The Poetical Works of John Langhorne :: :: University of Virginia Library

Where trembling poplars shade their parent vale,
And tune to melody the mountain gale;
Where Irwan murmurs musically slow,
And breathing breezes through his osiers blow;
Friend of my heart, behold thy poet laid
In the dear silence of his native shade!
Ye sacred vales, where oft the muse, unseen,
Led my light steps along the moon-light green;
Ye scenes, where peace and fancy held their reign,
For ever lov'd, and once enjoy'd again!
Ah! where is now, that nameless bliss refin'd;
That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind?
As sweet the wild rose bears its balmy breast;
As soon, the breeze with murmurs sooths to rest;
As smooth, the stream of silver Irwan flows;
As fair, each flower along his border blows:
Yet dwells not here that nameless bliss refin'd,
That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind.
Is it that knowledge is allied to woe;
And are we happy, only e'er we know?

145

Is it that Hope withholds her golden ray,
That Fancy's fairy visions fade away?
Or can I, distant far from all that's dear,
Be happy only when Almena's near?
That truth, the feelings of my heart disclose:
Too dear the friendship for the friend's repose.
Thus mourn'd the muse, when thro' his osiers wild,
The hill-born Irwan rais'd his head and smil'd:
“Child of my hopes,” he fondly cried, “forbear;
“Nor let thy Irwan witness thy despair.
“Has peace indeed forsook my flow'ry shore?
“Shall Fame, and Hope, and Fancy charm no more?
“Tho' Fame and Hope in kindred air depart,
“Yet Eancy still should hold thee to her heart;
“For, at thy birth, the village hind has seen
“Her light wings waving o'er the shadowy green.
“With rosy wreaths she crown'd the new-born hours,
“And rival fairies fill'd thy bed with flowers;
“In vain—if grief shall waste thy blooming years,
“And life dissolve in solitude and tears.”—