Adine: A Fragment

by Eliza Acton

Eliza Acton

She lov'd to hold communion with the night
When none were near, and to the golden stars
Pour forth the silent breathings of a soul,
Bright as their beams,-and pure, as that far sky
Of deep and stainless azure, where they dwell.
And she would linger many a lonely hour
To watch the gentle Empress of the heav'ns,
Come forth, in her so graceful majesty,
Flinging the floating vapours from her path,
Which would have veil'd her loveliness-and then
Shedding the fullest lustre of her smiles
Upon the lull'd, and sleeping world below;
Or sometimes, as if sick'ning at the scenes
Which met her down-ward gaze retiring slow
Behind the shadow of the courtier-clouds,
Which love to throw themselves between her smiles,
And this dim earth of ours. And Adine oft
Would stand on some rude cliff to mark the war
Of the wild waters, when the raging winds
Had lash'd them into madness,-and the waves
With most impetuous, and appalling force,
Breasted the rock whereon she stood, and flung
Their foam-wreaths at her feet;-and unto her
The forked lightnings, in their angry play,
Were a delight;-and music to her ear
Dwelt in the thunder's voice: her spirit drank
The beauty of the universe, and dwelt
On its sublime magnificence, until
Each thought grew grand and glorious, and sought out,
A resting-place in regions far away !-

Last updated January 14, 2019