 | Miscellaneous poems |  |
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PLEASURE.
Whilst others mourn the woes of human kind,
And conjure phantoms up, to fright the mind;
Dwell on each trifling ill, till it appear
A load too vast, too multiplied to bear;
Spread round dark Melancholy's sombre veil;
With lengthen'd visage, tell so sad a tale,
The sad heart sickens, tears bedim the eye,
And closed is ev'ry avenue to joy;
Pleasure's my theme, nor could the sportive muse
A theme more varied or diffusive choose.
And conjure phantoms up, to fright the mind;
Dwell on each trifling ill, till it appear
A load too vast, too multiplied to bear;
Spread round dark Melancholy's sombre veil;
With lengthen'd visage, tell so sad a tale,
The sad heart sickens, tears bedim the eye,
And closed is ev'ry avenue to joy;
Pleasure's my theme, nor could the sportive muse
A theme more varied or diffusive choose.
Oh! Nymph forever courted, young and fair,
Where is thy dwelling place? earth, sea, or air?
So changeable thy form, and thou art found
In such incongruous scenes; thy robes unbound,
Thy tresses floating in the wanton wind,
One hand half open, one concealed behind,
Smiling, deluding us of care and sorrow,
With flattering promises of joy to-morrow;
To thee no fix'd abode can be assign'd;
But come, gay Nymph, for once possess my mind.
Where is thy dwelling place? earth, sea, or air?
So changeable thy form, and thou art found
In such incongruous scenes; thy robes unbound,
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One hand half open, one concealed behind,
Smiling, deluding us of care and sorrow,
With flattering promises of joy to-morrow;
To thee no fix'd abode can be assign'd;
But come, gay Nymph, for once possess my mind.
I see thee, even now; on yonder green,
Within that ring of sportive boys thou'rt seen;
And now behold thee on the kite arise,
Or the swift foot-ball follow as it flies;
Now in that bag, crowded with marbles-found;
Now on that top, spinning along the ground.
Yes, and full oft, upon a winter's day,
When frost and glittering gems made all things gay,
I've seen the buckle on the stripling's skates,
Who vaunts his skill, above his fearful mates,
And as in graceful circles round he wheels,
Laughs, if the ice betrays his comrades' heels.
Within that ring of sportive boys thou'rt seen;
And now behold thee on the kite arise,
Or the swift foot-ball follow as it flies;
Now in that bag, crowded with marbles-found;
Now on that top, spinning along the ground.
Yes, and full oft, upon a winter's day,
When frost and glittering gems made all things gay,
I've seen the buckle on the stripling's skates,
Who vaunts his skill, above his fearful mates,
And as in graceful circles round he wheels,
Laughs, if the ice betrays his comrades' heels.
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I've seen thee drag up hill the urchin's sled,
Who with rapidity, devoid of dread,
Rushes impetuous down; again thou'st stood
Upon the margin of the glassy flood,
Amongst a pigmy group, who, half afraid,
Launched forth their little bark of shingle made;
With skewer for mast, for rigging slender thread,
Its sails of small white rags, so trimly spread,
That as it floated down the placid stream,
They clapped their infant hands in joy extreme.
Who with rapidity, devoid of dread,
Rushes impetuous down; again thou'st stood
Upon the margin of the glassy flood,
Amongst a pigmy group, who, half afraid,
Launched forth their little bark of shingle made;
With skewer for mast, for rigging slender thread,
Its sails of small white rags, so trimly spread,
That as it floated down the placid stream,
They clapped their infant hands in joy extreme.
And now thou com'st with such bewitching grace,
So blythe a mien, and such a smiling face,
Thou canst delight to age itself recall,
What brought thee hither? ah! that waxen doll,
Those cups and saucers, tea urn, spoons, and all;
That nice buffet, those treasures safe to keep,
That bed and curtains, where the doll shall sleep.
Now thou reposest in that easy chair,
Thy matron brow shaded with silver hair,
Thy mild eye beaming with delight and pride,
On the lov'd prattler sporting by thy side;
Yet though I see thee plain, 'tis hard to tell,
With which of these two beings thou dost dwell;
Whether the donor of the charming toys,
Or her sweet grandchild, feels the purest joys.
So blythe a mien, and such a smiling face,
Thou canst delight to age itself recall,
What brought thee hither? ah! that waxen doll,
Those cups and saucers, tea urn, spoons, and all;
That nice buffet, those treasures safe to keep,
That bed and curtains, where the doll shall sleep.
Now thou reposest in that easy chair,
Thy matron brow shaded with silver hair,
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On the lov'd prattler sporting by thy side;
Yet though I see thee plain, 'tis hard to tell,
With which of these two beings thou dost dwell;
Whether the donor of the charming toys,
Or her sweet grandchild, feels the purest joys.
Where art thou flitting now, bright phantom? say,
Is it to yonder group so neat, so gay,
Who with light heart, and sportive bound advance,
And to the sprightly viol lead the dance?
Yes! yes! thou beam'st from that blue laughing eye,
Thou mak'st that little heart beat high with joy,
Thou reign'st triumphant in the festive scene,
Where all is cheerful, innocent, serene;
Where she is happy who is best attir'd,
Yet happier she, who is the most admir'd;
But happiest, of the happy, she confest,
Where all dance well, the gracefullest and best.
Is it to yonder group so neat, so gay,
Who with light heart, and sportive bound advance,
And to the sprightly viol lead the dance?
Yes! yes! thou beam'st from that blue laughing eye,
Thou mak'st that little heart beat high with joy,
Thou reign'st triumphant in the festive scene,
Where all is cheerful, innocent, serene;
Where she is happy who is best attir'd,
Yet happier she, who is the most admir'd;
But happiest, of the happy, she confest,
Where all dance well, the gracefullest and best.
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But now the scene is chang'd, and thou dost pass,
To that fair creature, who before the glass,
Ties on her neat chip hat, adjusts her hair,
And pins her kerchief with the nicest care.
Ah! hasten, fair one, for across the plain,
Advances eagerly, thy fav'rite swain;
And now how swiftly light-wing'd Pleasure flies,
To greet the youth, peeps from his speaking eyes;
Returns toward the nymph, to quit her loath;
They meet, and Pleasure dwells alike with both.
To that fair creature, who before the glass,
Ties on her neat chip hat, adjusts her hair,
And pins her kerchief with the nicest care.
Ah! hasten, fair one, for across the plain,
Advances eagerly, thy fav'rite swain;
And now how swiftly light-wing'd Pleasure flies,
To greet the youth, peeps from his speaking eyes;
Returns toward the nymph, to quit her loath;
They meet, and Pleasure dwells alike with both.
And now thou hoverest round a sacred fane,
Weaving of half blown roses a soft chain;
While from a torch a lambent flame ascends,
Twines round the chaplet, with the roses blends.
A youth in saffron garments fans the fire,
And as it burns, their sweets, their tints are higher;
They seem to glow with amaranthine bloom,
And shed around, a fragrant, rich perfume.
Weaving of half blown roses a soft chain;
While from a torch a lambent flame ascends,
Twines round the chaplet, with the roses blends.
A youth in saffron garments fans the fire,
And as it burns, their sweets, their tints are higher;
They seem to glow with amaranthine bloom,
And shed around, a fragrant, rich perfume.
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Oh Pleasure! heavenly vision, linger here;
Spread thy white pinions, let no foe come near:
Let not pale anguish, with o'erflowing eye,
Quench the bright flame, or cause the flow'rs to die;
Call Truth, and Love, and Honour to thy aid,
So shall the flame still burn, the flow'rs ne'er fade;
Thy cheering presence gild each rising day,
And but with life itself pass quite away.
Spread thy white pinions, let no foe come near:
Let not pale anguish, with o'erflowing eye,
Quench the bright flame, or cause the flow'rs to die;
Call Truth, and Love, and Honour to thy aid,
So shall the flame still burn, the flow'rs ne'er fade;
Thy cheering presence gild each rising day,
And but with life itself pass quite away.
Now thou art passing through that prison gate;
Now on that sick and suff'ring wretch await;
Yes, it is thou, dear Pleasure, that dost glide,
In humble guise, still by the good man's side;
Raising the widow, and with giant arm
Defending the unfriended child from harm;
Clothing the naked, giving thy own bread,
That thy poor suffering brethren may be fed;
Healing the broken heart, and making dry
The sorrow-furrow'd cheek, and swollen eye.
Now on that sick and suff'ring wretch await;
Yes, it is thou, dear Pleasure, that dost glide,
In humble guise, still by the good man's side;
Raising the widow, and with giant arm
Defending the unfriended child from harm;
Clothing the naked, giving thy own bread,
That thy poor suffering brethren may be fed;
Healing the broken heart, and making dry
The sorrow-furrow'd cheek, and swollen eye.
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Oh Pleasure! Beauty's self did never wear
A form so bright, so exquisitely fair,
As thou, with glowing cheek, and humid eye,
Soothing the sorrows of humanity.
Blest is the bosom where thou dost preside;
Blest is the liberal hand which thou dost guide;
And like a living spring, thy path is seen,
Strewed with fresh flowers, and verdure ever green.
A form so bright, so exquisitely fair,
As thou, with glowing cheek, and humid eye,
Soothing the sorrows of humanity.
Blest is the bosom where thou dost preside;
Blest is the liberal hand which thou dost guide;
And like a living spring, thy path is seen,
Strewed with fresh flowers, and verdure ever green.
Within the circle round yon blazing hearth,
Defying spleen, excluding noisy mirth,
With eye serenely mild, but yet from whence
Beams genius, learning, wit, intelligence,
I see thee seated, and with fond delight,
Forgetful of the hour of waning night,
Trace past events of sorrow or of joy,
Turn the historic page, or, sweet employ,
Read Nature's wondrous volume, and then raise
To Nature's God the look, thought, voice of praise.
Defying spleen, excluding noisy mirth,
With eye serenely mild, but yet from whence
Beams genius, learning, wit, intelligence,
I see thee seated, and with fond delight,
Forgetful of the hour of waning night,
Trace past events of sorrow or of joy,
Turn the historic page, or, sweet employ,
Read Nature's wondrous volume, and then raise
To Nature's God the look, thought, voice of praise.
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Heart, springing forth to heart, in sympathy,
Expressive silence speaking from the eye,
Love in the bosom, like empyrean flame,
So pure, saints might partake it without blame;
Pleasure, if on this globe thou canst be found,
'Tis when thou art by sacred friendship crown'd;
Thee, the base slaves of passion never knew,
Thou minglest not with the unholy crew;
But sometimes, a foretaste of heav'ns delight,
Thou sufferest love and friendship to unite,
Reason and virtue the sweet incense blend,
And honour bid the hallow'd flame ascend
On soaring wing, and still aspiring rise,
Bright, purified, to its own native skies.
Expressive silence speaking from the eye,
Love in the bosom, like empyrean flame,
So pure, saints might partake it without blame;
Pleasure, if on this globe thou canst be found,
'Tis when thou art by sacred friendship crown'd;
Thee, the base slaves of passion never knew,
Thou minglest not with the unholy crew;
But sometimes, a foretaste of heav'ns delight,
Thou sufferest love and friendship to unite,
Reason and virtue the sweet incense blend,
And honour bid the hallow'd flame ascend
On soaring wing, and still aspiring rise,
Bright, purified, to its own native skies.
Where go'st thou now? with that mild placid mein,
Pleasure, dost thou attend that death bed scene?
Ah yes! I see thee mitigate each pain,
And while the dying man hears hope is vain,
Thy words, thy looks, his anxious thoughts control,
And whisper peace, and pardon, to his soul.
I know thee; every where thou art the name:
Pleasure, Religion is thy real name.
To smooth the rugged part of life thou'rt given,
Cheer the dark vale of death, and lead to heaven.
In youth, in manhood's prime, in life's decline,
RELIGION, all our real joys are thine;
By reason's powerful rein, restraining sense,
Giving delight a zest, by innocence;
O'er every scene, throwing thy magic charm;
In every ill, lending thy powerful arm.
Who seeks for Pleasure, leaving thee behind,
Pursues a shadow, courses the fleet wind;
But led by thee, no care his soul annoys,
No fears depress, no doubt his peace destroys;
'Tis thou encreasest every joy we taste,
Mak'st Eden bloom amidst a barren waste,
And waft'st the soul, releas'd from grief and pain,
To realms where Pleasure holds immortal reign.
Pleasure, dost thou attend that death bed scene?
Ah yes! I see thee mitigate each pain,
And while the dying man hears hope is vain,
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And whisper peace, and pardon, to his soul.
I know thee; every where thou art the name:
Pleasure, Religion is thy real name.
To smooth the rugged part of life thou'rt given,
Cheer the dark vale of death, and lead to heaven.
In youth, in manhood's prime, in life's decline,
RELIGION, all our real joys are thine;
By reason's powerful rein, restraining sense,
Giving delight a zest, by innocence;
O'er every scene, throwing thy magic charm;
In every ill, lending thy powerful arm.
Who seeks for Pleasure, leaving thee behind,
Pursues a shadow, courses the fleet wind;
But led by thee, no care his soul annoys,
No fears depress, no doubt his peace destroys;
'Tis thou encreasest every joy we taste,
Mak'st Eden bloom amidst a barren waste,
And waft'st the soul, releas'd from grief and pain,
To realms where Pleasure holds immortal reign.
| Miscellaneous poems | |