Original poems on several subjects In two volumes. By William Stevenson |
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 | Original poems on several subjects |  |
98
BOOK VI.
From crouded villas, and frequented ways,
Unhappy youth! now pensive Damon strays.
Damon, whom Love to lasting sorrow dooms,
To pathless haunts, and solitary glooms;
Where echoes, sympathetic with his wo,
Where crystal brooks, that murmur as they flow;
Where lonely birds of melancholy throat,
That piteous swell the sadly-pleasing note;
Where flutes that round to plaintive music wake,
Where grasshoppers that chirp amid the brake;
Where bees that hum, or to the blossom cling,
Where beatles, wheeling round on drony wing,
Where zephyrs, sighing through the branchy trees,
Where ev'ry sound he hears, or object sees;
Confirm, but by some strange mysterious pow'rs,
The settled sadness on his brow that low'rs.
Unhappy youth! now pensive Damon strays.
Damon, whom Love to lasting sorrow dooms,
To pathless haunts, and solitary glooms;
Where echoes, sympathetic with his wo,
Where crystal brooks, that murmur as they flow;
Where lonely birds of melancholy throat,
That piteous swell the sadly-pleasing note;
Where flutes that round to plaintive music wake,
Where grasshoppers that chirp amid the brake;
Where bees that hum, or to the blossom cling,
Where beatles, wheeling round on drony wing,
Where zephyrs, sighing through the branchy trees,
Where ev'ry sound he hears, or object sees;
Confirm, but by some strange mysterious pow'rs,
The settled sadness on his brow that low'rs.
Long ill-requited had he worn her chains,
That reigns the scornful Beauty of the plains;
Oft, in such language as express'd his flame,
Trembling would he accost the haughty dame;
Oft as she pass'd, no kindly word to say,
In pleasing anguish look his soul away.
But all in vain; her heart would never melt,
No thrill of passion ere her bosom felt;
With angry glance, or quick-averted eye,
Would she retire, disdaining to reply.
That reigns the scornful Beauty of the plains;
Oft, in such language as express'd his flame,
Trembling would he accost the haughty dame;
Oft as she pass'd, no kindly word to say,
In pleasing anguish look his soul away.
99
No thrill of passion ere her bosom felt;
With angry glance, or quick-averted eye,
Would she retire, disdaining to reply.
Once, from a secret eminence he spied
Himself unseen (Love's ever watchful-ey'd)
His fair one trip across the nether lawn,
Her cheek, the roseate blush that paints the dawn.
Spring strow'd with fragrant flow'rs her smiling way,
And zephyrs wanton'd with her loose array;
While birds, her steps delighted to detain,
Pour all their softest melody of strain.
Enamour'd round her lovely eyes she threw,
In many a glance, on the surrounding view,
Where Spring's gay forms their sweetest looks assume,
In naked pride of noon-unfolded bloom;
Pleas'd with the partial self-attested truth,
That all smil'd emblems of her charms and youth.
But had she guess'd what conscious eye beheld,
To her no more the landscape had excell'd.
Lightly the grass her hasty footsteps print,
And no delay her motions seem to hint.
Howe'er by others view'd, in Damon's eye,
Our Fair seem'd not to walk, but almost fly.
Ill-omen'd speed, yet hoping half he err'd,
He knew to somewhat not his meed referr'd!
Some foreign care her thoughts seems to employ,
And ev'ry step deprives him of a joy.
No wonder Damon gaz'd with dumb surprise,
With all his passions crouding to his eyes!
Rarely the eye-lids of the blushing Morn
Ope on a maid whom fairer charms adorn!
In spiral rings her hair disparted flows,
And half her neck of milky whiteness shows;
Her garments, loosely floating on the gale,
Would hide her gentle limbs, but kindly fail.
Himself unseen (Love's ever watchful-ey'd)
His fair one trip across the nether lawn,
Her cheek, the roseate blush that paints the dawn.
Spring strow'd with fragrant flow'rs her smiling way,
And zephyrs wanton'd with her loose array;
While birds, her steps delighted to detain,
Pour all their softest melody of strain.
Enamour'd round her lovely eyes she threw,
In many a glance, on the surrounding view,
Where Spring's gay forms their sweetest looks assume,
In naked pride of noon-unfolded bloom;
Pleas'd with the partial self-attested truth,
That all smil'd emblems of her charms and youth.
But had she guess'd what conscious eye beheld,
To her no more the landscape had excell'd.
Lightly the grass her hasty footsteps print,
And no delay her motions seem to hint.
Howe'er by others view'd, in Damon's eye,
Our Fair seem'd not to walk, but almost fly.
100
He knew to somewhat not his meed referr'd!
Some foreign care her thoughts seems to employ,
And ev'ry step deprives him of a joy.
No wonder Damon gaz'd with dumb surprise,
With all his passions crouding to his eyes!
Rarely the eye-lids of the blushing Morn
Ope on a maid whom fairer charms adorn!
In spiral rings her hair disparted flows,
And half her neck of milky whiteness shows;
Her garments, loosely floating on the gale,
Would hide her gentle limbs, but kindly fail.
New glory, in his fond deluded eye,
Seems to illumine all the cloudless sky;
In beauty ev'ry object to surpass,
As conscious of the presence of his lass.
Each sound, each accent, of a pleasing kind,
He partial deems to catch her ear design'd;
To call her easy gracefulness of air,
Her bloom, her shape, her looks, beyond compare.
A fuller gale of fragrance from the ground
Seems to diffuse its wafted sweets around.
Seems to illumine all the cloudless sky;
In beauty ev'ry object to surpass,
As conscious of the presence of his lass.
Each sound, each accent, of a pleasing kind,
He partial deems to catch her ear design'd;
To call her easy gracefulness of air,
Her bloom, her shape, her looks, beyond compare.
A fuller gale of fragrance from the ground
Seems to diffuse its wafted sweets around.
Yet other feelings too succeed in turn,
Destin'd to freeze, like Hecla, and to burn.
What strange sensations vibrate in his eye!
How heaves his bosom with the lab'ring sigh!
What doubts, what fears, (to hold him in suspense)
Rush in disorder on his troubled sense!
How Recollection her fell pow'r employs,
To dwell on former scenes of blasted joys!
To bring each disappointment into mind,
When all her looks and answers were unkind;
Hiding no proof officious from his view,
That can the anguish of his soul renew;
O'ercloud his brow with the dark gloom of care,
And sink his baffled wishes in despair!
Destin'd to freeze, like Hecla, and to burn.
101
How heaves his bosom with the lab'ring sigh!
What doubts, what fears, (to hold him in suspense)
Rush in disorder on his troubled sense!
How Recollection her fell pow'r employs,
To dwell on former scenes of blasted joys!
To bring each disappointment into mind,
When all her looks and answers were unkind;
Hiding no proof officious from his view,
That can the anguish of his soul renew;
O'ercloud his brow with the dark gloom of care,
And sink his baffled wishes in despair!
Yet through the chaos of his thoughts, from far
Hope faintly gleams, like some auspicious star.
Oft he resolves aside reserve to lay,
And throw himself abruptly in her way,
One last effort to melt a frozen heart,
That mocks his passion, and derides his art.
But soon his coward resolution flags,
His courage fails him ev'ry step he drags.
He dreads to try, by one decisive test,
What wretched renders him for life—or blest.
Too prudent fear—for ah! ill-fated swain!
This trial had like others prov'd in vain!
She chanc'd, as passing negligently by,
Where Damon stood, to cast her lifted eye.
Nor needed more—with frown-o'erclouded look,
And sudden turn, a by-mark'd path she took.
Down his swoln cheek the tear effusive dropt,
And stupid grief his pow'r of utt'rance stopt—
Hope faintly gleams, like some auspicious star.
Oft he resolves aside reserve to lay,
And throw himself abruptly in her way,
One last effort to melt a frozen heart,
That mocks his passion, and derides his art.
But soon his coward resolution flags,
His courage fails him ev'ry step he drags.
He dreads to try, by one decisive test,
What wretched renders him for life—or blest.
Too prudent fear—for ah! ill-fated swain!
This trial had like others prov'd in vain!
102
Where Damon stood, to cast her lifted eye.
Nor needed more—with frown-o'erclouded look,
And sudden turn, a by-mark'd path she took.
Down his swoln cheek the tear effusive dropt,
And stupid grief his pow'r of utt'rance stopt—
At other times, oft to the clear expanse
Would he, erect in conscious pride, advance.
There, in a faithful mirrour, he beheld,
In what his person fail'd, in what excell'd;
His manly limbs how turn'd, his sinews strung,
His shape how graceful, how his shoulders hung;
What comeliness of aspect might inspire
Some gentle female bosom with desire.
Returning lightsome from the fond survey,
Oft to himself in silence would he say,
“Sure, though as cold as Winter's native ice,
“This form of mine some Virgin might entice,
“Else has the crystal element hard by,
“Flatter'd poor Damon, and deceiv'd his eye!
“Yet do the flow'rs, its margin that compose,
“By the resemblance half their beauties lose.
“Shall it a heighten'd image then convey,
“And flatter love-sick shepherds more than they?
“If thus beguil'd, where-e'er his footsteps go,
“Still in despair may Damon's sorrows flow.”
Would he, erect in conscious pride, advance.
There, in a faithful mirrour, he beheld,
In what his person fail'd, in what excell'd;
His manly limbs how turn'd, his sinews strung,
His shape how graceful, how his shoulders hung;
What comeliness of aspect might inspire
Some gentle female bosom with desire.
Returning lightsome from the fond survey,
Oft to himself in silence would he say,
“Sure, though as cold as Winter's native ice,
“This form of mine some Virgin might entice,
“Else has the crystal element hard by,
“Flatter'd poor Damon, and deceiv'd his eye!
“Yet do the flow'rs, its margin that compose,
“By the resemblance half their beauties lose.
“Shall it a heighten'd image then convey,
“And flatter love-sick shepherds more than they?
103
“Still in despair may Damon's sorrows flow.”
Thus, while the Hours on heavy pinions move,
He lingers out a life of hopeless love;
Alike forgot, where fellow-swains convene,
The sprightly dance, and gambol on the green;
His crook neglected, mute his oaten reed,
And lonely flocks untended left to feed.
He lingers out a life of hopeless love;
Alike forgot, where fellow-swains convene,
The sprightly dance, and gambol on the green;
His crook neglected, mute his oaten reed,
And lonely flocks untended left to feed.
But see where Strephon, happy shepherd! laid
Beneath the umbrage of a beechen shade,
With pipe and song the tedious time beguiles,
While pleas'd around him blooming Nature smiles.
No vulture on his vitals inly preys,
No clouds obscure the sunshine of his days;
He gives each sad reflection to the wind,
His flocks all thriving, and his mistress kind.
Beneath the umbrage of a beechen shade,
With pipe and song the tedious time beguiles,
While pleas'd around him blooming Nature smiles.
No vulture on his vitals inly preys,
No clouds obscure the sunshine of his days;
He gives each sad reflection to the wind,
His flocks all thriving, and his mistress kind.
One summer's day, beneath the noon-tide beam,
Strephon, return'd from bathing in the stream,
Sought the cool windings of a devious wood,
That well accorded with the Lover's mood.
Here ev'ry noted songster, warbling round,
Ran through the softest melodies of sound.
Here gelid breezes fann'd the sultry hours,
Lavish of sweets from incense-breathing flow'rs.
Here Silence fixes her retir'd domain,
Far from the proud, the wanton, and the vain.
Here Melancholy's tardy footsteps range,
With countenance scarce Spring herself can change.
Here something strikes him, speech but ill explains,
That sends an unknown rapture through his veins,
Conveys, though Nature only knows from whence,
Strange images of transport to his sense;
Which all, howe'er confus'd and wild they mix,
Alone on one beloved object fix.
Something, of secret instantaneous pow'r,
Nor to a mode restricted, nor an hour,
That a sad-pleasing flow of temper brings,
And wakes the Fancy by unusual springs.
Strephon, return'd from bathing in the stream,
Sought the cool windings of a devious wood,
That well accorded with the Lover's mood.
Here ev'ry noted songster, warbling round,
Ran through the softest melodies of sound.
Here gelid breezes fann'd the sultry hours,
Lavish of sweets from incense-breathing flow'rs.
104
Far from the proud, the wanton, and the vain.
Here Melancholy's tardy footsteps range,
With countenance scarce Spring herself can change.
Here something strikes him, speech but ill explains,
That sends an unknown rapture through his veins,
Conveys, though Nature only knows from whence,
Strange images of transport to his sense;
Which all, howe'er confus'd and wild they mix,
Alone on one beloved object fix.
Something, of secret instantaneous pow'r,
Nor to a mode restricted, nor an hour,
That a sad-pleasing flow of temper brings,
And wakes the Fancy by unusual springs.
Nor does this charm the soften'd soul to melt,
This nameless impulse only to be felt,
Affect the doubting anxious Lover more,
Than Him, whose cares and vague distrusts are o'er.
Each somewhat of a sweet despondence finds,
A languishment, that soothes but Lovers' minds.
Each too is gratified, yet nothing gains,
Though what the one delights, the other pains.
Thus Strephon, though Ethlinda kind as fair,
With Love's bland voice had bade him not despair;
Amid the rueful solitary shade,
Conceiv'd a joy from each thing he survey'd;
Yet sighs his inward discontent betray,
His Charmer still protracts the happy day,
When yonder sun shall meet his eager sight,
To see their persons with their hearts unite.
This nameless impulse only to be felt,
Affect the doubting anxious Lover more,
Than Him, whose cares and vague distrusts are o'er.
Each somewhat of a sweet despondence finds,
A languishment, that soothes but Lovers' minds.
Each too is gratified, yet nothing gains,
Though what the one delights, the other pains.
Thus Strephon, though Ethlinda kind as fair,
With Love's bland voice had bade him not despair;
105
Conceiv'd a joy from each thing he survey'd;
Yet sighs his inward discontent betray,
His Charmer still protracts the happy day,
When yonder sun shall meet his eager sight,
To see their persons with their hearts unite.
Not long the grateful covert he enjoy'd,
On recollected proofs of love employ'd;
What mingled sweetness in her features reigns,
Where Beauty seems to speak what Virtue means;
Where her fine temper's seen, beyond a guess,
As objects shine reflected in a glass!
Not long, on such endearing thoughts intent,
He thus indulg'd his fancy's pleasing bent,
How kind his angel last, how soothing spoke,
When from a secret copse these accents broke,
Which through each sense like subtile lightning thrill'd,
And all his soul with sudden tumults fill'd.
On recollected proofs of love employ'd;
What mingled sweetness in her features reigns,
Where Beauty seems to speak what Virtue means;
Where her fine temper's seen, beyond a guess,
As objects shine reflected in a glass!
Not long, on such endearing thoughts intent,
He thus indulg'd his fancy's pleasing bent,
How kind his angel last, how soothing spoke,
When from a secret copse these accents broke,
Which through each sense like subtile lightning thrill'd,
And all his soul with sudden tumults fill'd.
“O Strephon! beauteous as the dawn of day!
“Blooming as Spring! as radiant Summer gay!
“Sweeter than odours from the new-mown vale!
“And milder than the softly-breathing gale!
“O lovely youth! thy charms, unknown to art,
“Attract each eye, and captivate each heart.
“In vain, alas! Ethlinda's virgin pride
“The partial wishes of her breast would hide.
“No shepherd in the festive dance I see
“Can, gentle Strephon, once compare with thee.
“Thy locks, that down in shining ringlets fall,
“Thy form unequall'd, manly, graceful, tall;
“Thy open countenance, and star-bright eye,
“Thy health-flush'd cheek, where artless dimples lie;
“Thy polish'd brow, unfurrow'd o'er with care,
“Thy easy carriage, and engaging air;
“The honey gliding music of thy tongue,
“Beyond whate'er enamour'd shepherd sung;
“Thy elegance of taste, and temper frank,
“Conspire to set thee far above thy rank!
“These render thee the Country's darling boast,
“Of all thy fellow-swains distinguish'd most!
“But O!—what shall a bashful maiden say?
“These charms have stole Ethlinda's heart away!
“Howe'er in numbers she affects to mix,
“On thee alone her thoughts with rapture fix!
“A thousand quaint remarks, and sighs apart,
“Fraught with the unknown wishes of her heart;
“A thousand looks, that mean expressive more
“Than words can tell, though ransack'd o'er and o'er;
“A thousand artless smiles, if Strephon by,
“A thousand side long glances of the eye;
“A thousand tender proofs, did she disguise,
“Against her would in bold conviction rise.”
“Blooming as Spring! as radiant Summer gay!
“Sweeter than odours from the new-mown vale!
“And milder than the softly-breathing gale!
“O lovely youth! thy charms, unknown to art,
“Attract each eye, and captivate each heart.
106
“The partial wishes of her breast would hide.
“No shepherd in the festive dance I see
“Can, gentle Strephon, once compare with thee.
“Thy locks, that down in shining ringlets fall,
“Thy form unequall'd, manly, graceful, tall;
“Thy open countenance, and star-bright eye,
“Thy health-flush'd cheek, where artless dimples lie;
“Thy polish'd brow, unfurrow'd o'er with care,
“Thy easy carriage, and engaging air;
“The honey gliding music of thy tongue,
“Beyond whate'er enamour'd shepherd sung;
“Thy elegance of taste, and temper frank,
“Conspire to set thee far above thy rank!
“These render thee the Country's darling boast,
“Of all thy fellow-swains distinguish'd most!
“But O!—what shall a bashful maiden say?
“These charms have stole Ethlinda's heart away!
“Howe'er in numbers she affects to mix,
“On thee alone her thoughts with rapture fix!
“A thousand quaint remarks, and sighs apart,
“Fraught with the unknown wishes of her heart;
“A thousand looks, that mean expressive more
“Than words can tell, though ransack'd o'er and o'er;
107
“A thousand side long glances of the eye;
“A thousand tender proofs, did she disguise,
“Against her would in bold conviction rise.”
“But such from noblest friendships oft are shown,
“Which blushing Modesty herself may own.
“Such too to Strephon's candid view they seem'd,
“And shall not obvious Merit be esteem'd?
“Is it forbid in females to admire?
“Can Custom's laws such deference require?
“Must maids to some excess be ever prone,
“Pliant as wax, or harder than the stone?
“Scorch'd by the flame that Love within excites,
“Or cold as Winter-snows on Lapland heights?
“Is there no happy medium to prefer,
“Nor in the one extreme nor other err?
“Which blushing Modesty herself may own.
“Such too to Strephon's candid view they seem'd,
“And shall not obvious Merit be esteem'd?
“Is it forbid in females to admire?
“Can Custom's laws such deference require?
“Must maids to some excess be ever prone,
“Pliant as wax, or harder than the stone?
“Scorch'd by the flame that Love within excites,
“Or cold as Winter-snows on Lapland heights?
“Is there no happy medium to prefer,
“Nor in the one extreme nor other err?
“Ye Formalists! ye stiff censorious race!
“With air demure, and grave disciplin'd face!
“Say, where the bounds by Reason fix'd begin,
“Which virgin Modesty must keep within:
“How far say, and no farther, must the tide,
“Without control, of female fancy glide,
“Nor to o'erflow its banks, nor yet forsake,
“As either might our int'rests leave at stake?
