The Poetical Works of John Langhorne :: :: University of Virginia Library

Bright o'er the green hills rose the morning ray,
The wood-lark's song resounded on the plain;
Fair Nature felt the warm embrace of day,
And smil'd thro' all her animated reign.

When young Delight, of Hope and Fancy born,
His head on tufted wild thyme half-reclin'd,
Caught the gay colours of the orient morn,
And thence of life this picture vain design'd.

“O born to thoughts, to pleasures more sublime
“Than beings of inferior nature prove!
“To triumph in the golden hours of Time,
“And feel the charms of fancy and of love!

“High-favour'd man! for him unfolding fair
“In orient light this native landscape smiles;
“For him sweet Hope disarms the hand of care,
“Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles.

“Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring,
“Breathes not a gale along the bending mead,
“Trills not a songster of the soaring wing,
“But fragrance, health, and melody succeed.

“O let me still with simple Nature live,
“My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay,
“Enjoy the blessings that she meant to give,
“And calmly waste my inoffensive day!

“No titled name, no envy-teasing dome,
“No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave;
“So Health and Peace be near my humble home,
“A cool stream murmur, and a green tree wave.

“So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain
“At Eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring;
“The muse of pity wake her soothing strain,
“And tune to sympathy the trembling string.

“Thus glide the pensive moments, o'er the vale
“While floating shades of dusky night descend:
“Not left untold the lover's tender tale,
“Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend.

“To love and friendship flow the social bowl!
“To attic wit and elegance of mind;
“To all the native beauties of the soul,
“The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd.

“Then to explore whatever ancient sage
“Studious from Nature's early volume drew,
“To chase sweet Fiction thro' her golden age,
“And mark how fair the sun-flower, Science, blew!

“Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire,
“Hesperian fancy, or Aonian ease;
“Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre,
“Some strain that Love and Phœbus taught to please.

“When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's head,
“Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray;
“Carelessly wander from my sylvan shed,
“And catch the sweet breath of the rising day.

“Nor seldom, loitering as I muse along,
“Mark from what flower the breeze its sweetness bore;
“Or listen to the labour-soothing song
“Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er.

“Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow,
“The green height gain'd, in museful rapture lie,
“Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,
“Or look on Nature with a lover's eye.

“Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow;
“Led by fair Fancy round the varied year:
“So shall my breast with native raptures glow,
“Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear.

“Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,
“Nor vainly wander from their dictates sage:
“So Joy shall triumph on the brows of youth,
“So Hope shall smooth the dreary paths of age.”