 | The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
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SPRING.
The sun's returning genial fires
With flow'rets paints the dale;
With joy the herd and flock inspires,
With music fills the gale.
With flow'rets paints the dale;
With joy the herd and flock inspires,
With music fills the gale.
Yet he renews his warmth in vain,
With flow'rets scents the ground;
The lambkins gambol o'er the plain,
And songsters chant around.
With flow'rets scents the ground;
The lambkins gambol o'er the plain,
And songsters chant around.
To me, in vain does nature smile,
In vain her charms display;
Whilst I, with never-ending toil,
Consume the lengthen'd day.
In vain her charms display;
Whilst I, with never-ending toil,
Consume the lengthen'd day.
Time was I've trod the velvet green,
That rob'd the quick'ning earth,
And ey'd the universal scene,
And mark'd each flow'ret's birth.
That rob'd the quick'ning earth,
And ey'd the universal scene,
And mark'd each flow'ret's birth.
Mark'd where the snow-drop's silver crest
Shot forth his daring head,
And where the violet's sapphire vest
Its fragrant incense shed.
Shot forth his daring head,
And where the violet's sapphire vest
Its fragrant incense shed.
Not with unlawful, thankless gaze
Survey'd fair nature's face,
The tow'ring heights, the solar blaze,
The vast ætherial space.
Survey'd fair nature's face,
The tow'ring heights, the solar blaze,
The vast ætherial space.
(For who that views this wond'rous frame,
Replete with beauty shine,
But must with ecstasy proclaim
The plastic power divine?)
Replete with beauty shine,
But must with ecstasy proclaim
The plastic power divine?)
Oft, in the deep sequester'd shade,
From care and business free,
Have sought the muses sprightly aid,
And sung to liberty.
From care and business free,
Have sought the muses sprightly aid,
And sung to liberty.
Oft, with my Daphne in my arms,
The hours in transports flew,
Comparing her attractive charms
With all fair nature drew.
The hours in transports flew,
Comparing her attractive charms
With all fair nature drew.
Oft, by some fountain laid along,
Dissolv'd in downy ease,
With raptures heard the woodland song,
And breath'd the scented breeze.
Dissolv'd in downy ease,
With raptures heard the woodland song,
And breath'd the scented breeze.
Oft, stretch'd beneath the mountain's brow,
Secur'd from mid-day gleams,
Have pass'd the hours, unheeding how,
In soft, romantic dreams.
Secur'd from mid-day gleams,
Have pass'd the hours, unheeding how,
In soft, romantic dreams.
And oft, with sweet Benevolence,
That heaven-descended fair!
Have sacrific'd the sweets of sense,
Sublimer joys to share.
That heaven-descended fair!
Have sacrific'd the sweets of sense,
Sublimer joys to share.
Oft forc'd the thickest thorny shade;
Oft climb'd the shaggy hill,
Explor'd each tuft, each mossy glade,
And trac'd the mazy rill;
Oft climb'd the shaggy hill,
Explor'd each tuft, each mossy glade,
And trac'd the mazy rill;
With care to cull each healing plant,
To hoard the balmy store,
That where or dire disease, or want,
Invade the friendless poor;
To hoard the balmy store,
That where or dire disease, or want,
Invade the friendless poor;
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There to dispense their cheering aids
Through each distressful cot,
Where feeble swains or pallid maids,
Bemoan'd their dreary lot.
Through each distressful cot,
Where feeble swains or pallid maids,
Bemoan'd their dreary lot.
But, ah! the herbs, the flowers, I seek
With curious eye, no more;
No more they flush the haggard cheek,
Or blooming health restore:
With curious eye, no more;
No more they flush the haggard cheek,
Or blooming health restore:
Lost now their use, their healing art,
Now where they bloom they die;
No healthful tincture they impart,
No cordial draught supply.
Now where they bloom they die;
No healthful tincture they impart,
No cordial draught supply.
For now domestick cares employ,
And busy ev'ry sense,
Nor leave one hour of grief or joy,
But's furnish'd out from thence:
And busy ev'ry sense,
Nor leave one hour of grief or joy,
But's furnish'd out from thence:
Save what my little babes afford,
Whom I behold with glee,
When smiling at my humble board,
Or prattling on my knee.
Whom I behold with glee,
When smiling at my humble board,
Or prattling on my knee.
Not that my Daphne's charms are flown,
These still new pleasures bring;
'Tis these inspire content alone,
'Tis all I've left of Spring.
These still new pleasures bring;
'Tis these inspire content alone,
'Tis all I've left of Spring.
The dew-drop sparkling in her eyes,
The lily on her breast,
The rose-bud on her lip supplies
My rich, my sweet repast.
The lily on her breast,
The rose-bud on her lip supplies
My rich, my sweet repast.
Her hair outshines the saffron morn;
To her harmonious note,
The thrush sits list'ning on the thorn,
And checks his swelling throat.
To her harmonious note,
The thrush sits list'ning on the thorn,
And checks his swelling throat.
Nor wish I, dear connubial state,
To break thy silken bands;
I only blame relentless fate,
That ev'ry hour demands.
To break thy silken bands;
I only blame relentless fate,
That ev'ry hour demands.
Nor mourn I much my task austere,
Which endless wants impose!
But—oh! it wounds my soul to hear
My Daphne's melting woes!
Which endless wants impose!
But—oh! it wounds my soul to hear
My Daphne's melting woes!
