 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
176
LA Belle Romanesque.
Whilst Others doat on Ornaments of State,
And strive to live impertinently Great;
Romantick Sylvia from the Town retreats
To pleasant Walks, and distant Country-Seats;
Where aged Elms, with arching Tops entwin'd,
Wave their full Boughs, and murmur to the Wind:
The cawing Rooks, that on their Branches rest,
A pleasing, studious Pensiveness suggest.
Here tender Sylvia from the World retires,
To shun lew'd Vanities, and high Desires.
And strive to live impertinently Great;
Romantick Sylvia from the Town retreats
To pleasant Walks, and distant Country-Seats;
Where aged Elms, with arching Tops entwin'd,
Wave their full Boughs, and murmur to the Wind:
The cawing Rooks, that on their Branches rest,
A pleasing, studious Pensiveness suggest.
Here tender Sylvia from the World retires,
To shun lew'd Vanities, and high Desires.
All her Ambition is confin'd to Books,
To shady Woods and Groves, and purling Brooks;
Gilt Coaches, Equipages, Publick Shows,
Plays, Op'ras, Balls, Toupees and powder'd Beaux,
No more these Scenes within her Bosom rise,
Melt on her Ear, or brighten in her Eyes:
No Scene's more pleasant than the Vernal Woods,
No Musick sweeter than the falling Floods.
Soon as the Whisper of the Evening Breeze
Curls on the Lake, or pants upon the Trees,
Far in the Copse she wanders all alone,
And softly listens to the Turtle's Moan:
At ev'ry Note, that murmurs down the Grove,
She fondly Sighs, and all her Soul is is Love.
To shady Woods and Groves, and purling Brooks;
177
Plays, Op'ras, Balls, Toupees and powder'd Beaux,
No more these Scenes within her Bosom rise,
Melt on her Ear, or brighten in her Eyes:
No Scene's more pleasant than the Vernal Woods,
No Musick sweeter than the falling Floods.
Soon as the Whisper of the Evening Breeze
Curls on the Lake, or pants upon the Trees,
Far in the Copse she wanders all alone,
And softly listens to the Turtle's Moan:
At ev'ry Note, that murmurs down the Grove,
She fondly Sighs, and all her Soul is is Love.
But when the deep'ning Shades proclaim the Night,
And rising Cynthia sheds her silver Light;
Home from the Woods the musing Nymph repairs,
There sits and chats 'till Sev'n, then up to Pray'rs:
Sometimes with Stories she diverts the Squire,
Or reads Romances by the Parlour-Fire.
Thus Sylvia lives, more Innocent than Great,
And looks with Scorn upon the Farce of State.
And rising Cynthia sheds her silver Light;
Home from the Woods the musing Nymph repairs,
There sits and chats 'till Sev'n, then up to Pray'rs:
Sometimes with Stories she diverts the Squire,
Or reads Romances by the Parlour-Fire.
178
And looks with Scorn upon the Farce of State.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |