A Muse in Livery A Collection of Poems [by Robert Dodsley] |
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| VERSES Occasioned by A Visit expected from the Right Honourable the Countess of Hartford, to the Honourable Lady Howe, at Compton, in Gloucestershire. |
 | A Muse in Livery |  |
VERSES Occasioned by A Visit expected from the Right Honourable the Countess of Hartford, to the Honourable Lady Howe, at Compton, in Gloucestershire.
The EXPECTATION.
I
Rise, rise, my raptur'd muse, arise!Sound ev'ry tuneful string:
Hartford prepares to bless our eyes
In notes sublime her welcome sing.
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II
Ye shady woods, ye groves serene,Whose pleasing walks invite,
Adorn ye in your loveliest green,
To give the fair delight.
III
Ye warbling queristers around,Your choicest notes prepare;
With wild, yet sweet, harmonious sound
Regale the listening fair.
IV
More sweetly smile, ye beauteous flow'rs,With richer odours greet;
Her smiles still fairer are than yours,
Her breath more balmy sweet.
V
And thou, bright planet of the day,In all thy glories shine;
Lest from her eyes a brighter ray
Obscure the light of thine.
VI
Ye various beauties which adornThis mourning, rural Seat;
Now, now let all your charms be worn,
For her your griefs forget.
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The Arrival.
I
She comes, the Venus of our isle!Cyprus ne'er saw so fair a thing;
The loves and graces round her smile,
The wond'ring muse admires the while,
Admires, but fears to sing.
II
See! where she walks the groves conspireIn closer shades to grow;
And trees whose loftier trunks aspire,
Bow down their heads, and seem t' admire,
And envy shrubs below.
III
The birds too leaving nests and young,Fly down to gaze on her;
From bush to bush they hop in throngs,
And entertain her with their songs,
Devoid of wonted fear.
IV
When in the garden she arrives,The smiling scene seems blest;
Each withering flow'r a while revives,
And those in bud put out their leaves
To see so fair a guest.
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V
The sun too seems with brighter rayT' adorn the lovely scene;
But it's her eyes augments the day,
Her presence makes the prospect gay,
O Phœbus! more than thine.
VI
Ev'n the lov'd Lady of the place,So long with grief opprest,
More chearful seems, which from her face,
Diffuses gladness round the place,
And joy thro' ev'ry breast.
The Departure.
I
But transient is the dateOf sublunary joys;
And those we highest rate,
The soonest leave our eyes:
This truth we prove: O muse, in sadness flow,
The fair prepares, so soon prepares to go!
II
See how the groves aroundA gloomier green put on;
And leaves upon the ground;
Like dropping tears fall down.
The sighing winds thro' ev'ry bush make moan;
The trees seem toss'd with grief, and bend, and groan.
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III
The pretty wond'ring Birds,Tho' silent, seem in pain;
And range the grove in herds
To find her out again:
Returning, pensive on some naked bough
They sit, and think (if Birds can think) on you.
IV
The flow'rs which but just nowIn loveliest colours shone,
Fade, and droop, and bow,
As if their sun was gone;
'Tis sudden grief which thus their charms impairs,
To lose the lustre they receiv'd from her's.
V
The sun too seems to shineLess warm, and far less bright:
O Hartford! losing thine,
He loses half his light.
A cloudy veil too hides from us his face,
And show'rs of sorrow drown this mournful place.
VI
Compton, which just began,Its native charms to shew,
Relapsing now again
In mourning seems for you:
In careless grief its clouded beauties lie,
Which lately so delighted every eye.
| A Muse in Livery | |