صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Yet ev'n these bones from infult to protect,
Some frail memorial ftill erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and fhapelefs fculpture
deck'd,

Implores the paffing tribute of a figh,

Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd mufe,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around fhe ftrews,
That teach the ruftic moralift to die.

Ilark how the facred calm, that breathes around,
Bids every fierce tumultuous paffion cease;
In ftill fmall accents whifpering from the ground,
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor caft one longing lingering look behind?
On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Doft in thefe lines their artlefs tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred fpirit shall inquire thy fate;
Haply fome hoary-headed fwain may fay,

Oft have we feen him, at the peep of dawn, Brufhing with hafty steps the dews away, "To meet the fun upon the upland lawn. "Him have we feen the greenwood fide along, "While o'er the heath we hied, our labour done, "Oft as the wood-lark pip'd her farewell fong, "With wishful eyes purfue the fetting fun,

There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, "That wreathes its old fantaftic roots fo high, "His liftlefs length at noon-tide would he firetch, "And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.

"Hard by yon wood, now finiling as in fcorn,

66

Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove, "Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn, "Orcraz'd with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love. "One morn I mifs'd him on the custom'd hill,

66

Along the heath and near his favorite tree; "Another came; nor yet befide the rill,

"Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next, with dirges due in fad array,

"Slow through the church-way path we faw him borne.

"Approach and read (for thou canft read) the lay "Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn. "There fcatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,

66

By hands unfeen, are show'rs of violets found; "The red-breaft loves to build and warble there, "And little footsteps lightly print the ground."

THE EPITAPH.

HERE refts his head, upon the lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown,
Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heaven did a recompence as largely fend:
He
gave to mifery all he had—a tear;

He gain'd from heaven ('twas all he wish'd)—a friend.

No farther feek his merits to difclofe,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repofe), The bofom of his father and his God.

THE COURSE OF NATURE.

YOU do look, my fon, in a mov'd fort,

As if you were difmay'd: be cheerful, fir:
Our revels now are ended: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air :

And, like the bafelefs fabrick of this vifion,
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The folemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, thall diffolve;
And, like this infubftantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are fuch stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a fleep.

THE DESPAIRING LOVER.

WHERE now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy?
MONIMIA, give my foul her wonted reft;
Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,
Heart-gnawing cares corrode my penfive breaft.
Let happy lovers fly where pleafures call,
With feftive fongs beguile the fleeting hour;
Lead beauty through the mazes of the ball,
Or prefs her wanton in love's rofeate bower.
For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead,
Where fhepherds pipe, and virgins dance around;
Nor wander through the woodbine's fragrant fhade,
To hear the mufic of the grove refound.

I'll feek fome lonely church, or dreary hall,

Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue; Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, And theeted ghofts drink up the midnight dew: There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair, Awhile in filence o'er my fate repine: Then with a long farewell to love and care, To kindred duft my weary limbs confign.

Wilt thou, MONIMIA, fhed a gracious tear
On the cold grave where all my forrows reft?
Strew vernal flow'rs, applaud my love fincere,
And bid the turf lie eafy on my breaft?

SOLITUDE.

SOLITUDE, romantic maid!

Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or haunt the defert's tracklefs gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted fide,
Or by the Nile's coy fource abide,
Or ftarting from your half-year's fleep
From Hecla view the thawing deep,
Or, at the purple dawn of day,
Tadmor's marble waftes furvey;
You, reclufe, again I woo,
And again your steps pursue.
Plum'd CONCEIT himfelf furveying,
FOLLY with her fhadow playing,
Purfe-proud, elbowing INSOLENCE,
Bloated empiric, puff'd PRETENCE,
NOISE that through a trumpet speaks,
LAUGHTER in loud peals that breaks,
INTRUSION with a fopling's face,
(Ignorant of time and place)

*Sparks of fire diffention blowing,

Ductile, court-bred FLATTERY, bowing,
RESTRAINT's ftiff neck, GRIMACE's leer,
Squint-ey'd CENSURE's artful fneer,
AMBITION'S bufkins, fteep'd in blood,
Fly thy presence, SOLITUDE.

Sage REFLECTION bent with years,
Confcious VIRTUE void of fears,
Muffled SILENCE, wood-nymph fhy,
MEDITATION's piercing eye,

Halcyon PEACE on mofs reclin'd,
RETROSPECT that fcans the mind,
Rapt earth-gazing RESVERY,
Blushing artlefs MODESTY,

HEALTH that fnuffs the morning air,
Full-ey'd TRUTH with bofom bare,
INSPIRATION, nature's child,
Seek the folitary wild.

When all nature's hush'd asleep,
Nor love nor guilt their vigils keep,
Soft you leave your cavern'd den,
And wander o'er the works of men ;
But when Phosphor brings the dawn
By her dappled courfers drawn,
Again you to the wild retreat
And the early huntfman meet,
Where as you penfive pace along,
You catch the diftant thepherd's fong,
Or brush from herbs the pearly dew,
Or the rifing primrofe view.

Devotion lends her heaven-plum'd wings,
You mount, and nature with you fings.
But when the mid-day fervors glow,
To upland airy fhades you go,

Where never fun-burnt woodman came,

game;

Nor fportiman chac'd the timid
And there beneath an oak reclin'd,
With drowfy waterfalls behind,

You fink to reft.

'Till the tuneful bird of night,

From the neighb'ring poplar's height,
Wake you with her folemn ftrain,
And teach pleas'd echo to complain.

With you roses brighter bloom,
Sweeter every fweet perfume,
Purer every fountain flows,
Stronger every wilding grows.

Let thofe toil for gold who pleafe,
Or for fame renounce their eafe.

« السابقةمتابعة »