Miscellaneous Poems By the Revd John Mitford |
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LINES
SUGGESTED BY
A REQUEST TO WRITE AN INSCRIPTION FOR THE MONUMENT
TO BE ERECTED ON THE TERRACE OF RICHMOND HILL,
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 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
76
LINES SUGGESTED BY A REQUEST TO WRITE AN INSCRIPTION FOR THE MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED ON THE TERRACE OF RICHMOND HILL,
TO THE MEMORY OF THOMSON.
Ipsæ te, Tityre, Pinus,
Ipsi te fontes, ipsa et arbusta, vocabant.
Ipsi te fontes, ipsa et arbusta, vocabant.
Of no heroic enterprise of war,
Or laurels gather'd mid ensanguined fields,
Did he delight to sing, whose honour'd name,
Grateful memorial of a nation's praise,
This monumental column proudly bears.
But him the Muse, studious of song divine,
Led to her favourite haunts, with genial dews
Refresh'd, and with the peaceful olive crown'd;
There with benignant hand to him disclosed
Her secret springs. The Genius of the woods,
The Naiad by her silent fountain laid,
The Nymphs, her lov'd companions, in their groves
Received him; then of Nature's richest stores
They chose—for him the melodies of morn
Awoke, and on the green earth's flowery lap
Flung their purpureal splendours; to his ear
The stream in sweeter numbers seem'd to flow;
The dewy landscape glitter'd to his view
In more than vernal freshness. Of each shape
Of beauty, spread interminable, none
Was wanting; while to his enraptured eye,
Through every varying season of the year,
Majestic forms, the ministers of Time,
Each in its duteous order moved along.
First Spring upon the sleeping flow'rets breathed
With tenderest smile—then Summer, as she pass'd,
Blush'd mid her roseate dews—rich Autumn fill'd
The vales with golden splendour—latest came
Pale Winter, gazing on his sunless skies.
Or laurels gather'd mid ensanguined fields,
Did he delight to sing, whose honour'd name,
Grateful memorial of a nation's praise,
This monumental column proudly bears.
But him the Muse, studious of song divine,
Led to her favourite haunts, with genial dews
Refresh'd, and with the peaceful olive crown'd;
There with benignant hand to him disclosed
Her secret springs. The Genius of the woods,
The Naiad by her silent fountain laid,
The Nymphs, her lov'd companions, in their groves
Received him; then of Nature's richest stores
They chose—for him the melodies of morn
Awoke, and on the green earth's flowery lap
Flung their purpureal splendours; to his ear
The stream in sweeter numbers seem'd to flow;
The dewy landscape glitter'd to his view
77
Of beauty, spread interminable, none
Was wanting; while to his enraptured eye,
Through every varying season of the year,
Majestic forms, the ministers of Time,
Each in its duteous order moved along.
First Spring upon the sleeping flow'rets breathed
With tenderest smile—then Summer, as she pass'd,
Blush'd mid her roseate dews—rich Autumn fill'd
The vales with golden splendour—latest came
Pale Winter, gazing on his sunless skies.
So, mid these studious scenes, his blameless harp
Was heard, by every rural power belov'd,
Loved by each sylvan deity—to them
His heart was as a consecrated shrine,
A grateful altar built for richest gifts
Of Wisdom, to his calm retirement led,
And Truth and Virtue by the Muse bestow'd.
Was heard, by every rural power belov'd,
Loved by each sylvan deity—to them
His heart was as a consecrated shrine,
A grateful altar built for richest gifts
Of Wisdom, to his calm retirement led,
And Truth and Virtue by the Muse bestow'd.
Then waft his name, ye winds that murmuring pass
Through these soft groves; and thou, beloved stream,
Gliding between thy verdant banks of bloom,
Bear to each distant vale the Poet's song.
Through these soft groves; and thou, beloved stream,
Gliding between thy verdant banks of bloom,
Bear to each distant vale the Poet's song.
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