“How Judgment may the helm, with prudent fear,
“Far from the shallow, and the eddy steer;
“That no rough blast, with unsuspected shock,
“May dash us shipwreck'd on Misfortune's rock,
“But down the current Hope may gently sail,
“Wafted by ev'ry mild and pleasant gale.
“With air demure, and grave disciplin'd face!
“Say, where the bounds by Reason fix'd begin,
“Which virgin Modesty must keep within:
“How far say, and no farther, must the tide,
“Without control, of female fancy glide,
“Nor to o'erflow its banks, nor yet forsake,
“As either might our int'rests leave at stake?
108
“Far from the shallow, and the eddy steer;
“That no rough blast, with unsuspected shock,
“May dash us shipwreck'd on Misfortune's rock,
“But down the current Hope may gently sail,
“Wafted by ev'ry mild and pleasant gale.
“Why have we faculties which angels share,
“And fix'd on objects not beneath their care;
“Why Fancy, which some bold flights still employ,
“But the wide range of Nature to enjoy?
“Why Memory, but, each excursion o'er,
“To lay all her researches up in store?
“Why have we passions of so fine a turn,
“With Love to languish, or with Friendship burn;
“Why those affections of a gentler kind,
“To all the social feelings still inclin'd;
“Why hearts of such refin'd materials fram'd,
“To relish pleasures language never nam'd;
“But to dilate, at the fond tender hour,
“And feel the warmth of sentimental pow'r?
“Why have we senses, of so keen an edge,
“Of Nature's kind regard the living pledge,
“None of her gifts so bountiful as they,
“But pleasure through soft inlets to convey?
“Why have we organs exquisite for sound,
“But to be charm'd by Nature vocal round?
“For vision, but to view, all sweet surprise,
“Beauty, with soften'd look, and melting eyes?
“For speech, but to express these chaste desires,
“With which Love Innocence herself inspires?
“Why fram'd thus mid Creation are we plac'd,
“But what attracts of fair and good to taste?
“Why thus endu'd? but virtue-caution'd when,
“And where, to be as happy as we can?
“And fix'd on objects not beneath their care;
“Why Fancy, which some bold flights still employ,
“But the wide range of Nature to enjoy?
“Why Memory, but, each excursion o'er,
“To lay all her researches up in store?
“Why have we passions of so fine a turn,
“With Love to languish, or with Friendship burn;
“Why those affections of a gentler kind,
“To all the social feelings still inclin'd;
“Why hearts of such refin'd materials fram'd,
“To relish pleasures language never nam'd;
“But to dilate, at the fond tender hour,
“And feel the warmth of sentimental pow'r?
“Why have we senses, of so keen an edge,
“Of Nature's kind regard the living pledge,
“None of her gifts so bountiful as they,
“But pleasure through soft inlets to convey?
109
“But to be charm'd by Nature vocal round?
“For vision, but to view, all sweet surprise,
“Beauty, with soften'd look, and melting eyes?
“For speech, but to express these chaste desires,
“With which Love Innocence herself inspires?
“Why fram'd thus mid Creation are we plac'd,
“But what attracts of fair and good to taste?
“Why thus endu'd? but virtue-caution'd when,
“And where, to be as happy as we can?
“Ah! self-deluder! arts like these must fail
“O'er Nature's standard maxims to prevail.
“Such arts may on thyself impose, but know,
“Poor love-sick maid, such arts no farther go.
“Echo, reposing in her rocky cell,
“Till Love the tender tale essay'd to tell,
“And conscious zephyrs, round thee wont to play,
“Would all thy fair appearances betray;
“Thy specious pleas, and inferences bold,
“In their own vain fallacious light unfold.
“Oft too, ere wearied with her silent walk,
“Where deep'ning shadows seem'd around to stalk,
“Cynthia, between the op'nings of the shade,
“Beheld unseen the melancholy maid.
“Nor she alone, unconscious to the eye,
“But all her bright companions of the sky.
“Oft as she wander'd, at the murky hour,
“To some lone alley, or espalier-bow'r,
“When all but Love, by wakeful cares opprest,
“Retir'd to taste the sweets of downy rest;
“Vesper shone witness of her flame avow'd,
“If sobs and sighs are tender marks allow'd;
“If looks, that seem in silence to complain,
“If footsteps, that no certain course maintain,
“If endless musings, with sad down-cast eyes,
“To proofs of more than doubtful meaning rise.”
“O'er Nature's standard maxims to prevail.
“Such arts may on thyself impose, but know,
“Poor love-sick maid, such arts no farther go.
“Echo, reposing in her rocky cell,
“Till Love the tender tale essay'd to tell,
“And conscious zephyrs, round thee wont to play,
“Would all thy fair appearances betray;
“Thy specious pleas, and inferences bold,
“In their own vain fallacious light unfold.
“Oft too, ere wearied with her silent walk,
“Where deep'ning shadows seem'd around to stalk,
“Cynthia, between the op'nings of the shade,
“Beheld unseen the melancholy maid.
110
“But all her bright companions of the sky.
“Oft as she wander'd, at the murky hour,
“To some lone alley, or espalier-bow'r,
“When all but Love, by wakeful cares opprest,
“Retir'd to taste the sweets of downy rest;
“Vesper shone witness of her flame avow'd,
“If sobs and sighs are tender marks allow'd;
“If looks, that seem in silence to complain,
“If footsteps, that no certain course maintain,
“If endless musings, with sad down-cast eyes,
“To proofs of more than doubtful meaning rise.”
She ceas'd—but little thought her Lover nigh,
To hear, with broken voice and heaving sigh,
The prompt confession from her bosom flow,
With all the love-sad emphasis of wo.
Strephon, who long stood like a statue fix'd,
In ecstasy with speechless wonder mix'd,
As these last words his ravish'd ear detain,
No longer his impatience could restrain;
But straightway steals, directed by the sound,
Where haply the sweet mourner might be found.
Nor wanders far—with rapture-quicken'd pace,
He soon explores the oft-frequented place.
Where, in a state of terrour and surprise,
That wildly flash'd alternate from her eyes,
With countenance deep-ruffled o'er with care,
He found his sweetly-agitated fair.
To hear, with broken voice and heaving sigh,
The prompt confession from her bosom flow,
With all the love-sad emphasis of wo.
Strephon, who long stood like a statue fix'd,
In ecstasy with speechless wonder mix'd,
As these last words his ravish'd ear detain,
No longer his impatience could restrain;
But straightway steals, directed by the sound,
Where haply the sweet mourner might be found.
Nor wanders far—with rapture-quicken'd pace,
He soon explores the oft-frequented place.
111
That wildly flash'd alternate from her eyes,
With countenance deep-ruffled o'er with care,
He found his sweetly-agitated fair.
