From
Bembridge to the Needles Light ; from
Niton to the Coweses ;
Down
all the lanes ; up all the Downs ; and round about the houses ;
A
maid there was whose name the Sentiment of Wight arouses
:
Flora of the Island .
O
give to me the Eagle’s eye that soars above the sea,
And
I’ll describe the rolling land that ripples under me,—
The
wild and wind-swept West of Wight, whose Daughter true was she :
Flora of the Island .
The
diamond-figur’d Isle of Wight is cleft from
North to South
By
Estuaries several, each one a river’s mouth
Carv’d
by courses prehistoric, flows from far-flung South
’Fore it was an island.
The
western-most of these, the Yar,— a cruel, jagged slash,—
Cleaves
off the West from all the rest, its
traces does unlash,
Whose
sandy Bays the broad Atlantic ’s boundless waves
do splash
For aye
upon the Island .
There
laughs a little silver stream, beside a humble cot ;
A
yeoman couple dwelt there, poor but honest, Heav’n wot ;
And
by these twain, by Heav’n’s grace, one daughter was begot :
Flora of the Island .
The
West’s a garden, guarded by Pam’s sturdy fortress towers ;
And
if a maid a blossom be, then many were the flowers
Whereat
the little busy bee improv’d the shining hours,
A-buzz
about the Island .
Poets,
laud ye not the lesser femininity ;
Speak
not of Atalanta, nor sing of Aura Lee ;
The
golden Rose of Vectis is the only maid for me :
Flora of the Island !
The
brightest Rose that in that rose-bud girly-garden blew,
Her
eyes were quite as diamonds bright and sparkl’d as the dew ;
She
was the finest Rose-bud Freshwater ever knew :
Flora of the Island !
Fair
Flora’s physiognomy the sternest muse might sate ;
With
cam’ra, Mrs Cam’ron oft besought her chaste portrait
(Even
tho’ she could not keep her thumb-prints off the plate)
Of Flora of the Island .
And
Mr Watts the painter too would snare her in his toils,
Would
’tice her to his studio and her likeness craft in oils ;
Had
not her native modesty denied his victor’s spoils,
Mild Flora of the Island !
Each
youth of Vectis pressed his suit on Vectis’ fairest daughter,
For
young men all from far and near in matrimony sought her ;
But
ne’er a one, or rich or poor, in Cupid’s nets had caught her,
Flora of the Island .
These
lads those lips did long for, and they’d flutter and they’d fuss :
‘
One kiss ! one kiss ! o Flora dear, we beg you, grant to us ! ’
But
ev’ry one walked sadly home — he had missed his buss
From Flora of the Island .
But
one among those boys was there that would not be gainsaid,
One
who must needs follow where’er his ardour led,—
One
who knew, in True Love’s ways, his heart must rule his head
O’er Flora of the Island .
Humility
made valiant by love for Vectis’ lily ;
‘
Faint heart fair lady never won, ’ he cried, but still he
Let
‘ I dare not ’ wait upon ‘ I would, ’ — o silly Billy !
Win Flora
of the Island !
So Bill married her we can assume? Can't wait to hear more...
ReplyDeleteHmm... would you expect a happy ending from Tennyson? Enoch Arden or Pedro the Fisherman?
ReplyDelete