 | The Poems of Robert Fergusson |  |
48
RETIREMENT.
Come inspiration from thy vernal bow'r,
To thy celestial voice attune the lyre;
Smooth gliding strains in sweet profusion pour,
And aid my numbers with seraphic fire.
To thy celestial voice attune the lyre;
Smooth gliding strains in sweet profusion pour,
And aid my numbers with seraphic fire.
Under a lonely spreading oak I lay,
My head upon the daisied green reclin'd,
The ev'ning sun beam'd forth his parting ray,
The foliage bended to the hollow wind.
My head upon the daisied green reclin'd,
The ev'ning sun beam'd forth his parting ray,
The foliage bended to the hollow wind.
There gentle sleep my acting powers supprest,
The city's distant hum was heard no more;
Yet fancy suffer'd not the mind to rest,
Ever obedient to her wakeful power.
The city's distant hum was heard no more;
Yet fancy suffer'd not the mind to rest,
Ever obedient to her wakeful power.
She led me near a chrystal fountain's noise,
Where undulating waters sportive play;
Where a young comely swain with pleasing voice,
In tender accents sung his silvan lay.
Where undulating waters sportive play;
Where a young comely swain with pleasing voice,
In tender accents sung his silvan lay.
“Adieu, ye baneful pleasures of the town!
“Farewel, thou giddy and unthinking throng!
“Without regret your foibles I disown;
“Themes more exalted claim the muses song.
“Farewel, thou giddy and unthinking throng!
“Without regret your foibles I disown;
“Themes more exalted claim the muses song.
“Your stony hearts no social feelings share;
“Your souls of distant sorrows ne'er partake;
“Ne'er do you listen to the needy prayer,
“Nor drop a tear for tender pity's sake.
“Your souls of distant sorrows ne'er partake;
“Ne'er do you listen to the needy prayer,
“Nor drop a tear for tender pity's sake.
49
“Welcome, ye fields, ye fountains, and ye groves!
“Ye flowery meadows and extensive plains!
“Where soaring warblers pour their plaintive loves,
“Each landscape cheering with their vocal strains.
“Ye flowery meadows and extensive plains!
“Where soaring warblers pour their plaintive loves,
“Each landscape cheering with their vocal strains.
“Here rural beauty rears her pleasing shrine;
“She on the margin of each streamlet glows;
“Where with the blooming hawthorn roses twine,
“And the fair lily of the valley grows.
“She on the margin of each streamlet glows;
“Where with the blooming hawthorn roses twine,
“And the fair lily of the valley grows.
“Here chastity may wander unassail'd
“Thro' fields where gay seducers cease to rove;
“Where open vice o'er virtue ne'er prevail'd;
“Where all is innocence, and all is love.
“Thro' fields where gay seducers cease to rove;
“Where open vice o'er virtue ne'er prevail'd;
“Where all is innocence, and all is love.
“Peace with her olive wand triumphant reigns,
“Guarding secure the peasant's humble bed;
“Envy is banish'd from the happy plains,
“And defamation's busy tongue is laid.
“Guarding secure the peasant's humble bed;
“Envy is banish'd from the happy plains,
“And defamation's busy tongue is laid.
“Health and contentment usher in the morn,
“With jocund smiles they cheer the rural swain,
“For which the peer, to pompous titles born,
“Forsaken sighs, but all his sighs are vain.
“With jocund smiles they cheer the rural swain,
“For which the peer, to pompous titles born,
“Forsaken sighs, but all his sighs are vain.
“For the calm comforts of an easy mind,
“In yonder lowly cot delight to dwell,
“And leave the statesman for the labouring hind,
“The regal palace for the lowly cell.
“In yonder lowly cot delight to dwell,
“And leave the statesman for the labouring hind,
“The regal palace for the lowly cell.
50
“Ye, who to wisdom would devote your hours,
“And far from riot, far from discord stray!
“Look back disdainful on the city's towers,
“Where pride, where folly point the slipp'ry way.
“And far from riot, far from discord stray!
“Look back disdainful on the city's towers,
“Where pride, where folly point the slipp'ry way.
“Pure flows the limpid stream in chrystal tides,
“Thro' rocks, thro' dens, and ever verdant vales,
“Till to the town's unhallow'd wall it glides,
“Where all its purity and lustre fails.
“Thro' rocks, thro' dens, and ever verdant vales,
“Till to the town's unhallow'd wall it glides,
“Where all its purity and lustre fails.
| The Poems of Robert Fergusson | |