Oft she essay'd the forward youth to fly,
As oft her feet their timely aid deny.
Resentment seem'd to chide her strange delay,
But something gently whisper'd her to stay.
She judg'd him rude, but in a mild degree,
Prudence condemn'd, but Candour set him free.
Divided passions in her bosom rose,
Love govern'd these, but female spirit those.
But how unequal is the contest found,
When Pride and Love contend to keep the ground?
This always conquers, though against our will,
That, in the issue, proves the vanquish'd still.
A sudden glow, that made her charm the more,
Her cheek in deep suffusion colour'd o'er.
Unusual heavings in her bosom told,
Her heart how caught, and his approach how bold.
A soft confusion all her air betray'd,
And mix'd emotions seize the silent maid.
While Strephon too was in proportion aw'd,
His looks would censure what his thoughts applaud.
As oft her feet their timely aid deny.
Resentment seem'd to chide her strange delay,
But something gently whisper'd her to stay.
She judg'd him rude, but in a mild degree,
Prudence condemn'd, but Candour set him free.
Divided passions in her bosom rose,
Love govern'd these, but female spirit those.
But how unequal is the contest found,
When Pride and Love contend to keep the ground?
This always conquers, though against our will,
That, in the issue, proves the vanquish'd still.
A sudden glow, that made her charm the more,
Her cheek in deep suffusion colour'd o'er.
Unusual heavings in her bosom told,
Her heart how caught, and his approach how bold.
A soft confusion all her air betray'd,
And mix'd emotions seize the silent maid.
While Strephon too was in proportion aw'd,
His looks would censure what his thoughts applaud.
112
But why those tumults? that disorder'd look?
Respect, with love, ne'er Strephon's breast forsook;
His passion, still controll'd by too much sense,
And much too delicate, to give offence.
Thus, soon his aspect and address allay'd
The various doubts of the half-angry maid.
He spoke—but only, as her fears he saw,
To make a gen'rous offer to withdraw.
“O Pardon,” he in gentle accents cries,
“Love too officious gave thee this surprise.
“Pardon a faithful swain, who only proves
“A bold intruder thus, because he—loves.
“A frown that beauteous brow but to invade,
“To him, Noon's brightest sun-beam would o'ershade;
“Would to his wishes death at once impart,
“And like a dagger pierce him to the heart.
“If but his presence hurts my lovely maid,
“She need but word her will to be obey'd.
“Obey'd, in all that exile can imply,
“From her, from love, and happiness to fly.
“Say, charmer! shall I quit this sweet recess,
“Sacred to friendship, nor to Strephon less?
“Shall I my fortune all at once resign,
“And, for thy ease and comfort, forfeit mine?
“But can, to render life scarce worth a care,
“Thy ease and pleasure be to him despair?
“To his hard fate may Strephon then retire,
“In secret pine, yet cease not to admire.”
He stopt; and seem'd to think she whisper'd—no,
Although her answer meant to bid him go;
Yet, had she disallow'd his longer stay,
She hop'd to find her Lover disobey.
Thus pleas'd alike, alike to please inclin'd,
Their equal wishes one acceptance find,
While both, each selfish mean disguise above,
Vow mutual constancy, and mutual love .
Respect, with love, ne'er Strephon's breast forsook;
His passion, still controll'd by too much sense,
And much too delicate, to give offence.
Thus, soon his aspect and address allay'd
The various doubts of the half-angry maid.
He spoke—but only, as her fears he saw,
To make a gen'rous offer to withdraw.
“O Pardon,” he in gentle accents cries,
“Love too officious gave thee this surprise.
“Pardon a faithful swain, who only proves
“A bold intruder thus, because he—loves.
“A frown that beauteous brow but to invade,
“To him, Noon's brightest sun-beam would o'ershade;
“Would to his wishes death at once impart,
“And like a dagger pierce him to the heart.
“If but his presence hurts my lovely maid,
“She need but word her will to be obey'd.
“Obey'd, in all that exile can imply,
“From her, from love, and happiness to fly.
“Say, charmer! shall I quit this sweet recess,
“Sacred to friendship, nor to Strephon less?
“Shall I my fortune all at once resign,
“And, for thy ease and comfort, forfeit mine?
113
“Thy ease and pleasure be to him despair?
“To his hard fate may Strephon then retire,
“In secret pine, yet cease not to admire.”
He stopt; and seem'd to think she whisper'd—no,
Although her answer meant to bid him go;
Yet, had she disallow'd his longer stay,
She hop'd to find her Lover disobey.
Thus pleas'd alike, alike to please inclin'd,
Their equal wishes one acceptance find,
While both, each selfish mean disguise above,
Vow mutual constancy, and mutual love .
Thus would the Muse, amid the din of arms
Tumultuous, and the trumpet's loud alarms ;
While War malignant rages unconfin'd,
And purple Slaughter thins the human kind;
The softer scenes of Peace attempt to paint,
Beauteous her landscapes, though her colours faint.
Faint, gentle Thomson! when to thine compar'd,
With whom her skill kind Nature fondly shar'd,
While ev'ry Season ran its full career,
To draw a finish'd portrait of the Year!
Nor is her subject of ignoble fame,
Though less of sounding grandeur in its name.
Peace shall exult supreme from shore to shore,
When War's loud clangours kindle strife no more;
Kings see themselves, who now like gods behave,
Sunk to the level of their meanest slave.
Tumultuous, and the trumpet's loud alarms ;
While War malignant rages unconfin'd,
And purple Slaughter thins the human kind;
The softer scenes of Peace attempt to paint,
Beauteous her landscapes, though her colours faint.
114
With whom her skill kind Nature fondly shar'd,
While ev'ry Season ran its full career,
To draw a finish'd portrait of the Year!
Nor is her subject of ignoble fame,
Though less of sounding grandeur in its name.
Peace shall exult supreme from shore to shore,
When War's loud clangours kindle strife no more;
Kings see themselves, who now like gods behave,
Sunk to the level of their meanest slave.
But to sylvestran scenes, where Fancy strays,
Fountains and groves, confin'd her humble lays,
While only zephyrs whisper in her song,
Birds simply warble, murmurs glide along;
Will no heroic bard, by glory fir'd,
By victory and martial deeds inspir'd,
Britannia sing, victorious o'er her foes,
Whose smiles to peace a willing world compose?
Sing Liberty, with civet wreaths adorn'd,
Without whom, crowns shine only to be scorn'd?
Fountains and groves, confin'd her humble lays,
While only zephyrs whisper in her song,
Birds simply warble, murmurs glide along;
Will no heroic bard, by glory fir'd,
By victory and martial deeds inspir'd,
Britannia sing, victorious o'er her foes,
Whose smiles to peace a willing world compose?
