The Triad.

Show me the noblest Youth of present time,1
                        
                        Whose trembling fancy would to love give birth ;2
                        
                        Some God or Hero from the Olympian clime3
                        
                        Return’d, to seek a consort upon earth ;4
                        
                        Or, in no doubtful prospect, let me see5
                        
                        The brightest Star of ages yet to be,6
                        
                        And I will  “ mate and match him” blissfully !7
                        I will not fetch that Naiad from a flood8
                        
                        Pure as herself—(song lacks not mightier power),9
                        
                        Nor leaf-crown’d Dryad from a pathless wood,10
                        
                        No Sea-nymph glistening from her coral bower ;—11
                        
                        Mere Mortals, bodied forth in vision still,12
                        
                        Shall with Mount Ida’s triple luster fill13
                        
                        The chaster coverts of a British hill.14
                        “ Appear !— obey my lyre’s command !15
                        
                        Come, like the Graces, hand in hand !16
                        
                        For ye, though not by birth allied,17
                        
                        Are sisters in the bond of love ;18
                        
                        And not the boldest tongue of envious pride19
                        
                        
In you those interweavings could reprove20
                        
                        Which they, the progeny of Jove,21
                        
                        Learnt from the tuneful spheres, that glide22
                        
                        In endless union earth and seas above.”—23
                        
                        ——I speak in vain,—the pine have hush’d their waving.24
                        
                        A peerless Youth expectant at my side,25
                        
                        Breathless as they, with unabated craving26
                        
                        Looks to the earth and to the vacant air ;27
                        
                        And, with a wandering eye that seems to chide,28
                        
                        Asks the clouds what occupants they hide.—29
                        
                        But why solicit more than sight could bear,30
                        
                        By casting on a moment all we dare ?31
                        
                        Invoke we those bright beings one by one32
                        
                        And what was boldly promised, truly shall be done.33
                        “ Fear not this constraining measure !34
                        
                        Drawn by a poetic spell, 35
                        
                        Lucida !  from domes of pleasure,36
                        
                        Or from cottage-sprinkled dell,37
                        
                        Come to regions solitary,38
                        
                        Where the eagle builds her aery,39
                        
                        Above the hermit’s long-forsaken cell !”40
                        
                        ——She comes !— behold41
                        
                        That figure, like a ship with silver sail !42
                        
                        Nearer she draws—a breeze uplifts her veil—43
                        
                        Upon her coming wait44
                        
                        As pure a sunshine and as soft a gale45
                        
                        As e’er, on herbage covering earthly mould,46
                        
                        Tempted the bird of Juno to unfold47
                        
                        His richest splendour, when her veering gait48
                        
                        And every motion of his starry train49
                        
                        Seem gover’d by a strain50
                        
                        
Of music audible to him alone—51
                        
                        ——O Lady! worthy of earth’s proudest throne,52
                        
                        Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit53
                        
                        Beside an unambitious hearth to sit54
                        
                        Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown ; 55
                        
                        What living man could fear56
                        
                        The worst of Fortune’s malice, wert thou near,57
                        
                        Humbling that lily stem, thy scepter meek,58
                        
                        That is fair flowers may brush from off his cheek59
                        
                        The too, too happy tear ?60
                        
                        ——Queen, and handmaid lowly !61
                        
                        Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares,62
                        
                        And banish melancholy63
                        
                        By all that mind invents or hand prepares ;64
                        
                        O thou, against whose lip, without its smile65
                        
                        And in its silence even, no heart is proof;66
                        
                        Whose goodness, sinking deep, would reconcile67
                        
                        The softest nursling of a gorgeous palace68
                        
                        To the bare life beneath the hawthorn roof69
                        
                        Of Sherwood’s archer, or in caves of Wallace—70
                        
                        Who that hath seen thy beauty could content71
                        
                        His soul with but a glimpse of heavenly day ?72
                        
                        His strong hand on the wind, if it were bent73
                        
                        To take thee in thy majesty away ?74
                        
                        ——Pass onward (even the glancing deer75
                        
                        Till we depart intrude not here) ;76
                        
                        The mossy slope, o’er which the woodbine throws77
                        
                        A canopy, is smooth’d for thy repose !78
                        Glad moment is it when the throng79
                        
                        Of warblers in full concert strong80
                        
                        
Strive, and not vainly strive, to rout81
                        
                        The lagging shower, and force coy Phœbus out,82
                        
                        Met by the rainbow’s form divine,83
                        
                        Issuing from her cloudy shrine ;—84
                        
                        So may the thrillings of the lyre85
                        
                        Prevail to further our desire,86
                        
                        While to these shades a nymph I call,87
                        
                        The youngest of the lovely Three.—88
                        
                        “ Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce,89
                        
                        Submissive to the might of verse,90
                        
                        By none more deeply felt than thee !”91
                        
                        —I sang ;  and lo !  from pastimes virginal92
                        
                        She hastens to the tents93
                        
                        Of nature, and the lonely elements.94
                        
                        Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen :95
                        
                        But mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green !96
                        
                        And, as if wishful to disarm97
                        
                        Or to repay the potent charm,98
                        
                        She bears the stringed lute of old romance,99
                        
                        That cheer’d the trellis’d arbour’s privacy,100
                        
                        And soothed war-wearied knights in rafter’d hall.101
                        
                        How light her air! how delicate her glee !102
                        
                        So tripp’d the Muse inventress of the dance ;103
                        
                        So, truant is waste woods, the blithe Euphrosyne !104
                        But the ringlets of that head,105
                        
