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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A MORNING ADVENTURE. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
247
A MORNING ADVENTURE.
To hail sweet Morn, and trace the woody shore,
Where foaming Calder pours his rapid stream;
His high-hung banks, and tott'ring cliffs t'explore,
And gloomy caves, unknown to Sol's fair beam:
Where foaming Calder pours his rapid stream;
His high-hung banks, and tott'ring cliffs t'explore,
And gloomy caves, unknown to Sol's fair beam:
Three youthful swains the adjoining village left,
Ere from a chimney roll'd the lazy smoke;
Ere the lone street, of silence was bereft,
Or pale-ey'd morning to the view had broke.
Ere from a chimney roll'd the lazy smoke;
Ere the lone street, of silence was bereft,
Or pale-ey'd morning to the view had broke.
Along a winding path they kept their way,
Where trees, embracing, hung a solemn shade;
Pass'd the old mill, o'ergrown with shaggy hay,
And gain'd the summit of a rising glade.
Where trees, embracing, hung a solemn shade;
Pass'd the old mill, o'ergrown with shaggy hay,
And gain'd the summit of a rising glade.
Now, from the east, the faintly-dawning morn,
With op'ning smile, adorn'd the dewy mead;
The blackbird whistled from the blooming thorn,
And early shepherd tun'd his rural reed.
With op'ning smile, adorn'd the dewy mead;
The blackbird whistled from the blooming thorn,
And early shepherd tun'd his rural reed.
Gray mists were hov'ring round the mountain's brow,
Thro' the still air murmur'd the riv'let near;
The fields were glitt'ring in the morning's glow,
And sweetest music thrill'd the ravish'd ear.
Thro' the still air murmur'd the riv'let near;
The fields were glitt'ring in the morning's glow,
And sweetest music thrill'd the ravish'd ear.
Smit with the charms of song, Philander stood,
To hear his art by each small throat outdone;
While Damon view'd the stream, grim rocks and wood,
And snatch'd the pencil to make all his own.
To hear his art by each small throat outdone;
While Damon view'd the stream, grim rocks and wood,
And snatch'd the pencil to make all his own.
Beneath a rev'rend oak Alexis hung,
His drooping head half on his hand reclin'd;
Borne on the Muses' wing, his soul had sprung,
And left the languid, listless form behind.
His drooping head half on his hand reclin'd;
Borne on the Muses' wing, his soul had sprung,
And left the languid, listless form behind.
248
Where now was Care, that gloomy, glaring fiend,
The wealthy's horror, and the poor man's pain?
Who bids fierce passions tear the trembling mind,
And wakes his gnawing, his infernal train.
The wealthy's horror, and the poor man's pain?
Who bids fierce passions tear the trembling mind,
And wakes his gnawing, his infernal train.
Fled was the spectre to some statesman's breast,
Some raving lover, or some miser's cell;
Nought now appear'd but made them inly blest,
And all around conspir'd their joys to swell.
Some raving lover, or some miser's cell;
Nought now appear'd but made them inly blest,
And all around conspir'd their joys to swell.
Hail, happy swains! involv'd in rapt'rous thought,
Oh! could I leave you thus, and truly say,
That here, in peace, fair Nature's charms you sought,
And thus, enrapt, you pass'd the morn away.
Oh! could I leave you thus, and truly say,
That here, in peace, fair Nature's charms you sought,
And thus, enrapt, you pass'd the morn away.
But truth compels, nor dare I hide your fate,
My trembling hand she guides to tell your doom;
How oft, alas! on mirth does mis'ry wait!
How oft is sunshine sunk in deepest gloom!
My trembling hand she guides to tell your doom;
How oft, alas! on mirth does mis'ry wait!
How oft is sunshine sunk in deepest gloom!
As on the airy steep they silent lay,
The murm'ring river foaming far below;
Young Damon's dog, as round he rang'd for prey,
By some stern bull insulted, seiz'd the foe.
The murm'ring river foaming far below;
Young Damon's dog, as round he rang'd for prey,
By some stern bull insulted, seiz'd the foe.
As when in dead of night, on the dark main,
Two en'mies meet, and awful silence keep;
Sparkles the match! then peals and cries of pain,
Arouse the night, and growl along the deep.
Two en'mies meet, and awful silence keep;
Sparkles the match! then peals and cries of pain,
Arouse the night, and growl along the deep.
So burst loud roarings thro' the affrighted sky,
Firm Roger hung, fix'd by his nostrils deep;
Loud swell'd the war, till, from the margin high,
Both whirl'd down headlong o'er th'enormous steep.
Firm Roger hung, fix'd by his nostrils deep;
Loud swell'd the war, till, from the margin high,
Both whirl'd down headlong o'er th'enormous steep.
249
How look'd our youths! they heard the thund'ring sound,
Dash'd in the vale they saw the heroes laid;
Whole crowds of rustics rudely gath'ring round,
Alarm'd they saw and thro' the bushes fled.
Dash'd in the vale they saw the heroes laid;
Whole crowds of rustics rudely gath'ring round,
Alarm'd they saw and thro' the bushes fled.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |