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 | The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell |  |
Sweet Rose, look up, thy Season comes at last;
Fierce Aquile hath spent his chilling blast,
And every Monument of Winter's power
Melts in the Western Breeze and Vernal Shower.
Sweet Rose, thy Season comes, and comes to bring
The welcome period of no common Spring.
Fierce Aquile hath spent his chilling blast,
And every Monument of Winter's power
Melts in the Western Breeze and Vernal Shower.
Sweet Rose, thy Season comes, and comes to bring
The welcome period of no common Spring.
Thrice has yon River burst his icy chain,
And spread his annual tribute o'er the plain,
Diffusing, from his rich and swelling tide,
The Seeds of future plenty far and wide;
While here, forsaken it has been thy lot
“To blush unseen,” and in this charming spot,
To mourn the want of Emma's fostering care,
And “waste thy sweetness on the desert air.”
But now, sweet Rose, look up. This joyless doom
No more awaits thy renovated bloom.
His task again, see, faithful Nichols plies;
Again this spot attracts admiring eyes,
And they, whose absence we so long bewail,
Bespeak fair Winds to swell the lofty Sail,
And speed their passage home.
And spread his annual tribute o'er the plain,
Diffusing, from his rich and swelling tide,
The Seeds of future plenty far and wide;
While here, forsaken it has been thy lot
“To blush unseen,” and in this charming spot,
To mourn the want of Emma's fostering care,
And “waste thy sweetness on the desert air.”
But now, sweet Rose, look up. This joyless doom
No more awaits thy renovated bloom.
His task again, see, faithful Nichols plies;
Again this spot attracts admiring eyes,
And they, whose absence we so long bewail,
Bespeak fair Winds to swell the lofty Sail,
And speed their passage home.
But is it home?
Can it, alas, be so to them who come
From England hither? Or, as hence they went,
Can they return, with joy and gay content?
Can it, alas, be so to them who come
From England hither? Or, as hence they went,
Can they return, with joy and gay content?
Yes—When a sense of duty intervenes,
Virtue will gladly quit the splendid Scenes
Of pomp and pleasure, still secure to find
In every place, that “Sunshine of the Mind,”
That self-approv'd Serenity of Soul,
Which tempers every clime from pole to pole,
And turns the World in all its ample round,
For England's progeny, to English ground.
Virtue will gladly quit the splendid Scenes
Of pomp and pleasure, still secure to find
In every place, that “Sunshine of the Mind,”
That self-approv'd Serenity of Soul,
Which tempers every clime from pole to pole,
And turns the World in all its ample round,
For England's progeny, to English ground.
8
Then droop no more, sweet Rose; they come, they come!
Here to enjoy again the sweets of home;
Pure joys, which hallow the domestic spot;
Pleasures which, tasted once, are ne'er forgot.
Sweet Rose, they come, for whose return, the sighs
And prayers of anxious thousands daily rise.
O may propitious breezes waft them o'er
With speed and safety to this Western Shore,
Where loyal thousands with impatience burn
To hail the Jubilee of their Return.
Here to enjoy again the sweets of home;
Pure joys, which hallow the domestic spot;
Pleasures which, tasted once, are ne'er forgot.
Sweet Rose, they come, for whose return, the sighs
And prayers of anxious thousands daily rise.
O may propitious breezes waft them o'er
With speed and safety to this Western Shore,
Where loyal thousands with impatience burn
To hail the Jubilee of their Return.
| The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell | |