 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
141
LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING ---.
The evening air blows soft and still,
The sun has sunk behind the hill,
And twilight round his fading ray,
Enfolds her dewy mantle grey;
At distance down the piny vales,
The lonely heron slowly sails,
Oft stooping with his breast to break
The purpled surface of the lake,
Whilst pensive by its side I rove,
To bid adieu to scenes I love.
The sun has sunk behind the hill,
And twilight round his fading ray,
Enfolds her dewy mantle grey;
At distance down the piny vales,
The lonely heron slowly sails,
Oft stooping with his breast to break
The purpled surface of the lake,
Whilst pensive by its side I rove,
To bid adieu to scenes I love.
Yes! sweet are ---'s airy glades,
Her heathy hills, and piny shades;
What though her summer-breezes sweep
O'er sandy plains and vallies deep,
Those gales are redolent of bloom,
From beds of thyme, and banks of broom;
Though barren all her hills appear,
Their heathy heads to me are dear,
And though their tracks are wild and rude,
I love their silent solitude.
Her heathy hills, and piny shades;
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O'er sandy plains and vallies deep,
Those gales are redolent of bloom,
From beds of thyme, and banks of broom;
Though barren all her hills appear,
Their heathy heads to me are dear,
And though their tracks are wild and rude,
I love their silent solitude.
For there, when daylight's fading eye
Was closed in summer's western sky,
Oft have I marked the twilight star,
Rise slowly o'er the hills afar;
Oft sought to start with infant tread,
The wild deer from his ferny bed;
While haply on his lonely way,
The startled traveller might stay,
And deem those murmuring sounds behind,
Unearthly voices on the wind.
Was closed in summer's western sky,
Oft have I marked the twilight star,
Rise slowly o'er the hills afar;
Oft sought to start with infant tread,
The wild deer from his ferny bed;
While haply on his lonely way,
The startled traveller might stay,
And deem those murmuring sounds behind,
Unearthly voices on the wind.
143
Then Hope was young, and Fancy true
To every scene her pencil drew,
For all that prompted hope or fear
Was Summer's smile, and Winter's tear;
And all within my careless breast,
Was innocence, and peace, and rest;
Or if the sigh of sorrow rose,
'Twas hushed by pity to repose;
If care assailed my infant heart,
'Twas bade by mercy to depart.
To every scene her pencil drew,
For all that prompted hope or fear
Was Summer's smile, and Winter's tear;
And all within my careless breast,
Was innocence, and peace, and rest;
Or if the sigh of sorrow rose,
'Twas hushed by pity to repose;
If care assailed my infant heart,
'Twas bade by mercy to depart.
A few short years have passed away,
Young Fancy's glittering tints decay,
Her airy prospects all are fled,
And scenes more sober rise instead.
Yet, as I tread the verdant lea,
That charmed my soul in infancy,
The feelings which I cherished then,
Come wandering o'er my soul again,
And bid the swelling tears o'erflow,
In silent luxury of woe.
Young Fancy's glittering tints decay,
Her airy prospects all are fled,
And scenes more sober rise instead.
Yet, as I tread the verdant lea,
That charmed my soul in infancy,
The feelings which I cherished then,
Come wandering o'er my soul again,
144
In silent luxury of woe.
O! is there aught more sadly dear,
Than Meditation's heavenly tear,
When, lingering o'er the fond review
Of joys which youthful fancy drew,
The throbbing bosom seeks relief,
And finds a pleasure in its grief!
That tear can soothe the soul's distress,
Can make misfortune's sorrow less,
And all the tender joys impart,
That bind thee, ---, to my heart!
Than Meditation's heavenly tear,
When, lingering o'er the fond review
Of joys which youthful fancy drew,
The throbbing bosom seeks relief,
And finds a pleasure in its grief!
That tear can soothe the soul's distress,
Can make misfortune's sorrow less,
And all the tender joys impart,
That bind thee, ---, to my heart!
Yet must I leave with aching eyes,
Ere bright the morrow's sun arise,
This lake with deepening shadows dyed,
And these dark pine-groves, waving wide,
In loveless solitudes to stray,
With none to share my lonely way,
Whose hearts their feelings will resign,
Leave their own joys to cherish mine,
Or o'er my woes, in grief sincere,
Will shed the sympathetic tear.
Ere bright the morrow's sun arise,
This lake with deepening shadows dyed,
And these dark pine-groves, waving wide,
145
With none to share my lonely way,
Whose hearts their feelings will resign,
Leave their own joys to cherish mine,
Or o'er my woes, in grief sincere,
Will shed the sympathetic tear.
Yet there shall fond remembrance raise
The enchanting scenes of happier days;
Her power each image shall restore,
And make it lovelier than before.
Again in fancy shall I hear
Affection's whispered accents dear,
With all that Friendship's hallowed power
Breathes forth upon my parting hour;—
Such thoughts can soothe my bosom's care,
And almost plant contentment there.
The enchanting scenes of happier days;
Her power each image shall restore,
And make it lovelier than before.
Again in fancy shall I hear
Affection's whispered accents dear,
With all that Friendship's hallowed power
Breathes forth upon my parting hour;—
Such thoughts can soothe my bosom's care,
And almost plant contentment there.
146
But lo! the shadowy tints of night
Have hid the swimming scene from sight,
And from afar the abbey-bell
Tolls mournfully a parting knell.
Ye hills, that rear your summits high!
Ye woods, that wave in cloudless sky!
Ye scenes, that mock my straining view!
Haunts of my childhood! all adieu.
These bursting tears my sorrow tell,
O, once again a last farewell!
Have hid the swimming scene from sight,
And from afar the abbey-bell
Tolls mournfully a parting knell.
Ye hills, that rear your summits high!
Ye woods, that wave in cloudless sky!
Ye scenes, that mock my straining view!
Haunts of my childhood! all adieu.
These bursting tears my sorrow tell,
O, once again a last farewell!
| Poems by Three Friends | |