The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
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 | III. |
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STANZAS.
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
127
STANZAS.
[Tell me, that nature welcomes rosy spring]
“Absence lessens small passions, and increases great ones; as the
the wind extinguishes tapers, and kindles fires.”
Rochefoucault's Moral Maxims.
Rochefoucault's Moral Maxims.
Tell me, that nature welcomes rosy spring;
That plenty weaves a garland for her breast;
That summer spreads her renovated wing,
And smiles, in gay and glowing colours drest;
Tell me, that rapture is her handmaid fair;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
That plenty weaves a garland for her breast;
That summer spreads her renovated wing,
And smiles, in gay and glowing colours drest;
Tell me, that rapture is her handmaid fair;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Tell me, autumnal suns, with fiercer pow'r,
Come darting forth, earth's bosom to adorn;
That many a whisp'ring gale, and silky flow'r,
Welcomes the lustrous glances of the morn;
Tell me, that round her flutters fragrant air;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair;
Come darting forth, earth's bosom to adorn;
That many a whisp'ring gale, and silky flow'r,
Welcomes the lustrous glances of the morn;
Tell me, that round her flutters fragrant air;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair;
Tell me, that winter's howling winds, and rain,
Strip the thatch'd cot, and scatter ruin wide;
That snows thick falling on the cheerless plain,
The scenes of pastime and of labour hide;
Tell me, that man is but the prey of care;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Strip the thatch'd cot, and scatter ruin wide;
That snows thick falling on the cheerless plain,
The scenes of pastime and of labour hide;
Tell me, that man is but the prey of care;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
128
Tell me that melodies in ev'ry grove
Steal to the breast, and charm each throbbing vein,
That hope gives swiftness to the wings of love,
Averts his dart, and heals his direst pain,
And bids blithe youth his softest transports share;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Steal to the breast, and charm each throbbing vein,
That hope gives swiftness to the wings of love,
Averts his dart, and heals his direst pain,
And bids blithe youth his softest transports share;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Tell me, that beauty fascinates the heart,
And binds each captive sense in thraldom sweet;
That genius mocks the sting of envious art;
That baseness only cherishes deceit;
Tell me, that falsehood candour's mark can wear;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
And binds each captive sense in thraldom sweet;
That genius mocks the sting of envious art;
That baseness only cherishes deceit;
Tell me, that falsehood candour's mark can wear;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Tell me, that wealth can purchase short-liv'd fame;
That pride can trample on meek modest worth;
That idiot souls are flatter'd by a name;
That guilt is sanction'd by superior birth;
Tell me, that vice assumes a semblance fair;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
That pride can trample on meek modest worth;
That idiot souls are flatter'd by a name;
That guilt is sanction'd by superior birth;
Tell me, that vice assumes a semblance fair;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
Tell me, that reason comes with sober eye,
To wean the soul from life's delusive toys;
That dauntless truth, and mild philosophy,
Lead in their train unperishable joys;
Tell me, that wisdom laughs at taunting care;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
To wean the soul from life's delusive toys;
That dauntless truth, and mild philosophy,
Lead in their train unperishable joys;
Tell me, that wisdom laughs at taunting care;
But tell me not, that absence cures despair!
129
Each scene I've mark'd, and mark'd them all decay;
Youth, hope, meek-bosom'd friendship, pleasure, pain;
Cold winter's storms, and summer's radiant day;
Truth's mental bliss, and folly's low disdain:
And though condemn'd each mortal change to share,
Still found, that absence could not cure despair!
Youth, hope, meek-bosom'd friendship, pleasure, pain;
Cold winter's storms, and summer's radiant day;
Truth's mental bliss, and folly's low disdain:
And though condemn'd each mortal change to share,
Still found, that absence could not cure despair!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |