 | The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell |  |
7
THE DROOPING ROSE
June 1806
Sweet Rose, look up, thy Season comes at last;
Fierce Aquile hath spent his chilling blast,
And every Monument of Winter's power
Melts in the Western Breeze and Vernal Shower.
Sweet Rose, thy Season comes, and comes to bring
The welcome period of no common Spring.
Fierce Aquile hath spent his chilling blast,
And every Monument of Winter's power
Melts in the Western Breeze and Vernal Shower.
Sweet Rose, thy Season comes, and comes to bring
The welcome period of no common Spring.
Thrice has yon River burst his icy chain,
And spread his annual tribute o'er the plain,
Diffusing, from his rich and swelling tide,
The Seeds of future plenty far and wide;
While here, forsaken it has been thy lot
“To blush unseen,” and in this charming spot,
To mourn the want of Emma's fostering care,
And “waste thy sweetness on the desert air.”
But now, sweet Rose, look up. This joyless doom
No more awaits thy renovated bloom.
His task again, see, faithful Nichols plies;
Again this spot attracts admiring eyes,
And they, whose absence we so long bewail,
Bespeak fair Winds to swell the lofty Sail,
And speed their passage home.
And spread his annual tribute o'er the plain,
Diffusing, from his rich and swelling tide,
The Seeds of future plenty far and wide;
While here, forsaken it has been thy lot
“To blush unseen,” and in this charming spot,
To mourn the want of Emma's fostering care,
And “waste thy sweetness on the desert air.”
But now, sweet Rose, look up. This joyless doom
No more awaits thy renovated bloom.
His task again, see, faithful Nichols plies;
Again this spot attracts admiring eyes,
And they, whose absence we so long bewail,
Bespeak fair Winds to swell the lofty Sail,
And speed their passage home.
But is it home?
Can it, alas, be so to them who come
From England hither? Or, as hence they went,
Can they return, with joy and gay content?
Can it, alas, be so to them who come
From England hither? Or, as hence they went,
Can they return, with joy and gay content?
Yes—When a sense of duty intervenes,
Virtue will gladly quit the splendid Scenes
Of pomp and pleasure, still secure to find
In every place, that “Sunshine of the Mind,”
That self-approv'd Serenity of Soul,
Which tempers every clime from pole to pole,
And turns the World in all its ample round,
For England's progeny, to English ground.
Virtue will gladly quit the splendid Scenes
Of pomp and pleasure, still secure to find
In every place, that “Sunshine of the Mind,”
That self-approv'd Serenity of Soul,
Which tempers every clime from pole to pole,
And turns the World in all its ample round,
For England's progeny, to English ground.
8
Then droop no more, sweet Rose; they come, they come!
Here to enjoy again the sweets of home;
Pure joys, which hallow the domestic spot;
Pleasures which, tasted once, are ne'er forgot.
Sweet Rose, they come, for whose return, the sighs
And prayers of anxious thousands daily rise.
O may propitious breezes waft them o'er
With speed and safety to this Western Shore,
Where loyal thousands with impatience burn
To hail the Jubilee of their Return.
Here to enjoy again the sweets of home;
Pure joys, which hallow the domestic spot;
Pleasures which, tasted once, are ne'er forgot.
Sweet Rose, they come, for whose return, the sighs
And prayers of anxious thousands daily rise.
O may propitious breezes waft them o'er
With speed and safety to this Western Shore,
Where loyal thousands with impatience burn
To hail the Jubilee of their Return.
POSTSCRIPT 1808
Thus did the Sylvan Muse, to Hill and Dale,
Gaily proclaim her visionary tale.
The pleasing Prospect, which had been so long
The prompter and the burden of her Song,
Now vanish'd, like the forms of dusky light
Which fill the peering eye of Second-Sight.
In vain the song. In vain did thousands burn,
Impatient for the prophesied Return.
But—though denied that wish of every heart,
Another Boon was destined to impart
A joy as universal as the grief,
Which all had suffered for an absent Chief.
Permitting him, for years of Service past
In honor'd leisure to repose at last,
The Royal Will a new Career ordains,
And to a chosen Hand commits the Reins.
Gaily proclaim her visionary tale.
The pleasing Prospect, which had been so long
The prompter and the burden of her Song,
Now vanish'd, like the forms of dusky light
Which fill the peering eye of Second-Sight.
In vain the song. In vain did thousands burn,
Impatient for the prophesied Return.
But—though denied that wish of every heart,
Another Boon was destined to impart
A joy as universal as the grief,
Which all had suffered for an absent Chief.
Permitting him, for years of Service past
In honor'd leisure to repose at last,
The Royal Will a new Career ordains,
And to a chosen Hand commits the Reins.
With ardour the Patrician Board unites
In due performance of the solemn rites
To them assigned; and all, with hearts elate,
See Hunter seated in the Chair of State.
A tribute of unfeign'd esteem they pay
And joyfully record the auspicious day.
Responsive acclamation spreads around,
And, mingling with the Trumpet's silver sound,
To Heaven ascends, and Hills and Vallies ring
With the loud anthem of God save the King!
In due performance of the solemn rites
To them assigned; and all, with hearts elate,
See Hunter seated in the Chair of State.
A tribute of unfeign'd esteem they pay
And joyfully record the auspicious day.
9
And, mingling with the Trumpet's silver sound,
To Heaven ascends, and Hills and Vallies ring
With the loud anthem of God save the King!
Again released from Winter's breath so keen,
Awake, sweet Rose, no more to blush unseen,
But—sure to please, imbibe the genial dew,
And spread thy bounties to Miranda's view.
Devote thy bloom to her,—whose meekness awes
The tongue that fain would blazon her applause.
To her display thy charms, who is alone
Regardless or unconscious of her own.
Awake, sweet Rose, no more to blush unseen,
But—sure to please, imbibe the genial dew,
And spread thy bounties to Miranda's view.
Devote thy bloom to her,—whose meekness awes
The tongue that fain would blazon her applause.
To her display thy charms, who is alone
Regardless or unconscious of her own.
The desert mansion, which so long had been
All solitude without, all gloom within,
Of whispering sprights no longer the Retreat,
But of domestic joy once more the Seat,
Resumes its wonted aspect, and displays
The gay festivity of former days.
Fresh Verdure decks the Lawn and tufted trees;
The blooming terrace courts the western breeze;
Calmly the River glides majestic by;
And yonder Landscape charms the unwearied eye.
From distant pilgrimage the Martins come
To nestle in their temporary home.
What joy the chirping Travellers express
Their hospitable cells to repossess!
And soon, returning from their southern flight,
Shall come the Birds of Lincoln, with delight
To join the feather'd tribes who winter here,
And all, in sprightly chorus, sweet and clear,
Warble their amorous Notes and hail the Scene,
Where all is cheerful, tranquil and serene.
All solitude without, all gloom within,
Of whispering sprights no longer the Retreat,
But of domestic joy once more the Seat,
Resumes its wonted aspect, and displays
The gay festivity of former days.
Fresh Verdure decks the Lawn and tufted trees;
The blooming terrace courts the western breeze;
Calmly the River glides majestic by;
And yonder Landscape charms the unwearied eye.
From distant pilgrimage the Martins come
To nestle in their temporary home.
What joy the chirping Travellers express
Their hospitable cells to repossess!
And soon, returning from their southern flight,
Shall come the Birds of Lincoln, with delight
To join the feather'd tribes who winter here,
And all, in sprightly chorus, sweet and clear,
Warble their amorous Notes and hail the Scene,
Where all is cheerful, tranquil and serene.
1806; 1808
| The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell | |