Classic Poem

From H YPERION'S purple Wain,
Pendent o'er the western main,
Twinkling thro' the twilight shade,
Arrowey lines of splendor play'd;
Silence, on her pinion clos'd,
Deaf to Sorrow's wail, repos'd,
Save, that where fresher buds betray
The silver streamlet's sinewey way,
A Naïad, all to song unknown,
With moist heel slipp'd from stone to stone,
And stole adown the haunted dale,
To chide the tardy Nightingale;
When, his beechen bow'r beneath,
Hung with many a field-flow'r wreath,
Pensive Painting , first, essay'd
The semblance of a fav'rite Maid,
F ANCY !—whom he, oft, had seen,
Nymph-like, tripping o'er the green,
Richly dight in varied hues,
(By her side the tendant Muse,)
What time, with heav'n's own dyes imprest,
The glitt'ring Rainbow zon'd her breast,
Artless, first, the sketch began;
Rude the pencil's early plan;
'Till from the waving wood behind,
Whose foliage shook without a wind,
Proud to fan his genuine flame,
The pitying P OW'RS of Painting came.

First, in decent garb array'd,
Succint with pearly clasp her stole,
Slow advanc'd a meek-ey'd Maid,
And curb'd the workings of his soul;
With easy grace her state she mov'd;
Each fault her patient touch improv'd;
The long, luxuriant line,
She gave with chaster charm to flow;
And, from her blue cloud's ruby-tinctur'd glow,
Pleas'd B EAUTY , stooping, smil'd upon D ESIGN .

Next appear'd a twin-like Pair;
One, flush'd with bloom, divinely fair,
Dusky one, of negro-race,
Yet amiable either face;
Quick they thrid the checquer'd maze,
Borrowing still, and lending aid,
While the mellowing tint betrays,
The sweet diversity of L IGHT and S HADE .

But who is she, exactly drest,
With classic care, in A TTIC vest!
Her slender leg with buskin bound:
And now, still changing as she turns,
Bright on her starry front the turban burns,
Anon, with R OMAN casque, or I NDIAN plumage crown'd;
Behind her follow, S CIENCE daring youth!
And taleful M EM'RY , and H ISTORIC T RUTH .

But oh! how rich the bosom-shrine,
Op'ning to thy pure possession,
Thou! whose eyes so softly shine,
How they languish!—fond E XPRESSION !
On the finish'd piece they pour
Saintly-fading gleams of glory;
O'er each scene, and o'er each story,
Breathing an irradiate show'r;
Whether, (fair C OLOURING ardent by thy side,)
On opal tow'r thou fling'st thy moonlight-beam;
Or tinge the murd'rer's poignard, slaughter-dy'd,
And shed strange horrors on the sanguine stream;
Or, inly bleeding, while he bends to trace
The sacred scroll of long-remember'd woe,
Thy spell anneals the tears, that, ling'ring, flow,
Down the pale ruins of the Lover's face!