Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TRAVELLER BY NIGHT, SELECTION, by JOANNA BAILLIE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Still more pleased, through murky air Last Line: Arouse him from the soothing state. | ||||||||
-- STILL more pleased, through murky air, He spies the distant bonfire's glare; And, nearer to the spot advancing, Black imps and goblins round it dancing; And nearer still, distinctly traces The featured disks of happy faces, Grinning and roaring in their glory, Like Bacchants wild of ancient story, And making murgeons to the flame, As it were playmate in the game. Full well, I trow, could modern stage Such acting for the nonce engage, A crowded audience every night Would press to see the jovial sight; And this, from cost and squeezing free, November's nightly travellers see. Through village, lane, or hamlet going, The light from cottage window, showing Its inmates at their evening fare, By rousing fire, where earthenware With pewter trenchers, on the shelf, Give some display of worldly pelf, Is transient vision to the eye Of him our hasty passer by; Yet much of pleasing import tells, And cherish'd in his fancy dwells, Where simple innocence and mirth Encircle still the cottage hearth. Across the road a fiery glare Doth now the blacksmith's forge declare, Where furnace-blast, and measured din Of heavy hammers, and within The brawny mates their labour plying, From heated bar the red sparks flying, Some idle neighbours standing by With open mouth and dazzled eye: The rough and sooty walls with store Of chains and horse-shoes studded o'er, And rusty blades and bars between, All momently are heard and seen. . . . . Yet this short scene of noisy coil But serves our traveller as a foil, Enhancing what succeeds, and lending A charm to pensive quiet, sending To home and friends, left far behind, The kindliest musings of his mind; Or, should they stray to thoughts of pain, A dimness o'er the haggard train A mood and hour like this will throw, As vex'd and burden'd spirits know. Night, loneliness, and motion are Agents of power to distance care; To distance, not discard; for then Withdrawn from busy haunts of men, Necessity to act suspended, The present, past, and future blended, Like figures of a mazy dance, Weave round the soul a dreamy trance, Till jolting stone of turnpike gate Arouse him from the soothing state. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG: WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' by JOANNA BAILLIE THE BEACON; A MUSICAL DRAMA by JOANNA BAILLIE A CHILD TO HIS SICK GRANDFATHER by JOANNA BAILLIE A DISAPPOINTMENT by JOANNA BAILLIE ADDRESS TO A STEAM-VESSEL by JOANNA BAILLIE BIRTHDAY LINES TO AGNES BAILLIE by JOANNA BAILLIE CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE |
|