Sing Liberty, with civet wreaths adorn'd,
Without whom, crowns shine only to be scorn'd?
Who rouses not at Freedom's glorious name?
Mounts up to transport, kindles into flame?
Dilates in the big swell of conscious pride?
And looks, and speaks, as if to thrones allied?
Freedom, whose int'rests with Religion's mix,
Howe'er vain schoolmen names distinct affix,
As fibres of the heart together twine,
Or glass-transmitted rays concenter'd shine;
On one same gracious sacred errand sent,
Alike in nature, motive, and extent!
A separation is the death of each,
Whate'er kings boast, or bold fanatics teach!
Mounts up to transport, kindles into flame?
Dilates in the big swell of conscious pride?
And looks, and speaks, as if to thrones allied?
115
Howe'er vain schoolmen names distinct affix,
As fibres of the heart together twine,
Or glass-transmitted rays concenter'd shine;
On one same gracious sacred errand sent,
Alike in nature, motive, and extent!
A separation is the death of each,
Whate'er kings boast, or bold fanatics teach!
Where-e'er Britannia's royal banners fly,
Whether in nearer, or remoter sky,
Conquest attends, shapes her resistless way,
And quick decides the fortune of the day.
What well concerted plans! what great designs!
Where patriotic wisdom glorious shines!
What orders with alacrity perform'd!
Cities subdu'd, and mighty bulwarks storm'd!
What acquisitions! what renew'd success!
Our fortune great, nor yet our conduct less!
How will these animate the future page,
The splendid boast of each succeeding age!
How all alive will Fancy's colouring glow!
With what proud majesty the numbers flow!
While some rapt Bard, whom Homer's genius warms,
Sublimely sings, inspir'd, of men and arms,
Makes British heroes rival those of Greece,
The long-fam'd Iliad less a matchless piece!
From Virgil's brow unties the age twin'd bays,
To flourish on his own with tenfold praise!
Whether in nearer, or remoter sky,
Conquest attends, shapes her resistless way,
And quick decides the fortune of the day.
What well concerted plans! what great designs!
Where patriotic wisdom glorious shines!
What orders with alacrity perform'd!
Cities subdu'd, and mighty bulwarks storm'd!
What acquisitions! what renew'd success!
Our fortune great, nor yet our conduct less!
How will these animate the future page,
The splendid boast of each succeeding age!
How all alive will Fancy's colouring glow!
With what proud majesty the numbers flow!
While some rapt Bard, whom Homer's genius warms,
Sublimely sings, inspir'd, of men and arms,
116
The long-fam'd Iliad less a matchless piece!
From Virgil's brow unties the age twin'd bays,
To flourish on his own with tenfold praise!
But shall such noble themes pass now unsung,
Untun'd the lyre, mute the harmonious tongue?
Shall Britain wide diffuse her warlike name,
The earth not more unbounded than her fame,
Nor yet a Bard, on whom the Muses smile,
Be found through all her sea-encircled isle?
Shall Albion's sons, renown'd for conquest long,
In ev'ry place be heroes but in song?
In ev'ry place, save in the tuneful page,
Her trophies claim the wonder of the age!
Untun'd the lyre, mute the harmonious tongue?
Shall Britain wide diffuse her warlike name,
The earth not more unbounded than her fame,
Nor yet a Bard, on whom the Muses smile,
Be found through all her sea-encircled isle?
Shall Albion's sons, renown'd for conquest long,
In ev'ry place be heroes but in song?
In ev'ry place, save in the tuneful page,
Her trophies claim the wonder of the age!
Next Him, in whom a nation can confide,
The mighty helm of Government to guide;
Calm, wise, discerning, steady, fix'd, as fate,
To manage all the grand concerns of state;
Next to the gallant Hero great in arms,
Whose bosom more than Roman virtue warms,
Whose valour, which to glory still inclines,
Prompt executes the Statesman's bold designs;
The Bard accomplish'd should be understood,
As those of ancient fame, a public good.
In ev'ry age depends upon his pen
The gift of Immortality to men,
Which great achievements not alone can give;
Thus godlike names of old recorded live,
The finest scenes of conduct and address,
Applause that merit, or ensure success;
The noblest efforts of heroic might,
Exerted in the tumult of the fight,
While rival kings in glorious strife contend,
And crowns imperial on each stroke depend;
If some illustrious Verse recite them not,
Die of themselves, neglected and forgot .
The mist of ages, gather'd by degrees,
Where Study objects through false mediums sees,
Spreads o'er Fame's fair horizon, and displays
One gloomy, vast, inexplicable, maze;
Still, in those native regions of romance,
The more obscure, the further we advance,
If Poetry, as day-break on the night,
Shines not abroad to call from darkness light.
The mighty helm of Government to guide;
Calm, wise, discerning, steady, fix'd, as fate,
To manage all the grand concerns of state;
Next to the gallant Hero great in arms,
Whose bosom more than Roman virtue warms,
Whose valour, which to glory still inclines,
Prompt executes the Statesman's bold designs;
The Bard accomplish'd should be understood,
As those of ancient fame, a public good.
117
The gift of Immortality to men,
Which great achievements not alone can give;
Thus godlike names of old recorded live,
The finest scenes of conduct and address,
Applause that merit, or ensure success;
The noblest efforts of heroic might,
Exerted in the tumult of the fight,
While rival kings in glorious strife contend,
And crowns imperial on each stroke depend;
If some illustrious Verse recite them not,
Die of themselves, neglected and forgot .
The mist of ages, gather'd by degrees,
Where Study objects through false mediums sees,
Spreads o'er Fame's fair horizon, and displays
One gloomy, vast, inexplicable, maze;
Still, in those native regions of romance,
The more obscure, the further we advance,
118
Shines not abroad to call from darkness light.
But whether has the Muse digressive stray'd,
Forsook the peaceful covert of the shade,
To rush amid the noisy files of war,
Led by the light of the Mœonian star?
Tumult and death, while mighty kings dispute,
Ill, beauteous Spring, thy gentle temper suit.
The purple dye, on plains embattled seen,
Forms a sad contrast with thy softer green.
Thy love-tun'd voice, that sighs among the trees,
With the loud roar of battle ill agrees.
No more digressions shall the Muse prolong,
But end with Thee as she began her song.
Forsook the peaceful covert of the shade,
To rush amid the noisy files of war,
Led by the light of the Mœonian star?
Tumult and death, while mighty kings dispute,
Ill, beauteous Spring, thy gentle temper suit.
The purple dye, on plains embattled seen,
Forms a sad contrast with thy softer green.
Thy love-tun'd voice, that sighs among the trees,
With the loud roar of battle ill agrees.
No more digressions shall the Muse prolong,
But end with Thee as she began her song.
Hark! in yon plantane-range, yon poplar-shade,
Hard by the murmur of a lone cascade,
Or where some antique pile, superbly high,
Rears its enormous ruin to the sky;
At Twilight's dusky hour, protracted long,
The Nightingale plies her lugubrious song;
Piteous, as if her gentle mate had died,
Or tender young been ravish'd from her side.
Warn'd by the dying cadence of her strain,
Like her the screech-owl peeps out to complain.
Complain of such as barb'rous would molest
Her peaceful haunts, her ivy-circled nest.
On yonder wall in solemn state she sits,
While round and round the bat incessant flits,
Yon time-rent wall, with moss-tufts overgrown,
And utters forth her melancholy moan.
Silence and mute Attention, guards serene,
Meet to preserve the stillness of the scene.
Hard by the murmur of a lone cascade,
Or where some antique pile, superbly high,
Rears its enormous ruin to the sky;
At Twilight's dusky hour, protracted long,
The Nightingale plies her lugubrious song;
Piteous, as if her gentle mate had died,
Or tender young been ravish'd from her side.
Warn'd by the dying cadence of her strain,
Like her the screech-owl peeps out to complain.
119
Her peaceful haunts, her ivy-circled nest.
On yonder wall in solemn state she sits,
While round and round the bat incessant flits,
Yon time-rent wall, with moss-tufts overgrown,
And utters forth her melancholy moan.
Silence and mute Attention, guards serene,
Meet to preserve the stillness of the scene.
The pool in gentle undulations shook
By the swift lapse of some near-falling brook;
The milk-maid, as she bears her fragrant load,
Singing aloud to cheer the dreary road;
The beatle's drony pinions, slowly stirr'd,
The frequent hoots of Night's ill-omen'd bird;
The heifer lowing from adjacent hill,
The mastiff barking from a distant vill;
The shepherd's horn with lusty cheek full-blown,
The gently-finger'd hautboy's milder tone;
The momentary rustling of the breeze,
Sighing in scarce-heard whispers through the trees;
The break successive, and deep hollow roar,
Of billows lashing some contiguous shore;
The ceaseless hum of insects, hov'ring round,
And flocks penn'd up with sleepy tinkling sound;
The blackbird's clamours, lonely as she hops,
Her infant brood, ah! ravish'd from the copse;
The partridge shrill, in some adjoining park,
Seeking her mate scarce obvious in the dark;
The swallow, twitt'ring from her mud-built nest,
As if to soothe her callow young to rest;
Or noisy martlets, in phantastic play,
And keen pursuit, winging their airy way;
While each by intervals the ear detains,
Sets off the nightingale's mellifluous strains;
With endless contrasts varies ev'ry note,
And gives peculiar softness to her throat.
By the swift lapse of some near-falling brook;
The milk-maid, as she bears her fragrant load,
Singing aloud to cheer the dreary road;
The beatle's drony pinions, slowly stirr'd,
The frequent hoots of Night's ill-omen'd bird;
The heifer lowing from adjacent hill,
The mastiff barking from a distant vill;
The shepherd's horn with lusty cheek full-blown,
The gently-finger'd hautboy's milder tone;
The momentary rustling of the breeze,
Sighing in scarce-heard whispers through the trees;
The break successive, and deep hollow roar,
Of billows lashing some contiguous shore;
The ceaseless hum of insects, hov'ring round,
And flocks penn'd up with sleepy tinkling sound;
120
Her infant brood, ah! ravish'd from the copse;
The partridge shrill, in some adjoining park,
Seeking her mate scarce obvious in the dark;
The swallow, twitt'ring from her mud-built nest,
As if to soothe her callow young to rest;
Or noisy martlets, in phantastic play,
And keen pursuit, winging their airy way;
While each by intervals the ear detains,
Sets off the nightingale's mellifluous strains;
With endless contrasts varies ev'ry note,
And gives peculiar softness to her throat.
While, in one universal chaunt of praise,
The common herd of warblers join'd their lays,
Greatly as if superiour to the rest,
In scornful silence she her voice supprest.
But now, the wonder-list'ning world her own,
When she can charm the pensive ear alone,
In full impassion'd melody of wo,
Through the dun shade her mournful numbers flow.
Night, lurking in the distant vap'ry sky,
Or hov'ring in her ebon chariot nigh,
Transported, seems her visit to delay,
Loath to obscure the faint remains of day.
Echo too, fond no tender accent should
The delicacy of her ear elude;
From some lone grot, or antiquated tow'r,
Exhausts her finest arts of mimic pow'r.
The common herd of warblers join'd their lays,
Greatly as if superiour to the rest,
In scornful silence she her voice supprest.
But now, the wonder-list'ning world her own,
When she can charm the pensive ear alone,
In full impassion'd melody of wo,
Through the dun shade her mournful numbers flow.
Night, lurking in the distant vap'ry sky,
Or hov'ring in her ebon chariot nigh,
Transported, seems her visit to delay,
Loath to obscure the faint remains of day.
121
The delicacy of her ear elude;
From some lone grot, or antiquated tow'r,
Exhausts her finest arts of mimic pow'r.
Say, Music! by what fascinating art,
Dost thou hold sov'reign empire o'er the heart?
Say, whence thy pow'rs mysterious can arise,
Sure some ecstatic impulse from the skies,
By ev'ry nerve that vibrates to the brain,
The soft ascendant o'er the soul to gain?
Rapid and sudden, like ethereal fire,
All the whole man resistless to inspire?
Dost thou hold sov'reign empire o'er the heart?
Say, whence thy pow'rs mysterious can arise,
Sure some ecstatic impulse from the skies,
By ev'ry nerve that vibrates to the brain,
The soft ascendant o'er the soul to gain?
Rapid and sudden, like ethereal fire,
All the whole man resistless to inspire?
Hail, potent lenitive! hail magic charm!
The viper of his poison to disarm!
The rabid tyger's deadly rage to stay,
And soften lions rampant o'er their prey!
Kindly to sweeten Fortune's bitter cup,
And keep through life man's drooping spirits up!
His journey o'er earth's rugged paths to smoothe,
His toils to mitigate, his cares to soothe!
To still the sigh that heaves the breast of wo,
And dry those tears down sorrow's cheek that flow!
The viper of his poison to disarm!
The rabid tyger's deadly rage to stay,
And soften lions rampant o'er their prey!
