Fancy

How sad my life had been were't not for her,

I know not; everywhere I looked were heaps

Of moving flesh, silk dresses mixed with rags,

And solid blocks of stone, with squares of glass-

Hard to my sight.  That dreadful din! My nerve

Fell all apart, e'en as a wave, impaled

Upon a rock, breaks into quivering drops.

There, men were sat with neither home nor hope,

Ungreeted- save by some lost dog or cat.

There saw I cold and ragged, hungry men

Sit at the feet of statues which the rich

Admired, nor heeded those poor men of flesh.

And as that thief, the Wind, will drink the dew

While Phoebus fights the Clouds, so did the rich

Cheat honest workers of their just reward.

Where'er I looked I saw no beauty there;

Plenty of shops and markets with dead meat,

And other stuff to satisfy man's flesh,

But little for man's soul. A dreadful life,

To live in that stone town without a change;

As though men's souls did not need Nature's charms,

And putting out to grass, like common beasts,

To keep life healthy, fresh and of good cheer.

I blessed sweet Fancy for her favour then;

That oft she robbed my outward eyes of power

To fill the mind with common objects, and

My ears of power to take in common sounds.

And when I saw that here-where thousands lived

In houses without gardens, and the air

Was no true friend to any thing that lived,

And little beauty was-when I saw she,

In spite of that dull town, could bring delight-

Fancy, I cried, thou shalt be my life's Love.

If I do so exalt thee in my life,

There'll be no fear that Death will take thee first,

For we must die together, as we lived.

Much am I pleased with thee; for thou hast more

Sweet antics than a Squirrel on the boughs,

Who, after he has made the green leaves fight,

Slides to the ground for safety. I am sick

Of this loud noise and sights of poverty;

Here, where the poor do either pass away,

Quiet as winds at sundown, starved and lost-

Or drink, and fight like cats that arch their backs

And stretch their legs to twice their common length.

To which she said: He who can sit alone

In solitude, content with his own thoughts,

Can have life's best and cheapest joy ; which needs

No purse of gold, no pride of outward show,

Like joy that's purchased from society;

And only by my power canst thou do this.

Thou dost not know true joy of living yet

Thy mind is as a port that takes ships in,

But when alone with me in solitude,

A greater joy will be to send ships out.

Sweet Thoughts shall tease and romp with thee all day,

Till Sleep will pity thy joy-weary Mind,

And sink thee in her depths-but thou shalt still

Be followed by those Torments sweet and wild,

Aye, I will make thy life of purest joy;

A fire that has no smoke, a thornless rose;

A love without one breath of jealousy-

A heaven that has no knowledge of mankind.

For I will then with my sweet visions clear

Thy memory of these scenes depraved and sad,

Of hungry children and their parents drunk.

Thou night and day shalt sing; I'll give two souls

In one-the Lark's and Nightingale's; to sing

By Sun and Moon; and songs as sweet as birds

Make at the birth of April, when Spring crowns

His first day with a rainbow-thou shalt sing.

And I will give thy Mind such dreams that when

Thy Body, her blackmailer, threatens her

To satisfy his greed for worldly things-

Thou wilt have courage to say nay.  And thou

Shalt see again the Ocean bear the Sun

Into the arms of Heaven, his smiling nurse;

And see again the Sun that sank long since

At Severn's Mouth, with that great sail of gold,

That covered all the West; and many more

Scenes, dear to Memory, I will show thy Mind.

For thou shalt see that Meadow burned in two

By fiery Malpas Brook; and hear again

The voice of Ebbw in his lovely park,

Counting its ferns, its rabbits, sheep and deer;

And sweeter music he shall make for thee

Than seamaid ever wasted, when she tried,

With every trick known to her throat, to stop

The Phantom Ship.  Come, let us settle then

In some small village which the Cuckoo loves

To haunt and startle.  I will give each day

Far sweeter dreams than Love gives her first night.

Much fairer Clouds are there, and brighter Suns,

And Skies more clear and blue; and Night's small Star

Can shine as bright as Mars and Venus here.

There, many a happy wood can hear a Brook

Enjoy his everlasting holiday,

When Birds are silent and no Children come.

Come then, and I will be as true to thee

As snow to the high Mountain, or the Wind

That never leaves the Ocean for a day.

Yes, Sweet, I answered, we will live alone

In some green Village that awake is far

More happy than a City in its sleep.

So we departed, hand in hand for joy

And, when arrived in that green world, I found

Such peace and ease as only sailors know,

When they return to the wild elements

After a Port has robbed and beaten them.

O I was like a Wasp for joy, when he's

Inside a juicy plum, and near the stone,

Where it is sweetest.  I could never know

That cunning Time was plucking me alive

Of youth and strength and beauty-when I looked

Into the eyes of horses, sheep and cows,

Sure that their hearts were innocent of sin.

And she had power to change all common forms

Into things lovely or of interest;

Could give a man's face to the rock or tree,

And bodies of fair women to the Clouds.

She was a sweet wild flower, that much preferred

Wild brooks to fountains and hedge banks to lawns.

It was a joy to hear the horses crop

The sweet, short grass; and see the dappled cows

Knee deep in grass or water; and to watch

The green leaves smoking, when their puffs made me

Expect to hear them smack their lips like men,

Or show some fire; and hear the summer's Wind

Whispering in the ears of corn- and Birds

That whistled while the leaves were drinking rain.

And by her sweet translation I could read

The language of all flowers, and birds and clouds,

And was a master of their tongues.  I saw

Among the leaves the cobweb starred with dew,

Saw Rainbows that had tunnelled half the sky;

And as the Lark, that hails the rising Sun,

Will not forget to praise him when he sets-

So did I bless at night each happy day.

And in their turn all things gave up their charms;

One day it was a Cloud, the  next a Flower;

Then 'twas a Bird, the Rain or Wind; and then

A full survey of Nature.  Sweet to hear

Red Robin sing, and seek among the leaves

The body of that piercing sweetness; or

The Nightingales, paced by a thunderstorm,

Sing at their highest pitch; or to walk forth

At early morn in Spring, when all was still,

And hear the small Birds screaming in the trees,

Before the human world doth wake from sleep.

For it was Springtime then-when I was led

By Fancy into that green solitude,

And all the Birds were happy day and night;

When Day's sweet Birds had done, I could not sleep

For Nightingales, whose notes were links to make

One chain of song to run through all the Spring.

The cunning Cuckoo changed his place each time,

Now North, now South, now East, now West was heard-

Knowing that trick would make his voice keep fresh.

Then, saw the Primrose on a distant bank,

And, guided by his golden light, drew close

And found a Violet at his side-sweet thing!

A joy to walk abroad with Fancy then;

When I beheld a Rainbow or fair Cloud,

She gave my Mind free copies, which would last

When their originals were perished quite;

And for my copies I pay no man rent,

Nor need insure them-which are proof

'Gainst loss by water, thieves and fire. When I

Awoke, Would hasten forth to see the Sun

Dance with another happy Day; for soon

He in his summer's strength could laugh at Clouds.

And we would walk green lanes, so still and lone

That Reynard walked them without hurry, and

Felt safer than in woods ; down some green lane

That's only ten feet wide, and only one

Foot in the centre white; which is the time

When June, with her abundant leaves and grass,

Makes narrow paths of lanes, and lanes of roads;

When she in all her leafy glory comes,

And clothes the naked trees in every limb.

Not much I missed with Fancy at my side,

Of living things or dead: the Moon, alone,

That set her sheet to sail the heavenly Sea,

To test if safe for piloting the Stars;

Or we would watch the Squirrel hide his nuts,

And stand the blades of grass upright again,

And still eye it suspiciously; or Crows,

Tossing their bright black bodies in the Sun,

And looking like white Pigeons.  Wonderful

That Paradise which Fancy gave my Mind,

In which the body had no luxury

Of either food or drink or furniture.

Where'er I was, let her be near and then

My Body trembled like a sucking Bee's;

Life was a joy, no matter if the hour

Was wet and windy, cold, or dry and calm.

