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Poems

Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition

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The Farewell.
  
  
  
  
  
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133

The Farewell.

Written at the request of an intelligent and beautiful young lady, with whom the Author happened to meet, at Uley, in Glocestershire. Aug. 10, 1797.

A wanderer from my distant home,
In quest of Wisdom's various lore,
Awhile, with devious steps, I roam,
And Pleasure's softer scenes explore.
In Uley's sweet sequester'd shades
I seek the fleeting form of Joy,
Where Strife, nor busy Pomp pervades,
Nor envious Cares the soul annoy.
“To Lloyd's delightful bower repair!
“Perchance the Nymph may there reside.”
Thanks whispering Sylph.—I found her there,
In Youth's soft bloom, and Beauty's pride.
A wreath of flowers, of roseate glow,
The tresses of her brow confin'd;
While, loosely, o'er her robe of snow,
The playful ringlets flow'd behind.
In modest guise, that robe behold
Enshrine from view each softer grace.
Yet may the eye, thro every fold,
The magic curves of beauty trace.
What more could partial Heaven dispense
To such a shape and such an air?
“The charms of temper—genius—sense!”—
Sense, genius, temper—all are there.

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Pleas'd with the Vision—rarely seen,
I gaz'd the happy hours away;
Till Twilight, from her thickening skreen,
Reproachful chid the fond delay.
The Bird of Night (too sadly wise!)
Thus seem'd, in harshest notes, to sing—
“Remember Man, that Pleasure flies:
“She rides on Time's impetuous wing:
“Or if, awhile, her destin'd flight
“The partial vision would delay,
“Stern Duty, with relentless might,
“The hapless votary tears away.”—
Ah! Bird of Night (too sadly wise!)
I own thy envious warning true;
For Duty calls, and Pleasure flies:—
O! blooming form of Joy, adieu!
“Yet pause,” she said, “or e'er thou part,
“Invoke the Muse, and tune the lay;
“If Uley's shades have sooth'd the heart,
“With grateful verse the boon repay.”
Ah! hard request. A bliss so pure,
What hasty verse can fitly tell?
What can it—but the nymph assure,
“Remembrance shall on Uley dwel?”
Yes, tho thro' adverse regions bound,
Tho Pleasures court, or Cares annoy,
I'll still remember where I found
The blooming form of fleeting Joy:

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And, in her distant home reclin'd,
I'll sometimes hope the gentle maid,
With pleas'd regret, will call to mind,
The wandering Bard in Uley's shade.