Kindly to sweeten Fortune's bitter cup,
And keep through life man's drooping spirits up!
His journey o'er earth's rugged paths to smoothe,
His toils to mitigate, his cares to soothe!
To still the sigh that heaves the breast of wo,
And dry those tears down sorrow's cheek that flow!
But see! from yonder chambers of the sky,
Sent by the sun his absence to supply,
The full-orb'd moon, queen-regent of the night,
In all the soft resplendency of light,
With silent imperceptible advance,
Slides up the clear cerulean's smooth expanse.
Quick through the air the yellow radiance spreads,
First faint reflected from the mountain-heads;
Then, delicately checker'd, by degrees,
It steals among the openings of the trees,
Or on the river, mov'd in sprightly flow,
Dances in mild vibrations to and fro;
Anon immense, o'er all the landscape wide,
Diffus'd in one uninterrupted tide.
On as the meek-ey'd Empress glides serene,
Stars, to augment the grandeur of the scene,
Brightly arrang'd her sapphire path along,
Or cluster'd round her car, in myriads throng.
Sent by the sun his absence to supply,
122
In all the soft resplendency of light,
With silent imperceptible advance,
Slides up the clear cerulean's smooth expanse.
Quick through the air the yellow radiance spreads,
First faint reflected from the mountain-heads;
Then, delicately checker'd, by degrees,
It steals among the openings of the trees,
Or on the river, mov'd in sprightly flow,
Dances in mild vibrations to and fro;
Anon immense, o'er all the landscape wide,
Diffus'd in one uninterrupted tide.
On as the meek-ey'd Empress glides serene,
Stars, to augment the grandeur of the scene,
Brightly arrang'd her sapphire path along,
Or cluster'd round her car, in myriads throng.
The solemn, glimm'ring, exquisite display
Of beauties, Fancy ever would survey,
Court the nocturnal Warbler to prolong,
Nor court in vain, her finely-varied song.
While Sleep prepares, with aspect still and calm,
On human eyes to pour her opiate balm;
The day-set task of busy Labour o'er,
And care's incessant clamours heard no more;
Retir'd the peasant to his straw-thatch'd cot,
The noble, rich, and mighty, envied not;
Content with what the beauteous Seasons bring,
The wealth of Autumn, promis'd by the Spring.
Spring! softest period of the circling Year!
When all things in the bloom of youth appear;
When Nature's hoary age seems quite renew'd,
In Winter's arms late spent and wrinkled view'd;
To which, while all the brighten'd landscape glows,
Summer her radiant flush of beauty owes:
To whose bland influence, and enliv'ning smile,
If aught, in fancy, sentiment, or style,
The Muse can boast of beautiful, is due
The inspiration, and the tribute too.
Ye kindred souls, whose taste is form'd sublime
On Nature's faultless standard, friends of rhyme,
Whose feeling hearts Spring's charms by instinct move,
Cherish her labours, and the verse approve!
Of beauties, Fancy ever would survey,
Court the nocturnal Warbler to prolong,
Nor court in vain, her finely-varied song.
While Sleep prepares, with aspect still and calm,
On human eyes to pour her opiate balm;
The day-set task of busy Labour o'er,
And care's incessant clamours heard no more;
123
The noble, rich, and mighty, envied not;
Content with what the beauteous Seasons bring,
The wealth of Autumn, promis'd by the Spring.
Spring! softest period of the circling Year!
When all things in the bloom of youth appear;
When Nature's hoary age seems quite renew'd,
In Winter's arms late spent and wrinkled view'd;
To which, while all the brighten'd landscape glows,
Summer her radiant flush of beauty owes:
To whose bland influence, and enliv'ning smile,
If aught, in fancy, sentiment, or style,
The Muse can boast of beautiful, is due
The inspiration, and the tribute too.
Ye kindred souls, whose taste is form'd sublime
On Nature's faultless standard, friends of rhyme,
Whose feeling hearts Spring's charms by instinct move,
Cherish her labours, and the verse approve!
But when, at shut of eve, all home repair,
The soft delights of virtuous rest to share,
Sweeter than that, on silken couch of down,
Partakes the monarch burden'd with a crown;
And leave the Solitude, more awful grown,
To Philomela and the Muse alone;
The Muse too must the scene sequester'd quit,
To let unrival'd the proud Songstress fit.
Unrival'd, save by Him, whose tuneful tongue
Of life and death in lofty numbers sung;
Who of those idols all so fond pursue,
Riches and Fame, a faithful portrait drew;
To man immortal set his matchless strings,
Himself immortal render'd while he sings!
The dark-brow'd Night, through her opaque domain,
The Moon, with all the planetary train,
Listen'd with silent wonder to his lay,
Pleas'd thus preferr'd their empire to the day.
He heard the latest quiver of her throat,
Though echoes lengthen'd out each parting note.
Who else, sweet Nightingale! could sing so well?
Who else the twilight-harmonist excell?
He saw the lark on early pinion rise,
Saluting with her matin song the skies;
The silver Majesty of night withdrew,
And stars alternate vanish'd from the view;
To other worlds, far as their beams can pierce,
The Bard's nocturnal labours to rehearse!
But simpler scenes the rural Muse delight,
Her wing a stranger to so bold a flight;
Far other themes attune the sylvan lyre,
Far other strains Spring's modest charms inspire.
The soft delights of virtuous rest to share,
Sweeter than that, on silken couch of down,
Partakes the monarch burden'd with a crown;
124
To Philomela and the Muse alone;
The Muse too must the scene sequester'd quit,
To let unrival'd the proud Songstress fit.
Unrival'd, save by Him, whose tuneful tongue
Of life and death in lofty numbers sung;
Who of those idols all so fond pursue,
Riches and Fame, a faithful portrait drew;
To man immortal set his matchless strings,
Himself immortal render'd while he sings!
The dark-brow'd Night, through her opaque domain,
The Moon, with all the planetary train,
Listen'd with silent wonder to his lay,
Pleas'd thus preferr'd their empire to the day.
He heard the latest quiver of her throat,
Though echoes lengthen'd out each parting note.
Who else, sweet Nightingale! could sing so well?
Who else the twilight-harmonist excell?
He saw the lark on early pinion rise,
Saluting with her matin song the skies;
The silver Majesty of night withdrew,
And stars alternate vanish'd from the view;
125
The Bard's nocturnal labours to rehearse!
But simpler scenes the rural Muse delight,
Her wing a stranger to so bold a flight;
Far other themes attune the sylvan lyre,
Far other strains Spring's modest charms inspire.
The End of the Sixth and last Book.
| Original poems on several subjects | |