E-text prepared by Judith Wirawan, David Clarke,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
()
POEMS
BY
ALEXANDER SMITH.
THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
DAVID BOGUE, FLEET STREET.
MDCCCLIV.
LONDON:
Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq.
CONTENTS.
A LIFE-DRAMA.
SCENE I.—An Antique Room: Midnight.
Walter,
Reading from a paper on which he has been writing.
As a wild maiden, with love-drinking eyes,
Sees in sweet dreams a beaming Youth of Glory,
And wakes to weep, and ever after, sighs
For that bright vision till her hair is hoary;
Ev'n so, alas! is my life's-passion story.
For Poesy my heart and pulses beat,
[Pg 10]For Poesy my blood runs red and fleet,
As Aaron's serpent the Egyptians' swallow'd,
One passion eats the rest. My soul is follow'd
By strong ambition to out-roll a lay,
Whose melody will haunt the world for aye,
Charming it onward on its golden way.
[Tears the paper and paces the room with disordered steps.
Oh, that my heart were quiet as a grave
Asleep in moonlight!
For, as a torrid sunset boils with gold
Up to the zenith, fierce within my soul
A passion burns from basement to the cope.
Poesy! Poesy! I'd give to thee,
As passionately, my rich-laden years,
My bubble pleasures, and my awful joys,
As Hero gave her trembling sighs to find
Delicious death on wet Leander's lip.
Bare, bald, and tawdry, as a fingered moth,
Is my poor life, but with one smile thou canst
[Pg 11]Clothe me with kingdoms. Wilt thou smil
Sees in sweet dreams a beaming Youth of Glory,
And wakes to weep, and ever after, sighs
For that bright vision till her hair is hoary;
Ev'n so, alas! is my life's-passion story.
For Poesy my heart and pulses beat,
[Pg 10]For Poesy my blood runs red and fleet,
As Aaron's serpent the Egyptians' swallow'd,
One passion eats the rest. My soul is follow'd
By strong ambition to out-roll a lay,
Whose melody will haunt the world for aye,
Charming it onward on its golden way.
[Tears the paper and paces the room with disordered steps.
Oh, that my heart were quiet as a grave
Asleep in moonlight!
For, as a torrid sunset boils with gold
Up to the zenith, fierce within my soul
A passion burns from basement to the cope.
Poesy! Poesy! I'd give to thee,
As passionately, my rich-laden years,
My bubble pleasures, and my awful joys,
As Hero gave her trembling sighs to find
Delicious death on wet Leander's lip.
Bare, bald, and tawdry, as a fingered moth,
Is my poor life, but with one smile thou canst
[Pg 11]Clothe me with kingdoms. Wilt thou smil
...