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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HARRIOT.
AN ELEGY. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
364
HARRIOT. AN ELEGY.
As o'er the vast Atlantic Sea
Our well-built Vessel sails,
We Passengers, by Turns, agree
To sing, or else tell Tales.
To pass the tedious Hours away,
While, thus, we chearful strove,
Brisk Strephon first began the Lay,
And tun'd his Lyre to Love:
Of Harriot, then, he joyful sung,
The Nymph of Croydon's Vale,
The Theme of every Shepherd's Tongue,
The Beauty of that Dale;
And not of that one Dale alone;
For, in Britannia's Isle,
Where Venus high exalts her Throne,
No lovelier Maid can smile.
‘Let Avon, proud of Shenstone's Song,
‘Triumphantly display,
‘On Esham's Vale, a splendid Throng
‘Of Naiads trim and gay:
‘Yet, none shall place his muddy Streams,
‘Or those who haunt their Side,
‘In Competition with the Thames,
‘And Harriot in her Pride,
‘Did Paris in these Times but live,
‘While in full Bloom her Charms,
‘What Glory might he not atchieve;
‘An Act well worth his Arms!
‘Secure in Peace, the Spartan King
‘His Helen might enjoy;
‘And Pope, without translating, sing
‘How Britain conquer'd Troy.
‘To what shall I this Nymph compare,
‘On whom each bounteous Grace
‘Has lavish'd all that's grand, or rare,
‘In Mind, as well as Face?
‘The Lilly may express, 'tis true,
‘Her Neck, and Bosom, fair;
‘Her Cheek, the blushing Rose-bud's Hue;
‘But—what, her Shape, and Air!
‘Or, who her Majesty can paint,
‘That sees the Charmer move?
‘Your Colours, Reynolds, would be faint;
‘And, first, you'd die with Love!
‘For, more than Fancy can express,
‘Great Nature here has shewn;
‘To prove, that Beauty in Excess
‘Is hers, to paint, alone.
‘What Man the high meridian Sun,
‘With stedfast Eye, surveys,
‘Let him, sweet Maid! and him alone,
‘Presume at thee to gaze:
‘That Sun, for some few Years, or so,
‘Is only doom'd to shine;
‘While through Eternity shall glow
‘Those brighter Charms of thine.
‘I laugh at other Females' Art,
How anxious all to please;
‘Whilst, undesign'd, you win each Heart,
‘And captivate with Ease:
‘Soon as you tread the flowery Plain,
‘All glorious to be seen,
‘Each envious Maid laments her Swain,
‘And, sighing, quits the Green.
‘If in this World a Youth can be,
‘Who merits God-like Bliss,
‘O, let him pay his Vows to thee;
‘And may'st thou soon be his;
‘And round your Bed may Concord strew
‘Her best, her choicest Flowers;
‘And all your Days like Minutes flow;
‘And all your Years like Hours!’
Our well-built Vessel sails,
We Passengers, by Turns, agree
To sing, or else tell Tales.
To pass the tedious Hours away,
While, thus, we chearful strove,
Brisk Strephon first began the Lay,
And tun'd his Lyre to Love:
Of Harriot, then, he joyful sung,
The Nymph of Croydon's Vale,
The Theme of every Shepherd's Tongue,
The Beauty of that Dale;
And not of that one Dale alone;
For, in Britannia's Isle,
Where Venus high exalts her Throne,
No lovelier Maid can smile.
365
‘Triumphantly display,
‘On Esham's Vale, a splendid Throng
‘Of Naiads trim and gay:
‘Yet, none shall place his muddy Streams,
‘Or those who haunt their Side,
‘In Competition with the Thames,
‘And Harriot in her Pride,
‘Did Paris in these Times but live,
‘While in full Bloom her Charms,
‘What Glory might he not atchieve;
‘An Act well worth his Arms!
‘Secure in Peace, the Spartan King
‘His Helen might enjoy;
‘And Pope, without translating, sing
‘How Britain conquer'd Troy.
‘To what shall I this Nymph compare,
‘On whom each bounteous Grace
‘Has lavish'd all that's grand, or rare,
‘In Mind, as well as Face?
‘The Lilly may express, 'tis true,
‘Her Neck, and Bosom, fair;
‘Her Cheek, the blushing Rose-bud's Hue;
‘But—what, her Shape, and Air!
‘Or, who her Majesty can paint,
‘That sees the Charmer move?
‘Your Colours, Reynolds, would be faint;
‘And, first, you'd die with Love!
‘For, more than Fancy can express,
‘Great Nature here has shewn;
‘To prove, that Beauty in Excess
‘Is hers, to paint, alone.
366
‘With stedfast Eye, surveys,
‘Let him, sweet Maid! and him alone,
‘Presume at thee to gaze:
‘That Sun, for some few Years, or so,
‘Is only doom'd to shine;
‘While through Eternity shall glow
‘Those brighter Charms of thine.
‘I laugh at other Females' Art,
How anxious all to please;
‘Whilst, undesign'd, you win each Heart,
‘And captivate with Ease:
‘Soon as you tread the flowery Plain,
‘All glorious to be seen,
‘Each envious Maid laments her Swain,
‘And, sighing, quits the Green.
‘If in this World a Youth can be,
‘Who merits God-like Bliss,
‘O, let him pay his Vows to thee;
‘And may'st thou soon be his;
‘And round your Bed may Concord strew
‘Her best, her choicest Flowers;
‘And all your Days like Minutes flow;
‘And all your Years like Hours!’
While, thus, his Note the Shepherd rais'd,
By sacred Friendship fir'd,
His fair Euphemia heard, and prais'd
What real Worth inspir'd:
Yet, well she knew, her Strephon's Heart
To Constancy was prone;
And, while he play'd the Poet's Part,
His Soul was all her own.
By sacred Friendship fir'd,
His fair Euphemia heard, and prais'd
What real Worth inspir'd:
Yet, well she knew, her Strephon's Heart
To Constancy was prone;
And, while he play'd the Poet's Part,
His Soul was all her own.
| The Shamrock | |