The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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| I. | ELEGY I.
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| II. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
ELEGY I.
['Tis Night, dead Night; and o'er the Plain]
'Tis Night, dead Night; and o'er the Plain
Darkness extends her ebon Ray,
While wide along the gloomy Scene
Deep Silence holds her solemn Sway:
Darkness extends her ebon Ray,
While wide along the gloomy Scene
Deep Silence holds her solemn Sway:
Throughout the Earth no chearful Beam
The melancholic Eye surveys,
Save where the Worm's fantastic Gleam
The 'nighted Traveller betrays;
The melancholic Eye surveys,
Save where the Worm's fantastic Gleam
The 'nighted Traveller betrays;
170
The savage Race (so Heaven decrees)
No longer through the Forest rove;
All Nature rests, and not a Breeze
Disturbs the Stillness of the Grove:
No longer through the Forest rove;
All Nature rests, and not a Breeze
Disturbs the Stillness of the Grove:
All Nature rests; in Sleep's soft Arms
The Village Swain forgets his Care:
Sleep, that the Sting of Sorrow charms,
And heals all Sadness, but Despair:
The Village Swain forgets his Care:
Sleep, that the Sting of Sorrow charms,
And heals all Sadness, but Despair:
Despair, alone, her Power denies;
And, when the Sun withdraws his Rays,
To the wild Beach, distracted, flies,
Or, chearless, through the Desart strays.
And, when the Sun withdraws his Rays,
To the wild Beach, distracted, flies,
Or, chearless, through the Desart strays.
Or, to the Church-yard's Horrors led,
While fearful Echoes burst around,
On some cold Stone he leans his Head,
Or throws his Body on the Ground.
While fearful Echoes burst around,
On some cold Stone he leans his Head,
Or throws his Body on the Ground.
To some such drear and solemn Scene,
Some friendly Power direct my Way,
Where pale Misfortune's haggard Train,
Sad Luxury! delight to stray:
Some friendly Power direct my Way,
Where pale Misfortune's haggard Train,
Sad Luxury! delight to stray:
Wrapp'd in the solitary Gloom,
Retir'd from Life's fantastic Crew,
Resign'd I 'll wait my final Doom,
And bid the busy World adieu.
Retir'd from Life's fantastic Crew,
Resign'd I 'll wait my final Doom,
And bid the busy World adieu.
The World has, now, no Joy for me;
Nor can Life now one Pleasure boast;
Since all my Eyes desir'd to see,
My Wish, my Hope, my All, is lost;
Nor can Life now one Pleasure boast;
Since all my Eyes desir'd to see,
My Wish, my Hope, my All, is lost;
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Since she, so form'd to please, and bless,
So wise, so innocent, so fair,
Whose Converse sweet made Sorrow less,
And brighten'd all the Gloom of Care,
So wise, so innocent, so fair,
Whose Converse sweet made Sorrow less,
And brighten'd all the Gloom of Care,
Since she is lost:—Ye Powers divine!
What have I done, or thought, or said?
O say! what horrid Act of mine,
Has drawn this Vengeance on my Head?
What have I done, or thought, or said?
O say! what horrid Act of mine,
Has drawn this Vengeance on my Head?
Why should Heaven favour Lycon's Claim?
Why are my Heart's best Wishes crost?
What fairer Deeds adorn his Name?
What nobler Merit can he boast?
Why are my Heart's best Wishes crost?
What fairer Deeds adorn his Name?
What nobler Merit can he boast?
What higher Worth in him was found,
My true Heart's Service to outweigh?
A senseless Fop!—a dull Compound
Of scarcely animated Clay!
My true Heart's Service to outweigh?
A senseless Fop!—a dull Compound
Of scarcely animated Clay!
He dress'd, indeed, he danc'd with Ease,
And charm'd her, by repeating o'er
Unmeaning Raptures in her Praise,
That twenty Fools had said before:
And charm'd her, by repeating o'er
Unmeaning Raptures in her Praise,
That twenty Fools had said before:
But I, alas! who thought all Art
My Passion's Force would meanly prove,
Could only boast an honest Heart,
And claim'd no Merit but my Love.
My Passion's Force would meanly prove,
Could only boast an honest Heart,
And claim'd no Merit but my Love.
Have I not sate—Ye conscious Hours
Be Witness—while my Stella sung,
From Morn to Eve, with all my Powers
Rapt in the Enchantment of her Tongue!
Be Witness—while my Stella sung,
From Morn to Eve, with all my Powers
Rapt in the Enchantment of her Tongue!
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Ye conscious Hours, that saw me stand,
Entranc'd in Wonder, and Surprize,
In silent Rapture press her Hand,
With Passion bursting from my Eyes,
Entranc'd in Wonder, and Surprize,
In silent Rapture press her Hand,
With Passion bursting from my Eyes,
Have I not lov'd?—O Earth, and Heaven!
Where, now, is all my youthful Boast?
The dear Exchange I hop'd was given
For slighted Fame, and Fortune lost!
Where, now, is all my youthful Boast?
The dear Exchange I hop'd was given
For slighted Fame, and Fortune lost!
Where, now, the Joys that once were mine?
Where all my Hopes of future Bliss?
Must I those Joys, these Hopes resign?
Is all her Friendship come to this?
Where all my Hopes of future Bliss?
Must I those Joys, these Hopes resign?
Is all her Friendship come to this?
Must, then, each Woman faithless prove;
And each fond Lover be undone?
Are Vows no more!—Almighty Love!
The sad Remembrance let me shun!
And each fond Lover be undone?
Are Vows no more!—Almighty Love!
The sad Remembrance let me shun!
It will not be—my honest Heart
The dear, sad Image still retains;
And, spight of Reason, spight of Art,
The dreadful Memory remains.
The dear, sad Image still retains;
And, spight of Reason, spight of Art,
The dreadful Memory remains.
Ye Powers divine, whose wonderous Skill
Deep in the Womb of Time can see,
Behold, I bend me to your Will,
Nor dare arraign your high Decree!
Deep in the Womb of Time can see,
Behold, I bend me to your Will,
Nor dare arraign your high Decree!
Let her be bless'd with Health, with Ease,
With all your Bounty has in Store;
Let Sorrow cloud my future Days,
Be Stella bless'd!—I ask no more.
With all your Bounty has in Store;
Let Sorrow cloud my future Days,
Be Stella bless'd!—I ask no more.
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But lo! where, high in yonder East,
The Star of Morning mounts apace!
Hence—let me fly the unwelcome Guest,
And bid the Muse's Labour cease.
The Star of Morning mounts apace!
Hence—let me fly the unwelcome Guest,
And bid the Muse's Labour cease.
| The Shamrock | |