 | Poems |  |
48
NUNEHAM.
A FAREWELL.
As one who, wandering weary, faint with pain,
Across some desert plods his irksome way,
While, fierce from heaven, the burning eye of Day
Glares his full fervour on the herbless plain,—
Led by some spirit that guides his pathless feet,
Attains, surprised, some happy spot retired,
Where clustering boughs dispose a cool retreat:
Delicious shade appears!
Whispering of airs the charméd pilgrim hears,
And streams of babbling water, most desired
By fervid lips, make music in his ears;
Sweet thoughts of Peace, by calm content inspired,
Lap the bland soul in still delight, and throw
Th' oblivious veil upon her suffered woe:
As, prone beneath the pines,
Prone on the mossy, cool, umbrageous bank,
The wearied man reclines;
Nor sleeps unvisited by fancies fair
And visions of delight,
Which, uninvoked, his placid dream to grace,
The Genius of the place
Propitious leads before his trancéd sight;
And roused at length, when fall the shades of night,
Preparing sad to take his onward way,
Ere from that magic spot his steps depart,
On the smooth bole, whose branches wide dispread
O'ercanopied his head,
The happy date he carves with rudest art;
Uncouth memorial of one blissful day
Inscribed he leaves upon the graven rind,
Which, void of meaning to the stranger mind,
Well-pleased his eyes with fond regard survey;
And forth, with many a glance behind him sent,
He takes in peace his onward way content.
Across some desert plods his irksome way,
While, fierce from heaven, the burning eye of Day
Glares his full fervour on the herbless plain,—
Led by some spirit that guides his pathless feet,
Attains, surprised, some happy spot retired,
Where clustering boughs dispose a cool retreat:
Delicious shade appears!
Whispering of airs the charméd pilgrim hears,
And streams of babbling water, most desired
By fervid lips, make music in his ears;
Sweet thoughts of Peace, by calm content inspired,
Lap the bland soul in still delight, and throw
Th' oblivious veil upon her suffered woe:
As, prone beneath the pines,
Prone on the mossy, cool, umbrageous bank,
The wearied man reclines;
Nor sleeps unvisited by fancies fair
And visions of delight,
49
The Genius of the place
Propitious leads before his trancéd sight;
And roused at length, when fall the shades of night,
Preparing sad to take his onward way,
Ere from that magic spot his steps depart,
On the smooth bole, whose branches wide dispread
O'ercanopied his head,
The happy date he carves with rudest art;
Uncouth memorial of one blissful day
Inscribed he leaves upon the graven rind,
Which, void of meaning to the stranger mind,
Well-pleased his eyes with fond regard survey;
And forth, with many a glance behind him sent,
He takes in peace his onward way content.
So I, retreating from this blissful scene,
Wherein the enchanting Genius of the place,
Gentle and fair, adorned by every grace,
Reigns of all frolic sports the festive Queen,—
Pause, ere I part, upon this page to trace
My tribute to a happy day declined;
Season to me of joy! wherein the mind,
Sheltered from burning thought and fears that scare
Peace from her threshold, here in peace reclined;
Reclined disburthened of her wonted care,
And, fed by fancies light,
Drained the full measure of unmixed delight,
Whereof these lines the faithful record bear.
Wherein the enchanting Genius of the place,
Gentle and fair, adorned by every grace,
Reigns of all frolic sports the festive Queen,—
Pause, ere I part, upon this page to trace
My tribute to a happy day declined;
Season to me of joy! wherein the mind,
Sheltered from burning thought and fears that scare
Peace from her threshold, here in peace reclined;
Reclined disburthened of her wonted care,
And, fed by fancies light,
50
Whereof these lines the faithful record bear.
To thee—bright Leader of the blithesome throng—
Whose graceful thought our jocund sports inspired,
Whose happy nature lent
Its Mirth to all, and taught this heart content,
Grateful, I dedicate an artless song;
And, passing from thy portal, pause to lay,
Such homage at thy feet as these frail verses may.
Whose graceful thought our jocund sports inspired,
Whose happy nature lent
Its Mirth to all, and taught this heart content,
Grateful, I dedicate an artless song;
And, passing from thy portal, pause to lay,
Such homage at thy feet as these frail verses may.
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