                        Why are they ungarlanded ?106
                        
                        Why bedeck her temples less107
                        
                        Than the simplest shepherdess ?108
                        
                        Is it not a brow inviting109
                        
                        Choicest flower that ever breathed,110
                        
                        
Which the myrtle would delight in,111
                        
                        With Idalian rose enwreathed ?112
                        
                        But her humility is well content113
                        
                        With one wild floweret, (call is not forlorn !)114
                        
                        Flower Of The Winds, beneath her bosom worn ;115
                        
                        Yet is it more for love than ornament.116
                        Open, ye thickets !  let her fly,117
                        
                        Swift as a Thracian nymph, o’er field and height !118
                        
                        For she, to all but those who love her, shy,119
                        
                        Would gladly vanish from a stranger’s sight ;120
                        
                        Though where she is beloved, and loves, as free121
                        
                        As bird that rifles blossoms on a tree,122
                        
                        “ Turning them inside out” with arch audacity.123
                        Alas !  how little can a moment show124
                        
                        Of an eye where feeling plays125
                        
                        In ten thousand dewy rays ;126
                        
                        A face o’er which a thousand shadows go !—127
                        
                        —She stops—is fasten’d to that rivulet’s side ;128
                        
                        And here, while, with sedater mien,129
                        
                        O’er timid waters, that have scarcely left130
                        
                        Their birthplace in the rocky cleft,131
                        
                        She bends, at leisure may be seen132
                        
                        Features to old ideal grace allied,133
                        
                        Amid their smiles and dimples dignified—134
                        
                        Fit countenance for the soul of primal truth,135
                        
                        The bland composure of eternal youth !136
                        What more changeful than the sea ?137
                        
                        But over his great tides138
                        
                        
Fidelity presides,139
                        
                        And this light-hearted maiden constant is as he.—140
                        
                        High is her aim as heaven above,141
                        
                        And wide as either he good-will,142
                        
                        And, like the lowliest reed, her love143
                        
                        Can drink its nurture form the scantiest rill ;144
                        
                        Insight as keen as frosty star145
                        
                        Is to her charity no bar,146
                        
                        Nor interrupts her frolic graces147
                        
                        When she is, far from these wild places,148
                        
                        Encircled by familiar faces.149
                        O the charm that manners draw,150
                        
                        Nature, from thy genuine law !151
                        
                        Through benign affections—pure,152
                        
                        In the slight of self—secure,153
                        
                        If, from what her hand would do,154
                        
                        Or tongue utter, there ensue155
                        
                        Aught untoward or unfit,156
                        
                        Transient mischief, vague mischance,157
                        
                        Shunn’d by guarded elegance,158
                        
                        Hers is not a cheek shame-stricken,159
                        
                        But her blushes are joy-flushes—160
                        
                        And the fault (if fault it be)161
                        
                        Only ministers to quicken162
                        
                        Laughter-loving gayety,163
                        
                        And kindle sportive wit—164
                        
                        Leaving this daughter of the mountains free,165
                        
                        As if she knew that Oberon the fairy166
                        
                        Had cross’d her purpose with some quaint vagary,167
                        
                        And heard his viewless bands168
                        
                        Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands !169
                        
“ Last of the Three, though eldest born !170
                        
                        Reveal thyself, like pensive morn,171
                        
                        Touch’d by the skylark’s earliest note,172
                        
                        Ere humbler gladness be afloat.173
                        
                        But whether in the semblance drest174
                        
                        Of dawn, or eve–fair vision of the west,175
                        
                        Come with each anxious hope subdued176
                        
                        By woman’s gentle fortitude,177
                        
                        Each grief through meekness settling into rest !178
                        
                        ——Or I would hail thee when some high-wrought page179
                        
                        Of a closed volume lingering in thy hand,180
                        
                        Has raised thy spirit to a fearless stand181
                        
                        Among the glories of a happier age.”—182
                        
                        —Her brow hath open’d on me—see it there,183
                        
                        Brightening the umbrage of her hair ;184
                        
                        So gleams the crescent moon, that loves185
                        
                        To be described through shady groves.—186
                        
                        —Tenderest bloom is on her cheek ;187
                        
                        Wish not for a richer streak,188
                        
                        Nor dread the depth of meditative eye ;189
                        
                        But let thy love, upon that azure field190
                        
                        Of thoughtfulness and beauty, yield191
                        
                        Its homage offered up in purity.—192
                        
                        —What wouldst thou more ?  In sunny glade,193
                        
                        Or under leave of thickest shade,194
                        
                        Was such as stillness e’er diffused195
                        
                        Since earth grew calm while angels mused ?196
                        
                        Softly she treads, as if her foot were loth197
                        
                        To crush the mountain dew-drops, soon to melt198
                        
                        On the flowers’ breast ;  as if she felt199
                        
                        That flowers themselves, whate’er their hue,200
                        
                        
With all their fragrance, all their glistening,201
                        
                        Call to the heart for inward listening ;202
                        
                        And though for bridal wreaths and tokens true203
                        
                        Welcomed wisely—though a growth204
                        
                        Which the careless shepherd sleeps on,205
                        
                        As fitly spring form turf the mourner weeps on206
                        
                        And without wrong are cropp’d the marble tomb to strew.207
                        The charm is over ;  the mute phantoms gone,208
                        
                        Nor will return—but droop no, favour’d Youth !209
                        
                        The apparition that before three shone210
                        
                        Obey’d a summons covetous of truth.211
                        
                        From these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guide212
                        
                        To bowers in which thy fortune may be tried,213
                        
                        And one of the bright Three become thy happy bride !214