 | Poetical remains (1872) |  |
ODE I. ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING, 1777.
Stern Winter not perpetual sounds
The alarm that calls his hosts to war.
Encircling blithe with frolic bounds
The Sun's ascending car,
Their tresses wreathed with budding flowers,
Again advance the rosy Hours,
That bade the timorous steps of Spring,
Yet coy, her bosom to display,
Tho' in fond dalliance round her way
Young Zephyr wave his wing.
The alarm that calls his hosts to war.
Encircling blithe with frolic bounds
The Sun's ascending car,
Their tresses wreathed with budding flowers,
Again advance the rosy Hours,
That bade the timorous steps of Spring,
Yet coy, her bosom to display,
Tho' in fond dalliance round her way
Young Zephyr wave his wing.
O wayward daughter of the West!
Whom, second from one parent source,
Fair Spring in Albion bore, comprest
By Winter's amorous force!
April! if dimly on thy face
The dawning smiles of Spring we trace.
Yet many a tear still rising drowns
In woe thine eyes of dewy light,
Nor seldom on thy brow, now bright,
Dark scowl thy father's frowns.
Whom, second from one parent source,
Fair Spring in Albion bore, comprest
By Winter's amorous force!
April! if dimly on thy face
The dawning smiles of Spring we trace.
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In woe thine eyes of dewy light,
Nor seldom on thy brow, now bright,
Dark scowl thy father's frowns.
And see, e'en now less powerful, stream
Thro' scattered clouds the solar fires,
Till faint and fainter every gleam
Now whelm'd in night expires.
Mute are the groves, save where in drops
The shower sounds stilly on the tops:
To heaven the patient heifers gaze;
While idly, on his staff upstayed,
The shepherd from yon hawthorn shade
The increasing storm surveys.
Thro' scattered clouds the solar fires,
Till faint and fainter every gleam
Now whelm'd in night expires.
Mute are the groves, save where in drops
The shower sounds stilly on the tops:
To heaven the patient heifers gaze;
While idly, on his staff upstayed,
The shepherd from yon hawthorn shade
The increasing storm surveys.
With him awhile my moral Muse
Shall feed her melancholy mind,
As wide the drear expanse she views,
Then sighs for human kind.
O Heir of misery! man! tho' fair,
Through the thin mists of childhood's care
Unvex't by every ruder blast,
Thy morning shine, the sickly sun
Of joy, ere half thy course be run,
Shall sorrow overcast!
Shall feed her melancholy mind,
As wide the drear expanse she views,
Then sighs for human kind.
O Heir of misery! man! tho' fair,
Through the thin mists of childhood's care
Unvex't by every ruder blast,
Thy morning shine, the sickly sun
Of joy, ere half thy course be run,
Shall sorrow overcast!
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But from yon oak, whose giant height,
Lonely before the embattled shades,
Towers in proud confidence of might,
What transports wake the glades!
The winds around his airy seat
Unbridled rush, and tempests beat,
The storm-bird there his song pursues:
Secure that rosy-bosom'd May
Shall soon bid gentler breezes play;
Soon shed more genial dews.
Lonely before the embattled shades,
Towers in proud confidence of might,
What transports wake the glades!
The winds around his airy seat
Unbridled rush, and tempests beat,
The storm-bird there his song pursues:
Secure that rosy-bosom'd May
Shall soon bid gentler breezes play;
Soon shed more genial dews.
Not stern affliction's lifted scourge
Can shake with fear the virtuous soul,
Tho' black she sees the sweeping surge
Of death around her roll.
Unmoved amid the storms of Fate
Virtue still holds her customed state;
Save that, as o'er her anchor bent,
Hope points to where the distant skies
Gleam opening, on her cheek arise
Meek smiles of calm content.
Can shake with fear the virtuous soul,
Tho' black she sees the sweeping surge
Of death around her roll.
Unmoved amid the storms of Fate
Virtue still holds her customed state;
Save that, as o'er her anchor bent,
Hope points to where the distant skies
Gleam opening, on her cheek arise
Meek smiles of calm content.
Cease then, my Lyre! thy partial woes:
Again bright breaking through his veil
The sun a purer radiance throws;
The groves his presence hail;
The heifers bound; and o'er the meads
His flock the whistling shepherd leads.
Whate'er of anguish mortals know
Heaven well permits; that so the breast
Of Joy, from Memory doubly blest,
With livelier sense may glow.
Again bright breaking through his veil
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The groves his presence hail;
The heifers bound; and o'er the meads
His flock the whistling shepherd leads.
Whate'er of anguish mortals know
Heaven well permits; that so the breast
Of Joy, from Memory doubly blest,
With livelier sense may glow.
| Poetical remains (1872) | |