The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton |  |
ELEGY. [AFTER GRAY.]
Joyless I seek the solitary shade,
Where dusky Contemplation veils the scene,
The dark retreat, of leafless branches made,
Where sickening sorrow wets the yellowed green.
Where dusky Contemplation veils the scene,
The dark retreat, of leafless branches made,
Where sickening sorrow wets the yellowed green.
The darksome ruins of some sacred cell,
Where erst the sons of Superstition trod,
Tottering upon the mossy meadow, tell
We better know, but less adore, our God.
Where erst the sons of Superstition trod,
Tottering upon the mossy meadow, tell
We better know, but less adore, our God.
Now, as I mournful tread the gloomy nave,
Through the wide window, once with mysteries dight,
The distant forest, and the darkened wave
Of the swoln Avon ravishes my sight.
Through the wide window, once with mysteries dight,
The distant forest, and the darkened wave
Of the swoln Avon ravishes my sight.
59
But see the thickening veil of evening's drawn,
The azure changes to a sabled blue;
The rapturing prospects fly the lessening lawn,
And Nature seems to mourn the dying view.
The azure changes to a sabled blue;
The rapturing prospects fly the lessening lawn,
And Nature seems to mourn the dying view.
Self-frighted Fear creeps silent through the gloom,
Starts at the rustling leaf, and rolls his eyes;
Aghast with horror, when he views the tomb,
With every torment of a hell, he flies.
Starts at the rustling leaf, and rolls his eyes;
Aghast with horror, when he views the tomb,
With every torment of a hell, he flies.
The bubbling brooks in plaintive murmurs roll,
The bird of omen, with incessant scream,
To melancholy thoughts awakes the soul,
And lulls the mind to contemplation's dream.
The bird of omen, with incessant scream,
To melancholy thoughts awakes the soul,
And lulls the mind to contemplation's dream.
A dreary stillness broods o'er all the vale,
The clouded moon emits a feeble glare;
Joyless I seek the darkling hill and dale,
Where'er I wander, sorrow still is there.
The clouded moon emits a feeble glare;
Joyless I seek the darkling hill and dale,
Where'er I wander, sorrow still is there.
Bristol, Nov. 17, 1769.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton | |