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The Poetical Works Of James Grainger

... With Memoirs Of His Life And Writings, By Robert Anderson ... And An Index Of The Linnean Names Of Plants, &c. By William Wright

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ELEGY I.TO ROSALIND.
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ELEGY I.TO ROSALIND.

Non mihi Mæonidem—non cura Maronem,
Vincere, si fiam notus amore sat est.
Sannazar.

I

Bear me, some God, to Scotia's distant plains,
Her fir-crown'd mountains let me once more view,
Though there in savage pomp, wild Winter reigns,
I long to bid Italian Springs adieu!

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II

I thought to glide adown life's gentle stream,
Secure from Fortune's ever-veering gales,
With you and Solitude in bowers to dream,
With you and Echo talk in fairy vales.

III

What though no trees upon thy banks, O Tay,
Breathe rich perfumes, or with the citron glow?
There I and Rosalind were wont to stray;
There now my Charmer sinks oppress'd with woe.

IV

Not far B** his shaggy summit rears,
Where Pan oft touches his melodious quill;
What time the hind unyokes his droughty steers,
The thrush nor chants, nor flows the list'ning rill:

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V

One morning here I haply met my fair,
And, faltering, told with what excess I lov'd;
She blushing smil'd, and bade me not despair—
And here my passion she at last approv'd.

VI

The Medicean Venus I have seen,
Ausonia's noblest boast, the pride of art;
Ye Loves! how far more winning was her mien,
When she approv'd the offering of my heart!

VII

Enamour'd then we trod the woodland scene,
How pleasing, Nature, was thy savage dress!
Thy Groves of orange, thy Valdarnos green,
Thy Baias, Italy, delight me less.

VIII

On all her steps attendant Beauty smil'd,
'Twas more than Tempe wheresoe'er she went;
It seem'd an Enna what was erst a wild,
And Eurus from his wings Sabæa sent.

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IX

When Noon in Leo rode and hush'd the wind,
And the tir'd mower of refreshment lack'd,
We read love-tales the bloomy broom behind,
We kiss'd the lovely fictions into fact.

X

Nor yet did dalliance all our hours consume,
We talk'd whence rivers draw their humid store,
Whence winter-storms, and whence the purple bloom,
When July wanders all our uplands o'er.

XI

I taught my lovely mistress all I knew.—
Then, then I liv'd.—Ah me, how chang'd my fate!
Why, Rosalind, so nobly born were you?
Oh why, my parents, of so mean a state?

XII

Without my love, what boots it me to know,
Where Maro wrote, or patriot Tully fell,

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Where Delia's lover met the muse of woe,
Or drink with Fancy at Blandusia's well.

XIII

Though Art and Nature strive to cheat my care,
Nature and Art employ their charms in vain;
Though Music's power essays each soothing air,
Not Music's soothing airs subdue my pain.

XIV

As late at Naso's Urn in tears I stood,
And scatter'd myrtles on the hallow'd ground,
An instantaneous horror chill'd my blood,
As burst these accents from the tomb profound:

XV

“Thanks, amorous Briton, whose religious hand
“This grateful offering on my shade bestows:
“Though Fortune force thee from thy native land,
“Fortune shall cease your union to oppose.”
 

At Formia in Campania. It is now called Mola. His tomb is shown in a garden.

Tibullus.

Horace.

Near Rome.