The Poetical Works of Anna Seward With Extracts from her Literary Correspondence. Edited by Walter Scott ... In Three Volumes |
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HAY-FIELD,
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 | The Poetical Works of Anna Seward |  |
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THE HAY-FIELD,
A MORNING SCENE.
The joys, gay Spirit of the social plain,
And useful labours, renovate my strain,
Rising, it vibrates to thy oaten reed,
And sings the artless pleasures of the mead.
No frown the Muse from Truth and Nature fears,
Tho' pale Refinement sicken as she hears.
And useful labours, renovate my strain,
Rising, it vibrates to thy oaten reed,
And sings the artless pleasures of the mead.
No frown the Muse from Truth and Nature fears,
Tho' pale Refinement sicken as she hears.
Now is it June's bright morn, and Beauty twines
The glowing wreaths that deck her thousand shrines;
On the lark's wing, sweet music hails the day,
And o'er the sun-beam pours his liquid lay;
While the blithe Spirit of the social plain
Leads Health, and Love, and Gladness in his train.
The glowing wreaths that deck her thousand shrines;
On the lark's wing, sweet music hails the day,
And o'er the sun-beam pours his liquid lay;
While the blithe Spirit of the social plain
Leads Health, and Love, and Gladness in his train.
Crown'd with her pail, light rocking as she steps,
Along the fresh moist grass, young Lucy trips.
The rustic vest is from her ancle drawn,
Yet catches many a dew-drop of the lawn.
Warm on her downy cheek health's deepest glow,
And in her eyes its lavish lustres flow;
And in her voice its wildly-warbled song
Floats, and returns the echoing glades among.
Her nut-brown tresses wanton on the gale,
Her breath perfumes afresh the blossom'd vale.
Along the fresh moist grass, young Lucy trips.
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Yet catches many a dew-drop of the lawn.
Warm on her downy cheek health's deepest glow,
And in her eyes its lavish lustres flow;
And in her voice its wildly-warbled song
Floats, and returns the echoing glades among.
Her nut-brown tresses wanton on the gale,
Her breath perfumes afresh the blossom'd vale.
Nine blooming maidens meet her in the grove,
And ask and tell the tender tale of love;
With their prone fork and mystic scroll they frame,
Tracing on sand each heart-recorded name.
O'er the bared shoulder hangs the idle rake,
And busy Fancy paints the coming wake;
But from the lip th' unfinish'd periods break,
And joy's warm blushes deeper tinge the cheek;
For, see th' expected youths, in manhood's pride,
Stoutly are striding down the mountain's side;
High o'er the rapid brook at once they bound,
And gay good-morrows thro' the plain resound!
And ask and tell the tender tale of love;
With their prone fork and mystic scroll they frame,
Tracing on sand each heart-recorded name.
O'er the bared shoulder hangs the idle rake,
And busy Fancy paints the coming wake;
But from the lip th' unfinish'd periods break,
And joy's warm blushes deeper tinge the cheek;
For, see th' expected youths, in manhood's pride,
Stoutly are striding down the mountain's side;
High o'er the rapid brook at once they bound,
And gay good-morrows thro' the plain resound!
And now is Labour busy in the dale;
The cow stands duteous by the cleanly pail,
Where the rich milk descends in eddying tides,
Pure as the virgin hands thro' which it glides.
The cow stands duteous by the cleanly pail,
Where the rich milk descends in eddying tides,
Pure as the virgin hands thro' which it glides.
The youths, with short'ning arm and bending head,
Sweep their bright scythes along the shiver'd mead;
Three blithsome maids the grassy treasure shake,
Three draw, with gentle hand, the thrifty rake;
And three, 'mid carol sweet and jocund tale,
Scatter the breathing verdure to the gale.
Sweep their bright scythes along the shiver'd mead;
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Three draw, with gentle hand, the thrifty rake;
And three, 'mid carol sweet and jocund tale,
Scatter the breathing verdure to the gale.
Where yonder cottages' ascending smoke,
In spiral columns, wreaths the sun-gilt oak;
The careful parents of the village dwell,
And dress the savoury pottage in the cell;
Their little rosy girls and boys prepare
The steaming breakfast thro' the vale to bear.
In spiral columns, wreaths the sun-gilt oak;
The careful parents of the village dwell,
And dress the savoury pottage in the cell;
Their little rosy girls and boys prepare
The steaming breakfast thro' the vale to bear.
See, with pleased looks, gay Ceres' happy train
Watch their young donors loaded on the plain,
Inhale the grateful fumes that round them rise,
Mark their slow, heedful step and earnest eyes,
The chubby hands that grasp the circling rim,
Where health's warm viand rises to the brim.
Light on the violet bank recline the band,
And take the present from the willing hand;
With eager appetite, and poignant taste,
Thank the kind bearers, and enjoy the feast.
Watch their young donors loaded on the plain,
Inhale the grateful fumes that round them rise,
Mark their slow, heedful step and earnest eyes,
The chubby hands that grasp the circling rim,
Where health's warm viand rises to the brim.
Light on the violet bank recline the band,
And take the present from the willing hand;
With eager appetite, and poignant taste,
Thank the kind bearers, and enjoy the feast.
Yon tall white spire, that rises 'mid the trees,
Courting, with golden vane, the passing breeze,
A peal, far heard, sends merry down the dale,
The notes of triumph tell a bridal tale.
Courting, with golden vane, the passing breeze,
A peal, far heard, sends merry down the dale,
The notes of triumph tell a bridal tale.
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The hallow'd green sod the swift river laves,
Dark alders trembling o'er the sunny waves;
Its ripling breast receives each measured round,
Mellowing the shrillness of the silver sound.
Dark alders trembling o'er the sunny waves;
Its ripling breast receives each measured round,
Mellowing the shrillness of the silver sound.
Our youthful lovers hail th' harmonious noise,
And Hope anticipates their bridal joys;
Pours all her magic influence on the scene,
Laughs in their eyes, and triumphs in their mien.
Sportful their infant friends around them rove,
And all is frolic, innocence, and love.
And Hope anticipates their bridal joys;
Pours all her magic influence on the scene,
Laughs in their eyes, and triumphs in their mien.
Sportful their infant friends around them rove,
And all is frolic, innocence, and love.
May equal bliss the varying year adorn,
And gild the labours of each future morn!
Whether the wanton hours, that lead the spring,
Catch silver rain-drops from her shining wing,
Or zoneless Summer, flaunting o'er the meads,
Empurpled bloom, and richest fragrance sheds;
Or auburn Autumn, from her full lap, throws
The mellow fruits upon the bending boughs;
Or Winter, with his dark relentless train,
Wind, snow, and sleet, shall desolate the plain;
Howl o'er the hill, and as the river raves,
In drear stagnation warp th' arrested waves.
Yes, may the days of bloom and ripeness find
Such joys rewarding each untainted mind;
And, in the rage of the severer hours,
May balmy Comfort, with assuasive powers,
Present the stores by former toil amass'd,
Pile the warm hearth, and dress the neat repast;
Bid sport and song prepare the gladsome rite,
Then smooth the pillow through the stormy night!
Thus Health and Love the varying year shall crown,
While Truth and Nature smile, tho' pale Refinement frown.
And gild the labours of each future morn!
Whether the wanton hours, that lead the spring,
Catch silver rain-drops from her shining wing,
Or zoneless Summer, flaunting o'er the meads,
Empurpled bloom, and richest fragrance sheds;
Or auburn Autumn, from her full lap, throws
The mellow fruits upon the bending boughs;
Or Winter, with his dark relentless train,
Wind, snow, and sleet, shall desolate the plain;
Howl o'er the hill, and as the river raves,
In drear stagnation warp th' arrested waves.
Yes, may the days of bloom and ripeness find
Such joys rewarding each untainted mind;
And, in the rage of the severer hours,
May balmy Comfort, with assuasive powers,
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Pile the warm hearth, and dress the neat repast;
Bid sport and song prepare the gladsome rite,
Then smooth the pillow through the stormy night!
Thus Health and Love the varying year shall crown,
While Truth and Nature smile, tho' pale Refinement frown.
| The Poetical Works of Anna Seward | |