Poetics Or, a series of poems, and disquisitions on poetry. By George Dyer |
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| IV. | ODE IV. ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
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 | Poetics |  |
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ODE IV. ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
Meditated on the Banks of the Cam.
Lo! where the virgin spring is seen,
Dancing forth in bright array,
Blithe as an eastern bridal Queen,
To wed the Lord of Day.
And see! where rising nature homage yields,
And all her breathing incense pours along,
O'er dewy meads, and the wide open fields,
The stream's soft murmur, and the poet's song,
All, all, her smile attend; earth, water, sky,
All wake to thee, fair Spring, their sweetest minstrelsy.
Dancing forth in bright array,
Blithe as an eastern bridal Queen,
To wed the Lord of Day.
And see! where rising nature homage yields,
And all her breathing incense pours along,
O'er dewy meads, and the wide open fields,
The stream's soft murmur, and the poet's song,
All, all, her smile attend; earth, water, sky,
All wake to thee, fair Spring, their sweetest minstrelsy.
I, too, the genial spirit feel,
Ranging gay the meadows wide,
Or muse smooth numbers as I steal,
Fair Camus' banks beside.
Tho' on these banks no myrtle breathes perfume,
No rose unfolds its blushing beauties near,
Tho' here no gaudy tulip spreads its bloom,
Nor decks the towering lily the parterre:
Inclos'd within the garden's fair domain,
These all in sultan pride shall hold their flaunting reign.
Ranging gay the meadows wide,
Or muse smooth numbers as I steal,
Fair Camus' banks beside.
Tho' on these banks no myrtle breathes perfume,
No rose unfolds its blushing beauties near,
Tho' here no gaudy tulip spreads its bloom,
Nor decks the towering lily the parterre:
Inclos'd within the garden's fair domain,
These all in sultan pride shall hold their flaunting reign.
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Yet wild-flowers o'er the pregnant scene,
Quicken'd by the touch of May,
Shall spring obedient to their queen,
In simple beauty gay.
To me the violet shall yield its sweet;
Its hue of gold to me the kingcup shew;
From primrose pale, like modest virtue neat,
From meek-eyed daisy shall instruction flow.
Yes, field-flower and the lowly willow-tree,
Crowning yon fav'rite bank—these shall have charms for me.
Quicken'd by the touch of May,
Shall spring obedient to their queen,
In simple beauty gay.
To me the violet shall yield its sweet;
Its hue of gold to me the kingcup shew;
From primrose pale, like modest virtue neat,
From meek-eyed daisy shall instruction flow.
Yes, field-flower and the lowly willow-tree,
Crowning yon fav'rite bank—these shall have charms for me.
What tho', at times, the drizzling shower
Spread a transient gloom around?
Soon shall burst forth the vernal power,
Amid the sweets of sound.
Upward shall spring the lark at early dawn,
And its clear matin carol thro' the sky,
The mellow blackbird hail the settled morn,
The linnet softly trill on hawthorn nigh:
The gloom shall vanish soon, and every spray
With wildest music ring, and all be holiday.
Spread a transient gloom around?
Soon shall burst forth the vernal power,
Amid the sweets of sound.
Upward shall spring the lark at early dawn,
And its clear matin carol thro' the sky,
The mellow blackbird hail the settled morn,
The linnet softly trill on hawthorn nigh:
The gloom shall vanish soon, and every spray
With wildest music ring, and all be holiday.
Even now the sunbeam glittering bright
Dances on the crisped stream;
The waters with a clearer light,
Now more pellucid gleam.
Nor does in vain the swan majestic sail,
Nor bee buzz roving near the flowery brink,
Nor the fish sportive down the current steal,
Nor the plum'd songster on the margin dank:
All, as tho' some great bounty did inspire,
Put on their happiest looks, and wear their best attire.
Dances on the crisped stream;
The waters with a clearer light,
Now more pellucid gleam.
Nor does in vain the swan majestic sail,
Nor bee buzz roving near the flowery brink,
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Nor the plum'd songster on the margin dank:
All, as tho' some great bounty did inspire,
Put on their happiest looks, and wear their best attire.
For me, as here thy votary strays,
How past pleasures rise to view!
And thee, oh! Spring, I well may praise,
Where praise so well is due.
Sweet was thy gale in youth, when smil'd the hours;
How soothing soft, when sorrow heav'd my breast!
Thy morning gale could quicken fancy's powers;
And friendship ow'd to thee its sweetest zest.
So reign, oh! Spring, while memory shall last,
Pregnant with new delights, and redolent of past.
How past pleasures rise to view!
And thee, oh! Spring, I well may praise,
Where praise so well is due.
Sweet was thy gale in youth, when smil'd the hours;
How soothing soft, when sorrow heav'd my breast!
Thy morning gale could quicken fancy's powers;
And friendship ow'd to thee its sweetest zest.
So reign, oh! Spring, while memory shall last,
Pregnant with new delights, and redolent of past.
Yet I, who hail thy gentle reign,
Soon must leave thee, gentle Spring,
What time fate's high decrees ordain,
Or wills the Sovereign King.
Yes! all which charms at morn, of orient light,
And all which soothes of eve's soft-setting ray,
Thy gales, and songs, and rills, and flowers so bright,
All that can warm the heart, or gild the day;
All must be follow'd by funereal gloom,
And man, frail man, at length, sink silent to the tomb.
Soon must leave thee, gentle Spring,
What time fate's high decrees ordain,
Or wills the Sovereign King.
Yes! all which charms at morn, of orient light,
And all which soothes of eve's soft-setting ray,
Thy gales, and songs, and rills, and flowers so bright,
All that can warm the heart, or gild the day;
All must be follow'd by funereal gloom,
And man, frail man, at length, sink silent to the tomb.
But tho' I love thee, Spring so fair,
If there's one more fair above,
Where smiles the sun the live-long year,
And all is light and love;
There shall immortal gales breathe sweets around;
There rise seraphic songs, and golden flowers,
Cherish'd luxuriant on the laughing ground,
From heav'ns own dews, and pure ambrosial showers;
And happy beings rest, their conquests won,
Spring never cease to smile, nor time its course to run.
If there's one more fair above,
Where smiles the sun the live-long year,
And all is light and love;
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There rise seraphic songs, and golden flowers,
Cherish'd luxuriant on the laughing ground,
From heav'ns own dews, and pure ambrosial showers;
And happy beings rest, their conquests won,
Spring never cease to smile, nor time its course to run.
| Poetics | |