Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition |
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The Invitation.
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106
The Invitation.
To Stella.
July, 1789.
Say, Stella, wilt thou rove with me,
Far from the cheerful native scene,
From smiling hill and valley flee,
From harvest fields and pasture green?
From these could'st thou contented range
The city's bustling cares to prove?
All, all these tranquil joys exchange—
The sole return thy Damon's love?
Far from the cheerful native scene,
From smiling hill and valley flee,
From harvest fields and pasture green?
From these could'st thou contented range
The city's bustling cares to prove?
All, all these tranquil joys exchange—
The sole return thy Damon's love?
Yet hear me love, ere thou reply,
A youth that scorns deception hear;
No wealth is mine, the heart to buy;
My cot is poor; my fate severe:
Nor may'st thou look for pomp and shew,
Or hope in Pleasure's train to move.
Say, wilt thou, then, these joys forego?—
The sole return thy Damon's love!
A youth that scorns deception hear;
No wealth is mine, the heart to buy;
My cot is poor; my fate severe:
Nor may'st thou look for pomp and shew,
Or hope in Pleasure's train to move.
Say, wilt thou, then, these joys forego?—
The sole return thy Damon's love!
Ah, think, what pain 'twill be to view
The splendid city's gay parade,
The festive dance, the public shew,
The costly dress with pride display'd—
These, these to view; yet ne'er to share—
Ah! would not this thy patience move?
All, all these trials couldst thou bear?—
The sole reward thy Damon's love.
The splendid city's gay parade,
The festive dance, the public shew,
The costly dress with pride display'd—
These, these to view; yet ne'er to share—
Ah! would not this thy patience move?
All, all these trials couldst thou bear?—
The sole reward thy Damon's love.
107
If so, my Stella, come with me,
And quit the cheerful native scene;
From smiling hill and valley flee,
From harvest fields, and pasture green.
And if thou heav'st a parting sigh,
My bosom shall responsive move;
Or shouldst thou weep, my tearful eye
Shall well assure thy Damon's love.
And quit the cheerful native scene;
From smiling hill and valley flee,
From harvest fields, and pasture green.
And if thou heav'st a parting sigh,
My bosom shall responsive move;
Or shouldst thou weep, my tearful eye
Shall well assure thy Damon's love.
Yet, think my Stella, could'st thou bear
To drudge those charms in ceaseless toil
While other forms, less sweetly fair,
In idle pomp around Thee smile.
And when Mischance, or frowning Care
My hasty ruffled temper move—
Say, can'st thou from reproach forbear,
And rest assur'd of Damon's love.
To drudge those charms in ceaseless toil
While other forms, less sweetly fair,
In idle pomp around Thee smile.
And when Mischance, or frowning Care
My hasty ruffled temper move—
Say, can'st thou from reproach forbear,
And rest assur'd of Damon's love.
If so, my Stella, come with me,
Far from these rural scenes to stray:
No youth more blest, more fond shall be,
And none a truer heart display.
For pride or gold let others wed,
In scenes of noisy pomp to move;
While we, by pure affection led,
Will seek for nought but mutual love.
Far from these rural scenes to stray:
No youth more blest, more fond shall be,
And none a truer heart display.
For pride or gold let others wed,
In scenes of noisy pomp to move;
While we, by pure affection led,
Will seek for nought but mutual love.
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