Juvenile poems on various subjects :: :: University of Virginia Library

Before the rosy morn had broke the east,
Before the early lark had left her nest,
While yet the dewy damps of night hung round,
And all mankind were wrapt in sleep profound,
Two swains whom sacred Friendship and soft Love
Kept wakeful, 'rose, and sought the silent grove;
His distant Friend, caus'd youthful Hylas' care,
And am'rous Damon mourn'd his absent Fair.

--- attend! e'er friendly to the Muse,
Accept this trifle, and the faults excuse;
By genius fir'd, thy gen'rous breast may claim
The sweets of Love, or Friendship's envied name.

Thus, as fair Hylas sung, the dales around,
Sad Echo play'd, and gave him back the sound,
Ye spotless streams, that plaintive glide along,
Be hush'd a while, and listen to my song;
Ye winged choirs that chanting on each tree,
Enliven ev'ry grove with melody.
Alexis' gone!—cease, cease to swell your throats,
Harsh are you warblings as the raven's notes.
Droop, droop ye groves, ye plains in silence mourn,
Let nought be gay 'til Alexis return.

Here by my side my pipe shall useless lay,
Unheeded now, Alexis is away.
In mourning here I will my time employ,
Nought shall be seen that wears the face of joy.
Alexis' absence here I will complain,
While the rude north-wind whistles to my strain.
'Til he returns no more let spring appear,
But hoary winter shiver thro' the year.
Let music cease, let flow'rs no longer blow,
And murm'ring streams congeal'd, forget to flow.
Droop, droop ye groves, ye plains in silence mourn,
Let nought be gay 'til Alexis return.
How oft together Schuylkil's verdant side
We've trac'd, or wanton'd in its cooling tide,
Or soft reclin'd, where spreading shades were wove,
With joyful accents fill'd the sounding grove.
Then all was gay, then sprightly mirth was found,
And nature bloom'd in vernal beauties round.
Blow, blow ye winds, in softest breezes send
My kindest wishes to my absent Friend.
But ah! perhaps he heads not, some sweet maid
By artful wiles his youthful heart's betray'd,
Friendship perhaps is exil'd from his breast,
By wanton love alone it is possest.
But, O ye maids, beware, none true can love,
Who e'er in holy Friendship faithless prove.
Droop, droop ye groves, ye plains in silence mourn,
Let nought be gay 'til Alexis return.

But see, he comes, Alexis comes, sound, sound
The joyful news, let all the groves rebound.
Let sorrow cease, let joy for ever reign,
Be nought but gladness seen throughout the plain;
He comes, Alexis comes, let all be gay,
And join with me to hail this happy day.
Cease now ye groves to droop, ye plains to mourn,
Let all be gay, Alexis doth return.

Then lovesick Damon thus, while all the grove
Resounds with Delia's name, and Damon's love.

How bright the view! how fragrant was the flow'r!
When beauty smil'd, and Delia blest the hour!
Her presence then made ev'ry season gay,
And cold December bloom'd like vernal May.
Then rapture fill'd my fond exulting breast,
And each intruding care was hush'd to rest.
But now, alas! methinks the shifted scene
But only serves to shew how blest I've been.
By her deserted, birds forget to sing,
And winter's dreary views deform the spring.
All nature weeps, the lilly hangs its head,
The roses fade, and mourning droops the mead.

Hie here, ye Nymphs, hie here, ye lovesick Swains,
Join in my woe, and aid my plaintive strains.

When on the plain I've tun'd my oaken reed,
While all around my bleating flock would feed.
In dumb attention seal'd, the listning throng.
Hung on the sound, and caught the pleasing song;
Then loud applause my envied name would raise,
And distant mountains Echo with my praise;
Then to the numbers Delia's voice was join'd,
And round my head the laurel wreath she twin'd.
But now in vain I strive for skill, I've none,
My soul's untun'd, and flowing notes are gone.
Hie here, ye Nymphs, hie here, ye lovesick Swains,
Join in my woe, and aid my plaintive strains.

Fly swift, ye hours, till she return again,
How slow they creep! ah! Damon 'tis in vain!
Time heeds thee not, nor will he faster move,
Nor wing'd by fear, nor yet by swifter love.
Slowly he brings us to the wonted joy,
But then how swift the envied minutes fly!
All gracious heav'n, in pity lend the pow'r
To rule our passions, or to guide the hour.
Hie here, ye Nymphs, hie here, ye lovesick Swains,
Join in my woe, and aid my plaintive strains.