 | Poems |  |
101
SONG OF A WOOD NYMPH.
In peaceful dells and woodland glades,
In sweet romantic scenes I stray;
And wander thro' the sylvan shades,
Where summer breezes lightly play;
There at fervid noon I lave,
In the calm pellucid wave.
In sweet romantic scenes I stray;
And wander thro' the sylvan shades,
Where summer breezes lightly play;
There at fervid noon I lave,
In the calm pellucid wave.
And oft the fairest flowers I bring,
To deck my grotto's mossy seat,
Cull'd from the margin of the spring,
That flows amidst the green retreat;
The violet, and the primrose pale,
That smile uncultur'd in the vale.
To deck my grotto's mossy seat,
Cull'd from the margin of the spring,
That flows amidst the green retreat;
The violet, and the primrose pale,
That smile uncultur'd in the vale.
Reclin'd beneath some hoary tree,
With tufted moss and ivy drest,
I listen to the humming bee,
Whose plaintive tune invites to rest;
While the fountain calm and clear,
Softly murmurs playing near.
With tufted moss and ivy drest,
I listen to the humming bee,
Whose plaintive tune invites to rest;
While the fountain calm and clear,
Softly murmurs playing near.
102
And oft in solitude I rove,
To hear the bird of eve complain;
When seated in the hallow'd grove,
She pours her melancholy strain,
In soothing tones that wake the tear,
To sorrow and to fancy dear.
To hear the bird of eve complain;
When seated in the hallow'd grove,
She pours her melancholy strain,
In soothing tones that wake the tear,
To sorrow and to fancy dear.
I love the placid moonlight hour,
The lustre of the shadowy ray;
'Tis then I seek the dewy bower,
And tune the wild expressive lay;
While echo from the woods around,
Prolongs the softly dying sound.
The lustre of the shadowy ray;
'Tis then I seek the dewy bower,
And tune the wild expressive lay;
While echo from the woods around,
Prolongs the softly dying sound.
And oft, in some arcadian vale,
I touch my harp of mellow note;
Then sweetly rising on the gale,
I hear celestial music float;
And dulcet measures faintly close,
Till all is silence and repose.
I touch my harp of mellow note;
Then sweetly rising on the gale,
I hear celestial music float;
And dulcet measures faintly close,
Till all is silence and repose.
Then fays and fairy elves advance,
To hear the magic of my song;
And mingle in the sportive dance,
And trip with sylphid grace along;
While the pensive ray serene,
Trembles thro' the foliage green.
To hear the magic of my song;
And mingle in the sportive dance,
And trip with sylphid grace along;
While the pensive ray serene,
Trembles thro' the foliage green.
103
In peaceful dells and woodland shades,
In wild romantic scenes I stray;
And wander thro' the sylvan glades,
With airy footstep light and gay:
Yet still my favourite lonely spot,
The sweet retirement of the grot.
In wild romantic scenes I stray;
And wander thro' the sylvan glades,
With airy footstep light and gay:
Yet still my favourite lonely spot,
The sweet retirement of the grot.
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