 | Songs and poems(1866) |  |
AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND AT OXFORD.
When country beaus at some great fair
Strut up the street with clumsy air,
What peals of laughter fill the shops,
Rais'd by more fashionable fops;
So fares it with my rustic strain,
(Tho' prais'd by critics of the plain)
When I, rough bard! to Oxford write,
The seat of muses more polite;
But if, my friend, I pleasure you,
'Tis not a farthing matter how.
Strut up the street with clumsy air,
What peals of laughter fill the shops,
Rais'd by more fashionable fops;
So fares it with my rustic strain,
(Tho' prais'd by critics of the plain)
31
The seat of muses more polite;
But if, my friend, I pleasure you,
'Tis not a farthing matter how.
Say, shall I draw some rural scene,
A shady grove, a verdant green,
Or show how sweet the thrushes sing,
Or speak the bubbling of a spring?
Or I shall tell (if you think meet)
How snug I live in this retreat:
How close I conjure every care,
Without a wish—I wish I were—
Ah me! 'tis all an empty boast,
There's one—I find it to my cost.
There's one rebellious wish in arms
In spite of verse and all its charms.
A shady grove, a verdant green,
Or show how sweet the thrushes sing,
Or speak the bubbling of a spring?
Or I shall tell (if you think meet)
How snug I live in this retreat:
How close I conjure every care,
Without a wish—I wish I were—
Ah me! 'tis all an empty boast,
There's one—I find it to my cost.
There's one rebellious wish in arms
In spite of verse and all its charms.
Thrice happy, who by Isis stream
Enjoys the muses—in a dream;
In classic grottoes melts away
In visions of poetic day.
Oh, waft me gentle gale of air!
Oh! quickly, quickly waft me there;
And place me underneath a shade
Where Addison and Tickell laid!
Nay, tho' I'm penn'd in garret vile,
Tho' duns be rapping all the while;
Ev'n tho' without (which still is worse)
One splendid shilling in my purse:
All this I willingly could bear,
'Tis nothing all—since thou art there.
Enjoys the muses—in a dream;
In classic grottoes melts away
In visions of poetic day.
Oh, waft me gentle gale of air!
Oh! quickly, quickly waft me there;
And place me underneath a shade
Where Addison and Tickell laid!
Nay, tho' I'm penn'd in garret vile,
Tho' duns be rapping all the while;
Ev'n tho' without (which still is worse)
One splendid shilling in my purse:
All this I willingly could bear,
'Tis nothing all—since thou art there.
| Songs and poems(1866) | |