 | The Seasons |  |
10
SUMMER.
An Imitation of Spenser.
I
Beneath yon snubby Oak's extended ShadeSafe let me hide me from the Eye of Day;
Nor shall the Dog-star this Retreat invade,
As thro' the Heav'ns he speeds his burning Way:
The sultry Lyon rages for his Prey.
Ah Phœbus, quench thy wild destroying Fire,
Each Flow'r, each Shrub doth sink beneath thy Ray,
Save the fresh Laurel, that shall ne'er expire,
The Leaves that crown a Bard, may brave celestial Ire.
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II
Or shall I hie to mine own Hermitage,Round which the wanton Vine her Arms doth wind,
There may I lonely turn the sacred Page,
Improve my Reason, and amend my Mind;
Here 'gainst Life's Ills a Remedy I find.
An hundred Flow'rs emboss the verdant Ground;
A little Brook doth my sweet Cottage bind,
Its Waters yield a melancholy Sound,
And sooth to Study deep, or lull to Sleep profound.
III
The play-ful Insect hopping in the GrassDoth tire the Hearer with his Sonnet shrill;
The pool-sprung Gnat on sounding Wing doth pass,
And on the ramping Steed doth suck his Fill;
Ah me, can little Creatures work such Ill!
The patient Cow doth, to eschew the Heat,
Her Body steep within the neighb'ring Rill;
And while the Lambs in fainter Voices bleat,
Their Mothers hang the Head, in doleful Plight I weet.
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IV
Rechless of Seasons, see the lusty SwainsAlong the Meadow spread the tawny Hay;
The Maidens too undaunted seek the Plains,
Ne fear to show their Faces to the Ray;
But all, the honest Badge of Toil display.
See how they mould the Hay-cock's rising Head;
While wanton Colin, full of am'rous Play,
Down throweth Susan, who doth shriek for Dread.
Fear not.—Thou canst be hurt upon so soft a Bed.
V
At length the Sun doth hasten to repose,And all the Vault of Heav'n is streak'd with Light;
In flamy Gold the ruddy Welkin glows,
And, for the Noon-day Heat, our Pains doth quite,
For all is calm, serene, and passing bright.
Favonius gentle skims along the Grove,
And sheds sweet Odors from his Pennons light.
The little Bat in giddy Orbs doth rove,
And loud the Screech-owl shrieks, to rouse her blue-ey'd Love.
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VI
Menalcas came to taste the Ev'ning Gale,His Cheeks impurpl'd with the Rose of Youth;
He won each Damsel with his piteous Tale,
They thought they listen'd to the Words of Truth,
Yet their Belief did work them muchel Ruth.
His Oaths were light as Gossimer, or Air,
His Tongue was pois'nous as an Aspic's Tooth.
Ah! cease to promise Joy, and give Despair.
'Tis brave to smite the Foe; 'tis base to wrong the Fair.
VII
The gentle Thyrsis, mild as op'ning Morn,Came to the Lawn, and Marian there was found,
Marian whom many Huswife Arts adorn,
Right well she knew the Apple to surround
With dulcet Crust; and Thomalin renown'd
For prow Atchievements in the Wrestling-ring;
He held at nought the Vantage of the Ground,
But prone to Earth the hardiest Wight would fling;
Such was Alcides erst, if Poets Sooth do sing.
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VIII
From tree-crown'd Hill, from flow'r-enamel'd Vale,The mild Inhabitants in Crowds appear
To tread a Measure; while Night's Regent pale
Doth thro' the Sky her Silver Chariot steer,
Whose lucid Wheels were deck'd with Dew-drops clear,
The which, like Pearls, descended on the Plain.
Now every Youth doth clasp his Mistress dear,
And ev'ry Nymph rewards her constant Swain.
Thrice happy he who loves, and is belov'd again.
| The Seasons | |