Poems By George Dyer |
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| II. |
| III. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. | ODE XX.
ON AN APPROACHING SPRING |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
 | Poems |  |
114
ODE XX. ON AN APPROACHING SPRING
TO THOMAS NORTHMORE, FORMERLY OF EMANUEL
COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
I
Soon, Northmore, shall th' ambrosial SpringWanton forth in bright array,
Shall spread her amorous wavy wing,
And wed the Lord of Day.
Soon shall reviving nature homage yield,
And, breathing incense, lead her tuneful train
O'er hill and dale, soft vale and cultur'd field;
The bard, the lover, and the jocund swain,
All shall yield grateful homage; earth, and sky,
Each wake for thee, fair Spring, the sweetest minstrelsy!
115
II
What tho' the winds, and sleety shower,May hush awhile the tuneful grove?
Soon, waken'd by the Vernal Power,
Shall breathe the voice of love.
Gay mounts the shrill ton'd lark at early dawn,
And its clear matin carols thro' the sky:
The throstles mellow warblings cheer the morn,
And linnet softly trills on hawthorn nigh:
The mists shall vanish soon, and soon the breeze
Kiss every glowing flower, and fan the trembling trees.
III
I too the cheering warmth shall feel,And join the rapt'rous choral song,
Musing smooth numbers as I steal,
Oh, Cam! thy banks along.
Tho' near thy banks no myrtle breathe perfume,
No rose unfold its blushing beauties near,
No stately tulip spread its gaudy bloom,
Nor tow'ring lily deck the gay parterre:
Inclosed within the gardens fair domain,
These all in Eastern pride shall hold their golden reign:
116
IV
Yet wild flowers o'er the fruitful scene,Warm'd by the touch of gentle May,
Shall rise, obedient to their queen,
In simple beauty gay:
To me the violet sheds the richest sweet,
To me the kingcup shines with brightest hues:
The primrose pale, like modest virtue neat,
The meek-ey'd daisy, can instruct the muse:
Roving with silent eyes, she loves to stand,
And even in field flower views a more than master's hand.
V
Ev'n now the sunbeam dazzling-brightDances on the crisped stream!
And soft, tho' fleeting gales, invite
The wild poetic dream:
Nor does in vain the swan majestic sail,
Nor glittering insect range the rushy brink;
The finny tribes adown the current steal,
And little songsters on the margin drink;
Then shiver, wild with bliss, the painted wing,
And to their feather'd loves their sweetest wood-notes sing.
117
VI
Yet must we leave thy blooming reign;—And short that reign, thou lovely Spring,—
What time fate's high decrees ordain,
Or wills the sov'reign king!
Yes! all thy shadowy clouds, thy rainbow hues,
Thy honey'd flowers, mild gales, and glossy bloom,
All must be left, though friendly to the muse:
The poet's eye shall sleep in cheerless gloom:
And death's cold season chill the poet's tongue,
Nor wake the Sylvan muse the soul-enlivening song.
VII
But, speed the hours on restless wing?Must Love's soft season steal away?
Then, Northmore, hail the coming spring,
And prize the sweets of May:
Where now the bard of Camus' classic stream,
The skilful hand, that wak'd the Theban lyre?
Ah! sleeps with him the spring-enamour'd theme,
From him the Loves, and Venus' train, retire;
He too, who trac'd the crystal streams of light,
And Nature's spacious fields, Great Newton, sleeps in night:
118
VIII
No more he treads this hallow'd ground;Nor tracks in thought yon boundless sky:
Ah! science may but gaze around,
Then like the muse shall die.
Oh! quit then, Fancy, queen of song and wiles,
The pearl-enamell'd grot, the moss-grown cell,
Thy many thousand hills, and purple isles,
And deign with me near sedgy Cam to dwell;
And where Dart's waters Devon's valleys cheer,
May blooming science spread fair spring-time all the year.
| Poems | |