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The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

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<strong>The</strong> Salamanca Corpus: <strong>The</strong> <strong>Poetical</strong> <strong>Works</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Miss</strong> <strong>Susanna</strong> <strong>Blamire</strong> (<strong>1842</strong>)<br />

ON COLLINS’S ODE ON THE PASSIONS,<br />

AS RECITED BY MRS ESTEN. 1<br />

BENEATH a sad and silent shade.<br />

Afflicted Poetry was laid;<br />

<strong>The</strong> shepherd train, the virgin choir,<br />

No longer listen d to her lyre;<br />

But, all neglected and alone,<br />

Her feeling and her fire were gone.<br />

No zephyr fondly sued her breast,<br />

No nightingale came there to rest;<br />

<strong>The</strong> faded visions fled her eyes—<br />

<strong>The</strong> visions <strong>of</strong> her ecstasies.<br />

1 Mrs Esten was thought by some to combine in her own person a considerable portion <strong>of</strong> the dignity <strong>of</strong> Mrs<br />

Siddons, with the brilliant gaiety <strong>of</strong> <strong>Miss</strong> Farren. She is still remembered for her admirable recitation <strong>of</strong> the<br />

“Ode on the Passions,” and “Alexander’s Feast.”<br />

[126]<br />

And if perchance she sought delight,<br />

It was amid the gloom <strong>of</strong> night,—<br />

It was the hour the screechowls cry,<br />

Or roaring whirlwinds rend the sky,<br />

To pour her melancholy strain,<br />

And catch a pleasure from the pain.<br />

Esten beheld her haggard air<br />

At twilight as she wander’d there,<br />

And felt the sympathetic woe<br />

That Taste and Feeling ever know;<br />

<strong>The</strong>n eager sought the city’s throng<br />

To vindicate the force <strong>of</strong> song.<br />

She chose an ode divinely wild,<br />

Wrote by the Muses’ favourite child;<br />

From Collins was the magic lay,<br />

That subject Passions all obey:<br />

<strong>The</strong> crowd the varying influence prove<br />

Of Rage, and Hope, and Fear, and Love;<br />

<strong>The</strong>y still implor’d her to rehearse,<br />

And own’d the thrilling power <strong>of</strong> verse!<br />

O thou, sweet Bard! who now mayst be<br />

A shadow fleeting o’er the sea,<br />

A vapour on the morning rose,

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