 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
265
PROLOGUE, WRITTEN FOR MRS. HUNTER, AT BIRMINGHAM.
The passage birds, when Winter's surly powers
Strips modest Nature and unrobes her flowers,
Are forc'd by fate to leave their fav'rite shore,
Or sleep immur'd till all the storms are o'er;
But soon as Spring her rosy bloom displays,
And in green mantle thro' the meadow strays,
The twittering songsters hail their season nigh,
And bless the coming of a genial sky;
In feather'd troops on joyous wings they speed
And all their little hopes at last succeed:
Their household gods near every roof appear
With all the blessings of the former year,
Their ancient chimnies, nests securely hung
Close to the friendly wall where grew their young.
The well remember'd tiles too where they sate
In playful circles, or in deep debate,
Of all they take possession, grief is past
And revel Summer smiles consent at last.
Strips modest Nature and unrobes her flowers,
Are forc'd by fate to leave their fav'rite shore,
Or sleep immur'd till all the storms are o'er;
But soon as Spring her rosy bloom displays,
And in green mantle thro' the meadow strays,
The twittering songsters hail their season nigh,
And bless the coming of a genial sky;
In feather'd troops on joyous wings they speed
And all their little hopes at last succeed:
Their household gods near every roof appear
With all the blessings of the former year,
Their ancient chimnies, nests securely hung
Close to the friendly wall where grew their young.
The well remember'd tiles too where they sate
In playful circles, or in deep debate,
266
And revel Summer smiles consent at last.
Thus I long absent, my returning greet,
And hail with reverence this my lov'd retreat,
My heart confesses—scarce without a tear,
The varied favours often granted here.
Candour that smil'd on each attempt to please,
And kind Applause which set that heart at ease.
Here, like the passage bird, well pleas'd I come,
Sport in your sunshine and avow my home,
Around, above, beneath, again I see,
Whate'er can set the flutt'ring spirits free.
In every eye my Summer shines confess'd,
And Fame's fair garland by your hands is dress'd.
Bless'd be the wreathe, and doubly blest the spot,
Where beauties thrive and errors are forgot,
Where smallest flowers are nurs'd with tend'rest care
Feel a rich soil, and prove the mildest air!
And hail with reverence this my lov'd retreat,
My heart confesses—scarce without a tear,
The varied favours often granted here.
Candour that smil'd on each attempt to please,
And kind Applause which set that heart at ease.
Here, like the passage bird, well pleas'd I come,
Sport in your sunshine and avow my home,
Around, above, beneath, again I see,
Whate'er can set the flutt'ring spirits free.
In every eye my Summer shines confess'd,
And Fame's fair garland by your hands is dress'd.
Bless'd be the wreathe, and doubly blest the spot,
Where beauties thrive and errors are forgot,
Where smallest flowers are nurs'd with tend'rest care
Feel a rich soil, and prove the mildest air!
| Miscellanies (1785) | |