The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III. |
|
|
ANACREONTIC.
|
 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
301
ANACREONTIC.
[The day is past! the sultry west]
The day is past! the sultry west
Its golden curtain closes!
My mossy couch is gayly drest
With leaves of summer roses—
For thee!
Its golden curtain closes!
My mossy couch is gayly drest
With leaves of summer roses—
For thee!
The day is past! the silv'ry moon
Will light the shadowy mountain soon;
Then come, my love, let soft delight
Give downy wings to fleeting night—
With me!
Will light the shadowy mountain soon;
Then come, my love, let soft delight
Give downy wings to fleeting night—
With me!
The day is past! the rising dews
Spangle the meadows over;
Where buds retint their faded hues,
To greet the wand'ring lover—
Like thee!
Spangle the meadows over;
Where buds retint their faded hues,
To greet the wand'ring lover—
Like thee!
The gossamer its silver thread
Winds round the glow-worm's twinkling head;
The beetle sounds its drony horn,
And pearl-drops all the flow'rs adorn—
For me!
Winds round the glow-worm's twinkling head;
The beetle sounds its drony horn,
And pearl-drops all the flow'rs adorn—
For me!
302
The purple vine its branches bends,
The bow'r of love confining;
And there the rosy god attends,
An ivy wreath entwining—
For thee!
The bow'r of love confining;
And there the rosy god attends,
An ivy wreath entwining—
For thee!
The golden goblets foaming round,
Seem with impatient streams to bound:
Haste, haste, my truant, let thy lip
The cup of heav'nly nectar sip—
With me!
Seem with impatient streams to bound:
Haste, haste, my truant, let thy lip
The cup of heav'nly nectar sip—
With me!
But let not low and base desire
Degrade thy bosom's feeling;
Let love illume his sacred fire,
The light of truth revealing—
For thee!
Degrade thy bosom's feeling;
Let love illume his sacred fire,
The light of truth revealing—
For thee!
Let vulgar, common natures rove
In paths of sordid, sensual love;
But know, the frozen, grov'ling mind,
Nor friend, nor monitor, shall find—
In me!
In paths of sordid, sensual love;
But know, the frozen, grov'ling mind,
Nor friend, nor monitor, shall find—
In me!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |