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AN ODE TO A RIVULET;
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


258

AN ODE TO A RIVULET;

The Ode is supposed to be written by Diogenes the Philosopher.

[_]

Translated, from the Spanish of Fajardo.

Nymph of this fount, accept my lays;
Nor spurn sincere, and virtuous praise.
Well may the influence of thy stream
Excite the poet's hallowed theme;
For as thy waters flow, they bring
Fresh health, and vigour to the spring.
Down the romantick slope they glide,
Their parent-mountain's grace, and pride.
The feathered songsters of the tree
Catch rural melody from thee;
While the responsive hill, and dale,
Return the soothing, amorous tale.
The rose, and jasmine, by thy aid,
With richer sweets perfume the shade;
And Zephyr with more liberal hand
Diffuses fragrance o'er the land.

259

When fair Aurora's gentle ray
Gilds with it's light the new-born day,
Her beauty, by the heavenly maid,
In thy clear mirrour is surveyed;
The pleasing sight her bosom warms,
Her face is flushed with brighter charms.
Oh! emblem of my favourite plan,
Example strong to wayward man;
In thee his contrast I descry,
And view thee with a moral eye!
Thy varied beauties joys dispense
Not merely to external sense;
Sublimer pleasures they impart,
Inform the head, and please the heart.
No wild excess deforms thy course,
No inundation, no rude force:
Though widely thy meanders wind,
They leave no trace of ill behind;
They pleasure, and convenience blend,
The good of human kind their end;
Their limpid moisture cheers the plain,
Their murmuring musick lulls the swain;

260

Through flowery labyrinths they stray,
Yet without error hold their way.
Thy faithful bosom I admire,
And feel for truth a sacred fire.
Nought foul thy candid bosom holds,
Hence, all it's objects it unfolds:
I see it, it's contents declare;
Each pebble may be counted there.
There are the mimic branches seen,
The glowing flower, the velvet-green;
Thy chrystal, true to nature's laws,
Gives back each image which it draws.
Bright pattern of the golden age;
Descriptive lecture of the sage;
May I retain thee in my mind,
And use the document I find!
Oft may I quit the city's noise,
It's ruthless wiles, it's guilty joys;
The dangerous haunts of mortals flee,
And dwell with innocence, and thee!