Poems, chiefly pastoral By John Cunningham. The second edition. With the Addition of several pastorals and other pieces |
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A LANDSCAPE. |
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 | Poems, chiefly pastoral |  |
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A LANDSCAPE.
Rura mihi & irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes.
Virg.
Virg.
I
Now that Summer's ripen'd bloomFrolicks where the winter frown'd,
Stretch'd upon these banks of broom,
We command the landscape round.
II
Nature in the prospect yieldsHumble dales, and mountains bold,
Meadows, woodlands, heaths,—and fields
Yellow'd o'er with waving gold.
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III
Goats upon that frowning steep,Fearless, with their kidlings brouse!
Here a flock of snowy sheep!
There an herd of motly cows!
IV
On the uplands, every gladeBrightens in the blaze of day;
O'er the vales, the sober shade
Softens to an evening grey.
V
Where the rill, by slow degrees,Swells into a crystal pool,
Shaggy rocks and shelving trees
Shoot to keep the waters cool.
VI
Shiver'd by a thunder-stroke,From the mountain's misty ridge,
O'er the brook a ruin'd oak,
Near the farm-house, forms a bridge.
VII
On her breast the sunny beamGlitters in meridian pride;
Yonder as the virgin stream
Hastens to the restless tide:—
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VIII
Where the ships by wanton galesWafted, o'er the green waves run,
Sweet to see their swelling sails
Whiten'd by the laughing sun!
IX
High upon the daisied hill,Rising from the slope of trees,
How the wings of yonder mill
Labour in the busy breeze!—
X
Cheerful as a summer's morn,(Bouncing from her loaded pad)
Where the maid presents her corn,
Smirking, to the miller's lad.
XI
O'er the green a festal throngGambols, in fantastic trim!
As the full cart moves along,
Hearken—'tis their harvest hymn!
XII
Linnets on the crouded spraysChorus,—and the wood-larks rise,
Soaring with a song of praise,
'Till the sweet notes reach the skies.
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XIII
Torrents in extended sheetsDown the cliffs, dividing, break:
'Twixt the hills the water meets,
Settling in a silver lake!
XIV
From his languid flocks, the swain,By the sunbeams sore opprest,
Plunging on the wat'ry plain,
Plows it with his glowing breast.
XV
Where the mantling willows nod,From the green bank's slopy side,
Patient, with his well-thrown rod,
Many an angler breaks the tide!
XVI
On the isles, with osiers drest,Many a fair plum'd halcion breeds!
Many a wild bird hides her nest,
Cover'd in yon crackling reeds.
XVII
Fork-tail'd pratlers as they passTo their nestlings in the rock,
Darting on the liquid glass,
Seem to kiss the mimick'd flock.
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XVIII
Where the stone Cross lifts its head,Many a saint and pilgrim hoar,
Up the hill was wont to tread,
Barefoot, in the days of yore.
XIX
Guardian of a sacred well,Arch'd beneath yon reverend shades,
Whilome, in that shatter'd cell,
Many an hermit told his beads.
XX
Sultry mists surround the heathWhere the gothic dome appears,
O'er the trembling groves beneath,
Tott'ring with a load of years.
XXI
Turn to the contrasted scene,Where, beyond these hoary piles,
Gay, upon the rising green,
Many an attic building smiles!
XXII
Painted gardens—grots—and groves,Intermingling shade and light!
Lengthen'd vistas, green alcoves,
Join to give the eye delight.
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XXIII
Hamlets—villages, and spires,Scatter'd on the landscape lie,
'Till the distant view retires,
Closing in an azure sky.
| Poems, chiefly pastoral | |