The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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Augusta's Complaint to her Thames.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
Augusta's Complaint to her Thames.
Near the soft solitudes of Hampton's plain,
Where the moist banks perpetual spring maintain;
The gentle Thames has form'd a deep'ning bay,
Where sportful streams, in wanton whirlpools, play:
In this sweet place, the clouds no terrors wear;
Here, no bold tempests discompose the air:
No ruffling billows, here, assault the shore,
Nor wint'ry floods, with swell'd ambition, roar;
But all serene, and calm, is form'd to please,
And the smooth stream reflects the bord'ring trees.
Hither no winds, but zephyrous breaths repair,
Soft, as the sighs of love-sick virgins are!
Here, safety reigns, and, on the silent brink,
Cud-chewing cattle watch their fleeting drink:
While fishes, conscious of no foes to shun,
Turn up their scaly noses to the sun.
Where the moist banks perpetual spring maintain;
The gentle Thames has form'd a deep'ning bay,
Where sportful streams, in wanton whirlpools, play:
In this sweet place, the clouds no terrors wear;
Here, no bold tempests discompose the air:
No ruffling billows, here, assault the shore,
Nor wint'ry floods, with swell'd ambition, roar;
But all serene, and calm, is form'd to please,
And the smooth stream reflects the bord'ring trees.
Hither no winds, but zephyrous breaths repair,
Soft, as the sighs of love-sick virgins are!
Here, safety reigns, and, on the silent brink,
Cud-chewing cattle watch their fleeting drink:
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Turn up their scaly noses to the sun.
Here, sick with grief, which Anna's absence bred,
Augusta's genius hid her mournful head:
And, with low accents, speaking inward pains,
Thus, to the gliding river, she complains:
When, gentle stream, to shun the briny tide,
Anon, thy sea-met waves shall, backward, glide;
Then, gentle stream, be kind, one moment stay!
And, on thy surface, bear my sighs away:
Tell the great mistress of this happy isle,
Augusta, stript of joy, forgets to smile:
What, tho' yon tow'ring spires have ris'n in state,
The city's genius feels an humbler fate!
Shou'd art, and nature, toil, to make me fair,
Cou'd I taste glory, and my queen not there?
But oh! too fondly, I, to thee, complain!
Thou know'st, unkindly know'st, 'tis all in vain!
Thy streams their eye-bewitching pleasures join,
To raise thy Windsor's state, to ruin mine!
Windsor has other boasts, but, help'd, by thee,
Grows proudly charming, and out-rivals me.
But turn, sweet current! bid thy waters stray,
And guide their mazy bends, some other way.
Strip the gay cottage, of its boastful pride,
Nor longer, thro' th' imperious prospect, glide!
So, to thy care, this glory shall remain,
T' ave given Augusta back her queen, again.
Augusta's genius hid her mournful head:
And, with low accents, speaking inward pains,
Thus, to the gliding river, she complains:
When, gentle stream, to shun the briny tide,
Anon, thy sea-met waves shall, backward, glide;
Then, gentle stream, be kind, one moment stay!
And, on thy surface, bear my sighs away:
Tell the great mistress of this happy isle,
Augusta, stript of joy, forgets to smile:
What, tho' yon tow'ring spires have ris'n in state,
The city's genius feels an humbler fate!
Shou'd art, and nature, toil, to make me fair,
Cou'd I taste glory, and my queen not there?
But oh! too fondly, I, to thee, complain!
Thou know'st, unkindly know'st, 'tis all in vain!
Thy streams their eye-bewitching pleasures join,
To raise thy Windsor's state, to ruin mine!
Windsor has other boasts, but, help'd, by thee,
Grows proudly charming, and out-rivals me.
347
And guide their mazy bends, some other way.
Strip the gay cottage, of its boastful pride,
Nor longer, thro' th' imperious prospect, glide!
So, to thy care, this glory shall remain,
T' ave given Augusta back her queen, again.
Grave
Thamesis, thrice, shook his dripping head,
And, slowly rising, from his oozy bed,
While the hush'd stream, with awful smoothness, ran,
He, to the mournful genius, thus, began:
And, slowly rising, from his oozy bed,
While the hush'd stream, with awful smoothness, ran,
He, to the mournful genius, thus, began:
Yon
Queen of cities ought to learn content;
Her gratitude shou'd these complaints prevent.
Have I not rais'd her, to an envy'd state?
Is she not rich, licentious, pow'rful, great?
And wou'd she, thus, make every bliss her own?
And must our Anna live, for her alone!
Do not yon sun-beams, with unwearied race,
Whelm their enliv'ning light, from place to place?
Why, then, must Britain's glory cease to move,
And bless her world, with her divided love?
Go, go, retire! your tears, with pain, I see,
And this complaint, renew'd, shall dang'rous be!
He said : and, gliding, from her presence, went,
And sad Augusta strove, but could not be content.
Her gratitude shou'd these complaints prevent.
Have I not rais'd her, to an envy'd state?
Is she not rich, licentious, pow'rful, great?
And wou'd she, thus, make every bliss her own?
And must our Anna live, for her alone!
Do not yon sun-beams, with unwearied race,
Whelm their enliv'ning light, from place to place?
Why, then, must Britain's glory cease to move,
And bless her world, with her divided love?
348
And this complaint, renew'd, shall dang'rous be!
He said : and, gliding, from her presence, went,
And sad Augusta strove, but could not be content.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |