University of Virginia Library


139

WRITTEN ON A VISIT.

Delightful Twick'nham! may a rustic hail
Thy leafy shades, where Pope in rapture stray'd,
Clasp young-ey'd Ecstasy amid the vale,
And soar, full-pinion'd, with the buoyant maid?
Ah! no, I droop! her fav'rite Bard she mourns;
Yet Twick'nham, shall thy groves assist my song;
For while, with grateful love my bosom burns,
Soft Zephyr bears the artless strain along.

140

Through Maro's peaceful haunt with joy I rove:
Here Emma's spotless lamb forgets to bleat;
Nor heeds her native lawn, or woolly love,
But gently breathes her thanks at Beauty's feet.
Emblem of whitest Innocence! how blest!
No cruel mastiff on thy heart shall prey,
Nor sanguine steel e'er rend thy panting breast;
But life, with happy ease, still glide away.
Far be the hour that must demand thy breath;
For, ah! that hour shall claim my Emma's tear:
E'en Maro's manly eye shall grace thy death;
Nor will the pang Lactilla's bosom spare.

141

But hence, Melpomene! to cells of woe;
I would not now thy melting languors own:
Here Friendship bids exulting Rapture glow,
While Sorrow, list'ning stills her deepest groan.
Protected thus from ev'ry barbed dart,
Which oft from soul-corroding passion flies,
I own the transport of a blameless heart,
While on the air the pow'rless fury dies.
Hail! steady Friendship, stubborn in thy plea!
Most justly so, when Virtue is thy guide:
Beneath your mingled ray my soul is free,
And native Genius soars with conscious Pride.

142

See, Maro points the vast, the spacious way,
Where strong Idea may on Rapture spring:
I mount!—Wild Ardour shall ungovern'd stray;
Nor dare the mimic pedant clip my wing.
Rule! what art thou? Thy limits I disown!
Can thy weak law the swelling thought confine?
Snatch glowing Transport from her kindred zone,
And fix her melting on thy frozen line?
As well command the hoary Alps to bear
The Amaranth, or Phœbus-loving flow'r!
Bid the Behemoth cut the yielding air,
Or rob the Godhead of creative pow'r!

143

Yet, Precept! shall thy richest store be mine,
When soft'ning pleasure would invade my breast;
To thee my struggling spirit shall resign;
On thy cold bosom will I sink to rest.
Farewel, ye groves! and when the friendly moon
Tempts each fair sister o'er the vernal green,
Oh, may each lovely maid reflect how soon
Lactilla saw, and sighing left the scene.