 | Poems, in English, Scotch, and Latin |  |
24
SUMMER.
Pale primroses among the woods decay,
And hyacinths bedeck sweet smiling May;
The blackbird chaunts upon the full blown thorn,
And all the woodland chorus cheers the morn.
Now to the dewy hill direct thy way,
The varied plain with grateful eye survey,
And view the windings of the hidden stream,
Where misty wreaths lurk from the rising beam.
Behold the distant city's smoky shroud,
Where dim-seen spires peep thro' the brooding cloud:
Compare thy lot with theirs who yonder toil,
Whose life is one incessant sore turmoil,
Who only once in seven long days inhale,
In short excursion, the cool western gale.
For me—how seldom are my wishes crown'd
With leave to fly the stunning, dizzying sound!
And when indulg'd, how fleeting the sojourn!
How soon by whispering care urg'd to return!
The captive bird, thus from the cage set free,
Flies to the grove and flits from tree to tree;
Each dell, each bosky bourne he loves to range,
Rejoicing in the life-renewing change:
But all unus'd to seek the woodland fare,
Or to endure the midnight's chilling air,
Back to his prison—he forsakes the wood,
And, ah! too common, freedom sells for food.
And hyacinths bedeck sweet smiling May;
The blackbird chaunts upon the full blown thorn,
And all the woodland chorus cheers the morn.
Now to the dewy hill direct thy way,
The varied plain with grateful eye survey,
And view the windings of the hidden stream,
Where misty wreaths lurk from the rising beam.
Behold the distant city's smoky shroud,
Where dim-seen spires peep thro' the brooding cloud:
Compare thy lot with theirs who yonder toil,
Whose life is one incessant sore turmoil,
Who only once in seven long days inhale,
In short excursion, the cool western gale.
For me—how seldom are my wishes crown'd
With leave to fly the stunning, dizzying sound!
25
How soon by whispering care urg'd to return!
The captive bird, thus from the cage set free,
Flies to the grove and flits from tree to tree;
Each dell, each bosky bourne he loves to range,
Rejoicing in the life-renewing change:
But all unus'd to seek the woodland fare,
Or to endure the midnight's chilling air,
Back to his prison—he forsakes the wood,
And, ah! too common, freedom sells for food.
While yet the dew-drop glisters in the shade,
Ere yet the sun-beams reach the hidden glade,
The aged labourer quits his morning toil,
His well-worn spade fix'd in th'inverted soil.
Afar his little boy, pleas'd he descries,
Who light of heart fast from the village hies;
In this hand hangs a scrip, in that a pail,
The frugal dishes of his parent's meal:
The simple viands on the grass are spread,
The sire uncovers slow his hoary head,
And grateful to his God and Father pays
His humble homage and unfeigned praise,—
To him who to the ravens gave command
To feed his servant in the desert land.
This man had fought in fields bestrewn with dead,
And in his thankless country's cause had bled,—
For them who roll in ease without one thought
Of all the woe with which that ease is bought;
Who gorge remorseless at the costly feast
What would a starving family make blest;
Who seize the widow's mite when in arrear,
Stern and relentless to the pleading tear,
Then, if they give a tester to the poor,
Believe the generous deed will heaven secure;
And think that what thus to the Lord is lent
Will be repaid with interest cent. per cent.—
Ye sordid, pitiful, low, grovelling things,
Go grind the poor, go lick the dust to kings.
Ere yet the sun-beams reach the hidden glade,
The aged labourer quits his morning toil,
His well-worn spade fix'd in th'inverted soil.
Afar his little boy, pleas'd he descries,
Who light of heart fast from the village hies;
In this hand hangs a scrip, in that a pail,
The frugal dishes of his parent's meal:
26
The sire uncovers slow his hoary head,
And grateful to his God and Father pays
His humble homage and unfeigned praise,—
To him who to the ravens gave command
To feed his servant in the desert land.
This man had fought in fields bestrewn with dead,
And in his thankless country's cause had bled,—
For them who roll in ease without one thought
Of all the woe with which that ease is bought;
Who gorge remorseless at the costly feast
What would a starving family make blest;
Who seize the widow's mite when in arrear,
Stern and relentless to the pleading tear,
Then, if they give a tester to the poor,
Believe the generous deed will heaven secure;
And think that what thus to the Lord is lent
Will be repaid with interest cent. per cent.—
Ye sordid, pitiful, low, grovelling things,
Go grind the poor, go lick the dust to kings.
27
Resistless heat broods o'er the thirsty plains;
Among the woods a listless silence reigns;
The drooping bird no longer loves to sing,
But quits the branch and laves its fluttering wing;
The beggar leaves the road, embrown'd with dust,
And in the shaded fountain soaks his crust:
To the hoarse-babbling brook the poet strays,
Or loves to lose himself far 'mid the greenwood's maze.
Let me the river's dazzling glare avoid,
And lay me on the streamlet's shady side,
So narrow on the farther bank I see
Humming from flower to flower the devious bee,
While grashoppers, with intermitting voice,
Raise all around a feeble, chirping noise.
Among the woods a listless silence reigns;
The drooping bird no longer loves to sing,
But quits the branch and laves its fluttering wing;
The beggar leaves the road, embrown'd with dust,
And in the shaded fountain soaks his crust:
To the hoarse-babbling brook the poet strays,
Or loves to lose himself far 'mid the greenwood's maze.
Let me the river's dazzling glare avoid,
And lay me on the streamlet's shady side,
So narrow on the farther bank I see
Humming from flower to flower the devious bee,
While grashoppers, with intermitting voice,
Raise all around a feeble, chirping noise.
| Poems, in English, Scotch, and Latin | |