"SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT."
SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A Traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.
(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND.)
SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head:
And these grey Rocks; this household Lawn; These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn ; This fall of water, that doth make
A murmur near the silent Lake; This little Bay, a quiet road That holds in shelter thy abode ; In truth together do ye seem Like something fashioned in a dream ; Such forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! Yet, dream and vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart : God shield thee to thy latest years! Thee neither know I nor thy peers; And yet my eyes are filled with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away : For never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here scattered like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not need
The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess ! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality:
Thou art to me but as a wave
Of the wild sea and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see!
Thy elder Brother I would be,
Thy Father, any thing to thee!
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place.
Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompence. In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes : Then, why should I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last.
Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, Sweet Highland Girl! from Thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the Cabin small, The Lake, the Bay, the Waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all!
my Fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Katrine, one fine evening after sunset, in our road to a Hut where in the course of our Tour we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well-dressed Women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, "What, you are stepping westward?"
"What, you are stepping westward?"—" Yea." -'Twould be a wildish destiny,
If we, who thus together roam
In a strange land, and far from home,
Were in this place the guests of Chance: Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a Sky to lead him on?
The dewy ground was dark and cold; Behind, all gloomy to behold; And stepping westward seemed to be A kind of heavenly destiny:
I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; And seemed to give me spiritual right To travel through that region bright.
The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native Lake : The salutation had to me
The very sound of courtesy:
Its power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought Of travelling through the world that lay Before me in my endless way.
BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts, and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
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