 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
To CELIA in the Country.
I
Thou wond'rous proof of nature's pow'r!On whom my thoughts will roll,
Whose image rises, ev'ry hour
Still lovelier to my soul,
Say, why the rural life you prize?
What joy can Celia taste,
Where Sol but just inlights the skies,
To shew the wint'ry waste.
187
II
All sad appear the gloomy groves;All dull the leafless trees;
No warblers tell their mutual loves,
Nor zephyrs waft the breeze:
No flow'rets shed ambrosial sweets,
No rill delights thine ear;
No limpid brook thine eye intreats,
To view thy beauties there.
III
Where late the verdant carpet spread,Wide o'er the lawn was seen,
Through which the flow'rs uprear'd their head,
And dappling deck'd the green,
Now crisped snow, and glitt'ring frost,
Invest the chearless ground,
And ev'ry charm of nature's lost
In ev'ry mead around.
188
IV
A lecture to the proud and gay,A needless one to you,
Each moral prospect seems to say,
Life has its winter too.
Ye flutt'rers, vain in beauty's sun,
Reflect on what you see;
When youth's short faithless summer's gone,
How hapless shall ye be!
V
Now o'er the lawns the hunters fly,To trace the tim'rous hare,
While echo mocks the op'ning cry,
And fills the vocal air.
Through woods, through glades, the fowlers stray,
Where lonely birds retreat;
To them their little lives they pay,
And quiver at their feet.
189
VI
Say, can You join the rustic train,Whom horns and hounds delight?
Or view 'em scour the distant plain,
Enraptur'd at the sight?
No: tho' if busy fame say true,
The sport some females share;
But heav'n, my Celia, fashion'd you
A pattern for the fair.
VII
Now rise you with the lark, to hearHis song salute the dawn?
To view the swains, with flocks appear,
And nymphs trip o'er the lawn?
Or tempts the morn your feet to stray,
As you were wont to do;
While ev'ry landskip look'd more gay,
As look'd upon by you?
190
VIII
No: now perhaps pale Phœbus steersHalf his meridian way,
Ere from thine eyes a glance appears,
To clear the dubious day:
No bow'r you seek, no noon-tide shade,
The prospect chills your sight;
Still by the fire you talk or read,
And wish th'oblivious night.
IX
Perhaps dull converse makes essayTo chace the live-long eve;
Or at some harmless game you play,
The moments to deceive:
Yet secret, oft' your watch you view;
Doubt Fladgate's punctual skill;
And think his hours as tedious too,
As prattle, or quadrille.
191
X
Deep in the wood's remote recess,The rose is bright in vain;
Then shou'd you, born to shine and bless,
In solitude remain?
Fly, fly these formal sage delights!
Hither, sweet maid, repair!
Where ev'ry sprightly joy invites,
That youth and sense can share.
XI
Here pleasure, with her rosy wing,Still broods o'er something new;
Amusements here incessant spring,
As graces rise in you.
When banish'd from its sylvan seat,
Joy finds its shelter here,
Bids winter haste on downy feet,
And gilds the gloomy year.
192
XII
Haste, Celia! haste, let love persuade;Our various pleasures try;
Advance, in aweful charms array'd,
With softness in thine eye:
And when, bright-gleaming o'er the plain,
The summer's dawn is seen,
Return to rural life again,
And reign the little queen.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |