 | Poetical essays on Several Occasions |  |
99
ON SOLITUDE.
Nunquam minus Solus, quam cum Solus.
What Charms, O Solitude! reside in thee?
Thou art no Solitude at all to me.
Tho' the World gives thee but an empty Name,
Thy sweet Society is still the same.
Thou art no Solitude at all to me.
Tho' the World gives thee but an empty Name,
Thy sweet Society is still the same.
Is he Alone, who can with Heav'n converse,
And entertain his Mind with rural Verse?
Can bid his Thoughts, in pleasing Raptures rise,
And find out Company above the Skies?
And entertain his Mind with rural Verse?
Can bid his Thoughts, in pleasing Raptures rise,
And find out Company above the Skies?
100
What tho' no human Sound the Hermit hears,
Yet Nature's Musick strikes his wondring Ears,
Her Voice to him in Silence speaks around,
Speaks from the lofty Skies and lowly Ground.
Sweet is the Sound, and charming is the Theme,
'Tis heard in ev'ry Breeze, in ev'ry purling Stream,
In ev'ry flying Bird, or flying Cloud,
That thunders thro' the liquid Air aloud.
God is the Theme of Nature's glorious Song,
The Stars repeat it as they roll along,
The Vallies echo with the chearful Voice,
And in the solemn Truth the Hills rejoice.
Here o'er the Meadows I securely stray,
Now write, or read, or with the Pencil play,
While Nature dictates what I must indite,
And all Creation rises to the Sight.
Nature's a fair Original, and he
Who draws her well, must all her Features see,
Mark every Charm, and love her Company.
Yet Nature's Musick strikes his wondring Ears,
Her Voice to him in Silence speaks around,
Speaks from the lofty Skies and lowly Ground.
Sweet is the Sound, and charming is the Theme,
'Tis heard in ev'ry Breeze, in ev'ry purling Stream,
In ev'ry flying Bird, or flying Cloud,
That thunders thro' the liquid Air aloud.
God is the Theme of Nature's glorious Song,
The Stars repeat it as they roll along,
The Vallies echo with the chearful Voice,
And in the solemn Truth the Hills rejoice.
Here o'er the Meadows I securely stray,
Now write, or read, or with the Pencil play,
While Nature dictates what I must indite,
And all Creation rises to the Sight.
Nature's a fair Original, and he
Who draws her well, must all her Features see,
Mark every Charm, and love her Company.
101
Now thro' the Woods, and Plains, I wildly rove,
And range from Hill to Hill, and Grove to Grove;
Or sing responsive to the feather'd Race,
Wind the swift Fugue, or airy Echos chace.
Pursue the wandring Motion of the Stream,
Or on its Banks in pensive Slumbers dream,
Where Osiers weave a Covering for my Head,
And pleasing Gloom, with artless Arbors spread.
Now on some Mountain, tune the Muse's Lyre,
While Nature, and its God, each Lay inspire.
Thus variously consume the shining Day,
While Time, on Wings of Peace, dissolves away.
And range from Hill to Hill, and Grove to Grove;
Or sing responsive to the feather'd Race,
Wind the swift Fugue, or airy Echos chace.
Pursue the wandring Motion of the Stream,
Or on its Banks in pensive Slumbers dream,
Where Osiers weave a Covering for my Head,
And pleasing Gloom, with artless Arbors spread.
Now on some Mountain, tune the Muse's Lyre,
While Nature, and its God, each Lay inspire.
Thus variously consume the shining Day,
While Time, on Wings of Peace, dissolves away.
But who can treat of Solitude in Noise,
Or sing her Praise, who has not felt her Joys;
Hermits alone, her Pleasures can explore,
And paint her best, who often view her o'er.
Or sing her Praise, who has not felt her Joys;
Hermits alone, her Pleasures can explore,
And paint her best, who often view her o'er.
| Poetical essays on Several Occasions | |