THE BUTTER-FLY TO HIS 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. 73-77. 118p. [Radcliffe's poems only, pp. 1-95]

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THE BUTTER-FLY TO HIS LOVE . What bow'ry dell , with fragrant breath , Courts thee to stay thy airy flight ; Nor seek again the purple heath , So oft the scene of gay delight ? Long watch'd I in the lily's bell , Whose whiteness stole the morning's beam ; No fluttering sounds thy coming tell , No waving wings , at distance , gleam . But fountain fresh , nor breathing grove , Nor sunny mead , nor blossom'd tree , So sweet as lily's cell shall prove , — The bower of constant love and me . When April buds begin to blow , The primrose , and the hare-bell blue , That on the verdant moss bank grow , With violet cups , that weep in dew ; When wanton gales breathe through the shade , And shake the blooms , and steal their sweets , And swell the song of ev'ry glade , I range the forest's green retreats : There , through the tangled wood-walks play , Where no rude urchin paces near , Where scarcely peeps the sultry day , And light dews freshen all the air . High on a sun-beam oft I sport O'er bower and fountain , vale and hill ; Oft ev'ry blushing flow'ret court , That hangs its head o'er winding rill . But these I'll leave to be thy guide , And shew thee , where the jasmine spreads Her snowy leaf , where may-flow'rs hide , And rose-buds rear their peeping heads . With me the mountain's summit scale , And taste the wild-thyme's honied bloom , Whose fragrance , floating on the gale , Oft leads me to the cedar's gloom . Yet , yet , no sound comes in the breeze ! What shade thus dares to tempt thy stay ? Once , me alone thou wish'd to please , And with me only thou wouldst stray . But , while thy long delay I mourn , And chide the sweet shades for their guile , Thou may'st be true , and they forlorn , And fairy favours court thy smile . The tiny queen of fairy-land , Who knows thy speed , hath sent thee far , To bring , or ere the night-watch stand , Rich essence for her shadowy car : Perchance her acorn-cups to fill With nectar from the Indian rose , Or gather , near some haunted rill , May-dews , that lull to sleep Love's woes : Or o'er the mountains , bade thee fly , To tell her fairy love to speed , When ev'ning steals upon the sky , To dance along the twilight mead . But now I see thee sailing low , Gay as the brightest flow'rs of spring , Thy coat of blue and jet I know , And well thy gold and purple wing . Borne on the gale , thou com'st to me ; O ! welcome , welcome to my home ! In lily's cell we'll live in glee , Together o'er the mountains roam !