The Poetical Works of John Langhorne ... To which are prefixed, Memoirs of the Author by his Son the Rev. J. T. Langhorne ... In Two Volumes |
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| II. | FABLE II.
THE
EVENING PRIMROSE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Langhorne |  |
8
FABLE II. THE EVENING PRIMROSE.
There are that love the shades of life,
And shun the splendid walks of fame;
There are that hold it rueful strife
To risk Ambition's losing game;
And shun the splendid walks of fame;
There are that hold it rueful strife
To risk Ambition's losing game;
That far from Envy's lurid eye
The fairest fruits of Genius rear,
Content to see them bloom and die
In Friendship's small but kindly sphere.
The fairest fruits of Genius rear,
Content to see them bloom and die
In Friendship's small but kindly sphere.
Than vainer flowers tho' sweeter far,
The Evening Primrose shuns the day;
Blooms only to the western star,
And loves its solitary ray.
The Evening Primrose shuns the day;
Blooms only to the western star,
And loves its solitary ray.
In Eden's vale an aged hind,
At the dim twilight's closing hour,
On his time-smoothed staff reclin'd,
With wonder view'd the opening flower.
At the dim twilight's closing hour,
On his time-smoothed staff reclin'd,
With wonder view'd the opening flower.
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“Ill-fated flower, at eve to blow,”
In pity's simple thought he cries,
“Thy bosom must not feel the glow
“Of splendid suns, or smiling skies.
In pity's simple thought he cries,
“Thy bosom must not feel the glow
“Of splendid suns, or smiling skies.
“Nor thee, the vagrants of the field,
“The hamlet's little train behold;
“Their eyes to sweet oppression yield,
“When thine the falling shades unfold.
“The hamlet's little train behold;
“Their eyes to sweet oppression yield,
“When thine the falling shades unfold.
“Nor thee the hasty shepherd heeds,
“When love has fill'd his heart with cares,
“For flowers he rifles all the meads,
“For waking flowers—but thine forbears.
“When love has fill'd his heart with cares,
“For flowers he rifles all the meads,
“For waking flowers—but thine forbears.
“Ah! waste no more that beauteous bloom
“On night's chill shade, that fragrant breath,
“Let smiling suns those gems illume!
“Fair flower, to live unseen is death.”
“On night's chill shade, that fragrant breath,
“Let smiling suns those gems illume!
“Fair flower, to live unseen is death.”
Soft as the voice of vernal gales
That o'er the bending meadow blow,
Or streams that steal thro' even vales,
And murmur that they move so slow:
That o'er the bending meadow blow,
Or streams that steal thro' even vales,
And murmur that they move so slow:
Deep in her unfrequented bower,
Sweet Philomela pour'd her strain;
The bird of eve approv'd her flower,
And answer'd thus the anxious swain.
Sweet Philomela pour'd her strain;
The bird of eve approv'd her flower,
And answer'd thus the anxious swain.
10
Live unseen!
By moonlight shades, in valleys green,
Lovely flower, we'll live unseen.
Of our pleasures deem not lightly,
Laughing day may look more sprightly,
But I love the modest mien,
Still I love the modest mien
Of gentle evening fair, and her star-train'd queen.
By moonlight shades, in valleys green,
Lovely flower, we'll live unseen.
Of our pleasures deem not lightly,
Laughing day may look more sprightly,
But I love the modest mien,
Still I love the modest mien
Of gentle evening fair, and her star-train'd queen.
Didst thou, shepherd, never find,
Pleasure is of pensive kind?
Has thy cottage never known
That she loves to live alone?
Dost thou not at evening hour
Feel some soft and secret power,
Gliding o'er thy yielding mind,
Leave sweet serenity behind;
While all disarm'd, the cares of day
Steal thro' the falling gloom away?
Love to think thy lot was laid
In this undistinguish'd shade.
Far from the world's infectious view,
Thy little virtues safely blew.
Go, and in day's more dangerous hour,
Guard thy emblematic flower.
Pleasure is of pensive kind?
Has thy cottage never known
That she loves to live alone?
Dost thou not at evening hour
Feel some soft and secret power,
Gliding o'er thy yielding mind,
Leave sweet serenity behind;
While all disarm'd, the cares of day
Steal thro' the falling gloom away?
Love to think thy lot was laid
In this undistinguish'd shade.
Far from the world's infectious view,
Thy little virtues safely blew.
Go, and in day's more dangerous hour,
Guard thy emblematic flower.
| The Poetical Works of John Langhorne | |