Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Despondency and Aspiration (1835)Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793–1835)
M
Of lonely Fear, disquieted in vain;
Its phantoms hung around the star of morn,
A cloud-like weeping train:
Through the long day they dimmed the autumn gold
On all the glistening leaves, and wildly rolled,
When the last farewell flush of light was glowing,
Across the sunset sky,
O’er its rich isles of vaporous glory throwing
One melancholy dye.
And when the solemn night
Came rushing with her might
Of stormy oracles from caves unknown,
Then with each fitful blast
Prophetic murmurs passed,
Wakening or answering some deep Sybil-tone
Far buried in my breast, yet prompt to rise
With every gusty wail that o’er the wind-harp flies.
Faint spirit! strive no more: for thee too strong
Are outward ill and wrong,
And inward wasting fires! Thou canst not soar
Free on a starry way,
Beyond their blighting sway,
At heaven’s high gate serenely to adore.
How should’st thou hope earth’s fetters to unbind?
O passionate, yet weak! O trembler to the wind!
From joy of thine, deep love, or tearful woe—
Such homeless notes as through the forest sigh,
From the reed’s hollow shaken,
When sudden breezes waken
Their vague, wild symphony.
No power is theirs, and no abiding-place
In human hearts; their sweetness leaves no trace—
Born only so to die!
Never shall aught but perfume faint and vain,
On the fleet pinion of the changeful hour,
From thy bruised life again
A moment’s essence breathe;
Thy life, whose trampled flower,
Into the blessed wreath
Of household-charities no longer bound,
Lies pale and withering on the barren ground.
A coiling sadness round thy heart and brain—
A silent fruitless yet undying thing,
All sensitive to pain!
And still the shadow of vain dreams shall fall
O’er thy mind’s world, a daily darkening pall.
Fold, then, thy wounded wing, and sink subdued
In cold and unrepining quietude!”
Crept o’er it heavy with a view of death—
Its powers like leaves before the night-rain closing;
And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves tossed
On the chill bosom of some desert coast,
Mutely and hopelessly I lay reposing.
When silently it seemed
As if a soft mist gleamed
Before my passive sight, and slowly curling,
To many a shape and hue
Of visioned beauty grew,
Like a wrought banner, fold by fold unfurling.
Unrolling then swept by
With dreamy motion! Silvery seas were there,
Lit by large dazzling stars, and arched by skies
Of southern midnight’s most transparent dyes;
And gemmed with many an island, wildly fair,
Which floated past me into orient day,
Still gathering lustre on the illumined way,
Till its high groves of wondrous flowering-trees
Coloured the silvery seas.
And then a glorious mountain-chain uprose,
Height above spiry height!
A soaring solitude of woods and snows,
All steeped in golden light!
While as it passed, those regal peaks unveiling,
I heard, methought, a waving of dread wings,
And mighty sounds, as if the vision hailing,
From lyres that quivered through ten thousand strings
Or as if waters, forth to music leaping
From many a cave, the Alpine echo’s hall,
On their bold way victoriously were sweeping,
Linked in majestic anthems!—while through all
That billowy swell and fall,
Voices, like ringing crystal, filled the air
With inarticulate melody, that stirred
My being’s core; then, moulding into word
Their piercing sweetness, bade me rise and bear
In that great choral strain my trembling part,
Of tones by love and faith struck from a human heart.
A happier oracle within my soul
Hath swelled to power; a clear unwavering light
Mounts through the battling clouds that round me roll;
And to a new control
Nature’s full harp gives forth rejoicing tones,
Wherein my glad sense owns
The accordant rush of elemental sound
To one consummate harmony profound—
One grand Creation-Hymn,
Whose notes the seraphim
Lift to the glorious height of music winged and crowned.
Shall not those notes find echoes in my lyre,
Faithful though faint? Shall not my spirit’s fire,
If slowly, yet unswervingly, ascend
Now to its fount and end?
Shall not my earthly love, all purified,
Shine forth a heavenward guide,
An angel of bright power—and strongly bear
My being upward into holier air,
Where fiery passion-clouds have no abode,
And the sky’s temple-arch o’erflows with God?
Expands like rising morn
In my life’s life: and as a ripening rose
The crimson shadow of its glory throws
More vivid, hour by hour, on some pure stream;
So from that hope are spreading
Rich hues, o’er nature shedding
Each day a clearer, spiritual gleam.
Father of Spirits! let them not depart—
Leaving the chilled earth without form and void,
Darkened by mine own heart!
Lift, aid, sustain me! Thou, by whom alone
All lovely gifts and pure
In the soul’s grasp endure;
Thou, to the steps of whose eternal throne
All knowledge flows—a sea for evermore
Breaking its crested waves on that sole shore—
Oh, consecrate my life! that I may sing
Of Thee with joy that hath a living spring,
In a full heart of music! Let my lays
Through the resounding mountains waft Thy praise,
And with that theme the wood’s green cloisters fill,
And make their quivering leafy dimness thrill
To the rich breeze of song! Oh! let me wake
The deep religion, which hath dwelt from yore
Silently brooding by lone cliff and lake,
And wildest river-shore!
And let me summon all the voices dwelling
Where eagles build, and caverned rills are welling,
And where the cataract’s organ-peal is swelling,
In that one spirit gathered to adore!
Too daringly in aspiration rise!
Let not Thy child all vainly have been taught
By weakness, and by wanderings, and by sighs
Of sad confession! lowly be my heart,
And on its penitential altar spread
The offerings worthless, till Thy grace impart
The fire from heaven, whose touch alone can shed
Life, radiance, virtue!—let that vital spark
Pierce my whole being, wildered else and dark!
Thine are all holy things—oh, make me Thine!
So shall I, too, be pure—a living shrine
Unto that Spirit which goes forth from Thee,
Strong and divinely free,
Bearing Thy gifts of wisdom on its flight,
And brooding o’er them with a dove-like wing,
Till thought, word, song, to Thee in worship spring,
Immortally endowed for liberty and light.