 | Poems on several subjects |  |
On Mrs Ogilvie's Chariot-wheel sinking on the Brink of the River Spey.
Bright as Aurora on sweet May,
When she her beauties all display,
Excited by the pow'r of love,
Clarinda in her chariot drove:
Secure she thought, and nought dismay'd;
On either hand a beauteous maid,
Whose sweet angelic form and show,
All Cupid's art seem'd to undo.
When she her beauties all display,
Excited by the pow'r of love,
Clarinda in her chariot drove:
Secure she thought, and nought dismay'd;
On either hand a beauteous maid,
Whose sweet angelic form and show,
All Cupid's art seem'd to undo.
As the swift chariot sweept along,
Each charm attract'd the gazing throng:
So that each swain, as thunder-struck,
Stood gazing on the empty track.
While the fierce steeds with speed made way,
Along the rapid river Spey,
Thoughtless of harm, the prospect drew
The fair one's eyes abroad to view
The river in its rolling pride,
And pleasant landskips on each side.
Each charm attract'd the gazing throng:
So that each swain, as thunder-struck,
Stood gazing on the empty track.
While the fierce steeds with speed made way,
Along the rapid river Spey,
185
The fair one's eyes abroad to view
The river in its rolling pride,
And pleasant landskips on each side.
But winter storms and summer spates,
That brooks' and rivers' bounds dilates,
Had undermin'd the bounding brae,
Of this same ancient river Spey:
The surface hung impending o'er
The oozy deep, along the shore.
So when Clarinda, in her coach,
Too near the confines did approach,
The ground deceitful sunk, and stay'd
The chariot-wheel: she frighted cry'd,
“Is there no human helper nigh,
Before we perish here, and die?”
That brooks' and rivers' bounds dilates,
Had undermin'd the bounding brae,
Of this same ancient river Spey:
The surface hung impending o'er
The oozy deep, along the shore.
So when Clarinda, in her coach,
Too near the confines did approach,
The ground deceitful sunk, and stay'd
The chariot-wheel: she frighted cry'd,
“Is there no human helper nigh,
Before we perish here, and die?”
Pussilus, a Dutch Captain, rode
There, mounted like a demi-god:
Yet stupidly he stood afar,
Like a doom'd pannel at the bar,
And heeded not Clarinda's cries,
Nor crystal drops run from her eyes;
Though he profess'd a man of war,
Deign'd not to help th'affrighted fair.
There, mounted like a demi-god:
Yet stupidly he stood afar,
Like a doom'd pannel at the bar,
And heeded not Clarinda's cries,
Nor crystal drops run from her eyes;
Though he profess'd a man of war,
Deign'd not to help th'affrighted fair.
At greater distance than Pussilus,
A young knight, stout as bold Achilles,
Who acted true knight-errantry,
Like lightening flew for her supply.
Not like Don Quixote's vap'rish notions;
That push'd him on to frantic motions:
Nor was his steed like Rosmant,
Nor hunger-bitten, tir'd or faint;
Nor did he want a spur and whip,
To make his courser Light-foot trip
Towards Clarinda, thus distress'd,
Whose looks her gratitude express'd.
New joys sprung up in midst of fears,
And drain'd her rapid flood of tears:
As sun-beams after show'rs of rain,
Shine brightly o'er the moist'ned plain;
So she sweet innocence display'd,
When he, with expedition, cry'd,
“Come, fair Clarinda, to my arms,
Secure from danger, hurt, or harms;
Come, lovely maids, come safe ashore,
The threat'ning aspect dread no more.”
A young knight, stout as bold Achilles,
Who acted true knight-errantry,
Like lightening flew for her supply.
Not like Don Quixote's vap'rish notions;
That push'd him on to frantic motions:
Nor was his steed like Rosmant,
Nor hunger-bitten, tir'd or faint;
Nor did he want a spur and whip,
To make his courser Light-foot trip
Towards Clarinda, thus distress'd,
Whose looks her gratitude express'd.
New joys sprung up in midst of fears,
And drain'd her rapid flood of tears:
186
Shine brightly o'er the moist'ned plain;
So she sweet innocence display'd,
When he, with expedition, cry'd,
“Come, fair Clarinda, to my arms,
Secure from danger, hurt, or harms;
Come, lovely maids, come safe ashore,
The threat'ning aspect dread no more.”
By lucky chance, an aged tree
Had stood time out of memory,
Whose interweaving roots extended
Some distance round the place, defended
From falling in the mighty deep,
Where mermaids dance, and dolphins creep,
Until the bold and courteous knight
Rescu'd Clarinda in her fright.
Long may its branches bud and spring,
And on its boughs birds ever sing.
Thou bless'd supporter of the fair,
The scent of bays and laurels wear,
Still fresh and green around the year;
And all its kind, where-e'er they be,
Be nam'd for ever Venus' Tree.
Had stood time out of memory,
Whose interweaving roots extended
Some distance round the place, defended
From falling in the mighty deep,
Where mermaids dance, and dolphins creep,
Until the bold and courteous knight
Rescu'd Clarinda in her fright.
Long may its branches bud and spring,
And on its boughs birds ever sing.
Thou bless'd supporter of the fair,
The scent of bays and laurels wear,
Still fresh and green around the year;
And all its kind, where-e'er they be,
Be nam'd for ever Venus' Tree.
And honest Meg of country breeding,
Fond her fortune to be reading,
May, as to some Divinity,
Apply this consecrated tree;
Who'll, like an oracle, proclaim
Her lover's residence and name;
The colour of his hair, and trade,
Shall in a trice be all display'd.
Fond her fortune to be reading,
May, as to some Divinity,
Apply this consecrated tree;
Who'll, like an oracle, proclaim
Her lover's residence and name;
The colour of his hair, and trade,
Shall in a trice be all display'd.
Ev'n Willie, when he cannot gain
His mistress for affect'd disdain,
May to the wood next morn repair,
Invoke the tree by earnest pray'r;
Thrice round it run, its branches kiss;
Syne utter such a charm as this;
His mistress for affect'd disdain,
May to the wood next morn repair,
Invoke the tree by earnest pray'r;
Thrice round it run, its branches kiss;
Syne utter such a charm as this;
187
By Juno's charms,
And Cupid's arms,
I conjure thee impart,
And ease my flame
For that fair dame,
The Empress of my heart:
And Cupid's arms,
I conjure thee impart,
And ease my flame
For that fair dame,
The Empress of my heart:
Tell me if I
From her may fly,
Or once again renew
My wonted art,
To gain her heart,
And her disdain pursue.
From her may fly,
Or once again renew
My wonted art,
To gain her heart,
And her disdain pursue.
| Poems on several subjects | |