Capel Lofft Poems

BOOK VIII.
Oh, mighty Man! lord of this goodly earth!
Thy lordship but shows forth thy littleness;
For thy low life dwarfs down even the huge
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Nature is Music;-and the mystic tale,
No fable to the well-attempered ear,
Which sings that harmony tunes every sphere
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I love: and day by day, as absent, pine
Barr'd from her sight and converse whom I love:
And yet the fair by plighted vows is mine;
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Ye, whose aspirings court the Muse of lays
'Severest of those orders which belong
Distinct and separate to Delphic song'
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BOOK III.
Freedom, Love, Light, and Truth, these are four things
That waste nor wane while they impart themselves;
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BOOK IV.
So did that youth choose Duty before Love:
And so determination drove away
The doubts that held him with ungainly check
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Dear, mystic circlet!…. orbs like thine are found
Within their hallowd empire to enclose
Such unimagin'd joys, such cares and woes,
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Sports of the field!-deadly or maiming blow
Aimed at a gentle bird!-the timid hare
From her half slumber in warm brake to scare
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Thou who hast amply quaff'd the Muse's rill,
And bath'd thy locks in pure poetic dews,
Canst thou disparage the Petrarcan Muse;
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Thou awful sea!-upon this shingly beach
Of Aldborough I pace:-my gazing eye
Thy world of waters lost in the dim sky
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