 | Poems |  |
I—1.
There are, who skim the stream of life,Who catch delight from every passing gale;
Their ear no sounds of grief assail,
They heed not nature's strife:
Bright skies illume their dawn of day,
While music wakes her magic powers;
No clouds obstruct their noon-tide ray,
And to soft measures move their evening hours:
Gaily, Love's idle rovers, on they glide,
And Pleasure, laughing Fair, the vessel deigns to guide.
I—2.
Their destin'd course some lonely bend,Where no propitious gales attend;
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The frantic scream, the din of war:
Struggling with storms, their mornings doubtful rise:
Sullen and slow proceed their hours along:
'Mid scowling tempests close their evening skies,
Nor soothes their ear the cheerful voice of song.
I—3.
But, lo! the sons of genius stand,And Science open spreads the volume fair;
And Friendship waves her hand,
To check the child of Mirth, to soothe the child of Care.
Nature assumes her smiling form,
Like Ocean resting from a storm:
From distant India's pearly shores,
From mystic Egypt's latent stores,
To where in Grecia's tuneful groves
The Graces wanton'd with the Loves,
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And savage nature smiles, and rises into day.
| Poems | |