Rural sketches and poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Rural sketches and poems

chiefly relating to Cleveland [by J. W. Ord]

Ord, John Walker (1811-1853)

[section]

[dedication]

DEDICATORY LINES.

THE HERMIT OF ESKDALESIDE.

THE LOVERS.

THE ROSE OF CLEVELAND.

THE FIRST SONG OF SPRING.

LINES.

THE LAST OF THE PHOENICEANS.

LINES,

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE BURNS FESTIVAL.

LINES ON THE DEATH OF CAMPBELL.

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271

LINES,

Commemorative of a Pic Nic Party at Eston Nab and Wilton Castle, June, 1844.

Hasten to the feast of joy,
Far from every care's annoy!
Why should tear-drops dim the eye?
Why should sorrow heave a sigh?
Lo, the heavens are beaming bright,
Gentle breezes linger light;
Honeysuckles deck each bower,
Fragrance breathes from every flower:
Earth and sky unite to say
“Blessed be your holiday!”

Youths and maidens weave a crown,
Garlands for the month of June;
Leave yon dull retreats below,
Upward to the mountains go:
See, yon beacon-light of glory,
On old Eston's Promontory;

280

There the proud victorious dead
In triumphant tombs are laid,
And each mounded architrave
Marks the warrior's, patriot's grave!

Referring to the numerous tumuli in the neighbourhood.

Sights and sounds are yet on earth,
Lovely forms of heavenly birth;
See yon Blue-rob'd mountains rise
Their crested bulwarks to the skies:
Lo, with clouds and sunbeams wed,
Stately Rosebury rears his head—
(Dear to Poets, with a shower
Of laurels like Parnassus' dower!)
See yon broad and sweeping lawn
Glistening with the dews of dawn,
Jocund once with noble cheer
Of the hunters of the deer.

“Park-wood,” formerly a deer-park to Gisborough Priory, and afterwards of the Chaloner family.

O'er the purple heath we go,
Where the lovely hill-flowers blow,
Where the breezy groves of pine
Murmur symphonies divine,
Where the mounds of heroes hoary
Point toward heaven the path of glory,
Till descending Wilton's woods,
Listening where the cushat broods,
When the music of the stream
Sounds like voices in a dream!

281

Mark we now the festal throng

The party consisted of about thirty ladies and gentlemen from Stockton-on-Tees.

Hark to laughter, toast, and song,
Happy maidens in their joy,
Thoughts of bliss without alloy,
Love and youth, and harmless wiles,
Sparkling eyes, delighted smiles,
Or, beside the chrystal spring,
Gaily dance, and sweetly sing,
Till within the Poet's eyes
They rival shapes of paradise.

`Tis the lady's favour'd bower,

The lovely grotto where we dined is termed “Lady Elizabeth's bower,” being a favorite retreat of lady Elizabeth Lowther, and commands a fine view of the sea and surrounding country. On this occasion it was kindly granted to our party by the Lowther family.

(Lady of yon castled tower;)
Roses, violets, eglantine,
Round that bower of beauty shine:
Graceful Parks, majestic groves,
Minister to youthful loves;
Temple bright of charity,

The noble Turner Charity at Kirkleatham is here alluded to.

Mausoleum, Hall, you see,—
Whilst old Ocean's dimpled kisses
Greet the shore with stolen blisses.

Let the sparkling glass go round,
Joy and rapture without bound!
Who's the recreant will not join
Lovely woman with the wine?
Three times three, and seven times seven
“Woman, fairest flower of heaven;”

282

Fill, fill up the flowing measure,
“Woman, man's divinest treasure;”
Yet again, yea, nine times nine—
“Woman, matchless and divine!”

Dearest joys are ever fleetest,
Fleetest blisses ever sweetest:—
Now the sun's declining motion
Lingering o'er the purpled ocean,
Warns our joyous troop to part
With sad touches of the heart;
Yet, as life declines away,
Memory will impart a ray
Bright and radiant as the beams
Lingering o'er yon land of dreams!