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196
ODE
WRITTEN IN THE WALKS AT BRECKNOCK.
TO DR. SQUIRE, LORD BISHOP OF ST. DAVID'S.
I.
“Rude romantic shades, and woods,“Hanging walks and falling floods!
“Now, that gush with foaming pride
“Down the rough rock's steepy side:
“Now, that o'er the pebbles play,
“Winding round your silver way:
“Mountains, that in dusky cloud,
“High your sacred summits shroud;
“Whose variegated sides adorn
“Fields, and flocks, and groves, and corn,
“And whited cots, beside the steep,
“Where health and labour sweetly sleep;
“Hail! pleasing scenes!” Amyntas cry'd,
As by old Hundy's gurgling side,
In careless sort his limbs he laid,
The hoar hill hanging o'er his head.
His harp of ancient British sound lay by;
He seiz'd it rapturous: o'er the strings
His fingers lightly fly,
While thus his voice responsive sings:
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II.
“From that celestial orb, where, thron'd in light,“Thou dwell'st of powers angelic, first and best;
“Oh lovely gratitude! divinely bright,
“Descend, in all thy glowing beauties dress'd.
“Goddess come, and oh! impart
“All thy ardors to my heart;
“Tune my harp, and touch my tongue,
“Give me melody and song:
“Softest notes and numbers bring,
“'Tis Palæmon, that I sing:
“Gratitude, exalt my lays,
“'Tis my benefactor's praise!
III.
“But where can or numbers, or notes,
“Sufficiently pleasing be found,
“To express the due sense of his worth,
“Who my life with such comforts hath crown'd?
“He mark'd the small flock which I fed,
“And my diligence gave him delight;
‘Young shepherd, I'll help you,’ he said,
“And he plac'd me still nearer his sight.
“Then he gave me some sheep of my own,—
“Oh could I the charge but improve!
“'Twould shew, how I honour'd his gift,—
“And would I could merit his love!
“But sooner this brook at my feet
“Shall cease in soft murmurs to flow;
“These mountains shall sooner sink down
“To a plain with the vallies below;
“Than mute to his praises, my tongue
“Shall cease his lov'd name to resound;
“Or my heart to his favours, so priz'd,
“Be ever insensible found.
“Sufficiently pleasing be found,
“To express the due sense of his worth,
“Who my life with such comforts hath crown'd?
“He mark'd the small flock which I fed,
“And my diligence gave him delight;
‘Young shepherd, I'll help you,’ he said,
“And he plac'd me still nearer his sight.
“Then he gave me some sheep of my own,—
“Oh could I the charge but improve!
“'Twould shew, how I honour'd his gift,—
“And would I could merit his love!
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“Shall cease in soft murmurs to flow;
“These mountains shall sooner sink down
“To a plain with the vallies below;
“Than mute to his praises, my tongue
“Shall cease his lov'd name to resound;
“Or my heart to his favours, so priz'd,
“Be ever insensible found.
“Oh! may the great Shepherd of all
“His life with rich blessings increase;
“And sweetly encompass him round
“With plenty, with health, and with peace.
“On all that partake of his board,
“Be happiness largely bestow'd;
“His wife, be still loving and kind;
“His children still lovely and good!
“And—pass'd his benevolent days
“'Midst elegant labours of love!
“Oh late, ye good angels, his soul
“To the seats of the blessed remove!”
“His life with rich blessings increase;
“And sweetly encompass him round
“With plenty, with health, and with peace.
“On all that partake of his board,
“Be happiness largely bestow'd;
“His wife, be still loving and kind;
“His children still lovely and good!
“And—pass'd his benevolent days
“'Midst elegant labours of love!
“Oh late, ye good angels, his soul
“To the seats of the blessed remove!”
Thus Amyntas sung pleas'd to his harp,
With Brecon's white walls in his view:
Many poets much sweeter you'll find;
No poet more honest and true.
With Brecon's white walls in his view:
Many poets much sweeter you'll find;
No poet more honest and true.
May, 1764.
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