Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Paul Ferroll (1853). An Incident (From Chapter VII)Caroline Clive (18011873)
G
Half circling round the sun-kiss’d sea;
And all were gone, and left the fair
Rich garden-solitude to me.
The rugged pathway to the bay;
Down the steep rock I saw them thread,
And gain the boat and glide away.
To taste yet farther scenes so bright,—
To do like those who wander’d free,
And share their exquisite delight.
I pass’d a little down the hill;
Each step obtain’d was hard-earn’d gain,
Each step before, seem’d distant still.
Which see that lovely scene complete;
I sat there all at peace and ease,
A monarch of the mossy seat.
Of fruit which is at one with flowers;
Below me gleam’d the ocean flow,
Like sapphires in the mid-day hours.
The silent, flower-like butterflies;
The sudden beetle as it springs,
Full of the life of southern skies.
Of sailors, and of children blent,
At work and play beside a boat;
Sounds which the distance mix’d and spent.
Of mid-day, and a wide-stretch’d bound;
And I sat still, with open ear,
That drank the silence and the sound.
But not to sleep; for ever came
The warm, thin air, and passing by
Fann’d Sense, and Soul, and Heart to flame.
A portion of my mem’ry’s pride;
And oh, how often I renew
The beauty of the steep hill-side.
I sit and shiver in its heat;
While with vain longing I aspire,
To rest upon my rocky seat.
As thou must ever leave on those
Who bask on thy enchanted strand,
And see thy heavenly shapes and hues.
At my free will, to me were giv’n,
O’er such a land, in such a clime,
It would be, what will be, in heaven.