Poetry

Poems

Imitation of Spenser

Now Morning from her orient chamber came,And her first footsteps touch’d a verdant hill;Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,Silv’ring the untainted gushes of its rill;Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distil,And after parting beds of simple flowers,By many streams a little lake did fill,Which round its marge reflected woven bowers,And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.

There the kingfisher saw his plumage bright,Vying with fish of brilliant dye below;Whose silken fins, and golden scales’ lightCast upward, through the waves, a ruby glow:There saw the swan his neck of arched snow,And oar’d himself along with majesty;Sparkled his jetty eyes; his feet did showBeneath the waves like Afric’s ebony,And on his back a fay reclined voluptuously.

Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isleThat in that fairest lake had placed been,I could e’en Dido of her grief beguile;Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen:For sure so fair a place was never seen,Of all that ever charm’d romantic eye:It seem’d an emerald in the silver sheenOf the bright waters; or as when on high,

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