Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/231
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THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.
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And they were simply gordianed up and braided,
Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded,
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;
The which were blended in, I know not how,
With such a paradise of lips and eyes,
Blush-tinted cheeks, half-smiles, and faintest sighs,
That when I think thereon, my spirit clings
And plays about its fancy, till the stings
Of human neighbourhood envenom all.
Unto what awful power shall I call?
To what high fane?—Ah! see her hovering feet.
More bluely veined, more soft, more whitely sweet
Than those of sea-born Venus, when she rose
From out her cradle shell. The wind out-blows
Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion;
'Tis blue and over-spangled with a million
Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed,
Over the darkest, loveliest bluebell bed,
Handfuls of daisies.
Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded,
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;
The which were blended in, I know not how,
With such a paradise of lips and eyes,
Blush-tinted cheeks, half-smiles, and faintest sighs,
That when I think thereon, my spirit clings
And plays about its fancy, till the stings
Of human neighbourhood envenom all.
Unto what awful power shall I call?
To what high fane?—Ah! see her hovering feet.
More bluely veined, more soft, more whitely sweet
Than those of sea-born Venus, when she rose
From out her cradle shell. The wind out-blows
Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion;
'Tis blue and over-spangled with a million
Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed,
Over the darkest, loveliest bluebell bed,
Handfuls of daisies.
The Sleeping Beauty.
'Tis said in a bower, by fairy hands wrought,
Once Beauty in slumber reposed;
And morn, noon, and even, no waking time brought,
For her eyes were by magic spell closed.
But time did the charm of this witchery break,
And though ages had passed o'er her now,
The rose and the lily were fresh on her cheek,
And no wrinkle was seen on her brow.
For softly she slept, and her dreams were so sweet,
Spotless innocence reigned in her breast,
And passion was still in her silent retreat,
And unbroken by care was her rest.
When Beauty awoke, and had looked on the scene,
This dark scene of sorrow and sin—
She returned to her bower, so lone and serene,
And peacefully slumbered again.
Once Beauty in slumber reposed;
And morn, noon, and even, no waking time brought,
For her eyes were by magic spell closed.
But time did the charm of this witchery break,
And though ages had passed o'er her now,
The rose and the lily were fresh on her cheek,
And no wrinkle was seen on her brow.
For softly she slept, and her dreams were so sweet,
Spotless innocence reigned in her breast,
And passion was still in her silent retreat,
And unbroken by care was her rest.
When Beauty awoke, and had looked on the scene,
This dark scene of sorrow and sin—
She returned to her bower, so lone and serene,
And peacefully slumbered again.