The Lover's Vision Poem by Charlotte Dacre

I lay reclin'd,
And weary of my fate,
With joy I would have chang'd my wretched state;
When on the wind,
A lady beautifully fair,
As fancy has pourtray'd us angels are,
Appear'd with majesty to sail,
And wafted on ambrosial air—
Delicious odours made my senses fail.

I knew my love;
Her face was snowy white,
Her garments streams of undulating light;
Her hair did rove
Loose o'er her slim, irradiant form;
Her look, methought, was freezing and forlorn.
No more did lustre in her eyes abound;
Rays did her head adorn,
Which sparkling coruscations threw around.

'Remember well
How oft thou didst inspire
Glances, tho' chasten'd, yet of ardent fire;
And now I tell,
Fearing thy love were boyish or untrue,
I durst not mine in all its fervor shew;
But now my unfetter'd soul,
Soaring in regions new,
May own its mortal love without controul.'

'Oh, thou!' I cried,
And stretch'd my longing arms—
'Oh, why in life didst thou withhold thy charms?
Why, shadowy bride,
While I am living clay,
Speak'st thou of heav'n, yet leadest not the way?
Let me, bright saint, no more despair,
But take my soul away,
And mix with thine in death, oh, spirit fair!'

With mournful sigh
The beauteous sprite replied:
'Behold around, with deep'ning crimson dy'd,
The eastern sky:
I can no longer here remain.'
And, as she spoke, more luminous became
Her form of silv'ry mist.
Slow it dispers'd. My eyes in vain
To trace it in the air would still persist.