Original poems on several subjects In two volumes. By William Stevenson |
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On the Death of Mr Allan Ramsay
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 | Original poems on several subjects |  |
On the Death of Mr Allan Ramsay .
Written in the year 1758.
Hard by the grassy margin of a stream,
Where zephyrs play'd to cool the sultry beam,
Shedding, conglob'd anon, the vapoury dew,
Or Spring's rich fragrance, from their pinions blue;
Just as the sun from noontide height declin'd,
And through the op'ning trees obliquely shin'd;
A shepherd rested on the flowery ground,
By distant rows of elms encompass'd round.
Pure was his bosom as the stream that flow'd,
Or eastern gale that o'er its surface blow'd.
Gentle his temper as the lenient flow'r,
That spreads its folds to catch the moist'ning show'r.
Pleas'd and contented with his humble lot,
His thoughts ne'er soar'd above the crook or cot.
Oft would he softly swell the mellow reed,
Bathe in the flood, or view his lambkins feed;
With simple footstep trip the green along,
Or make lone echoes vocal with his song;
Select rich nosegays, elegantly drest,
To fill, but not adorn, his charmer's breast:
Oft studious pore o'er some fam'd past'ral book,
His plaid thrown by, his flagellet, and crook;
Where rustic love-scenes harmlessly conspire
To melt the tender heart, and fancy fire;
Truth and Simplicity unletter'd shine,
And Innocence embellishes each line.
Where zephyrs play'd to cool the sultry beam,
Shedding, conglob'd anon, the vapoury dew,
Or Spring's rich fragrance, from their pinions blue;
Just as the sun from noontide height declin'd,
And through the op'ning trees obliquely shin'd;
A shepherd rested on the flowery ground,
By distant rows of elms encompass'd round.
Pure was his bosom as the stream that flow'd,
Or eastern gale that o'er its surface blow'd.
Gentle his temper as the lenient flow'r,
That spreads its folds to catch the moist'ning show'r.
316
His thoughts ne'er soar'd above the crook or cot.
Oft would he softly swell the mellow reed,
Bathe in the flood, or view his lambkins feed;
With simple footstep trip the green along,
Or make lone echoes vocal with his song;
Select rich nosegays, elegantly drest,
To fill, but not adorn, his charmer's breast:
Oft studious pore o'er some fam'd past'ral book,
His plaid thrown by, his flagellet, and crook;
Where rustic love-scenes harmlessly conspire
To melt the tender heart, and fancy fire;
Truth and Simplicity unletter'd shine,
And Innocence embellishes each line.
Above the rest the Gentle Shepherd charm'd,
With hopes and fears alternately alarm'd,
While Patie and while Peggy met to woo,
Almost, so strong the paint, confess'd to view;
With rolling eyes on one another turn'd,
Glancing those fires that in their bosoms burn'd.
Not the soft odours that in violets dwell,
Not the bland honey from the waxen cell;
Not the mild fannings of the southern breeze,
That stir to sighs the not unconscious trees;
Not Philomel, first minstrel of the grove,
Warbling in yonder jes'mine-wreath'd alcove;
Not the sweet murmur of descending rills,
Nor low-breath'd coo of fir-immantled hills;
With more of nature exquisitely please
The elegant, chaste taste, and thought at ease.
With hopes and fears alternately alarm'd,
While Patie and while Peggy met to woo,
Almost, so strong the paint, confess'd to view;
With rolling eyes on one another turn'd,
Glancing those fires that in their bosoms burn'd.
Not the soft odours that in violets dwell,
Not the bland honey from the waxen cell;
Not the mild fannings of the southern breeze,
That stir to sighs the not unconscious trees;
317
Warbling in yonder jes'mine-wreath'd alcove;
Not the sweet murmur of descending rills,
Nor low-breath'd coo of fir-immantled hills;
With more of nature exquisitely please
The elegant, chaste taste, and thought at ease.
Such traces the fond numbers leave behind,
Such power have fine descriptions o'er the mind;
Oft to some oak would he his speech address,
In equal warmth his passion to express,
And still, as oft as breezes fann'd the trees,
Fondly concludes an answer he receives:
Till conquer'd by imaginary charms,
Around the trunk he clasps his eager arms,
And, ere his eyes the strange mistake can see,
Imprints warm kisses on the lifeless tree.
Such power have fine descriptions o'er the mind;
Oft to some oak would he his speech address,
In equal warmth his passion to express,
And still, as oft as breezes fann'd the trees,
Fondly concludes an answer he receives:
Till conquer'd by imaginary charms,
Around the trunk he clasps his eager arms,
And, ere his eyes the strange mistake can see,
Imprints warm kisses on the lifeless tree.
Once, as he sat beneath an aged thorn,
To breathe the dewy freshness of the morn;
His ear attentive to the blackbird's lay,
Or tuneful thrush, perch'd on a neighb'ring spray;
A swain, slowly approaching, he espies,
With his spread hand oft lifted to his eyes;
Whose downcast looks seem to implore relief,
As if oppress'd with some o'erwhelming grief.
Touch'd with the sudden sympathy of wo,
Yet apprehensive the event to know;
While mix'd surmises all his mind possess,
And various reasons offer to his guess,
Near him with trembling step the shepherd draws,
Eager to ask the melancholy cause:
But all the answer his inquiry gains,
Which yet, alas! too well his grief explains,
These few short, but emphatic, words exprest,
Ramsay is dead—his silence told the rest.
To breathe the dewy freshness of the morn;
His ear attentive to the blackbird's lay,
Or tuneful thrush, perch'd on a neighb'ring spray;
A swain, slowly approaching, he espies,
With his spread hand oft lifted to his eyes;
Whose downcast looks seem to implore relief,
As if oppress'd with some o'erwhelming grief.
318
Yet apprehensive the event to know;
While mix'd surmises all his mind possess,
And various reasons offer to his guess,
Near him with trembling step the shepherd draws,
Eager to ask the melancholy cause:
But all the answer his inquiry gains,
Which yet, alas! too well his grief explains,
These few short, but emphatic, words exprest,
Ramsay is dead—his silence told the rest.
| Original poems on several subjects | |