To William Ginty   (Jul. 12th, 1843)

Preston

My Dear Ginty

In my last but one¹ I promised to revert to yours preceeding² at what was then a future time that time has become the present and I now lift my pen to redeem my pledge. the following was suggested by the convictions that appear, to exist between the lovers of your song and the idea of Ellen³ – accordingly as the clothing of her idea if strewn less or more as on your page in the same proportion does your song lose or gain in power – when she fills it you’re overpowering – of this enough

The aerial phantazies of youth

Robed in their own bright loveliness –

The visions clothed with seeming truth

Now melted into nothingness! –

Aye, all are vanished – yet not so

Behind the evanescent throng

There lingers still a holy glow –

A beam which ‘gilds thy every song’!

Whence comes it? – does the scented gale

From distant Kirkby bear the prize?

Or does the heav’nly brightness dwell

In ‘lovely Mary’s’⁴ diamond eyes? –

Ah! no – it shines upon the breast

Of every billow wild and high

Which rears aloft its foamy crest,

Rebellious to the darkened sky –

It smiles, where ripples gently lave

Each barque that spreads her snowy sail

On every rock – on every wave

Between ‘New Babel’⁵ and Kinsale!

Yes – there its nucleus dwells, to bless

Thy morning thought – thy midnight sigh

There clusters too ‘the raven tress’

There radiates the lustrous eye –

The clouds of care may gloom and lour

In darkling masses round thy breast,

There is a ray of magic power –

As glorious sunbeam from the West!

Which calls to life thy buried love –

That ‘cup of sweets’ without alloy

And like a spirit from above

Gives vigour to the pulse of joy! –

^*Oh! there are ideas which dart –

Like meteors thro’ the midnight air

A gleam of glory thro’ the heart

Where waved the banner of despair!

Visions of bliss untasted roll

Before the visionary ken⁶ –

Destroy the canker of the soul

And bid the mourner smile again.

I know I touch a speaking string –

A string which quivers in thy core

And sounds responsive while I sing

Of days which shall return no more –

_________________________________

^*‘oh! there are looks & tones which dart

An instant sunshine thro the heart’ | Byron⁷

of whom? oh! God of poesy

My log should smoke and blaze and flame

And consecrations from on high

should sparkle round her sacred name!

of whom? – of Ellen – oh! I find

My swelling bosom’s deep devotion

Unutterable – while my mind

Is crushed by mountains of emotion!

Not so with you – you grasp the lyre

And shake from it the dust of slumber

From her you catch the heavenly fire

And unholy wake the burning number!

I love to con⁸ the glowing line

Where Ginty’s restless spirit revels

And flings with fervours quite sublime

The fury of a dozen devils! –

I love to ponder o’er the lay

Where Ginty’s muse does gentler duty

To wing his spirit quite away

Before the shrine of ‘Mary’s’ beauty

But oh! a deeper – holier spell

Like music thro’ the moonbeams streaming

Is riven thro’ the fervid swell

And from the leader one is gleaming

When thoughts of lovely Ellen raise

The murmurs of this melting stream

And all ‘the light of other days’

Around thy stanza smiles again!

Farewell thou bright ideal ray –

Which lent to life its happiest hue –

Thou gleam of heaven’s own halcyon day⁹

Angelic hope – adieu! – adieu! –

oh give to him thy sunny smile –

I claim it not – that thought is flown

Upon my harp I lean the while

Its last sad twinkle dies – tis gone!!

RI MS JT/8/2/1/24–5