Ode to the Duke of Wellington, and other poems by Robert Charles Dallas ... Written between the ages of eleven and thirteen years |
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VERSES ON SPRING. |
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 | Ode to the Duke of Wellington, and other poems |  |
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VERSES ON SPRING.
By R. C. D.—Æt. 13.
------ Zephyris et hirundine primâ.
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ENGLISH VERSION. By. R. C. D.
Hush'd is the storm, no more great Jove on high
Hurls the white flakes in torrents from the sky:
No sullen clouds, fast gath'ring to the gale,
On earth's torn vineyards pour their hurtling hail:
Each silver stream now owns the God of day,
As icy mountains thaw beneath his ray:
No more rude Boreas sweeps the wat'ry plain,
And fraught with vengeance tears the roaring main:
Soft blows the gale; the raging billows cease;
And toil-spent seamen reach their port in peace:
Sweet soothing zephyrs gently kiss the trees;
And flow'ry Spring comes smiling in the breeze.
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As leaf-crown'd forests seem to scale the skies.
Each grassy plain bedeck'd with silv'ry dew,
Bids the bright sun reflect its sparkling hue:
While each white branch proclaims the plenty near,
And budding blossoms glad the dawning year.
Perch'd on some bough, 'mid night's encircling shade,
Sweet Philomela, warbling through the glade,
Tunes her sad strain to Pity's plaintive tale,
While list'ning zephyrs hover in the gale.
Hark! from each rock, each cave, and woody dell,
Yon buzzing swarms now quit their lonely cell:
Wide through the air on flutt'ring wing they fly;
Their burnish'd squadrons glitter from on high:
At morning's dawn, mid day's meridian glare,
At twilight gloom they court the genial air:
From fragrant blossoms sip the yellow spoil;
All share the booty, and all share the toil;
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Bids peace and plenty crown the gladden'd hoard
See rose-clad Flora wakes her joyous train:
Her blushing beauties deck th' enamell'd plain:
While smiling visions seek the genial ground,
And airy Graces twine their mazy round.
Now rosy maidens rise at early dawn,
When each light gale spreads perfume on the morn:
Where the bright bud of Beauty's Goddess blows,
With snow-white hand they clip the mossy rose:
Next fragrant parsley blends its leaves between,
To deck their garland with a chequer'd green:
And the fair flow'ret clad in blushing blue
Rears her soft head with smiles of varied hue:
While pale Narcissus lends its beauteous bloom,
Sad, sweet, memorial of an Hero's doom!
Elate with beauty see the playful lamb
Now sports exulting round his bleating dam;
High leaps in air, and seeks the verdant ground
Where all his fleecy playmates graze around;
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Its silver waves meand'ring as it flows,
In sportive plunges laves his snowy side,
The Maiden's fav'rite, and the Shepherd's pride.
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