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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AN ELEGY, Written in the Year 1751. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
234
AN ELEGY, Written in the Year 1751.
'Tis Night, dead Night,—and now no busy Sound
Is heard along the melancholy Plains,
No Foot beats hollow o'er the vaulted Ground,
But through the World a pensive Stillness reigns:
Is heard along the melancholy Plains,
No Foot beats hollow o'er the vaulted Ground,
But through the World a pensive Stillness reigns:
Lost all the Noise and Hurry of the Day,
A death-like Silence in the Stead remains;
Save that the Nightingale, from yonder Spray,
Pours o'er the Vale her sadly-pleasing Strains:
A death-like Silence in the Stead remains;
Save that the Nightingale, from yonder Spray,
Pours o'er the Vale her sadly-pleasing Strains:
Save that, from out the ivy-wreathed Tower,
The hoarse Owl wings her solitary Flight,
And, shelter'd in the Gloom of yonder Bower,
Tolls the slow Knell of melancholy Night:
The hoarse Owl wings her solitary Flight,
And, shelter'd in the Gloom of yonder Bower,
Tolls the slow Knell of melancholy Night:
Save that the Beasts, which graze on yon blue Hill,
Answer each other, solemn, sad, and slow;
Save the hoarse Chiding of the neighbour Mill,
And the rough Cadence of the Stream below.
Answer each other, solemn, sad, and slow;
Save the hoarse Chiding of the neighbour Mill,
And the rough Cadence of the Stream below.
235
The Moon, fair Regent of the silver Night,
With all the starry Glories in her Train,
Wide o'er the Earth extends her peerless Light,
And spreads her lucid Mantle to the Main.
With all the starry Glories in her Train,
Wide o'er the Earth extends her peerless Light,
And spreads her lucid Mantle to the Main.
Lost in the Effulgence of reflected Day,
Through Heaven's pure azure not a Cloud is seen;
The Trees all glitter in the dancing Ray;
And dapper Elves trip lightly o'er the Green.
Through Heaven's pure azure not a Cloud is seen;
The Trees all glitter in the dancing Ray;
And dapper Elves trip lightly o'er the Green.
Sleep o'er the World her drowzy Poppies strews,
And universal Nature owns her Sway;
The Village-Hind, dissolv'd in soft Repose,
Forgets the Labours, and the Cares of Day.
And universal Nature owns her Sway;
The Village-Hind, dissolv'd in soft Repose,
Forgets the Labours, and the Cares of Day.
All Nature rests—But I no Rest can know;
For Sleep abhors the Mansions of Despair;
“Swift on her downy Pinions flies from Woe,
“And lights on Lids unsullied with a Tear.”
For Sleep abhors the Mansions of Despair;
“Swift on her downy Pinions flies from Woe,
“And lights on Lids unsullied with a Tear.”
To-morrow's Dawn tears all my Joys away;
To-morrow's Dawn Eliza must depart:—
Yet, Reason, yet a little, hold thy Sway,
Swell not my Eye, O burst not yet my Heart!
To-morrow's Dawn Eliza must depart:—
Yet, Reason, yet a little, hold thy Sway,
Swell not my Eye, O burst not yet my Heart!
Think not to cheat me now, as oft before,
With the vain Hope that I may yet be blest:—
O no—I never can be cheated more,
Nor ever more can my torn Soul have Rest!
With the vain Hope that I may yet be blest:—
O no—I never can be cheated more,
Nor ever more can my torn Soul have Rest!
Through Time's dark Womb no distant Joy I see—
No Ray of Hope breaks through the Cloud of Care—
No Hours of Bliss are there reserv'd for me—
“'Tis fix'd—'tis past—'tis absolute Despair!”
No Ray of Hope breaks through the Cloud of Care—
No Hours of Bliss are there reserv'd for me—
“'Tis fix'd—'tis past—'tis absolute Despair!”
236
O Pain to think!—so generous, and so kind,
Joy of each Eye, and every Heart's Desire,
The gentlest Manners, and the noblest Mind,
All female Softness, and all manly Fire—
Joy of each Eye, and every Heart's Desire,
The gentlest Manners, and the noblest Mind,
All female Softness, and all manly Fire—
Yet she is lost!—What now can grateful prove?
All-gracious Heaven, what Equal can be found?—
No other Fair can match my widow'd Love—
Eden is lost—The Rest is common Ground.
All-gracious Heaven, what Equal can be found?—
No other Fair can match my widow'd Love—
Eden is lost—The Rest is common Ground.
Rise, rise, ye Winds! Blow, blow, thou surly East!
To the loud Blast let the wide Forest roar!
Let the Sea swell, and frown a horrid Waste!
And the big Waves burst dreadful on the Shore!
To the loud Blast let the wide Forest roar!
Let the Sea swell, and frown a horrid Waste!
And the big Waves burst dreadful on the Shore!
What have I said?—Alas! had I my Will,
Each ruder Motion of the Waves should cease;
The Storm should rest, each surly Wind be still;
And every Heart—if possible—be Peace.
Each ruder Motion of the Waves should cease;
The Storm should rest, each surly Wind be still;
And every Heart—if possible—be Peace.
Ye guardian Powers (if any Powers there are
Whose watchful Eye o'ersees the Good and Fair)
Protect her still! O guard her from afar!
O make Eliza your peculiar Care!
Whose watchful Eye o'ersees the Good and Fair)
Protect her still! O guard her from afar!
O make Eliza your peculiar Care!
If soft-ey'd Innocence, devoid of Art,
If Modesty can please, if Beauty charms,
If loveliest Manners can engage the Heart,
If Worth demands your Care, if Virtue warms,
If Modesty can please, if Beauty charms,
If loveliest Manners can engage the Heart,
If Worth demands your Care, if Virtue warms,
O guard from all the Dangers of the Seas
The richest Freight that ever Vessel bore!
Let each loud Wind soft sink into a Breeze,
And bid the Thunder of the Storm be o'er!
The richest Freight that ever Vessel bore!
Let each loud Wind soft sink into a Breeze,
And bid the Thunder of the Storm be o'er!
237
Lost to all Joy, though Nought to me remains,
But Melancholy, Frenzy, and Despair;
Though, like a tender Flower o'er-charg'd with Rains,
My Heart bends low beneath a Weight of Care;
But Melancholy, Frenzy, and Despair;
Though, like a tender Flower o'er-charg'd with Rains,
My Heart bends low beneath a Weight of Care;
Still be thou bless'd with all that Heaven can send,
'Till wearied Nature shall her Charge resign!
Lov'd in thy Life, lamented in thy End,
Truth's fair Reward, and Virtue's Prize be thine!
'Till wearied Nature shall her Charge resign!
Lov'd in thy Life, lamented in thy End,
Truth's fair Reward, and Virtue's Prize be thine!
My Prayer is heard:—But, soft!—what Gleam of Light
Gilds yon dun Tower, and dapples all the East?—
To the gray Dawn all hail!—Farewell to Night!
Here, not my Sorrow, but my Muse must rest.
Gilds yon dun Tower, and dapples all the East?—
To the gray Dawn all hail!—Farewell to Night!
Here, not my Sorrow, but my Muse must rest.
| The Shamrock | |