[The following lines are associated with a singular species of popular superstition which may in some measure, explain the "pale cast of thought" that pervades them. They are written by a native of Northumberland. "The Hawthorn Well," was a Rag Well, and so called from persons formerly leaving rags there for the cure of certain diseases. Bishop Hall, in his Triumphs of Rome, ridicules a superstitious prayer of the Popish Church for the "blessing of clouts in the way of cure of diseases;" and Mr. Brand asks, "Can it have originated thence?" He further observes:—"this absurd custom is not extinct even at this day: I have formerly frequently observed shreds or bits of rag upon the bushes that overhang a well in the road to Benton, a village in the vicinity of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, which, from that circumstance, is now or was very lately called The Rag Well. This name is undoubtedly of long standing: probably it has been visited for some disease or other, and these rag-offerings are the relics of the then prevailing popular superstition."—Brand's Popular Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 270.]

"From hill, from dale, each charm is fled; Groves, flocks, and fountains, please no more." No joy, nor hope, no pleasure, nor its dream, Now cheers my heart. The current of my life Seems settled to a dull, unruffled lake, Deep sunk 'midst gloomy rocks and barren hills; Which tempests only stir and clouds obscure; Unbrightened by the cheerful beam of day, Unbreathed on by the gentle western breeze, Which sweeps o'er pleasant meads and through the woods, Stirring the leaves which seem to dance with joy. No more the beauteous landscape in its pride Of summer loveliness—when every tree Is crowned with foliage, and each blooming flower Speaks by its breath its presence though unseen— For me has charms; although in early days, Ere care and grief had dulled the sense of joy, No eye more raptured gazed upon the scene Of woody dell, green slope, or heath-clad hill; Nor ear with more delight drank in the strains Warbled by cheerful birds from every grove, Or thrilled by larks up-springing to the sky. From the hill side—where oft in tender youth I strayed, when hope, the sunshine of the mind, Lent to each lovely scene, a double charm And tinged all objects with its golden hues— There gushed a spring, whose waters found their way Into a basin of rude stone below. A thorn, the largest of its kind, still green And flourishing, though old, the well o'erhung; Receiving friendly nurture at its roots From what its branches shaded; and around The love-lorn primrose and wild violet grew, With the faint bubbling of that limpid fount. Here oft the shepherd came at noon-tide heat And sat him down upon the bank of turf Beneath the thorn, to eat his humble meal And drink the crystal from that cooling spring. Here oft at evening, in that placid hour When first the stars appear, would maidens come To fill their pitchers at the Hawthorn Well, Attended by their swains; and often here Were heard the cheerful song and jocund laugh Which told of heart-born gladness, and awoke The slumbering echoes in the distant wood. But now the place is changed. The pleasant path, Which wound so gently up the mountain side Is overgrown with bent and russet heath; The thorn is withered to a moss-clad stump, And the fox kennels where the turf-bank rose! The primrose and wild violet now no more Spread their soft fragrance round. The hollow stone Is rent and broken; and the spring is dry! But yesterday I passed the spot, in thought Enwrapped—unlike the fancies which played round My heart in life's sweet morning, bright and brief: And as I stood and gazed upon the change, Methought a voice low whispered in my ear: "Thy destiny is linked with that low spring; Its course is changed, and so for aye shall be The tenor of thy life; and anxious cares, And fruitless wishes, springing without hope, Shall rankle round thy heart, like those foul weeds Which now grow thick where flow'rets bloomed anew:— Like to that spring, thy fount of joy is dry!"

LINES

From the Italian of Scipione Maffèi1

BY E.B. IMPEY

Quivi qual foste gia, non qual sarète. Con diletto mirando, in onta agli anni Vostre belle sembianze ancor vedrete. Scorn not, dear maid, this fond but faithful lay, That pictures, on no perishable page, Thy beauties, rescued from the spoils of age, To live and blossom with thy poet's bay: For when remorseless Time brings on decay, When the loath'd mirror shall no more engage Thy smiles, distorted into grief and rage, Alas! to think that youth must pass away— Then in these lines contented shall thou trace, As in a lovelier glass, thy lasting charms, Not as they shall be, but as now they grace, Fresh in the bud of youth, these circling arms.

Страница 2 из 14

Назад 1 2 3…14 Далее

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 577, July 7, 1827

AI-разбор доступен после входа

О книге

Читать онлайн

P.T.W

THE HAWTHORN WELL

LINES

From the Italian of Scipione Maffèi1

BY E.B. IMPEY

Вам также может понравиться

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 279, October 20, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 262, July 7, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 264, July 14, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 276, October 6, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 385, August 15, 1829

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 399, Supplementary Number

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 273, September 15, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 582, December 22, 1832

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 268, August 11, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 331, September 13, 1828

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 333, September 27, 1828

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13. Index to Volume 13