 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
33
THE RAPTURE.
Bear me, ye Gods! to Oxford's learned Seats,
Or cover me in Cornwell's dear Retreats;
Cornwell! whose Shades my serious Thoughts engage,
Cornwell! the Tibur of the Roman Age!
Where the soft Muses string the warbling Lyre,
And Heav'nly Scenes Poetick Thoughts inspire:
Where tuneful Birds on ev'ry bloomy Spray,
Sing to the rising, and the falling Day:
Where Fountains gurgle, and the Grotts reply,
Where Poets sing, and musing Lovers sigh.
Or cover me in Cornwell's dear Retreats;
Cornwell! whose Shades my serious Thoughts engage,
Cornwell! the Tibur of the Roman Age!
Where the soft Muses string the warbling Lyre,
And Heav'nly Scenes Poetick Thoughts inspire:
Where tuneful Birds on ev'ry bloomy Spray,
Sing to the rising, and the falling Day:
Where Fountains gurgle, and the Grotts reply,
Where Poets sing, and musing Lovers sigh.
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And now, methinks, I've gain'd the happy Shade,
All careless on some mossy Bank I'm laid,
And hear soft Musick die along the Glade:
Hark! how the Brook in weeping murmurs flows,
Hark! thro' the Trees the musky Zephyr blows,
Ye Brooks! ye Zephyrs all continue my Repose.
All careless on some mossy Bank I'm laid,
And hear soft Musick die along the Glade:
Hark! how the Brook in weeping murmurs flows,
Hark! thro' the Trees the musky Zephyr blows,
Ye Brooks! ye Zephyrs all continue my Repose.
But now ye Gods! once more exert your Pow'r,
To bless my Days, and crown the smiling Hour;
Let sweetly-smiling Phæbe too be there,
Phæbe! the darling Object of my Care!
To bless my Days, and crown the smiling Hour;
Let sweetly-smiling Phæbe too be there,
Phæbe! the darling Object of my Care!
My Pray'rs are heard; and now, methinks, we rove,
Arm link'd in Arm, thro' all the bow'ry Grove,
Whilst Sighs and speaking Looks declare how much we love.
As thro' the interwoven Shades we stray,
The interwoven Shades our Loves display;
Like these we stand, clasp'd in one mutual Tie,
Together flourish, and together die.
Arm link'd in Arm, thro' all the bow'ry Grove,
Whilst Sighs and speaking Looks declare how much we love.
As thro' the interwoven Shades we stray,
The interwoven Shades our Loves display;
35
Together flourish, and together die.
Now, all ye Pow'rs! who fill the Thrones above,
Heav'n's all your own; nor do I wish to prove
The Joys, that you can give, since Phæbe crowns my Love.
Heav'n's all your own; nor do I wish to prove
The Joys, that you can give, since Phæbe crowns my Love.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |