Poems by Anna Beddoes

Poems by Anna Beddoes
transcribed in Davy’s notebook HD13i

Whose image gilds the pensive hour
Of fancy’s vision-weaving power,
Though, nought this gift so simple, boast
And but some sighs the giver cost
Yet oh with smile benignant deign
These links to touch, to wear this chain
And if (as Fame the unwilling ear
Informs) a softer chain Thou bear,
Then may no darkling shade destroy
The fabric of thy promised joy,
And may all spirits blest and good
Unseen, who haunt or wave or wood
Aethereal nature’s sportive train
On Thee ‘sweet influences rain.’
And breathe a sense no words impart
Well augured of the thrilling heart.
But if with rigid scowl severe
My lowly suit thou shame to hear,
My simple gift if Thou disdain
All reckless of another’s pain,
Not long thy stream of bliss shall flow
Nor long thy torch of rapture glow,
Who from the lisp of asking child
Witholds the fragrant blossom wild,
Who from the wretched captive’s power
Uproots the solitary flower,
Where contumely blasts the sighs
That from the guileless bosom rise,
Oh not for him Love’s hallowed Urn
The golden light of life shall burn
Oh not for him the aethereal flame
That quivers through the feeling flame;
Inert, dull, earthly is the mould
That bears an iron bosom cold –
Oh yield them to a guiltless prayer, –
The simple chain consent to wear
That chain accepted let me view
Then look a long, a sad adieu.
And oft the dewy skies beneath
When all of peace of love shall breathe,
Oft in some cloud that sails serene
Alone in heaven’s blue ocean seen,
When slow the paly shadows glide
The violet’s perfumed bank beside
And their sweet buds the flowrets close
And, wakes the heart, while all repose
Oft, e’en from air, thy form, thy face
Thy shape, thy last, last look retrace
And with a grateful tear again
Review the consecrated chain.

Fidelissima

 

Rude Winter! iron sceptred power,
No more I greet thy joyless hour,
His smile no longer gilds thy form
Nor breathes his music, in thy storm;
Rude Winter, I abhor thee now
Thou tyrant of the obdurate brow!
Wild ruin marks thy stern career
Fell spoiler of the aged year. –

This day November’s frowns invest
This day an Alien all unblest,
The parted hours I vainly mourn,
Hours, never, never to return – .
In Thought, I yet may view the dome,
Where leaves my heart its sacred home
And ah! in thought, his glance arrest
Whose image fills my conscious breast,
But no – for other eyes than mine
Those orbs reflect their light divine
No beam of philosophic day
Glads the poor exile far away!
No eye explores my once-loved place,
No sigh my vanished form shall trace
Yet here as roams the unblessed shade
My Spirit shall the scene pervade.

Oh Ocean! on whose stormy breast
A wretched wanderer’s head may rest,
Hence to thy billowy surge I cast
The painful memory of the past,
Hopes barren all! – and baneful fears!
And bodeful sighs and bitter tears
Aerial dreams of bliss untrue, – –
These be Time’s fatal revenue!

Beyond the great atlantic tide
Where blue Ontario’s waters glide,
The pine crown’d steeps with bloom may glow,
And gales of spicy fragrance blow,
But never there shall summer shed
Her flowers beneath His hallowed tread
And never there, the gales shall bear
His praise (sweet incense) to mine ear.

Now farewell fortune – farewell fear,
And hope – sweet syren; ever dear –
Now all, (save bankrupt-life) resigned,
I give me to the ruthless wind. – –
Yet still amid the vasty deep
One good, (a fraudful good) I keep, –
Love, to this heart, his image gave –
This heart, shall bear it to the grave. –

Ibid

How oft the little sportive child
Seizing every flowret wild
With feeble hand half crops the stem
And leaves to die the drooping gem!

Unconscious of the slightest harm
His joyous breast with rapture warm
From bank to bank unthinking flies
Nor knows the weeping flowret dies. –

So have thy heedless glances stray’d,
And many a virgin heart betray’d,
From fair to fair their lightning’s dart
And strike the gazer to the heart. – –

Those eyes with liquid lustre bright
In softer eyes have quench’d their light
Eyes, that withdraw their timid beams
And only dare to gaze in dreams. –

And yet regardless of thy power
Some tender maid each changeful hour
Is doom’d in silent grief to pine
Or paint it in the glowing line.

AB

Lost scenes by thee so sweetly traced
And by thy rainbow colours graced,
Call back the hours of hope and youth
Glowing with ecstasy and truth. –

Here let me pause, o’er transports past
And hang o’er joys not meant to last
How through the primrose studded walk
We wearied many an Hour in talk.

As in the soft and silent eve
Of noise and mirth we took our leave,
Twas here beneath the tangled hedge
The Rose we pluck’d, a simple pledge,

Not the rich Rose with thorns beset,
But spring’s fair flower, more humble yet,
And we exchanged the dewy prize
Our thoughts we changed without disguise.

We lingered near the stunted oak
That rudely thro’ the pathway broke
And gazed on its fantastic head
For half its aged form was dead. –

Soft play’d the vernal breezes sound
And the fresh dew-drops pearl’d the ground
Now as it reached the close of day
Unwilling we pursued our way

To gain the little busy Boat
Where we were wont the clifts to note
And that sequestered favourite glen
Unhaunted by the buzz of men.

Or the lone summit of the wood
That brooded o’er the dusky flood –
Of these my harmless joys bereft
Faint is the sunshine that is left. –

Yet still I glow with feelings warm
The wreck of many a mental storm,
These, are for thee, as fresh as true
As in my earliest days I knew. –

And oft I think upon the time,
Ere I had stepp’d beyond my prime,
When thou just bounding into life
Alike unknown to grief or strife
Panted with transport for the hour
When the whole world should feel thy power.

A. B

With thee for ever could I stay,
Thy presence makes all nature glad,
With thee pass each successive day,
Nor ever feel one moment sad.

Oh! ev’ry moment seems an age,
Now that I’m far my love from thee,
But thoughts of meeting thee assuage,
The grief which else would fatal be.

Whene’er you speak, heav’n how the listening throng
Dwell on the melting music of your tongue!
Your arguments are emblems of your mien
Mild, but not faint, & forcing tho’ serene.
But when the pow’r of eloquence you try,
Here lightning strikes & there soft breezes die
Oh mighty love! from thy unbounded pow’r
How shall the human bosom rest secure
How shall our thought avoid the various snare
Or wisdom to our caution’d heart declare,
The different shapes thou pleasest to employ,
When bent to hurt & certain to destroy.

    Lo! once again with Jocund sway
The morn endear’d by Lovers song
When Nature holds her holiday
The wild woods wintry brakes among
    But let this sprightly morn away
In youths bright Calender enroll’d
And give to me by tapers ray
The star of Genius to behold
    Whilst in my delighted ear
Philosophys sweet strain shall rest
In thy own image mild as fair
Shall science kindle in my breast
   Thus e’en the tremulous chrystal bright
That on the Rose buds leaf reclines
When pours your Orb its orient light
Awhile a little orblet shines
    Awhile the beauteous pensile gem
Reflects the variegated Ray
But shakes the breeze its slender stem
Then melts the liquid globe away

Thou that dost this scroll survey
Turn not with disdain away
Nor deem these feeble lays unfold
Tale too tender to be told
Hope long since proscribed this breast
Love no more invades its rest,
For never simple virgins heart
Fell to Loves insidious dart
But haply in some subtle guise
With wily sighs or speaking sighs
As fancy even, or fear arrayed
Hope the secret pass betrayed.

Dark & sad this brow of care
No myrtle wreath entwines this hair
Ne’er these lips of ashy hue
To the gentle dove shall cue
Never these wan cheeks disclose
Loves sweet bloom, its blushing rose
But this form of homeliest mold
Bears no sordid bosom cold
Though to Beauty all unknown
Beautys empire pleased I own
Genius with averted brow
Frowns & yet receives my vow
Nature, fortune all unkind
What but friendship sooths my mind
Take then from this faithful breast
Where thou dwellst an honoured guest
From a Being void of aim
From a thing without a name
These honest fervent blessings take
For thine not for the givers sake
To thee may kindly fates assign
White robed honour, peace benign
Health & all her bright haired train
Fortune & her festive reign
Love & all that Love imparts
The union of two gentle hearts
And ever as returns this day
Cherished in the jocund lay
May Joy & Virtue, pair divine
Hail thee still their Valentine

Hicolissa

Poems by Anna Beddoes in Giddy’s Papers

Ivybridge

Clear shone the sun in the fresh of the morning
The lingering dew-drops the valley adorning.
Green over the bridge hung the ivy, and shrouded
The swift rolling torrent, with foam softly clouded. –
’Twas here as enraptured I gazed on the scene,
Unconscious of aught but the present sweet hour
The steep winding pathway a coppice between,
Whose delicate branches entwined in a bower

’Twas here that my bosom was aching with sorrow
’Twas here that it felt every joy it could know
But flown was its joy by the dawn of the morrow,
And this deep-rooted sorrow, ah! When shall it go!
And why was this bosom so tortured with sorrow?
And why flew its joys by the dawn of the morrow?
The source of my sorrow, ye never shall know,
This deep rooted anguish that never shall go –

I send you this dear Davies in a great hurry but with another more correct soon
Adieu yours most truly

Anna

Monday

If in a lone, and frenzied hour,
I panted for too soft a bliss,
If, when I felt my Delia’s power
I rudely stole too wild a kiss
Shocked at the crime, my tears fell fast,
The warmest blushes died my cheek,
I wished that moment were my last
And thought my very heart would break
But if thy gentle form appears
Thy mild blue eye, thy air of sorrow
Away with griefs and trembling fears,
Thy own dear tender smile, I borrow.
The pleasing awe which virtue spreads,
Has charms that passion seldom knows
The modest lustre that she sheds
Dispels at once a world of woes.

---

 

Could I

Could I, put off, this female form
For a beard, and manly features
A deeper blush thy cheek would warm,
We should <move> be, such loving creatures –
I’d woo thee with such soft persuasions,
That Glannarms words [1] thou shouldst not mind
I’d profit by such sweet occasions
That Glannarms words excused you’d find,
<Then> Chide me not, thou blue-eyed fair
Nor say presumption guides my hand,
Shake not in scorn, thy golden hair
For I would fly at thy command

Being woman I can guess
How to win thee to my arms
I would haunt thee, more, or less;
Till I prison’d all thy charms

Unnumbered rivals round me stand
Undaunted still my breast would beat
Were Giddy’s self to claim thy hand,
Proudly I’d smile at his defeat

I’d punish thee for all thy crimes
For all the wounds so lately given
For all thy sweet coquettish rhymes
That crazy half the town hath driven
Since to coquette it, pleases thee
With love thy bosom never glo
Love never yet that bosom warm’d
Should I but flirt, with two or three
I think that heart might be reformed
Say wouldst thou veer on the brink
Still hover round, nor taste the bliss!
Ah no dear maid! with rapture drink
And learn the transport of a kiss
So warm in friendship she doth prove
So true so tender & so kind,
How exquisite, would be her love
So delicate, & so refined –
Apollo’s self a garland brings
While Friendships holds the restless child
Till thou hast cropt his fluttering wings
And binds thee fast with laurels wild –
But should Coquettry chance appear
Our little Love Cupid pines away,
And lacking friendship stands not near
For with coquettes she cannot stay
If as a swain such notes as these
Might from my labouring bosom break
Now as a woman if you please
Far other notes I feign would speak
I’d tell thee, sprightly winning fair
That a coquette is pleasing ever
A thousand friends that heart would might share
Which one dear lover might [2] dissever –

Stop selfish woman! – stop thy tongue
Eliza hath a heart for all,
Let these rash lines remain unsung
For thou hast dipp’d thy pen in gall –

Say wouldst thou trembling [MS ends here]

Notes

1. Possibly a coded reference to the words of Davy, who addressed Anna in a poem written from Glenarm, Ireland, in 1806: see below.
2. Written over ‘would’.

 

---

 

The Rambles of Cupid

’Twas May’s sweet morn, all Nature owns her sway,
And Loves soft echo hails the new born day,
For now with roseate steps the hour advance,
And tiptoe moments lead the sprightly dance,
Waked by a shower, from dewy roses shook,
Her fragrant couch, the Cyprian Queen forsook
With warmer blushes glows her vermeil cheek
Her azure eyes a softer language speak,
With dimpled cheek, and pleasure sparkling eye
A wanton Cupid stood auspicious bye
And bent on wiles, his infant lips proposed,
To see the glories of the day disclosed;
To please the boy, she smiles her soft assent
And down to earth the winning Goddess went
With jocund air he clapped his tiny wings
And all they saw, her little Cupid sings –
Now whispering Zephyrs breath’d a honeyed gale
Oe’r the rich verdure of a mossy vale
Whose clustering woodbines weave a trembling shade
Round a fair youth, and still a fairer maid,
O’er her full bosom floats her auburn hair,
Which half reveals, & shadows half the fair,
Two infant rosebuds, peep from hills of snow,
And through the loose transparence faintly glow,
His eye with rapture glances o’er her charms
As thus with faltering voice, the fair alarms,
Long has Louisa’s heart been Edwin’s prize,
He reads his triumph in his rival’s eyes –
Must he then still for ages live unblessed
And yield to forms, our generous souls detest,
Put off thy maiden coyness for a while
And bless thy Edwin with a radiant smile
Dear as thou art, yet dearer still to me,
Wast thou for once from tyrant custom free,
What though no Priest has authorized our love
The lark proclaims it in the realms above
Ten thousand feathered choristers shall sing
Thy bridal joys, while hovering on the wing
In this sequestered vale, far from mortal view,
Your heart you gave me, give your person too
Here let our joys begin – Cease Edwin cease
Nor urge to rob of innocence and peace,
The maid who glories in her guiltless flame,
And proudly hears pronounced thy much loved name
The heart she gave thee, thou wouldst scorn to keep
Did she her virgin treasure hold so cheap –
Not many suns shall circle round the skies
Ere my fond Edwin on this bosom lies –
Sweet the repose of him who nestles there
Cries smiling Cupid with a sportive air,
One moment couch me on that panting breast
To rob for years her artless soul of rest -
Swift as he spoke his breath instils desire
Warms her chaste bosom with unwanted fire
From her fond lover’s ardent gaze she turns
And her fair cheek with conscious blushes burns
With trembling haste he tears the lawn away
And gives the orbs of beauty to the day
White as the glossy cygnets softest down –
Admiring Venus envies with a frown
Oh fly me Edwin cries the melting maid
Much of herself though most of him afraid –
Her throbbing heart with warmer transports glow
Transports that virgin lovers only know,
Sigh after sigh betrays her secret bliss
As her keen lover prints the burning kiss,
Clasped in his eager arms entranced she sinks
And his rapt ear her murmuring accents drinks
Mosses and woodbines intercept the view
While round her quivering limbs he fondly grew –
Ah little thought they as entwined they lay
That Cupid blessed them only to betray

 

---

 

And have I, by one luckless gust
The Bower of love o’erthrown!
How could I such a fabric trust?
The little God is flown
-
Affrighted by the sudden storm
He left the bower so gay
But friendship keeps the urchin warm
And whispers he may stay
-
Then back he trembling comes to see
What mischief has been done?
And many rose leaves brings to me
All drooping in the sun -

Then thus with cherub voice he cries,
Calm friendship held me fast
Or I had sought my native skies
This hasty look thy last

I weeping pressed him to my breast
And harked his childish fears -
Who would not keep so sweet a guest
And shed a world of tears!

 

---

 

How were the little Hours employ’d
In that sequester’d Vale
Where honeyed sweets I late enjoyed
Soft wafted on the gale?
-
Their tiny fingers wrought a chain
Than Gossamer more fine
But strong as steel it shall remain
This magic silken line!
-
Cease sportive Hours, nor slily weave
Another web like this
Or ye will teach my heart to grieve
And steal away its bliss.
-
Eternal smiles I trembling trust
All blessing at Tredrea: [1]
Be not ye little Hours too just
But fondly favour me!

                Anna
      Sunday night
        Clifton

                1805 Sep^r DG

Notes

1. Giddy’s home in Cornwall.

 

---

 

March the 3rd 1806 D.G.

It is a curious coincidence that in the very drawer where your letters were, one of them congratulating your friend upon his happy prospects, I found these lines written more than three years since –

The anguish so often concealed from his eyes,
As unseen flow my tears, and unheard are my sighs,
Ere long if I judge by the hope in my breast
Shall set my stark spirit for ever at rest –

But thou! My dear infant the joy of my heart!
From thy cherished image. Ah! How shall I part!
That image, where all of thy father I see,
When first he was full of affection for me. –

And am I so changed, that he now cannot find
A trace that can please in my manner or mind
Then take me, oh! tear me away from my child
Whose innocent smiles oft my sorrows beguiled
Each moment but adds to the torture I feel
For the change in thy Father these smiles but reveal

 

---

Poems by Humphry Davy in Davy’s Notebooks

 

Anna thou art lovely ever
  Lovely in tears

In tears of sorrow bright
Brighter in tears of joy

 

---

 

1803

1

There last I heard her tones;
Her sweet & silver voice
The Mountains rose above
The torrent foamed beneath
Whitening the moss grown rocks
The air was still & clear
The moonbeam in the sky.

2

She did not say she loved
Yet from her glowing cheek
And from her humid eye
And from her trembling hand
And from her throbbing heart
I learnt the rapturous truth.

3

The breathings of her soul
Were sentiment & life
And every glowing thought
Had all the power of youth
It seemed as if a Mind
Like Hers could never die
Immortal in its strength

4

There last I heard her tones
They are for ever gone
Her music never more
Shall glad my troubled soul
No more shall she create
The world for which I lived

5

Alone she filled the mind
A vision of delight
In which all natural charms
Of motion colour form
Were kindled into life
By Fancy, reason, taste.

6

There last I heard her tones
There still the moon beam shines
There still the torrent roars
There still the humid rocks
Flame with the silver light
There still the lofty hills
Darken the azure sky.

7

Nature has not changed
But pleasure <dwells> no more
Within her ancient haunts
A star of joy is set
Which never more can rise
No second spring of life
Awaits our mortal years.

 

---

 

To Anna Maria B.

Oh thou art Yes you are Natures fairest child
A Flower of spring time rude and wild
Midst nipping blasts and frosts & snows,
In grace in loveliness you rose
No Violet shrinking in the shade
By purple heath and cup moss made
Had e’er more native modesty
Than trembles in your down cast eye:

E’en from your birth you did inherit
A quiet, meek, contented spirit
To what can I compare your mind
A water, free from waves or wind;
Reflecting every varying dye
That moves upon the changeful sky
Now dark from thunder clouds, now bright
In purple hues, or golden light.

 

---

 

To Anna-Maria B.

When in lifes first golden morn
I left my stormy native shore
My pathway was without a thorn
With roses it seemed covered o’er.

Ambition thrilled within my brest
My heart with feverish hope beat high
Hope alone disturbed my rest
Hope only bade me heave a sigh.

In pride of untried power, my mind
A visionary empire saw.
A world in which it hoped to find
Its own high strength a master law.

Its love was wild its friendship free
Its passions changeful as the light
That on an aprils day you see
Changeful and yet ever bright.

Years of pain have passed away
Its former lineaments are gone
Hope gives it now a gentler lay
Ambition rules it not alone.

The forms of Holy truth severe
Are the fair thoughts with which it glows
And if it ever feels a tear
That tear in purest passions flows

Fled is its anguish and its joy
Is such as reason may approve
No storming its quietness destroy
Yet it is ever warm with Love.

Its pleasures fate & nature give
And fate and nature will not fly
It hopes in usefulness to live
In dreams of endless bliss to die.

Written in the coach Dec. 25 1803

Passing from Bath to Bristol

 

---

 

To Anna Maria B.

Think not that I forget the days
When first through rough unhaunted ways
We moved along the mountains side
Where Avon meets the Severn tide
When in the spring of youthful thought
The Hours of Confidence we caught
And natures children free and wild
Rejoiced, or grieved, or frowned or smil’d
As wayward fancy charmed to move
Our minds to hope, or fear, or love.—

Since that time of transient pleasure
Eight long years have filled their measure
And scenes and objects grand and new
Have crowded on my dazzled view
Visions of beauty, types of heaven
Unasked for kindness freely given
Art! – Nature, in their noblest dress
The City and the wilderness.
The world in all its varying forms
Contentments calms, Ambitions storms. –
Yet still in such a busy scene
And such a period passed between
The recollections never die
Of our early sympathy
And in the good that warms my heart
Your friendship bears a living part,
With many a thought & feeling twined,
Of influence healthy, noble kind,
Virtues from your example taught,
And without saws or precept taught… .

The proof, this tranquil moment gives
How vivid the remembrance lives
For een in Natures forms, I see
Some strong memor<i>als of thee. –
The autumnal foliage of the wood
The tranquil flowing of the flood
The down with purple heath oer spread
The awful Cliffs gigantic head,
The moonbeam in the azure sky
Are blended with thy memory. …

Glenarm – August 1806 by Moonlight a view of the Cliffs & Sea [1]

Notes

1. Davy wrote this poem in the village of this name in County Antrim, Ireland, while on a geological tour.

 

---

 

Vauxhall [1]

The light was glimmering through the trees
As raised by magic power
And balmy was the waning breeze
And full of hope the hour.
Cloathd in loveliness by pleasure
Before me lightly flew
In jocund pace, to jocund measure
A gay & motley crew
Among them forms of beauty strayd
Fair as the morning beams
And in such fairy tints arrayed
As warm the Poets dreams
With flowing locks that rested free
Upon the soft & fragrant air
With sweetest smiles of Harmony
And bosoms heaving full & fair
No rapture kindled in my breast
Unmoved the scene I saw
From fountains of delusive Art
No streams of natural love can flow
By me unnoticd passed the dream
Of Midnight revelry
As passes the first twilight gleam
Oer the half closed sleepy eye.
Away in Quietness I shall
To seek a soul to Nature dear
And if a transient joy I felt
It were that Anna was not there

Notes

1. The fashionable pleasure gardens in London, usually visited at night for the pleasure of the dazzling illumination produced by placing lamps in the trees. It was the resort both of fashionable ladies dressed in their finery and of high-class prostitutes, similarly clad.

 

---

 

Xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx [1] 17 Jun 1826

Dies irae [2]

I walked in the park the evening was tranquil & balmy, the moon full, my heart became softened & my feelings less painful & intense

12 oclock midnight

ιαχω την φιλουντα Δακρυω

την Φιλτατην

λεγε θνασκειν την αγαθην [3]

Nine years, a joy, a pure delight
She dwelt upon my raptured sight
When present: and in absence gave
A hope which made my heart her slave
A hallowed hope, the Saint might own
Bending before the virgin mother
And in her sanctity alone
Seeking all earthly love to smother,
Or rather to exalt refine
The earthly fire to love divine
But she is gone, her <Alas, her form of loveliest> lovely mold
Is now insensate dark & cold
But the pure & sacred fire
Which warmed her mind can not expire,
It kindles, breathes & lives with me
In every form & memory.
<In everlasting sympathy>
The breath that cools the zephyrs wing
Is of her eternal spring
The evenings soft & dewy calm
Is of her hope bestowing balm.
The morns reflected lovely light
Is of her sunshine heavenly bright
The stars amidst the azure sky
Speak of her truth & <glorious> constancy.
Of flowers that will not cannot die
And powers of immortality above mortality.

Αθανα τα. xxxx

xxxx [4]

[written in the margin at a right angle to the main text is this draft:]

Her pulse is fluttering failing fast
And soon her heart must beat its last
Her breathing seems in haste to fly
Too weak too faint to form a sigh
Her frame obeys mortality

Notes

1. A heavily deleted title, one word of which may be ‘Oct^r’.
2. This date and phrase – ‘days of wrath’ – have been added in pencil.
3. Davy is here trying out Greek phrases, meaning ‘I call out/shout [the praises] of her who loved me … I cry/weep tell/let it be known that the good, the most beloved is dead’.
4. Immortals

---