 | Metrical Effusions |  |
37
TO W.ROSCOE, ESQ
“My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected Friend!”
Accept this simple, tributary Lay:
If Roscoe deign a willing ear to lend,
Fain would my Lyre its artless homage pay.
Oh! could this hand but faithfully pourtray
Those feelings of the heart which prompts the song,
Then o'er the chords with rapture would it stray
With no dishonour to the tuneful throng,
And wake its warbling notes, harmonious, rich and strong.
Accept this simple, tributary Lay:
If Roscoe deign a willing ear to lend,
Fain would my Lyre its artless homage pay.
Oh! could this hand but faithfully pourtray
Those feelings of the heart which prompts the song,
Then o'er the chords with rapture would it stray
With no dishonour to the tuneful throng,
And wake its warbling notes, harmonious, rich and strong.
38
What varied honours shed around thy name
A brilliant lustre, gentle, and benign;
“Above all Greek, above all Roman fame,”
A nobler meed, a richer prize is thine.
Beneath the burning equinoctial line
The Negro tribes shall grateful sing thy praise;
Their children's children shall in concert join
To hail the Bard who pour'd his generous lays,
And turn'd on “Afric's Wrongs” a nation's pitying gaze.
A brilliant lustre, gentle, and benign;
“Above all Greek, above all Roman fame,”
A nobler meed, a richer prize is thine.
Beneath the burning equinoctial line
The Negro tribes shall grateful sing thy praise;
Their children's children shall in concert join
To hail the Bard who pour'd his generous lays,
And turn'd on “Afric's Wrongs” a nation's pitying gaze.
With Poesy shall History unlte,
To crown with civic wreath her favour'd son,
Whose classic pen again recals from night
Statesmen and Bards who once in splendour shone.
Proud Florence boasts Lorenzo's fame her own,
From Tiber's banks old Rome exults to hear
How learning spread around her Leo's throne,
A glory to succeeding ages dear,
Which nations yet unborn shall gratefully revere.
To crown with civic wreath her favour'd son,
Whose classic pen again recals from night
Statesmen and Bards who once in splendour shone.
Proud Florence boasts Lorenzo's fame her own,
From Tiber's banks old Rome exults to hear
How learning spread around her Leo's throne,
A glory to succeeding ages dear,
Which nations yet unborn shall gratefully revere.
39
When heaven born Liberty on Gallic skies
Open'd the dawn of Freedom's golden day,
'Twas thine to sing the “day-star's” glorious rise:
The Patriot's warmth inspir'd the Poet's lay.
Though now, beneath stern despotism's sway,
That star be sunk in deepest shades of night;
Some future hour shall feel its cheering ray,
Some future Bard shall hail the joyful sight,
And many a “vine-clad hill” shall hear him with delight.
Open'd the dawn of Freedom's golden day,
'Twas thine to sing the “day-star's” glorious rise:
The Patriot's warmth inspir'd the Poet's lay.
Though now, beneath stern despotism's sway,
That star be sunk in deepest shades of night;
Some future hour shall feel its cheering ray,
Some future Bard shall hail the joyful sight,
And many a “vine-clad hill” shall hear him with delight.
No more shall Cowper, on the banks of Ouse,
Resume in virtue's sacred cause the Lyre;
No more, by sweeping Nith, shall Scotia's Muse
The ardent song of Coila's Bard inspire.
Yet on fair Mersey's side the tuneful choir
Amid their Roscoe's groves shall prompt the strain:
Oh may they never from those shades retire,
But every grace and every virtue reign,
And shed their brightest beams on Allerton's domain.
Resume in virtue's sacred cause the Lyre;
No more, by sweeping Nith, shall Scotia's Muse
The ardent song of Coila's Bard inspire.
Yet on fair Mersey's side the tuneful choir
Amid their Roscoe's groves shall prompt the strain:
Oh may they never from those shades retire,
But every grace and every virtue reign,
And shed their brightest beams on Allerton's domain.
| Metrical Effusions | |