The triumph of the Orwell with a dedicatory sonnet, and prefaratory stanzas [by Bernard Barton] |
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PREFATORY
STANZAS. |
 | The triumph of the Orwell |  |
7
PREFATORY STANZAS.
DAUGHTERS of Orwell! you to whom
The stream I sing hath long been known;
Who prize its banks when Spring's gay bloom
In lavish loveliness is shown;—
Or Summer's radiance rests upon
Its breast, with bright and dazzling beam;
Or Autumn's tints, of tenderer tone,
Along its borders richly gleam:—
The stream I sing hath long been known;
Who prize its banks when Spring's gay bloom
In lavish loveliness is shown;—
Or Summer's radiance rests upon
Its breast, with bright and dazzling beam;
Or Autumn's tints, of tenderer tone,
Along its borders richly gleam:—
By whom but you should Orwell's praise
Be welcom'd with indulgent ear?
From whom should minstrel, who essays
To tell its triumphs, hope to hear
Those plaudits, to the Poet dear,
But You?—then while the strain I wake,
With favouring smiles vouchsafe to hear,
Not for my own, but Orwell's sake.
Be welcom'd with indulgent ear?
From whom should minstrel, who essays
To tell its triumphs, hope to hear
Those plaudits, to the Poet dear,
But You?—then while the strain I wake,
With favouring smiles vouchsafe to hear,
Not for my own, but Orwell's sake.
So may you, many a future Spring,
Behold its beauteous banks supplied
With renovated charms, which bring
Admiring strangers to its side.
Or when the Summer's fervid pride
Invites you on its waves to sail;
Be it yours to skim its flowing tide
With sky serene, and gentle gale.
Behold its beauteous banks supplied
With renovated charms, which bring
Admiring strangers to its side.
Or when the Summer's fervid pride
Invites you on its waves to sail;
Be it yours to skim its flowing tide
With sky serene, and gentle gale.
8
Or if mild Autumn's mellow eve
Should lure you on its banks to stray,
Just when the sun is taking leave,
And sheds aslant his softest ray
On groves, and gardens, late so gay,
Where varying tints still richly shine,
And pensive gleams of brightness play,
Attendant on the day's decline;—
Should lure you on its banks to stray,
Just when the sun is taking leave,
And sheds aslant his softest ray
On groves, and gardens, late so gay,
Where varying tints still richly shine,
And pensive gleams of brightness play,
Attendant on the day's decline;—
Then in that calm and peaceful hour,
May you with chasten'd feelings bless
The dear delight, the silent power,
Of Nature's fading loveliness!
And gazing, gratefully confess
In voiceless extasy, how dear,
Far dearer than the gay can guess,
The parting glories of the year.
May you with chasten'd feelings bless
The dear delight, the silent power,
Of Nature's fading loveliness!
And gazing, gratefully confess
In voiceless extasy, how dear,
Far dearer than the gay can guess,
The parting glories of the year.
Nor think such feelings will expire
When wintry storms obscure the sky;
No: oft beside the social fire
Shall Memory bring them to your eye;
And lonelier hours glide swiftly by,
Beguil'd by those which sped before them,
Fancy shall make you feel them nigh,
And Hope shall whisper, “I'll restore them.”
When wintry storms obscure the sky;
No: oft beside the social fire
Shall Memory bring them to your eye;
And lonelier hours glide swiftly by,
Beguil'd by those which sped before them,
Fancy shall make you feel them nigh,
And Hope shall whisper, “I'll restore them.”
| The triumph of the Orwell | |