Montgomery, James, "A Simile, on a Lady's Portrait." in The Bijou; (London: William Pickering , 1828)
   
      
         
            
               The Bijou; 
               or Annual of Literature and the Arts
            
            compiled by William Fraser
            
            
               
                  William Pickering
               
               London
            
            1828
            
               
                  pp. 181-182
               
            
         
      
      
         
             181 
            
               A Simile, on a Lady's Portrait
            
            
               By James Montgomery,
                  Esq.
            
            
               A FOUNTAIN issuing into light,
               Before a marble palace, threw
               To heaven its column, pure and bright,
               Returning thence in showers of dew;—
               But soon a humbler course it took,
               And glid away—a nameless brook.
            
            
            
               Flowers on its grassy margin sprang,
               Flies o'er its eddying surface play'd,
               Birds 'midst the waving branches sang,
               Flocks through the verdant meadows stray'd;
               The weary there lay down to rest,
               And there the halcyon built her nest.
            
            
            
               'Twas beautiful—to stand and watch
               The fountain's crystal turn to gems,
               And such resplendent colours catch,
               As though 'twere raining diadems;
               Yet all was cold and curious art,
               That charm'd the eye, but miss'd the heart!—
            
            
             182 
            
               Dearer to me the little stream,
               Whose unimprison'd waters run,
               Wild as the changes of a dream,
               By rock and glen, through shade and sun;
               Its lovely links have power to bind,
               And whirl away my willing mind.
            
            
            
               So thought I, when I saw the face,
               By happy portraiture reveal'd,
               Of one, adorn'd with every grace;
               Her name and date from me conceal'd,
               But not her story;—she had been
               The pride of many a splendid scene.
            
            
            
               She cast her glory round a court,
               And frolick'd in the gayest ring,
               Where Fashion's high‐born minions sport,
               Like gilded insects on the wing;
               But thence, when love had touch'd her soul,
               To nature and to truth she stole.
            
            
            
               From din, and pageantry, and strife,
               'Midst woods and mountains, vales and plains,
               She treads the paths of lowly life,
               Yet in affection's bosom reigns;
               No fountain scattering diamond‐showers,
               But the sweet streamlet, edged with flowers!