Sometimes there was not wind enough to shake

The lifeless leaf caught by a spider's thread,

And held suspended; and no sound of life-

Save distant bark of dog, the moo of cow

Or calf, the baa of sheep; or the church bell,

That made forgetful birds renew their songs.

And when, in that still hour, from Traffic's stir,

I looked upon the Sun in Heaven, his eye

Seemed burning with a great intelligence.

She sometimes sang at morn a song so sweet

That I must banish her until my soul

Repeated it a hundred times and more.

She kept me safe from that strong company

Of Gambling, Gluttony, and Drink, and Lust,

That ruin many. She could wake me in

The night to sing, as May wakes sleeping birds;

With visions of the hills and valleys, woods

And streams, and clouds; and all the flowers that came

Between the Snowdrop and Chrysanthemum.

And well she entertained my Winter nights;

For by her power I heard a kettle sing

As sweet a song as any bird made, when

In May the Sun was drying his wet wings.

That voice was small, but O what passion!  like

A Skylark's voice, were he a Wasp in size.

All troubles did escape my Mind, when I,

With Fancy near, looked into my red fire;

To hear the battle of its blaze, or see

It in a red spell deep. To see two flames

Crouch low to box, and then stand tall; and then

To hear the blows distinct, and hard and fast-

Like carpet hung and beaten by a stick.

Aye, with that Maid it was a joy to live,

No matter had I Nature's Sun outdoors,

Or my own sun made out of wood and coal.

Then travelled we to many a pleasant land,

Where lovely fruit did grow so plentiful

That men that stole it were not counted thieves.

And we did cross high mountains white and bleak,

Which nothing with two feet or four had crossed,

Save birds on wings; and other mountains that

Could take the name of forests with their own.

We heard the water wash the island beach

Where giant turtles lay; and heard the roar

Of captains in a hurricane. Saw ships

Rolled by the waves, and the Pacific make

His waterspouts, that rolled ships far away-

And whirlpools strongest ships could not pass through.

And by her power I saw Thames' face as clear

As Heaven's above, when he had grass to kiss

Twice in twelve hours. I saw the town of Troy

With Helen there, that time when she made Jove

And his Queen almost empty Heaven, to fight

For her cause or against. Black walls saw I,

Of castles old, part leafy and part bare;

And lonely abbeys tumbling down, that once

Were rich enough to ruin a king's soul.

With her I saw the rocks that Orpheus moved,

And trees that to his music danced like men;

And we did visit Mab's bright court, when it

Was all alight for foreign fairies; I

Saw by her power the golden barge that made

The black Nile clear in every place it went.

She to my Mind made it a common sight

To see the secret pails and bowls of pearls

Owned by a shah or sultan; she did make

My room more rich than theirs, with stuff that fire

Burned not, nor water spoiled, nor the winds tore.

My mind could watch the shepherd move his sheep

That, like drilled soldiers, one pace kept; and when

One ran, all ran; and when he stopped, all stopped,

We walked the woods and fields; sometimes in shade,

And sometimes out ; and crouched behind green banks,

To spy on Ariel in the wind.

Alas!

Soon she began to make her absence known.

Then to my heart came dark Despondency,

And perched on it, e'en as a Hell's black rook

Will stand upon the head of a white Ewe.

Fool that I was to give her my whole heart!

I should have kept sweet Wine, or Dance, or Dress,

To take her place with pleasure- as a bird

Sings for the rain when Phoebus hides his light.

Ah, misery! that I should think this Maid

Would answer to my call whene'er I wished;

That when my Heart desired her she would come-

And set my Mind in motion-foolish thought!

As though the Mind had not its milking hours,

And never failed. So, every night, alone,

When Fancy had been absent all the day,

Late would I sit, in hope she'd charm me yet

With one sweet little verse ere sleep could come,

And oft I sat and yearned for her in vain.

Come to me now, Love, while this Blackbird sings;

Now, while the Butterfly's on that warm stone;

Come, while the bosom of yon cloud is white

And full to bursting-nay, she would not come.

It was a dreadful life, when she was gone,

To own a restless sea no vessel sailed.

My bread went stale and sour; I felt no joy,

Though Skylarks sang in Heaven and Rainbows shone.

