 | Bowden Hill |  |
HOW cheering are thy prospects, airy Hill,
To him who, cold and languid on thy brow,
Pauses, respiring! winding through the shade
Of woods, that sweep with mazy track the verge
Of Lansdowne's proud domain, upon the point
Of the descending steep I stand!
To him who, cold and languid on thy brow,
Pauses, respiring! winding through the shade
Of woods, that sweep with mazy track the verge
Of Lansdowne's proud domain, upon the point
Of the descending steep I stand!
So Rich,
So mantling in the gay and gorgeous hues
Of Summer; far beneath me, spreading wide
From Field to Field from Vale to cultur'd Vale;
Here, white with passing Sunshine; There, with trees
Innumerable speckled, till they blend,
Lost in the azure Distance, lives the Scene!
So mantling in the gay and gorgeous hues
Of Summer; far beneath me, spreading wide
From Field to Field from Vale to cultur'd Vale;
Here, white with passing Sunshine; There, with trees
Innumerable speckled, till they blend,
Lost in the azure Distance, lives the Scene!
Lives! all is Life, all Beauty! from the Grave
Whose sleep is dark and dreamless, snatch'd so late,
Shall I pass silent, now first issuing forth,
To taste again thy Beauties, to respire
Thy Breath; to hail thy look, thy living look,
O Nature? let me the deep Joy contrast,
(Which now the inmost Breast, like Music, fills,)
With the sick Chamber's Sorrows, oft from morn,
Silent, till lingering Eve, save when the sound
Of whispers steal, and bodings breath'd more low
As friends approach the Pillow; so awak'd
From deadly Trance, the sick Man lifts his Eyes,
Then in Despondence closes them on all,
All Earth's fond wishes! O how chang'd are now,
His Thoughts! he sees rich Nature kindling round,
He feels her Influence! languid with delight,
(And whilst his Eye is fill'd with transient Fire,)
He almost thinks he hears her gently say,
Live, Live! Oh Nature, Thee in the soft winds,
Thee, in the soothing sound of Summer leaves,
When the still Earth lies sultry; Thee, methinks,
Ev'n now I hear bid “Welcome” to thy Vales
And Woods again!
Whose sleep is dark and dreamless, snatch'd so late,
Shall I pass silent, now first issuing forth,
To taste again thy Beauties, to respire
Thy Breath; to hail thy look, thy living look,
O Nature? let me the deep Joy contrast,
(Which now the inmost Breast, like Music, fills,)
With the sick Chamber's Sorrows, oft from morn,
Silent, till lingering Eve, save when the sound
Of whispers steal, and bodings breath'd more low
As friends approach the Pillow; so awak'd
From deadly Trance, the sick Man lifts his Eyes,
Then in Despondence closes them on all,
4
His Thoughts! he sees rich Nature kindling round,
He feels her Influence! languid with delight,
(And whilst his Eye is fill'd with transient Fire,)
He almost thinks he hears her gently say,
Live, Live! Oh Nature, Thee in the soft winds,
Thee, in the soothing sound of Summer leaves,
When the still Earth lies sultry; Thee, methinks,
Ev'n now I hear bid “Welcome” to thy Vales
And Woods again!
And I will welcome them
And pour, as erst the Song of heart-felt Praise.
And pour, as erst the Song of heart-felt Praise.
| Bowden Hill | |