The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle including several original pieces, with a new life of the author. By the Rev. John Sim |
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[“The best of parents blest my younger days] |
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 | The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle |  |
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[“The best of parents blest my younger days]
“The best of parents blest my younger days;
“What others teach with frowns, they taught with praise.
“They held, to praise one virtue would inspire
“A gen'rous manly soul to aim at higher.
“While he, whose rising talents were represt,
“With a great genius never will be blest.
“Thus plant a vine on Nor'way's rocky coast,
“Soon will it die, nipt by the chilling frost:
“But in a warmer sun, and kindlier soil
“Will spread amain, and big with clusters smile.
“Yet some are like the fir, by kindness lost,
“Which thrives but on a rough and barren coast.
“What others teach with frowns, they taught with praise.
“They held, to praise one virtue would inspire
“A gen'rous manly soul to aim at higher.
“While he, whose rising talents were represt,
“With a great genius never will be blest.
“Thus plant a vine on Nor'way's rocky coast,
“Soon will it die, nipt by the chilling frost:
“But in a warmer sun, and kindlier soil
“Will spread amain, and big with clusters smile.
“Yet some are like the fir, by kindness lost,
“Which thrives but on a rough and barren coast.
“My father joy'd to shew the pleasant road,
“That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God.
“While others teach their sons the love of gold,
“He to my opening judgment would unfold
“The classic page.—My mother would inspire
“And fan the sallies of the muse's fire:
“She taught me to be great, was to be good;
“That goodness far excell'd the noblest blood.”
“That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God.
“While others teach their sons the love of gold,
“He to my opening judgment would unfold
“The classic page.—My mother would inspire
“And fan the sallies of the muse's fire:
“She taught me to be great, was to be good;
“That goodness far excell'd the noblest blood.”
“Ere scarce seven years past o'er my infant head,
“To hear at school some parts of Ovid read,—
“Strange raptures set my panting breast on fire;
“And my soul languish'd with unknown desire.
“Then would I wish, alas, had I been he,
“Who wrote that book, how happy should I be!
“To hear at school some parts of Ovid read,—
“Strange raptures set my panting breast on fire;
“And my soul languish'd with unknown desire.
“Then would I wish, alas, had I been he,
“Who wrote that book, how happy should I be!
“Oft to the banks of Esk would I retire,
“And, all alone, great nature's charms admire,
“How has my soul been rapt with solemn joy,
“Far, far estrang'd from every childish toy,
“While the christalline river roll'd along
“In concert murmurs to the sylvan song;
“The voice of nature thrilling from each spray,
“While soft ideas melt my soul away!
“Now, seated on the rocky cliff, look o'er
“The swelling flood, that roar'd from shore to shore:
“Then wild grand thoughts would all my bosom fill;
“My hair would bristle, and my head would thrill!
“And, all alone, great nature's charms admire,
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“Far, far estrang'd from every childish toy,
“While the christalline river roll'd along
“In concert murmurs to the sylvan song;
“The voice of nature thrilling from each spray,
“While soft ideas melt my soul away!
“Now, seated on the rocky cliff, look o'er
“The swelling flood, that roar'd from shore to shore:
“Then wild grand thoughts would all my bosom fill;
“My hair would bristle, and my head would thrill!
“I lisp'd no numbers, for no numbers came;
“But the poetic thought, th'Aonian flame
“Would kindle in my breast strange extasy,
“And lead my passive fancy on with joy.”
“But the poetic thought, th'Aonian flame
“Would kindle in my breast strange extasy,
“And lead my passive fancy on with joy.”
| The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle | |