The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
THE FISHERMAN. |
| III. |
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
341
THE FISHERMAN.
Along the smooth and glassy stream
The little boat glides slow;
And while beneath the rosy beam
Of setting sun the waters glow,
The fisherman is singing gay,
“Sweet is the hour of setting day.”
The little boat glides slow;
And while beneath the rosy beam
Of setting sun the waters glow,
The fisherman is singing gay,
“Sweet is the hour of setting day.”
The net, expanded wide, displays
The snare of direful fate;
And where the finny victim plays
The shafts of Death unseen await!
And still the fisherman is gay,
Singing at close of summer's day.
The snare of direful fate;
And where the finny victim plays
The shafts of Death unseen await!
And still the fisherman is gay,
Singing at close of summer's day.
The zephyrs on each willow bed
In busy whispers fly,
And o'er the lowly, peaceful shed
The mournful screech-owls hov'ring cry;
Yet still the fisherman can say,
“How cheerful is the close of day!”
In busy whispers fly,
And o'er the lowly, peaceful shed
The mournful screech-owls hov'ring cry;
Yet still the fisherman can say,
“How cheerful is the close of day!”
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The rising moon, with quiv'ring light,
Along the river throws
A soft beam from the brow of night,
And still a mimic day bestows;
While on the smooth and liquid way
The silent fisherman is gay.
Along the river throws
A soft beam from the brow of night,
And still a mimic day bestows;
While on the smooth and liquid way
The silent fisherman is gay.
The rosy dawn above the hills
Scatters the sev'ring clouds,
And myriads flitting o'er the rills,
The violet-scented margin shrouds:
And from his hut, to greet the day,
The fisherman comes blythe and gay.
Scatters the sev'ring clouds,
And myriads flitting o'er the rills,
The violet-scented margin shrouds:
And from his hut, to greet the day,
The fisherman comes blythe and gay.
Happy is he who never knew
The idle pride of state!
Who, stranger to the sordid crew,
Lives unmolested by the great;
Who labours thro' his little day,
And, pleas'd with labour, still is gay.
The idle pride of state!
Who, stranger to the sordid crew,
Lives unmolested by the great;
Who labours thro' his little day,
And, pleas'd with labour, still is gay.
Poor Fisherman! would man like thee
Contented pass his hour;
Would those of loftier destiny
Forbear to use the rod of pow'r—
How man thro' life's busy day
Would sing like thee—belov'd and gay!
Contented pass his hour;
Would those of loftier destiny
Forbear to use the rod of pow'r—
How man thro' life's busy day
Would sing like thee—belov'd and gay!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |