The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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On the Distant View of a Friend's House, in December. |
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 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
On the Distant View of a Friend's House, in December.
How changed is the aspect of yonder retreat,
Since lately I passed by its bowers!
When Summer shone forth, in his full fervid heat;
Now, the keen biting blasts of the winter winds beat,
All fledged with the chill snowy showers.
Since lately I passed by its bowers!
When Summer shone forth, in his full fervid heat;
Now, the keen biting blasts of the winter winds beat,
All fledged with the chill snowy showers.
The fair flowing stream, as its course it pursues,
Is arrested and chilled into stone;
And where are the flowerets that bloomed on its brows—
Its violets, and snowdrops, of delicate hues?
Alas! they are withered and gone.
Is arrested and chilled into stone;
And where are the flowerets that bloomed on its brows—
Its violets, and snowdrops, of delicate hues?
Alas! they are withered and gone.
How dull the dumb cattle, all cringing with cold,
As they gaze at the snow-covered heath!
And the poor helpless flocks that are forced from their fold,
The gathering wreath in its bosom has rolled,
And deprived half their number of breath.
As they gaze at the snow-covered heath!
And the poor helpless flocks that are forced from their fold,
The gathering wreath in its bosom has rolled,
And deprived half their number of breath.
147
So chilled are my prospects, o'ercast with despair;
So fate doth my fancy arrest;
With sorrow, and sickness, and canker-toothed care,
My tenderest ties are all vanished to air,
And chilled the fond hopes of the breast.
So fate doth my fancy arrest;
With sorrow, and sickness, and canker-toothed care,
My tenderest ties are all vanished to air,
And chilled the fond hopes of the breast.
The dark sheety clouds, as they're floating on high,
Their wings o'er the concave extend;
O'er the snow-toppëd mountains in order pass by,
Through their chinks peeps the sun, from a dull murky sky,
Like the far distant glance of a friend.
Their wings o'er the concave extend;
O'er the snow-toppëd mountains in order pass by,
Through their chinks peeps the sun, from a dull murky sky,
Like the far distant glance of a friend.
As the Sun is the soul of this planet below,
To creation new life doth impart;
So friendship beams forth on the wretch worn with woe,
Dispels every doubt, and each fear doth forego,
Beams a new love of life on the heart.
To creation new life doth impart;
So friendship beams forth on the wretch worn with woe,
Dispels every doubt, and each fear doth forego,
Beams a new love of life on the heart.
Dear Friendship, sweet solace! thy joys let me prove!
Thou soother of sorrow and strife—
Thou dearer than riches, thou surer than love—
Thou pledge of each joy that awaits us above—
Thou charmer and pilot through life.
Thou soother of sorrow and strife—
Thou dearer than riches, thou surer than love—
Thou pledge of each joy that awaits us above—
Thou charmer and pilot through life.
Serene is thy aspect, and modest thy mien,
Content ever bears up thy train;
And sweet smiling Peace, with her olive so green,
And gay rosy Mirth by thy side may be seen;
And Truth ever blesses thy reign.
Content ever bears up thy train;
And sweet smiling Peace, with her olive so green,
And gay rosy Mirth by thy side may be seen;
And Truth ever blesses thy reign.
148
I've seen thy sweet smiles in yon straw-covered cot,
Ere the winter blast thus on it beat;
Thou deign'st oft to visit the cottager's lot,
And cheer the lone haunts of his chequerëd spot,
But fly'st from the halls of the great.
Ere the winter blast thus on it beat;
Thou deign'st oft to visit the cottager's lot,
And cheer the lone haunts of his chequerëd spot,
But fly'st from the halls of the great.
Thou smooth'st the dull brow of the dark clouded mind,
And sooth'st every pang that is past:
Though crosses may wreck us, or poverty pine,
With thee even the wretched a comfort can find;
When absent, the world is a waste.
And sooth'st every pang that is past:
Though crosses may wreck us, or poverty pine,
With thee even the wretched a comfort can find;
When absent, the world is a waste.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |