Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE IMPROVISATRICE; ILLUSTRATIVE OF PICTURE BY BONE ENGRAVED BY ROMNEY, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR Poet's Biography First Line: Beside her cottage door she sate and sang Last Line: Which bone to beauty drew, and romney lined. Alternate Author Name(s): Delta Subject(s): Art & Artists; Bone, Henry (1755-1834); Hallucinations And Illusions; Love; Nature; Paintings And Painters; Romney, George (1734-1802) | ||||||||
I. BESIDE her cottage door she sate and sang, That gentle creature, with her deep black eyes, As if her heart of grief ne'er owned a pang, And her young breast were sunny as her skies; The ripe rich grapes hung clustering round her head, And roses, by her side, sweet perfume shed. II. A poetess in spirit, by the touch Of Nature framed, she needed not the rules Of pedants, sophists, dogmatists, and such; Art's trickery, or the doctrines of the schools: The glow was at her soul, and so she sung, Life in her words, and heart upon her tongue. III. Her theme was loveof quiet summer eves, And shepherds piping in the pastoral dale; And how, with throbbing heart, beneath the leaves Of the green elms, the lover breathed his tale, And she, his idol, from his amorous arms, Half-pain'd, half-pleas'd, withdrew her conquering charms. IV. Of Tasso and his passion deep she told, His inspiration, frenzy, and despair; And how, thro' lonesome years, amid the mould Of dungeon cells, his Leonora fair Rose in her beauty on his tranced sight, Like eve's one star 'mid winter's gathering night. V. And then to gentle Petrarch changed the theme, And to Vaucluse's woodland greenery bright Laura his daylight idol, and the dream Of his mild spirit through each watch of night; Time purifying still his ardours high, Till Passion's self became Philosophy. VI. Anon she sang of battle, and the breath Of Slaughter tainting heaven's salubrious gale; Households laid prostrate by the leveller Death, And orphans desolate, and widows pale; Anguish imploring Rapine, deaf to hear; Life-withering Famine, and sepulchral Fear. VII. The wars of fierce and fiery Tamerlane She sang; and how it soothed his savage rage To pluck, in daily hate, the humbling chain Which knit proud Bajazet to his iron cage, Until, beneath Scorn's unrelenting yoke, His hopes forsook him, and his heart was broke. VIII. Then Peter's praise she hymn'd, who o'er the rude And darken'd Russ shed civilising light, Triumphant in the van of battle stood, And vanquish'd Charles at red Pultowa's fight. Symphonious with her voice, the rich guitar Calm'd into peace, or kindled into war. IX. Anon the varied charms of Nature's face Would lend a syren witchery to her song, As she the lovely lineaments would trace Of amaranthine isles, to which belong Perennial, endless summer; and man's life, Unpoison'd by Ambition, knows not strife. X. Straight to the wintry waste of polar seas Th' enchantress bore with her the soul astray, Where scowl'd the iceberg, and the sleety breeze Drifted from howling cubs the bear away, And fur-clad natives, housed in caverns drear, Slept thro' the night which darken'd half the year. XI. The Passions at her bidding throng'd around Hope, with her bright blue eyes and golden hair; Teeth-gnashing Hate; Remorse that bit the ground; Yellow-brow'd Jealousy, and fierce Despair; The Spirits met and mix'd; and from the strife She drew that pictured chaos, human life. XII. Gaze on that face'tis fair and feminine; Yet, in the mirror of those pensive eyes, Whose lustre rather seems to speak than shine, A fathomless abyss of passion lies: Earth is to her a spectral vision bright, Flashing with sunshine, or begrimed with night. XIII. 'Tis past!and art thou but a brilliant dream On which I gazea something, by the power Of Genius conjured from the shapes that teem In the mind's eye, thro' Inspiration's hour? Even as I gaze, the warm illusions fade Into a silent scene, an empty shade. XIV. Bare canvass, and the solitary gloom Of a dim studiothere the Painter stands, Bidding each nice and tender touch illume The scene, till beauty on the sight expands; And lo! the marvel which creative Art Gifts in its high perfection to the heart! XV. Yes! such was the illusion, and so bright The Poetess of Nature, which the power Of genius conjured to the Painter's sight, In Contemplation's meditative hour, The syren shape in Memory's love enshrined, Which Bone to beauty drew, and Romney lined. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ by WILLIAM COWPER ROMNEY'S REMORSE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR A LOVER TO HIS BETROTHED by DAVID MACBETH MOIR A SHADOW OF TRUTH by DAVID MACBETH MOIR A WOUNDED PTARMIGAN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR ADDRESS TO LITTLE CHILDREN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR AN EVENING SKETCH by DAVID MACBETH MOIR BLOOM AND BLIGHT by DAVID MACBETH MOIR CASA WAPPY; THE CHILD'S PET-NAME, CHOSEN BY HIMSELF by DAVID MACBETH MOIR |
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