| | Elegiac sonnets. Volume 2 of 2
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| TO THE INSECT OF THE GOSSAMER. |
SMALL, viewless ronaut, that by the line [Note:] SONNET LXXVII.
Line 1.
Small viewless ronaut, &c. &c.
The almost imperceptible threads floating in the air, towards the end of Summer or Autumn, in a still evening, sometimes are so numerous as to be felt on the face and hands. It is on these that a minute species of spider convey themselves from place to place; sometimes rising with the wind to a great height in the air. Dr. Lister, among other naturalists, remarked these insects. "To fly they cannot strictly be said, they being
"carried into the air by external force; but they can,
"in case the wind suffer them, steer their course, perhaps
"mount and descend at pleasure: and to the
"purpose of rowing themselves along in the air, it is
"observable that they ever take their flight backwards,
"that is, their head looking a contrary way like a sculler
"upon the Thames. It is scarcely credible to what
"height they will mount; which is yet precisely true,
"and a thing easily to be observed by one that shall
"fix his eye some time on any part of the heavens,
"the white web, at a vast distance, very distinctly
"appearing from the azure sky — But this is in Autumn
"only, and that in very fair and calm weather."
From the Encyclop. Britan.
Dr. Darwin, whose imagination so happily applies every object of Natural History to the purposes of Poetry, makes the Goddess of Botany thus direct her Sylphs —
"Thin clouds of Gossamer in air display,
"And hide the vale's chaste lily from the ray."
These filmy threads form a part of the equipage of Mab:
"Her waggon spokes are made of spiders legs,
"The cover of the winds of grasshoppers,
"The traces of the smallest spider's web."
Juliet, too, in anxiously waiting for the silent arrival of her lover, exclaims,
— Oh! so light of foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may bestride the Gossamer
That idles in the wanton Summer air,
And yet not fall —
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Of Gossamer suspended, in mid air
Float'st on a sun beam — Living Atom, where
Ends thy breeze-guided voyage; — with what design
In ther dost thou launch they form minute,
Mocking the eye? — Alas! before the veil
Of denser clouds shall hide thee, the pursuit
Of the keen Swift may end thy fairy sail! —
Thus on the golden thread that Fancy weaves
Bouyant, as Hope's illusive flattery breathes,
The young and visionary Poet leaves
Life's dull realities, while sevenfold wreaths
Of rainbow-light around his head revolve.
Ah! soon at Sorrow's touch the radiant dreams dissolve!
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