For oft she sighs, and oft she weeps,
And hangs her pensive head;
While blood her furrow'd finger steeps,
And stains the passing thread.
And hangs her pensive head;
While blood her furrow'd finger steeps,
And stains the passing thread.
When orient hills the sun behold,
Our labour's long begun!
And when he streaks the west with gold,
The task is still undone.
Our labour's long begun!
And when he streaks the west with gold,
The task is still undone.
How happy is each bird and beast,
Who find their food unsought,
Whom nature feeds with constant feast,
Without one anxious thought.
Who find their food unsought,
Whom nature feeds with constant feast,
Without one anxious thought.
The beasts in freedom range the fields,
Nor care, nor sorrow, know;
Their meat, the tender herbage yields,
The springs, their drink bestow.
Nor care, nor sorrow, know;
Their meat, the tender herbage yields,
The springs, their drink bestow.
Each hour the birds, with sprightly voice,
In rival songs contend;
Or o'er their bounteous meals rejoice,
Or in fond dalliance spend.
In rival songs contend;
Or o'er their bounteous meals rejoice,
Or in fond dalliance spend.
But foresight warns me not to taste
The bliss which heav'n design'd;
But joyless all my nights to waste,
To shun more woes behind.
The bliss which heav'n design'd;
But joyless all my nights to waste,
To shun more woes behind.
Oh! why within this tortur'd heart,
Must keen reflection dwell?
To double ev'ry present smart,
And future pains foretell?
Must keen reflection dwell?
To double ev'ry present smart,
And future pains foretell?
But, oh my soul! no longer blame
That lot which Heav'n decreed;
Nor thus, with petulance, disclaim
The patient christian's meed.
That lot which Heav'n decreed;
Nor thus, with petulance, disclaim
The patient christian's meed.
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But rather, with true filial fear,
Adore the present God;
And his paternal stripes revere,
And kiss his healing rod.
Adore the present God;
And his paternal stripes revere,
And kiss his healing rod.
No more his pow'r shall be withstood,
No more oppos'd his will;
Nor let what wisdom meant for good,
My folly construe ill.
No more oppos'd his will;
Nor let what wisdom meant for good,
My folly construe ill.
Who knows but liberty and wealth
Might work a woeful change;
Excess and ease impair my health,
Or virtuous thoughts estrange?
Might work a woeful change;
Excess and ease impair my health,
Or virtuous thoughts estrange?
What I dislike, God gives in love,
In love my suit denies;
Or oft my wish my bane might prove,
My bliss what I despise.
In love my suit denies;
Or oft my wish my bane might prove,
My bliss what I despise.
Then let not my presumptuous mind
Oppose his love or might;
For well has moral Pope defin'd,
“Whatever is, is right.”
Oppose his love or might;
For well has moral Pope defin'd,
“Whatever is, is right.”
Though now with penury opprest,
I give my sorrows vent,
He soon may calm my troubled breast,
Or sooth my discontent.
I give my sorrows vent,
He soon may calm my troubled breast,
Or sooth my discontent.
Come, Reason, then, bid murm'ring cease,
And intellectual strife!
Come, smiling Hope, and dove-ey'd Peace,
And still the storms of life.
And intellectual strife!
Come, smiling Hope, and dove-ey'd Peace,
And still the storms of life.
My little skiff, kind Pilots! steer
Adown the stream of time;
And teach me, melancholic fear,
And dark distrust's a crime.
Adown the stream of time;
And teach me, melancholic fear,
And dark distrust's a crime.
For has not truth's unerring Sire,
Who all our wants must know,
Proclaim'd, what nature can require,
His bounty shall bestow?
Who all our wants must know,
Proclaim'd, what nature can require,
His bounty shall bestow?
He feeds the birds that wing their flight
Along the passive air;
And lilies bloom in glossy white
Beneath his fost'ring care.
Along the passive air;
And lilies bloom in glossy white
Beneath his fost'ring care.
Nor accident, nor fate, recalls
The life that He has lent;
For not a single sparrow falls
Without his full assent,
The life that He has lent;
For not a single sparrow falls
Without his full assent,
Shou'd Poverty's oppressive train,
Still haunt my lowly cell,
Yet Faith shall smile away my pain,
And all their threat'nings quell.
Still haunt my lowly cell,
Yet Faith shall smile away my pain,
And all their threat'nings quell.
For when through Ether's boundless space,
This orb terrene has run
A few more times his annual race,
Wide circling round the sun;
This orb terrene has run
A few more times his annual race,
Wide circling round the sun;
Or, haply, ere the day be past,
And evening's shades descend,
My weary'd heart may pant its last,
And all my sorrows end:
And evening's shades descend,
My weary'd heart may pant its last,
And all my sorrows end:
Then shall the disembodied soul
Resign her dark domain,
And range where countless systems roll,
And springs eternal reign.
Resign her dark domain,
And range where countless systems roll,
And springs eternal reign.
Yet not in solitude to soar;
But with a kindred band,
The pow'r and wisdom to explore
Of her Creator's hand.
But with a kindred band,
The pow'r and wisdom to explore
Of her Creator's hand.
Or with her tuneful pow'rs complete,
To chaunt the bliss above;
Or, in ecstatic notes, repeat
Her dear Redeemer's love!
To chaunt the bliss above;
Or, in ecstatic notes, repeat
Her dear Redeemer's love!
| The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |