Poetics :: :: University of Virginia Library

While yon skylark warbles high,
While yon rustic whistles gay,
On thy banks, oh! Cam, I lie,
Museful pour the pensive lay.
Willowy Cam, thy lingering stream,
Suits too well the thoughtful breast;
Languor here might love to dwell,
Sorrow here might sigh to rest.

Near yon steeple's tapering height,
Beauteous Julia, thou art laid;—
I could linger thro' the night
Still to mourn thee, lovely maid.
In yon garden Fancy reads,
Sophron strays no longer here;
Then again my bosom bleeds;
Then I drop the silent tear.

Hoary Cam, steal slow along
Near yon desolated grove;
Sleep the partners of my song;
There with them I went to rove.
He, the youth of fairest fame,
Hasten'd to an early tomb;
Friendship now recals his name;
Pity mourn'd his hapless doom.

Hark! I hear the death-bell sound!
There another spirit fled!
Still mine ear the tidings wound;
Philo slumbers with the dead.
Well he knew the critic's part;
Shakespeare's name to him was dear;
Kind and gentle was his heart:—
Now again I drop the tear.

Bending sad beside thy stream,
While I heave the frequent sigh,
Do thy rippling waters gleam
Sympathetic murm'ring by?

Then, oh! Cam, will I return,
Hail thy soothing stream again,
And, as viewing Julia's urn,
Grateful bless thee in my strain.

Still there are, who raptur'd view,
Scenes, which youthful hope endear;
Where they Science wont to woo;
Still they love to linger here.
Peace they meet in ev'ry grove;
Lives again the rapt'rous song;
Sweetly sportive still they rove,
Cam, thy sedgy banks along.

Stately streams, and glens, and lakes,
They can leave to Scotia's plains;
Mountains hoar, and vales, and brakes,
They resign to Cambrian swains:
But these placid streams full well
Suit the quiet-musing breast:
Here, if Fancy may not dwell,
Science shall delight to rest.