The Poetical Works of John Langhorne ... To which are prefixed, Memoirs of the Author by his Son the Rev. J. T. Langhorne ... In Two Volumes |
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EPISTLE TO MR.--- |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Langhorne |  |
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EPISTLE TO MR.---
From scenes where fancy no excursion tries,
Nor trusts her wing to smoke-invelop'd skies;
Far from the town's detested haunts remov'd,
And nought but thee deserted that I lov'd;
From noise and folly and the world got free,
One truant thought yet only stays for thee.
What is that world which makes the heart its slave?
A restless sea, revolving wave on wave:
There rage the storms of each uncertain clime;
There float the wrecks of Fortune and of Time:
There Hope's smooth gales in soft succession blow,
While disappointment hides the rock below.
The syren pleasures tune their fatal breath,
And lull you to the long repose of death.
What is that world? ah!—'tis no more
Than the vext ocean while we walk the shore.
Loud roar the winds and swell the wild waves high,
Lash the rude beach, and frighten all the sky;
No longer shall my little bark be rent,
Since Hope resign'd her anchor to Content.
Nor trusts her wing to smoke-invelop'd skies;
Far from the town's detested haunts remov'd,
And nought but thee deserted that I lov'd;
From noise and folly and the world got free,
One truant thought yet only stays for thee.
What is that world which makes the heart its slave?
A restless sea, revolving wave on wave:
There rage the storms of each uncertain clime;
There float the wrecks of Fortune and of Time:
There Hope's smooth gales in soft succession blow,
While disappointment hides the rock below.
The syren pleasures tune their fatal breath,
And lull you to the long repose of death.
What is that world? ah!—'tis no more
Than the vext ocean while we walk the shore.
Loud roar the winds and swell the wild waves high,
Lash the rude beach, and frighten all the sky;
No longer shall my little bark be rent,
Since Hope resign'd her anchor to Content.
Like some poor fisher that, escap'd with life,
Will trust no more to elemental strife;
But sits in safety on the green-bank side,
And lives upon the leavings of the tide;
Like him contented you your friend shall see,
As safe, as happy, and as poor as he.
Will trust no more to elemental strife;
142
And lives upon the leavings of the tide;
Like him contented you your friend shall see,
As safe, as happy, and as poor as he.
| The Poetical Works of John Langhorne | |