenerate mind;     Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break     On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.     For never guiltless may I speak of him,     The Incomprehensible! save when with awe     I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels;     Who with his saving mercies heald me,     A sinful and most miserable man,     Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess     Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honour'd Maid!