A Poetical Essay on Romance and Romancers

The fairest child of fairest mother born, LOVE, whose soft day in listless joy was worn, Satiate with bliss, and in disturbed repose Unquiet, ruffled all his bed of rose. ENNUI, Hell's negro! fat, and grinning, prest Her viewless iron thro' his heaving breast, Her dancing furies swim along the gloom; Their lethal lips respire the' Azotic room. His folded arms receive his bending head, And his light feet in heaviness are spread; Nor wakes, nor sleeps, but turns a half-clos'd eye And views imperfect things, and just can sigh. He plucks his pendulous wings, and, yawning, blows A plume in air, or twirls a leaflet rose. The GRACES calls, and blames the sister race, And sullen tells how neither is a Grace; Their fingers, half in anger, pinch his cheek, And kiss the MAN-CHILD, till his murmurs break. Haste to my mother, cried the wayward boy, And tell I perish with unvaried joy.

Returning now, the gliding GRACES move, And lead a nymph, by BEAUTY sent to LOVE; Her feeling face the heart's quick pulses changed; Her steps, so volatile, each Grace arranged; Ere from her lips the' harmonious words have flown, The Graces whispered every tender tone.

She winds round LOVE with her intactile arms, Flies with the child, and as she wills she charms. She touch'd the morning-dews to diamonds light, And wove her silver threads from moons of night; Her feet were powdered o'er, with stars 'tis said, And stars, in fillet-light, adorn her head. Two crystal pearls her crimson mantle bears; The tint a virgin's blush, the gems two virgins tears! Lo! as she passes where the summer-wood Hangs with it's leafy screens, some shadowy flood, Strange MUSIC sounds! each INSECT VOICE is there; The piping gnat, the pittering grasshopper: The humming dorr, the cricket's merry glee; The INSECT-HANDEL too, the rich-toned bee. Her flying hand with warm illusion turns New earths, new heavens, a world where fancy burns; Sails, without ships, a shadowy sea adown, Builds, without hands, on clouds, a peopled town; Her bloodless fights, her feasts that know no cost, Her storms, where often wrecked, she ne'er was lost; All these and more, as shift the' inconstant hues, The little god with infant tremor views. He shakes his feathers in the wavering flight; Now shoots a smile, now drops a tear more light.

Her arm soft serpented the clinging boy, And her eye quivered with a finer joy. With laughing eyes the' awakened urchin flings Light o'er her dazzling face his trembling wings. His purple lips her neck of silver prest, His soft hand rov'd within her softer breast. Thy name!—he cries, his humid eyelids shine— Thy voice is human, but thine art divine!

She, softly parting his incumbering wings; (To smiling LOVE more lovely smiles she brings) My name is FICTION; by the GRACES taught; To LOVE, unquiet LOVE, by BEAUTY brought. She said, and as she spoke, a rosy cloud Blush'd o'er their forms, and shade, and silence shroud! Thro' heaven's blue fields that pure caress is felt, A thousand colours drop, a thousand odours melt! O'er the thin cloud celestial eyes incline, (They laugh at veils, too beautifully fine!) His feeling wings with tender tremors move; His nectared locks his glowing bosom rove. Their rolling eyes in lambent radiance meet, With circling arms, and twined voluptuous feet; LOVE SIGHED—Heaven heard! And Jove delighted bowed, Olympus gaz'd, and shiver'd with the God! 'Twas in that ecstafy, that amorous trance, That LOVE on FICTION got the child, ROMANCE.

From that blest hour on EARTH, the Beauty glow'd And sought with social Man, her dear abode; With all her MOTHER'S SORCERY paints each dream, With all her FATHER'S SOUL makes LOVE the eternal theme!

With her the ARAB at the evening's close, Oft soothes the way worn traveller's repose. By storied Love the social circle caught, All lean, abstracted in the charm of thought; Lo! Memory pauses from the toiling past, The hovering bandit, and the sickening blast; All, all forgot! E'en Toil neglects to rest When human passions touch the lonely breast; Their heavy hearts the sprightly rapture hail, Charming the desert-wildness with—A TALE!

And oft, in PERSIAN bowers (as evening falls) On TURKISH platforms, in TARTARIAN halls: In HARAMS rich, while vexed and sad she sighs, Each languid queen on tissued sofas lies, While state-grieved visiers strike their thoughtful head; Then, then they call some wild INVENTOR'S aid; The' assembly gather round—with Fancy's skill He plans his lov'd ROMANCE, and all is still!

