The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
ELEGY II.
Instead of composing for Fame, he resolves to write the praises of Julia.
No more I'll idly pour the line for praise:
Far loftier hopes my glowing fancy move
I ask the muses for their sweetest lays,
To tell a beauteous maid how much I love.
Far loftier hopes my glowing fancy move
I ask the muses for their sweetest lays,
To tell a beauteous maid how much I love.
Vain are our vows to Fame! alas, how vain!
She waits to see us on the mournful bier
Before she yields of eulogy the strain,
What cruel mockery to the lifeless ear!
She waits to see us on the mournful bier
Before she yields of eulogy the strain,
What cruel mockery to the lifeless ear!
To Julia's hand I own my wish aspires:
Mean are my merits—her's how far above
Yet can I boast what only she requires,
A heart to guard her, and a soul to love.
Mean are my merits—her's how far above
Yet can I boast what only she requires,
A heart to guard her, and a soul to love.
Though courts admir'd, the modest Julia chose
The silent shade, remote from public view:
How like the berry that in secret glows,
And hides beneath a leaf its blushful hue!
The silent shade, remote from public view:
How like the berry that in secret glows,
And hides beneath a leaf its blushful hue!
Few are the wishes of the constant pair:
What though no gold their humble cot display;
Content, their guest, thus cries with careless air,
‘Go, leave us, Wealth, and palaces emblaze.’
What though no gold their humble cot display;
Content, their guest, thus cries with careless air,
‘Go, leave us, Wealth, and palaces emblaze.’
51
In rural bowers Content delights to dwell;
To cull the sweets of Nature's simple vale;
To join the hermit in the mossy cell,
And join the nymphs and shepherds of the dale.
To cull the sweets of Nature's simple vale;
To join the hermit in the mossy cell,
And join the nymphs and shepherds of the dale.
To Fortune's tinsel shrine let others bow,
And to their wishes rear the golden pile;
To one fair virgin while I breathe my vow,
And let my only treasure be her smile.
And to their wishes rear the golden pile;
To one fair virgin while I breathe my vow,
And let my only treasure be her smile.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |