Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Come, nurse of thought, with brow serene,
Who, as the sun's gay light expires,
Art wont to wake the nightly fires,
Skirting with shadowy forms the fading scene,
I woo thee, modest Eve, ere yet yon sun
The last faint beam on ocean shed,
Reclines to rest his radiant head,
Slow sinking in the west, his course accustomed run.

II

Now wandering down this hollow glade,
Museful I watch the purpling skies,
As doubtful tints alternate rise,
Till the last blushes mellow into shade.

Then beaming meek with silvery light,
Faithful attendant on the circling year,
Various of form, shines forth the lunar sphere,
Claiming her ancient rule, The Queen Supreme of Night.

III

Yon owl, that to her mate complains,
Those sounds, low murmuring through the dale,
That music, dying on the gale,
Might suit the plaintive heart, might wake soul-soothing strains:
Or Love's sweet exstacies, and pleasing cares,
The sports of youth, and health-invigor'd feats,
That court the shady green retreats,
Might raise joy-breathing songs, and soft melodious airs.

IV

Now where the rock, with awful frown,
O'erhangs the flood, in pensive mind,
Like musing hermit, low-reclin'd,
Pillow'd on rugged bed I lay me down.

Ah! thus poor Elena thus nightly sleeps,
Praying the moss-cloth'd shed, or time-worn cave
From the rude storm her tottering limbs to save,
Thus dreams and wakes, then thinks and starts and weeps.

V

Oh! still, fair Eve, thy stay prolong,
Ere night enwrap the changing scene,
Ere sleeps the sport-encircled green,
Oh! let thy softness steal into my song!
So love-warm'd youths, and virgins ever gay,
Who yet estrang'd from sickly care,
Ask not the sadly plaintive air,
Midst many a pensive strain might cull one pleasing lay.

VI

Or, if, perchance, yon church-yard drear,
Where slowly tolls the passing bell,
And seems in lengthened notes to tell
The fate of hapless youth, might claim a tear,

Lindseys might read the sober melting lay;
For they unchanging, and too good to grieve,
Serene, as the last tint of gentle Eve,
May see the sun decline, nor dread the close of day.

VII

For if, when life's fair scenes decline,
Nor sun's bright orb, nor sacred beam
Of moon, nor verdant hill, nor sea, nor stream,
Nor earth, nor heav'n, to man again may shine,
Still Goodness, like the purpling ray,
Updarting from the downward sun,
When his diurnal course is run,
Leaves light behind, that may not soon decay.

VIII

But, when this world shall disappear,
If fairer worlds shine out above,
Where all is light, and all is love,
Where laughs the golden sun the livelong year;
Then Virtue, tho' quick-footed Time
Run out in trackless path his feeble thread,
Shall to those worlds pursue her steadier tread;
New life shall there begin, and bless a fairer clime.

The respected friend of Dr Priestley.

An injured, unfortunate character alluded to in the Complaints of the Poor People of Enoland.