Oft where the' ALHAMBRA'S gorgeous towers have blaz'd The Moorish dame her pale eyes, trembling, rais'd; For there on palfreys, rich with silk and gold, Her Saracens their factious lances hold. (Fraternal wars, Granada's annals tell, And tenderest loves with dire remorses dwell!) She flies, with fainting pulse and bloodless face, Her lover knight, the murderer of her race! GRANDA held, with many a Moorish song (ROMANCES OLD) a mute delighted throng. I read and I believed!—in earliest youth Each tear was genuine and each fiction truth.

What festive band that valley's echo fill, While half the village rushes down the hill? Oh! 'tis THE MINSTREL TROOP! with many a LAY; And harpers, jestours, mimics, crowd the way. Wild artists they, of versatility! Learned in LE GUAY SABER, and skilled in GLEE. One strides a snowy steed; and waves his hand! (Grave Coryphaeus of a laughing band!) Around his neck a tabour lightly flung Depainted fair, with gold and azure hung; One thrums a harp, and one a psaltry shakes, The sweet-toned vielle, the merry rebeck wakes.

Mark THE SQUIRE MINSTREL with his smiling mien, And robe voluminous of Kendal green; A vermil cincture round that verdure spread; Like Spring's soft rose he loves, as green and red! His graceful harp dependent from his breast, And from its argent chain the honoured wrest. A tabour rich, whose plates of silver bear The blazoned arms of many a pupil dear. Polished his chin, his hair refulgent glows; Shine the white clasps his gorget proud that close. Ah view the broidered napkin's meaning art! A true-love-knot, a D, and flaming heart! What beauty's eye, who DAMIAN views, can err? It marks him yet, poor youth! A BATCHELOR!

'Twas Fancy's prime! and lettered PRINCES then Would give as monarchs, while they felt as men; More dear the secret bliss which BEAUTY gave, Touched by the prayer of an harmonious slave!

Diviner fablers, warm with epic rage, With gorgeous LEGENDS wrought their gothic page, Towers, lakes, and gardens, fays and paynims rose; The fine deliriums of romantic prose. Oh gothic muse! each child of fancy blest, Drank sweet nutrition from thy milky breast; To Albion's shores thy family have roved, And every brother genius, met and loved.

What hand may dare thy sealed fountains break, And lost to fame, thy sleeping Homers wake? I hear a voice! and Bourdeaux's gold-haired knight, Labouring thro' clouds of dust, stalks beautiful in light! Lord of EACH GRACE! lo WIELAND'S measures swell The tones of SOTHEBY'S enchanting shell. Oh vain who deem their miracles are lies: Profound their seas, and deep their pearl-beds rise; And they a wholesome intellect who breathe, Admire the doctrine hid with art beneath.

When RAYMOND broke his oath, and (fatal zeal!) Dared with his sword's point pierce the gate of steel! His MELUSINA (tender woman!) there He views in marble fount, with streaming hair, Her right hand guide a comb; the wave's light trail Flashing its fine spray from A SCALY TAIL! With horrid force the FISHY-WOMAN laves, And o'er the vast saloon she dashed the spumy waves. Lo RAYMOND sickens at the' unhallowed sight, And starts, abhorrent of that magic rite. Thy fate, oh simple man! shall LOVERS fear, And learn A WOMAN'S SECRET to revere!

When MACEDON'S PRINCE his PERCEFOREST pursued In British land, along the' inchanted wood, The monarch vows, each knight in parting vows, One place shall only yield one night's repose, Till they rejoin—the adventurous KING at night Enters the fair SEBILLA'S castled height. The beauty loved, and her voluptuous eyes Smile at his vow, and dart their witcheries. Wreathed by her arms, for ten revolving suns, Each o'er the' inconscious prince uncounted runs. The tenth the incantation broke! He flies And "casts one longing lingering look" and sighs. He meets his peers, and blames their loitering way, Making such little speed, since YESTERDAY! But they returning from the sorcerer's soil, Swear ten revolving suns have seen them toil! Too late the prince those witching eyes would blame That broke his vow, and lost ten days of fame. So tells the FICTION, BEAUTY'S magic blaze Melts years to months, and months dissolves to days!

A pupil wild in fancy's viewless choir, Such strains once touch'd me with diviner fire; Dear lost companions! Time, too long, has stole From ye, thro' idle years, my truant soul. Once more your heights are mine! I tread once more Your fairy road, and build a little bower; From a delirious EARTH avert mine eyes, And dry my fruitless tears, and seek FICTITIOUS SKIES!

If with THE FEW these labours light may plead To snatch me from THE POPULACE WHO READ; Should not their TASTE my various page offend, Wanting that polish which themselves can lend, Not slight the honour my weak hand shall seize, For TRIFLES are NOT TRIFLES, when they PLEASE!