صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

I lift

Why, goddess, have thy lovely eyes

Their azure beams withdrawn ?

Dost thou my artless

prayer despise ?

When oft at morning dawn

pure hands from guilt and interest free,

And humbly seek for friendship, peace, and thee !

Return, inconstant fair, while thro' the soften'd air
Mild zephyrs waft the balmy breath of spring,
And budding woods with early music ring.
Ah! what avails their bloom, or all the soft perfume
Yon dewy violet banks exhale to me,

While thro' the birchen grove, with lingering steps Irove,
And vainly trace thy wonted haunts for thee!

Yet while in Clutha's winding vale
Light floating on the western gale,
Thy spirit cheers my friend,
To thee shall grateful songs arise,
To thee the rural sacrifice

In fragrant fumes ascend *.

* The Lady to whom this poem was addressed, was then in a declining state of health, and preparing to go to the sea-side for the benefit of bathing. She recovered partially, but died much lamented, in the 26th year of her age, 1783.

And where Edina's turrets rise,

Tho' smoky wreaths obscure the skies,
And vapours taint the air,

Thy soft ambrosial pinions spread
O'er lov'd ASTERIA's drooping head,

And soothe the languid fair.

And see, to wooe thee down, she quits the noisy town,
In quest of thee she seeks the breezy shore;
On Ocean's stormy breast, thou oft art found to rest,
His green-hair'd nymphs thy wat❜ry haunts explore.
And when with trembling hope she laves,

Oh shed thy influence o'er the waves,
Her bloom restore, her health renew;
There let her hail thy form divine,
Emerging from the foamy brine,

Like VENUS on the dazzled view!

ΤΟ

MISS D****R

OF BOATH.

"To cheer me in this melancholy vale,
"This double gloom of nature and of soul."

YOUNG.

HELEN, by every sympathy allied,

By love of virtue and by love of song, Compassionate in youth, and beauty's pride, To thee those grateful artless lays belong,

For warmly in thy heart the flame of friendship glows, And sweetly from thy lips the voice of comfort flows.

Dark clouds of woe involv'd my troubled soul,
The cheering sun but pain'd my weary sight,

To nurse my grief to secret shades I stole,

And shunn'd the social hearth and loath'd the light. Grace, beauty, elegance, increas'd my pain,

For those too fondly lov'd, I lov'd, alas! in vain !

Soft pitying accents stealing thro' the gloom,

Like dawning light upon the formless void, Withdrew my thoughts a moment from the tomb, To scenes now dreary, hopeless, unenjoy'd:

Yet busy fancy trac'd thy form unseen,

And deck'd with charms thy face, and drest in smiles thy mien.

So lonely journeying to LORETTO's shrine,
Some darkling pilgrim in the pathless vale,
Bends his enraptur'd ear to strains divine,

And turns to bid his guardian-angel hail : 'Tis some fair vot'ress pours unseen her strain, By courteous echoes borne to soothe the wand'rer's pain.

Enjoy, blest maid, the smiling joyous prime,
While pleasure frolics in thy morning ray;
Now heedless of the hastening wings of time,

Crop the fresh primrose and the crocus gay;
Ere noon's bright fervours scorch their silken bloom,
Or weeping evening mourns their early doom.

As pure thy pleasures as those modest flowers

That twine around the bashful brows of spring; Then, ere the changing sky inconstant low'rs,

Deck thy fair bosom with the sweets they bring ;

For when they fade, nor sun nor fav'ring show'rs, Again can make them spring around thy bow'rs.

For me, with retrospection sadly pleas'd,

When hope's wide vista opens on my sight, I seem from grief's corroding pressure eas'd,

To catch a glimpse of pure celestial light : Then, while I patient wait my day's decline, On thee may summer suns unclouded shine!

« السابقةمتابعة »