Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By ZophielMary A. Brooks
S
Grief had its way—then saw her gently laid,
And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile,
Slumbering, the fervid noon. Her leafy bed
Sleepless had been the night; her weary sense
Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat,
Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense,
Swell till it bursts forth from the o’erfraught breast;
Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow,
And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap of rest.
Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf
Had touch’d too rude, though all with blooms besprent,
One soft arm pillow’d. Whiter than the surf
By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved,
That close inclining o’er her seem’d to reck
What ’t was they canopied; and quickly heaved
Her heart yet incomposed; a fillet through
Peep’d brightly azure, while with tender moan
As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew
Kiss’d the soft violet on her temples warm,
And eyebrow—just so dark might well define
Its flexile arch;—throne of expression’s charm.
And the blue smiling heavens swell o’er in peace,
Shook to the centre, by the recent blast,
Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease—
Though passion and its pains were lull’d to rest,
And “ever and anon” a piteous sob
Shook the pure arch expansive o’er her breast.
O’er fragrance, sound and beauty; all was mute—
Save where a dove her dear one’s absence plain’d
And the faint breeze mourn’d o’er the slumberer’s lute.
Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere
He sinn’d, a heavenly angel. The faint flame
Of dying embers, on an altar, where
And sacrificed to the sole living God,
Where friendless shades the sacred rites enshroud;—
The fiend beheld and knew; his soul was awed,
Once his in heaven;—deep in a darkling grot
He sat him down;—the melancholy noise
Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought.
Ere yet ’t was his to roam the pleasant earth,
His heaven-invented harp he still retain’d
Though tuned to bliss no more; and had its birth
The first drear song of wo; and torment wrung
The spirit less severe where he might lift
His plaining voice—and frame the like as now he sung:
Despair’s dull notes thy dread effects to tell,
Born in high heaven, her peace thou couldst destroy,
And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.
Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And straight were fiends;—hurl’d from the shrinking field,
They waked in agony to wail the change.
The world’s fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,
To lot of higher beings learn’d to aspire,—
Dared to attempt—and doom’d the world to death.
The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt,
But perish’d;—feverish hope—drear discontent,
Impoisoning all possest—Oh! I have felt
Scarce o’er the silly bird in state were he,
That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn’s return,
And sleeps at evening; save by aid of thee,
The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life,
The pencil’s colors,—all in earth had slept,
Now see them mark with death his victim’s strife.
Baffling, by aid of thee, his mastery proves;—
By mighty works he swells his narrow day,
And reigns, for ages, on the world he loves.
Thou goad’st him on; and when, too keen the smart
He fain would pause awhile—and sighs for peace,
Food thou wilt have, or tear his victim heart.”
Had gain’d by sin a privilege in the world,
Allay’d their torments in the cool night dew,
And by the dim star-light again their wings unfurl’d.”
Had promised; deserts, mounts and streams he crost,
To find, amid the loveliest spots of earth,
Faint likeness of the heaven he had lost.
Weary he fainted through the toilsome hours;
And then his mystic nature he sustain’d
On steam of sacrifices—breath of flowers.
With mortal folly; resting on the shrines;
Or, all in some fair Sibyl’s form infused,
Spoke from her quivering lips, or penn’d her mystic lines.
To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms,
And gliding through the thick inwoven shade
Where the young Hebrew lay in all her charms,
Her bare white arms—her lips—her shining hair—
Burst on his view. He would have flown the place;
Fearing some faithful angel rested there,
Wandering and miserably panting—fain
To glean a scanty joy—with thoughts like this—
Came all he ’d known and lost—he writhed with pain
A sigh?—surprised, another glance he took;
Then doubting—fearing—gradual coming near—
He ventured to her side and dared to look;
Refreshing, look’d sweet Eve, with purpose fell
When first sin’s sovereign gazed on her, and strife
Had with his heart, that grieved with arts of hell,
Most beautiful of all in earth, in heaven,
Oh! could I quaff for aye that fragrant breath,
Couldst thou, or being likening thee, be given
To one dear theme, my full soul flowing o’er,
Would find no room for thought of what it knew—
Nor picturing forfeit transport, curse me more.
In what I love, blest even the little span—
(With all a spirit’s keen capacity
For bliss) permitted the poor insect man.
Like some sweet floweret mildew’d, in my arms,
Wither’d to hideousness—foul even as sin—
Grew fearful hags; and then with potent charm
To force me to their will. Down the damp grave
Loathing, I went at Endor, and uptorn
Brought back the dead; when tortured Saul did crave.
Young slumberer, that dread witch; when, I array’d
In lovely shape, to meet my guileful kiss
She yielded first her lip. And thou, sweet maid—
What ’s it I see?—a recent tear has stray’d
And left its stain upon her cheek of bliss.—
Or by rude mortal wrong’d. So let it prove
Meet for thy purpose: ’mid these blossoms hid,
I ’ll gaze; and when she wakes, with all that love
A fond full heart, in love’s soft surgery skill’d,
Should seek it when ’t is sore; allay its pain—
With balm by pity prest ’t is all his own;—so heal’d,
And sweet as now—Oh! respite! while possest
I lose the dismal sense of my despair—
But then—I will not think upon the rest.
Of fleeting life?—What doom from power divine
I bear eternal! thoughts of ruth, away!
Wake pretty fly!—and—while thou mayst,—be mine.
With shining silk, and in the cruel snare
Seest the fond bird entrapp’d, but for his plumes
To work thy robes, or twine amidst thy hair.”.