O it was Hell! That I had sacrificed

All entertainment of Society,

Music, and Wine, and Woman for her sake:

And she to leave me, taking every charm

Away with her, of water, earth and sky.

Since I came here to live for her alone,

Then what is life, if she forsakes me now!

A little child that has no speech at all,

Is happy with a sound none understand;

But when I heard the tell-tale Lark at morn,

Counting Earth's dewdrops to the eager Sun;

And when I saw the Evening gay with clouds

Of various hues, like flags upon a ship

That entertains its captain's new-made bride,

And, left by Fancy, had no power to speak-

Then O that I had no more speech than babes,

So happy with a simple cry! When she

Was gone, the birds seemed idle chatterers;

The flowers were common smirks that forced their charms,

No better than the leaves seen everywhere,

Made common by their number and one hue.

When she was near, my house was like that one

That has a living heir just born; when absent-

'Twas like a house that has an heir born dead.

When she was near, I could not hear the clock

Cry out the hour; but, in her absence, heard

Its smallest whisper, every tick it made.

And so I grieved, but she no sooner came

Than I with joy forgave her with a kiss;

And in that sudden blaze of pleasure, all

My smoky wrath went soon; my anger dropped-

Though for a week my curses bad not ceased;

Dropped like a timid Star that cannot stand

Its bright society.

When for a month

She bad not visited my waiting Mind,

'Twas then I spake out loud and bitterly.

Thou, false as that bright Sun, when he doth coax

Bees out ere Spring is ready with her flowers-

Why didst thou lead me here and then forsake me!

Thy voice as sweet and false as hers of old,

The last thing Merlin heard. Didst thou not say

That with thy company I should not wish

For ale or wine, or voice of man or woman;

That one thought like a lovely star should come,

And others follow, till my Heaven was full;

That one bright ray of Inspiration's light

Would warm my Soul, till it arose and cheered

As lusty as Dawn's streak makes Chanticleer;

And that no ink should dry upon my pen

Till every little black drop did produce

Fancies with thoughts that sparkled a pure white.

Didst thou not promise I should see bright gems

To startle me, though I put down secure

The hatches on my mortal eyes; promise

To give me these, that maybe would outshine

Some of these solid pearls that took long years

Ere they grew rich.  Where art thou?  Thou hast left

My spirit like a sea without a ship

In sight; no half-built ships are on my stocks,

And in my harbour float no finished ones

Ready to sail. Since thou hast gone, my life

Has courted sleep so oft that she grows sick

Of one that claims her service for so long;

And thou didst promise I would even mock

Sweet sleep, with thoughts of some sweet task undone-

So wouldst thou occupy my Mind.

And now, when I desire thee most- since Time

Has sent forth one white hair to draw the black

Into that treason which dethrones my youth-

Thou hast forsaken me.  Since that is so,

There is no help I know of; I must plunge

Into a sea of flesh again-a sea

That's full of things to drag strong swimmers down.

Go then, false Fancy, show thy face no more

For I will live with Pleasure in the crowd,

With her attendants, Fashion, Dance and Wine.

If thou dost come again, I'll strike thee dead-

As honest seamen, on a raft at sea,

Must strike a madman down for their life's sake.

E'en as I spake these words I felt my Mind

Possessed by Fancy, and forgot my wrath,

And all my heart inclined to hear her speak.

Thou art my life-long Love, I said; I'll not

Return to Pleasure in a city's crowd.

Pleasure can give no true and lasting joy

Her voice is like a torrent's, in whose sound

The little birds of joy must sing unheard.

Aye, Pleasure is a planet dark, that shines

By the reflection of admiring eyes,

But joy has her own light-and thou art joy.

All Pleasure's thoughts are centred in her flesh,

To eat and drink, to dress, to dance, and ride,

And be where there are many eyes and ears;

And vain she is, and proud-she cannot see

One inch beyond her own two feet of hair.

I courted that false goddess once, alas!

Blind and deceived with Jacob's joy, when he

Knew not his best loved son- e'en so was

Until my sight returned, and I could see

Through Pleasure's silk, and saw her many faults.

Come then, sweet Fancy- surnamed joy by me.