The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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THE CORYCIAN SWAIN. |
 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
THE CORYCIAN SWAIN.
But, were I not, before the favouring gale,Making to port, and crowding all my sail,
Perhaps I might the garden's glories sing,
The double roses of the Pæstan spring;
How endive drinks the rill, and how are seen
Moist banks with celery forever green;
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The bellowing cucumber's enormous size;
What flowers Narcissus late, how nature weaves
The yielding texture of Acanthus' leaves;
Of ivy pale the culture next explore,
And whence the lover-myrtle courts the shore.
For I remember, where Galesus yields
His humid moisture to the yellow fields,
And high Oebalia's towers o'erlook the plain,
I knew in youth an old Corycian swain;
A few and barren acres were his share,
Left and abandoned to the good man's care;
Nor these indulged the grassy lawn, to feed
The fattening bullock, nor the bounding steed,
Nor gave to cattle browse, nor food to kine,
Bacchus, averse, refused the mantling vine.
What happy nature to his lands denied,
An honest, painful industry supplied;
For, trusting pot-herbs to his bushy ground,
For bees, fair candid lilies flourished round,
Vervain for health, for bread he poppies plants,
With these he satisfied all nature's wants;
And late returning home from wholesome toil,
Enjoyed the frugal bounty of the soil.
His mind was royal in a low estate,
And dignified the meanness of his fate.
He first in spring was seen to crop the rose,
In autumn first to unload the bending boughs;
For every bud the early year bestowed,
A reddening apple on the branches glowed.
Even in the midst of winter's rigid reign,
When snow and frost had whitened o'er the plain,
When cold had split the rocks, and stripped the woods,
And shackled up the mighty running floods,
He then, anticipating summer's hopes,
The tendrils of the soft acanthus crops;
His industry awaked the lazy spring,
And hastened on the zephyr's loitering wing.
For this with pregnant bees he chief was known
To abound—the balmy harvest all his own.
Successive swarms reward his faithful toil;
None pressed from richer combs the liquid spoil.
He crowned his rural orchard's plain design,
With flowering lime-trees, and a wealth of pine.
He knew, in graceful order, to dispose
Large-bodied elms, transplanted into rows.
Hard pear-trees flourished near his rustic dome,
And thorns already purple with the plumb;
Broad planes arose to form an ample bower,
Where mirth's gay sons refreshed the sultry hour.
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The pleasing labour of some future bard.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |