The works, in verse and prose, of William Shenstone, Esq In two volumes. With Decorations. The fourth edition |
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| II. |
 | The works, in verse and prose, of William Shenstone, Esq |  |
328
VERSES by Mr. Dodsley, on his first arrival at the LEASOWES, 1754.
“How shall I fix my wandering eye? Where find
“The source of this enchantment? Dwells it in
“The woods? or waves there not a magic wand
“O'er the translucent waters? Sure, unseen,
“Some favoring power directs the happy lines
“That sketch these beauties; swells the rising hills,
“And scoops the dales, to Nature's finest forms,
“Vague, undetermin'd, infinite; untaught
“By line or compass, yet supremely fair.”
So spake Philenor, as with raptur'd gaze
He travers'd Damon's farm. From distant plains
He sought his friend's abode: nor had the fame
Of that new-form'd Arcadia reach'd his ear.
“The source of this enchantment? Dwells it in
“The woods? or waves there not a magic wand
“O'er the translucent waters? Sure, unseen,
“Some favoring power directs the happy lines
“That sketch these beauties; swells the rising hills,
“And scoops the dales, to Nature's finest forms,
“Vague, undetermin'd, infinite; untaught
“By line or compass, yet supremely fair.”
So spake Philenor, as with raptur'd gaze
He travers'd Damon's farm. From distant plains
He sought his friend's abode: nor had the fame
Of that new-form'd Arcadia reach'd his ear.
And thus the swain, as o'er each hill and dale,
Thro' lawn or thicket he pursu'd his way:
“What is it gilds the verdure of these meads
“With hues more bright than fancy paints the flowers
“Of Paradise? What Naïad's guiding hand
“Leads, thro' the broider'd vale, these lucid rills,
“That, murmuring as they flow, bear melody
“Along their banks; and thro' the vocal shades,
“Improve the music of the woodland choir?
“What pensive Dryad rais'd yon solemn grove,
“Where minds contemplative, at close of day
“Retiring, muse o'er Nature's various works,
“Her wonders venerate, or her sweets enjoy—
“What room for doubt? Some rural deity,
“Presiding, scatters o'er th'unequal lawns,
“In beauteous wildness, yon fair-spreading trees;
“And mingling woods and waters, hills and dales,
“And herds and bleating flocks, domestic fowl,
“And those that swim the lake, sees rising round
“More pleasing landskips than in Tempe's vale
“Penéus water'd. Yes, some sylvan god
“Spreads wide the varied prospect; waves the woods,
“Lifts the proud hills, and clears the shining lakes;
“While, from the congregated waters pour'd,
“The bursting torrent tumbles down the steep
“In foaming fury; fierce, irregular,
“Wild, interrupted, cross'd with rocks and roots
“And interwoven trees; till, soon absorb'd,
“An opening cavern all it's rage entombs.
“So vanish human glories! Such the pomp
“Of swelling warriours, of ambitious kings,
“Who fret and strut their hour upon the stage
“Of busy life, and then are heard no more!
Thro' lawn or thicket he pursu'd his way:
“What is it gilds the verdure of these meads
“With hues more bright than fancy paints the flowers
“Of Paradise? What Naïad's guiding hand
“Leads, thro' the broider'd vale, these lucid rills,
“That, murmuring as they flow, bear melody
“Along their banks; and thro' the vocal shades,
“Improve the music of the woodland choir?
“What pensive Dryad rais'd yon solemn grove,
“Where minds contemplative, at close of day
“Retiring, muse o'er Nature's various works,
329
“What room for doubt? Some rural deity,
“Presiding, scatters o'er th'unequal lawns,
“In beauteous wildness, yon fair-spreading trees;
“And mingling woods and waters, hills and dales,
“And herds and bleating flocks, domestic fowl,
“And those that swim the lake, sees rising round
“More pleasing landskips than in Tempe's vale
“Penéus water'd. Yes, some sylvan god
“Spreads wide the varied prospect; waves the woods,
“Lifts the proud hills, and clears the shining lakes;
“While, from the congregated waters pour'd,
“The bursting torrent tumbles down the steep
“In foaming fury; fierce, irregular,
“Wild, interrupted, cross'd with rocks and roots
“And interwoven trees; till, soon absorb'd,
“An opening cavern all it's rage entombs.
“So vanish human glories! Such the pomp
“Of swelling warriours, of ambitious kings,
“Who fret and strut their hour upon the stage
“Of busy life, and then are heard no more!
“Yes, 'tis enchantment all—And see, the spells,
“The powerful incantations, magic verse,
“Inscrib'd on every tree, alcove, or urn.—
“Spells!—Incantations!—ah, my tuneful friend!
“Thine are the numbers! thine the wond'rous work!—
“Yes, great magician! now I read thee right,
“And lightly weigh all sorcery, but Thine.
“No Naïad's leading step conducts the rill;
“Nor sylvan god presiding skirts the lawn
“In beauteous wildness, with fair-spreading trees;
“Nor magic wand has circumscrib'd the scene.
“'Tis thine own taste, thy genius that presides,
“Nor needs there other deity, nor needs
“More potent spells than they.”—No more the swain,
For lo, his Damon, o'er the tufted lawn
Advancing, leads him to the social dome.
“The powerful incantations, magic verse,
“Inscrib'd on every tree, alcove, or urn.—
“Spells!—Incantations!—ah, my tuneful friend!
“Thine are the numbers! thine the wond'rous work!—
“Yes, great magician! now I read thee right,
“And lightly weigh all sorcery, but Thine.
“No Naïad's leading step conducts the rill;
330
“In beauteous wildness, with fair-spreading trees;
“Nor magic wand has circumscrib'd the scene.
“'Tis thine own taste, thy genius that presides,
“Nor needs there other deity, nor needs
“More potent spells than they.”—No more the swain,
For lo, his Damon, o'er the tufted lawn
Advancing, leads him to the social dome.
| The works, in verse and prose, of William Shenstone, Esq | |