 | Malvern Hills |  |
170
SEVERN,
SUNSET, WRITTEN AT KING'S WESTON POINT, NEAR BRISTOL.
IF hour there be when pleasure fills the breast,As Nature, robed in beauty, sleeps profound;
When woods and streams, in fairy vision round,
Reflect the peaceful splendours of the west,
That hour is this.—In pomp austerer drest,
Now Severn kindles through his ample bound,
And Cambria's lordly hills in glory lie,
O'er-canopied by clouds of gorgeous dye;
Whilst sea-birds sport amid the sapphire wave,
Rolling the line eternal to the strand;
And many a distant skiff, and vessel brave,
Glides glowing on, by fostering zephyrs fann'd.
Our Empress Isle, profuse of pearl and gem,
Here wears her proud, and matchless diadem.
SEVERN,
IN A STORM.
SEVERN! thy billows lash the rocky shore,Heard, terrible, through midnight reigning round;
The winds imperious give their loftiest sound,
While thunders, fierce, from Nature's awful store,
Traverse wide heaven, with loud and lengthen'd roar,
Till, crash on crash, convulsive, shakes the ground.
Voices faint mingle with the troubled sky!
It is the shipwreck'd crew who aid require!
In pity to the drowning seaman's cry,
Clouds! check your fury! Tempests! stay your ire!
That fervid blast of elemental fire!
Ah! there the vessel sinks beneath the eye!
The winds are hush'd, the thunders cease to rave,
And all is still, but the dark-rolling wave!
171
TO CHARITY.
OH, Charity! while fame with lightning car,Flashes brief splendour o'er the hero's grave,
Thou sitt'st upon thy rock, amid the wave,
Calm as the silver moon, and evening star,
(That o'er the billow throw their image far,)
Like them, unmoved by storms that round thee rave.
Ah, from thine eye, I mark the tear descend!
Thou thinkest of the woes that man dismay;
Upon the crowd, who have no home, or friend;
Upon the orphan, worn by want away,
The lonely widow, lingering out her day;
And, though too poor to succour, thou dost send
The look benign, that oft has care beguiled,
Soothing, in silence, sorrow's drooping child.
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