Poems on several occasions By the late Edward Lovibond |
 |
On the converting the late Mr. WOODDESON's HOUSE, at Kingston,
into a Poor-House, and cutting down the great Walk of high Trees before it. |
 | Poems on several occasions |  |
196
On the converting the late Mr. WOODDESON's HOUSE, at Kingston, into a Poor-House, and cutting down the great Walk of high Trees before it.
Where the broad path-way fronts yon ancient seat,
Approach not, stranger, with unhallow'd feet,
Nor mock the spot, unshelter'd now, and bare!
The grove's old honours rose majestic there:
It's giant arms extending to defend
Thy reverend temples, man's and virtue's friend!
Secure thy walk that unpierc'd gloom along,
No storm approach'd to silence Homer's song;
No beam to wound thy Heav'n-directed eye:
The world's near tumult swept unheeded by.
Now, low as thine, these towering heads are laid,
Nor more embower the mansion in their shade,
Time-honour'd pile! that, owning thee its lord,
Saw ancient manners, ancient faith, restor'd;
In renovated youth beheld again
Saturnian days, the good Eliza's reign.
With thee too sheltering many an angel guest,
For what, but Heaven, serener than thy breast?—
Blest mansion then, Simplicity's abode,
Where smiling Innocence look'd up to God,
Where Nature's genuine graces charm'd the heart,
Or Nature, polish'd but by classic art.
There Fancy, warm'd with brightest, chastest beams,
The saint's high rapture, and the poet's dreams,
While Virtue left, delighting there to dwell,
The pensive mountain, and the hermit's cell.—
There the good teacher held by turns to youth
The blaze of fiction and pure light of truth,
Who, less by precept than example sir'd,
Glow'd as he taught, inspiring and inspir'd.
Approach not, stranger, with unhallow'd feet,
Nor mock the spot, unshelter'd now, and bare!
The grove's old honours rose majestic there:
It's giant arms extending to defend
Thy reverend temples, man's and virtue's friend!
Secure thy walk that unpierc'd gloom along,
No storm approach'd to silence Homer's song;
197
The world's near tumult swept unheeded by.
Now, low as thine, these towering heads are laid,
Nor more embower the mansion in their shade,
Time-honour'd pile! that, owning thee its lord,
Saw ancient manners, ancient faith, restor'd;
In renovated youth beheld again
Saturnian days, the good Eliza's reign.
With thee too sheltering many an angel guest,
For what, but Heaven, serener than thy breast?—
Blest mansion then, Simplicity's abode,
Where smiling Innocence look'd up to God,
Where Nature's genuine graces charm'd the heart,
Or Nature, polish'd but by classic art.
There Fancy, warm'd with brightest, chastest beams,
The saint's high rapture, and the poet's dreams,
While Virtue left, delighting there to dwell,
The pensive mountain, and the hermit's cell.—
198
The blaze of fiction and pure light of truth,
Who, less by precept than example sir'd,
Glow'd as he taught, inspiring and inspir'd.
Nor think, gay revellers, this awful roof
Echoed no sounds but Wisdom's harsh reproof;
The social board, attendant Mirth, was there,
The Smile unconscious of to-morrow's care,
With every tranquil joy of wedded life,
The gracious children, and the faithful wife.
In dance, in song, in harmless sports approv'd,
There youth has frolick'd, there soft maids have lov'd.
There one, distinguish'd one—not sweeter blows
In simpler ornament attir'd, the rose,
The rose she cull'd to deck the nuptial bower,
Herself as fair—a transitory flower.—
Echoed no sounds but Wisdom's harsh reproof;
The social board, attendant Mirth, was there,
The Smile unconscious of to-morrow's care,
With every tranquil joy of wedded life,
The gracious children, and the faithful wife.
In dance, in song, in harmless sports approv'd,
There youth has frolick'd, there soft maids have lov'd.
There one, distinguish'd one—not sweeter blows
In simpler ornament attir'd, the rose,
The rose she cull'd to deck the nuptial bower,
Herself as fair—a transitory flower.—
Thus a short hour—and woods and turrets fall;
The good, the great, the beauteous, perish all.
Another age a gayer race supplies,
Less awful groves, and gaudier villas rise.
See Wisdom's place usurp'd by Folly's sons,
And scorners sit on Virtue's vacant thrones.
See neighbouring Combe's old genius quit its bowers,
Not Warwick's name preserv'd his Gothic towers;
Nor distant see new royal domes deride
What half remains of Wolsey's ancient pride!
While yet this humbler pile survives to prove
A mansion worthy of its master's love:
Like him, still welcomes to its liberal door
Whom most he honour'd, honouring most the poor;
Like him, the lisping infant's blessing shares,
And age's gratitude in silent prayers.—
While such partake the couch, the frugal feast,
No regal chambers boast an equal guest;
For, gracious Maker, by thy own decree,
Receiving mercy is receiving Thee!—
The good, the great, the beauteous, perish all.
199
Less awful groves, and gaudier villas rise.
See Wisdom's place usurp'd by Folly's sons,
And scorners sit on Virtue's vacant thrones.
See neighbouring Combe's old genius quit its bowers,
Not Warwick's name preserv'd his Gothic towers;
Nor distant see new royal domes deride
What half remains of Wolsey's ancient pride!
While yet this humbler pile survives to prove
A mansion worthy of its master's love:
Like him, still welcomes to its liberal door
Whom most he honour'd, honouring most the poor;
Like him, the lisping infant's blessing shares,
And age's gratitude in silent prayers.—
200
No regal chambers boast an equal guest;
For, gracious Maker, by thy own decree,
Receiving mercy is receiving Thee!—
| Poems on several occasions | |