University of Virginia Library

Summer o'er heav'n diffus'd serenest blue,
And painted earth with many a pleasing hue;
When Armyn mus'd the vacant hour away,
Where willows o'er him wav'd their pendent spray.
Cool was the shade, and cool the passing gale,
And sweet the prospect of the adjacent vale:
The fertile soil, profuse of plants, bestow'd
The crowfoot's gold, the trefoil's purple show'd,
And spiky mint rich fragrance breathing round,
And meadsweet tall with tufts of flowrets crown'd,
And comfry white, and hoary silver-weed,
The bending osier, and the rustling reed.
There, where clear streams about green islands spread,
Fair flocks and herds, the wealth of Armyn, fed;
There, on the hill's soft slope, delightful view!
Fair fields of corn, the wealth of Armyn, grew.
His sturdy hinds, a slow laborious band,
Swept their bright scythes along the level land:
Blithe youths and maidens nimbly near them past,
And the thick swarth in careless wind-rows cast.
Full on the landscape shone the westering sun,
When thus the Swain's soliloquy begun:

‘Haste down, O Sun! and close the tedious day:
‘Time, to the unhappy, slowly moves away.
‘Not so, to me, in Roden's sylvan bowers,
‘Pass'd Youth's short blissful reign of careless hours;
‘When to my view the fancy'd future lay,
‘A region ever tranquil, ever gay.
‘O then, what ardors did my breast inflame!
‘What thoughts were mine, of friendship, love, and fame!
‘How tasteless life, now all its joys are try'd,
‘And warm pursuits in dull repose subside!’
He paus'd: his closing words Albino heard,
As down the stream his little boat he steer'd;
His hand releas'd the sail, and dropt the oar,
And moor'd the light skiff on the sedgy shore.
‘Cease, gentle Swain,’ he said; ‘no more, in vain,
‘Thus make past pleasure cause of present pain!
‘Cease, gentle Swain,’ he said; ‘from thee, alone,
‘Are youth's blest hours and fancy'd prospects flown?
‘Ah, no!—remembrance to my view restores
‘Dear native fields, which now my soul deplores;
‘Rich hills and vales, and pleasant village scenes
‘Of oaks whose wide arms stretch'd o'er daisied greens,
‘And wind-mill's sails slow-circling in the breeze,
‘And cottage-walls envelop'd half with trees—
‘Sweet scenes, where Beauty met the ravish'd sight,
‘And Music often gave the ear delight;
‘Where Delia's smile, and Mira's tuneful song,
‘And Damon's converse, charm'd the youthful throng!
‘How chang'd, alas, how chang'd!—O'er all our plains,
‘Proud Norval, now, in lonely grandeur reigns;
‘His wide-spread park a waste of verdure lies,
‘And his vast villa's glittering roofs arise.
‘For me, hard fate!—But say, shall I complain?
‘These limbs yet active Life's support obtain.
‘Let us, or good or evil as we share,
‘That thankful prize, and this with patience bear.’
The soft reproach touch'd Armyn's gentle breast;
His alter'd brow a placid smile exprest.
‘Calm as clear ev'nings after vernal rains,
‘When all the air a rich perfume retains,
‘My mind,’ said he, ‘its murmurs driv'n away,
‘Feels Truth's full force, and bows to Reason's sway!’
He ceas'd: the sun, with horizontal beams,
Gilt the green mountains, and the glittering streams.
Slow down the tide before the sinking breeze,
Albino's white sail gleam'd among the trees;
Slow down the tide his winding course he bore
To watry Talgar's aspin-shaded shore.
Slow cross the valley, to the southern hill,
The steps of Armyn sought the distant vill,
Where thro' tall elms the moss-grown turret rose;
And his fair mansion offer'd sweet repose.