The Sylphs of the Season with Other Poems

Excerpt

The Sylphs of the Seasons.

Long has it been my fate to hear
The slave of Mammon, with a sneer,
  My indolence reprove.
Ah, little knows he of the care,
The toil, the hardship that I bear,
While lolling in my elbow-chair,
  And seeming scarce to move:

For, mounted on the Poet's steed,
I there my ceaseless journey speed
  O'er mountain, wood, and stream:
And oft within a little day
'Mid comets fierce 'tis mine to stray,
And wander o'er the Milky-way
  To catch a Poet's dream.

But would the Man of Lucre know
What riches from my labours flow?--
  A DREAM is my reply.
And who for wealth has ever pin'd,
That had a World within his mind,
Where every treasure he may find,
  And joys that never die!

One night, my task diurnal done,
(For I had travell'd with the Sun
  O'er burning sands, o'er snows)
Fatigued, I sought the couch of rest;
My wonted pray'r to Heaven address'd;
But scarce had I my pillow press'd
  When thus a vision rose.

Methought within a desert cave,
Cold, dark, and solemn as the grave,
 I suddenly awoke.
It seem'd of sable Night the cell,
Where, save when from the ceiling fell
An oozing drop, her silent spell
 No sound had ever broke.

There motionless I stood alone,
Like some strange monument of stone
  Upon a barren wild;
Or like, (so solid and profound
The darkness seem'd that wall'd me round)
A man that's buried under ground,
  Where pyramids are pil'd.

Thus fix'd, a dreadful hour I past,
And now I heard, as from a blast,
  A voice pronounce my name:
Nor long upon my ear it dwelt,
When round me 'gan the air to melt.
And motion once again I felt
  Quick circling o'er my frame.

Again it call'd; and then a ray,
That seem'd a gushing fount of day,
  Across the cavern stream'd.
Half struck with terror and delight,
I hail'd the little blessed light,
And follow'd 'till my aching sight
  An orb of darkness seem'd.

Nor long I felt the blinding pain;
For soon upon a mountain plain
  I gaz'd with wonder new.
There high a castle rear'd its head;
And far below a region spread,
Where every Season seem'd to shed
  Its own peculiar hue.

Now at the castle's massy gate,
Like one that's blindly urged by fate,
  A bugle-horn I blew.
The mountain-plain it shook around,
The vales return'd a hollow sound,
And, moving with a sigh profound.
  The portals open flew.

Then ent'ring, from a glittering hall
I heard a voice seraphic call,
  That bade me "ever reign,
All hail!" it said in accent wild,
"For thou art Nature's chosen child,
Whom wealth nor blood has e'er defil'd,
  Hail, Lord of this Domain!"

And now I paced a bright saloon,
That seem'd illumin'd by the moon,
  So mellow was the light.
The walls with jetty darkness teem'd,
While down them chrystal columns streamed,
And each a mountain torrent seem'd.
  High-flashing through the night.

Rear'd in the midst, a double throne.
Like burnish'd cloud of evening shone;
  While, group'd the base around,
Four Damsels stood of Faery race;
Who, turning each with heavenly grace
Upon me her immortal face,
  Transfix'd me to the ground....