 | Poems on several occasions |  |
70
TO THE THAMES.
Nearer to my grove, O Thames!
Lead along thy sultry streams,
Summer fires the stagnant air,
Come and cool thy bosom there!
Trees shall shelter, Zephyrs play,
Odours court thy smiling stay;
There the lily lifts her head,
Fairest child of Nature's bed.
Lead along thy sultry streams,
Summer fires the stagnant air,
Come and cool thy bosom there!
Trees shall shelter, Zephyrs play,
Odours court thy smiling stay;
There the lily lifts her head,
Fairest child of Nature's bed.
Oh! Thames, my promise all was vain:
Autumnal storms, autumnal rain
Have spoil'd that fragrance, stript those shades,
Hapless flower! that lily fades.—
What? if chance, sweet evening ray,
Or western gale of vernal day,
Momentary bloom renews,
Heavy with unfertile dews
It bends again, and seems to cry,
“Gale and sunshine, come not nigh!
“Why reclaim from winter's power
“This wither'd stalk, no more a flower!”
Such a flower, my youthful prime,
Chill'd by rigour, sapp'd by time,
Shrinks beneath the clouded storm:
What? If Beauty's beaming form,
And Cambrian virgins' vocal air
Expand to smiles my brow of care:
That beam withdrawn, that melting sound,
The dews of death hang heavier round,
No more to spring, to bloom, to be,
I bow to Fate and Heaven's decree.
Autumnal storms, autumnal rain
71
Hapless flower! that lily fades.—
What? if chance, sweet evening ray,
Or western gale of vernal day,
Momentary bloom renews,
Heavy with unfertile dews
It bends again, and seems to cry,
“Gale and sunshine, come not nigh!
“Why reclaim from winter's power
“This wither'd stalk, no more a flower!”
Such a flower, my youthful prime,
Chill'd by rigour, sapp'd by time,
Shrinks beneath the clouded storm:
What? If Beauty's beaming form,
And Cambrian virgins' vocal air
Expand to smiles my brow of care:
That beam withdrawn, that melting sound,
The dews of death hang heavier round,
72
I bow to Fate and Heaven's decree.
Come then, Cambrian Virgin, come,
With all thy music seek my tomb,
With all thy grace, thy modest state,
With all thy virtues, known too late!
Come, a little moment spare
From pious rites and filial care!
Give my tomb—no heart-felt sigh,
No tear convulsing Pity's eye!
Gifts of too endearing name
For you to grant, for me to claim;
But bring the song—whose healing sounds
Were balm to all my festering wounds.
Bring the lyre—by Music's power
My soul entranc'd shall wait the hour,
The dread majestic hour of doom,
When thro' the grave, and thro' the gloom,
Heaven shall burst in floods of day:
Dazzled with so fierce a ray,
My aching eyes shall turn to view
Its milder beams reflect from you.
With all thy music seek my tomb,
With all thy grace, thy modest state,
With all thy virtues, known too late!
Come, a little moment spare
From pious rites and filial care!
Give my tomb—no heart-felt sigh,
No tear convulsing Pity's eye!
Gifts of too endearing name
For you to grant, for me to claim;
But bring the song—whose healing sounds
Were balm to all my festering wounds.
Bring the lyre—by Music's power
My soul entranc'd shall wait the hour,
The dread majestic hour of doom,
When thro' the grave, and thro' the gloom,
73
Dazzled with so fierce a ray,
My aching eyes shall turn to view
Its milder beams reflect from you.
| Poems on several occasions | |