Hast thou thro' Eden's wild-wood vales pursued Each mountain-scene, majestically rude; To note the sweet simplicity of life, Far from the din of Folly's idle strife: Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, revered That modest stone which pious PEMBROKE reared; Still to the musing pilgrim points the place, Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride, O'er his dead son the gallant ORMOND sighed. " Thus, thro' the gloom of SHENSTONE's fairy grove, MARIA'S urn still breathes the voice of love. As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower Steal from each year a melancholy grace! a And as the sparks of social love expand, As the heart opens in a foreign land; And, with a brother's warmth, a brother's smile, But wins the heart, and wakes the social sigh, But these pure joys the world can never know; In gentler climes their silver currents flow. Oft at the silent, shadowy close of day, When the hushed grove has sung its parting lay; Comes slowly on to meet the evening-star; Above, below, aërial murmurs swell, From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell! A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light, Stealing soft music on the ear of night. So oft the finer movements of the soul, That shun the sphere of Pleasure's gay controul, In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise, And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies! Once, and domestic annals tell the time, (Preserved in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) When Nature smiled, and o'er the landscape threw Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue, A blithe and blooming Forester explored Those loftier scenes SALVATOR's soul adored; The rocky pass half hung with shaggy wood, And the cleft oak flung boldly o'er the flood; Nor shunned the track, unknown to human tread, That downward to the night of caverns led; Some antient cataract's deserted bed. High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose, c And blew his shrill blast o'er perennial snows; Ere the rapt youth, recoiling from the roar, Gazed on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar; And thro' the rifted cliffs, that scaled the sky, Derwent's clear mirror charmed his dazzled eye. “ Each osier isle, inverted on the wave, Thro' morn's gray mist its melting colours gave; Light as the breeze that brushed the orient dew, And on the musk-rose shed a deeper dye; Save when a bright and momentary gleam Glanced from the white foam of some sheltered stream. A crystal water crossed the pebbled floor, And on the front these simple lines it bore: Hence away, nor dare intrude! In this secret, shadowy cell Musing MEMORY loves to dwell, With her sister Solitude. Far from the busy world she flies, To taste that peace the world denies. Reviewing Life's eventful page; And noting, ere they fade away, The little lines of yesterday." FLORIO had gained a rude and rocky seat, When lo, the Genius of this still retreat! Fair was her form-but who can hope to trace The pensive softness of her angel-face? Can VIRGIL's verse, can RAPHAEL's touch impart Those finer features of the feeling heart, Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye, And in the world's contagious climate die? |