TITANIA TO HER LOVE. Ann Radcliffe (née Ward) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Radcliffe, Ann Ward, 1764-1823. The Poems of Mrs. Ann Radcliffe. London printed by and for J. Smith, Princes Street 1816 pp. 25-28. 118p. [Radcliffe's poems only, pp. 1-95]

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TITANIA TO HER LOVE . O ! fly with me through distant air To isles that gem the western deep ! For laughing Summer revels there , And hangs her wreath on every steep . As through the green transparent sea Light floating on the waves we go , The nymphs shall gaily welcome me , Far in their coral caves below . For oft upon their margin sands , When twilight leads the fresh'ning hours , I come with all my jocund bands To charm them from their sea-green bow'rs . And well they love our sports to view , And on the Ocean's breast to lave ; And oft as we the dance renew , They call up music from the wave . Swift hie we to that splendid clime , Where gay Jamaica spreads her scene , Lifts the blue mountain — wild — sublime ! And smooths her vales of vivid green . Where throned high , in pomp of shade , The Power of Vegetation reigns , Expanding wide , o'er hill and glade , Shrubs of all growth — fruit of all stains : She steals the sun-beam's fervid glow , To paint her flow'rs of mingling hue ; And o'er the grape the purple throw , Breaking from verdant leaves to view . There myrtle bow'rs , and citron grove , O'ercanopy our airy dance ; And there the sea-breeze loves to rove , When trembles day's departing glance . And when the false moon steals away , Or o'er the chasing morn doth rise , Oft , fearless , we our gambols play By the fire-worm's radiant eyes . And suck the honey'd reeds that swell In tufted plumes of silver white ; Or pierce the cocoa's milky cell , To sip the nectar of delight ! And when the shaking thunders roll , And light'nings strike athwart the gloom , We shelter in the cedar's bole , And revel ' mid the rich perfume ! But chief we love beneath the palm , Or verdant plantain's spreading leaf , To hear , upon the midnight calm , Sweet Philomela pour her grief . To mortal sprite such dulcet sound , Such blissful hours , were never known ! O fly with me my airy round , And I will make them all thine own !