The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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DESPONDENCE.—A PASTORAL ODE.
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
DESPONDENCE.—A PASTORAL ODE.
IN THE MANNER OF SHENSTONE.
Ah! where can the comfortless fly?
(Young Damon disconsolate said,
The tears starting fast from his eye,
As reclining he sat in the shade.)
Ah! where can the comfortless fly?
To whom shall the wretched repair?
Who hoping for happiness nigh,
Are met by approaching despair!
(Young Damon disconsolate said,
The tears starting fast from his eye,
As reclining he sat in the shade.)
Ah! where can the comfortless fly?
To whom shall the wretched repair?
Who hoping for happiness nigh,
Are met by approaching despair!
I hop'd, but alas! 'twas in vain,
When forward through fate I explor'd,
That Fame would take wing with my strain,
And Plenty still smile at my board:
And oh! how my bosom did glow
To see that my sorrows would end!
That Fate would its blessings bestow,
To gladden my fair one and friend!
When forward through fate I explor'd,
That Fame would take wing with my strain,
And Plenty still smile at my board:
And oh! how my bosom did glow
To see that my sorrows would end!
That Fate would its blessings bestow,
To gladden my fair one and friend!
O then, when the woods were all mute,
And groves by the evening embrown'd,
How I'd wake the slow mellow-ton'd flute,
While shepherds stood list'ning around;
They prais'd the soft ravishing air,
That warbl'd so pleasing and free;
But a smile or a look from my fair,
Was more than their praises to me.
And groves by the evening embrown'd,
How I'd wake the slow mellow-ton'd flute,
While shepherds stood list'ning around;
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That warbl'd so pleasing and free;
But a smile or a look from my fair,
Was more than their praises to me.
Blest prospects! far hence ye have fled,
And left me all friendless and poor;
Stern Poverty stalks round my shed,
And Ruin glares grim at the door.
Ah! where can the comfortless fly?
To whom shall the wretched repair?
Who hoping for happiness nigh,
Are met by approaching despair!
And left me all friendless and poor;
Stern Poverty stalks round my shed,
And Ruin glares grim at the door.
Ah! where can the comfortless fly?
To whom shall the wretched repair?
Who hoping for happiness nigh,
Are met by approaching despair!
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |