Mary Robinson ( )


Oberon to the Queen of the Fairies


My OBERON, with evry sprite
That gilds the vapours of the night,
Shall dance and weave the verdant ring
With joy that mortals thus can sing; 
And when thou sighst MARIAS name, 
And mournst to feel a hopeless flame, 
Eager theyll catch the tender note
Just parting from thy tuneful throat, 
And bear it to the careless ear 
Of her who scornd a lovers tear.  

- QUEEN OF THE FARIES TO IL FERITO. 


SWEET MAB! at thy command I flew 
Oer glittering floods of midnight dew, 
Oer many a silken violets head, 
Unpressd by vulgar mortal tread; 
Eager to execute thy will, 
I mounted on the ZEPHYRS wing, 
And bid her whispring tongue be still, 
Nor thro the air its murmurs fling. 

Cold CYNTHIA hid her silver bow
Beneath her azure spangled vest;
No gentle ray my wandrings blest, 
Save the small night-worms twinkling glow. 
Upon the budding thorn I found
A veil of gossamer, which bound
My tiny head;about my waist
A scarf of magic powr I threw,
With many a crystal dew-drop gracd,
And deckd with leaves of various hue. 

Thus, gaily dressd, I reachd the grove, 
Where, like the Paphian Queen of Love 
Upon a bank of lillies fair 
MARIA slept; the amrous air 
Snatchd nectar from her balmy lips, 
Sweeter than haughty JUNO sips, 
When GANYMEDE her goblet fills 
With juice, the citron bud distills. 

Her breast was whiter than the down
That on the RING-DOVES bosom grows;
Her cheek, more blushing than the rose
That blooms on FLORAS May-day crown! 
Beneath her dark and fringed lid, 
I spyd LOVES glittering arrows hid; 
I listend to the dulcet song 
That trembled on her tuneful tongue; 
And, IL FERITO i; was the sound 
The babbling echo whisperd round: 
The blissful moment swift I caught, 
And to the maidens slumbring thought 
Picturd the graces of his mind, 
His taste, his eloquence refind! 

His polishd manners sweetly mild! 
His soft poetic warblings wild ! 
His warm impassiond verse, that fills 
The soul with Loves extatic thrills. 
I markd the blush upon her cheek, 
Her spotless bosoms language speak; 
I markd the tear of pity roll, 
Sweet emblem of her feeling soul: 
I heard the sympathetic sigh 
Upon her lips vermilion die. 
When busy LOVE too eager sped 
His light steps near the charmers bed; 
His pinions rustling thro the air 
Awoke the trembling spotless fair; 
Swiftly her radiant eyes unclose, 
When, on my filmy wing I rose 
Sweet MAB the raptrous tale to bear, 
TO IL FERITOS GRATEFUL EAR.



Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. The Widows Home
  2. Sonnet to Evening
  3. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter
  4. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb
  5. Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest


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