Sonnets and Miscellaneous Poems by the late Thomas Russell

Say thou, whom Oxford doom'd thy prime to waste
A prey to Melancholy's moping power,
What envious spell forbad thy lips to taste
The sweets that bloom'd profusely round thy bower?

Say, o'er this vale when blackening mists were spread,
Did ne'er the golden Sun bring back the day,
With kindlier verdure cloathe the fragrant mead,
And each dark grove in livelier tints array?

Did no gay landscapes deck fair Cherwell's shore?
Were no wild warblings echoed on her stream?
Did ne'er the whitening sail, or sparkling oar
On the bright waves of beauteous Isis gleam?

And ah! had Art no charms to sooth thy breast?
Could heavenly Music never ease thy pain?
Did Attic domes upheave the glittering crest,
And the warm marble breathe for thee in vain?

Say didst thou never, never haply pass
Where Wykeham rear'd his gorgeous fane on high,
To gaze with rapture on the storied glass,
Whose hues with Titian's or with Nature's vie?

Did Learning vainly spread her various page
To lure thine eyes, which Scorn had turn'd aside?
Could nor the Wit delight thee, nor the Sage,
Nor Truth with Fancy, Taste with Sense allied?

Did chance ne'er give thee, if not choice, a Friend,
Whose social converse might thy cares beguile,
Whose mild reproof thy follies might amend,
Whose mirth might teach thee 'twas no crime to smile?

Did no fair Damsel lull thy vacant mind
(As mine is lull'd) to think on her alone?
That charm had driven thy sorrows to the wind:
For Love can cure all troubles but his own.

If nought of this thy Soul from Spleen could save,
Back, pensive Youth, back to thy cell forlorn!
Go, sadly seek it, as a Ghost his grave;
For where is Joy, if here be cause to mourn?

University of Virginia Library

STANZAS

Address'd to a young Man who was disgusted with Oxford.