ページの画像
PDF
ePub

Fatigu'd with form's oppreslive laws,

When Somerset avoids the great ;
When cloy’d with merited applause,

She seeks the rural calın retreat ;
Does she not praise each molly cell,
And feel the truth my numbers tell ?
When deafen’d by the loud acclaim,

Which genius grac'd with rank obtains,
Could she not more delighted hear
Yon throftle chaunt the rising year?
Could she not spurn the wreaths of fame,

To crop the primrose of the plains ?
Does she not sweets in each fair valley find,
Lost to the sons of pow'r, unknown to half mankind ?

Ah can fhe covet there to see
The splendid Naves, the reptile race,

That oil the tongue, and bow the knee,
That night her merit, but adore her place?

Far happier, if aright I deem,
When from gay throngs, and gilded spires,

To where the lonely halcyons play,
Her philosophic step retires :
While studious of the moral theme,
She, to some smooth sequester'd stream

Likens the swain's inglorious day;
Pleas'd from the fowery margin to survey,
How cool, serene, and clear the current glides away.

Oblind

O blind to truth, to virtue blind,
Who flight the sweetly-pensive mind !
On whose fair birth the graces mild,
And every muse prophetic smil'd.
Not that the poet's boasted fire

Should fame’s wide-echoing trumpet swell;
Or, on the music of his lyre
Each future

age

with rapture dwell; The vaunted sweets of praise remove,

Yet shall such bofoms claim a part

In all that glads the human heart; Yet these the spirits, form'à tojudge and prove slove. All nature's charms immense, and heaven's unbounded

And oh! the transport, most ally'd to song,

In some fair villa's peaceful bound,
To catch soft hints from nature's tongue,

And bid ARCADIA bloom around :
Whether we fringe the Noping hill,

Or smoothe below the verdant mead;
Whether we break the falling rill,

Or thro' meandering mazes lead;
Or in the horrid bramble's room
Bid careless groups of roses bloom ;
Or let some shelter'd lake serene

[scene. Reflect Aow'rs, woods and spires, and brighten all the

sweet

[ocr errors]

O sweet disposal of the rural hour!

O beauties never known to cloy! While worth and genius haunt the favour'd bow'r,

And every gentle breast partakes the joy !
While charity at eve surveys the swain,

Enabled by these toils to chear
A train of helpless infants dear,

Speed whistling home across the plain;
See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid grown,

For half her graceless deeds atone, (own. And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her

Why brand these pleasures with the name
Of soft, unsocial toils, of indolence and shame?

Search but the garden, or the wood,
Let
yon

admir'd carnation own,
Not all was meant for rainient, or for food,

Not all for needful ufe alone; There while the feeds of future blofsoms dwell, 'Tis colour’d for the sight, perfum'd to please the smell.

Why knows the nightingale to sing ?

Why Rows the pine's nectareous juice ?
Why shines with paint the linnet's wing ?

For sustenance alone ? for use ?
For preservation ? Every sphere
Shall bid fair pleasure's rightful claim appear.

And

And sure there seem, of human kind,

Some born to fhun the folemn strife;
Some for amusive tasks design’d,

To soothe the certain ills of life
Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose,

New founts of bliss disclose,
Call forth refreshing shades, and decorate repose.

[ocr errors]

From plains and woodlands ; from the view

Of rural nature's blooming face,

Smit with the glare of rank and place,
To courts the sons of fancy flew;
There long had art, ordain'd a rival seat;

There had she lavish'd all her care

To form a scene more dazling fair,
And calld them from their green retreat

To share her proud controul ;
Had giv’n the robe with grace to flow,
Had taught exotic gems to glow;

And emulous of nature's pow'r,

Mimick’d the plume, the leaf, the flow'r ; Chang’d the complexion's native hue, Moulded each rustic limb anew,

And warp'd the very foul l

Awhile her magic strikes the novel eye,

Awhile the faery forms delight;

And now aloof we seem to fly On purple pinions thro' a purer lky,

Where

Where all is wonderous, all is bright:
Now landed on some spangled shore

Awhile each dazled maniac roves
By saphire lakes, thro' em'rald

groves.
Paternal acres please no more ;
Adieu the simple, the fincere delight

Th’ habitual scene of hill and dale,
The rural herds, the vernal gale,
The tangled vetch's purple bloom,

The fragrance of the bean's perfume,
Be theirs alone who cultivate the soil,
And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil.

But soon the pageant fades away!
'Tis nature only bears perpetual fway.

We pierce the counterfeit delight,
Fatigu'd with splendor's irksome beams.
Fancy again demands the fight

Of native groves, and wonted streams,
Pants for the scenes that charm’d her youthful eyes,
Where truth maintains her court, and banishes disguise.

Then hither oft ye senators retire,

With nature here high converse hold;
For who like STAMFORD her delights admire,

Like STAMFORD shall with scorn behold
Th’ unequal bribes of pageantry and gold ;

Vol. 1.

1

Beneath

« 前へ次へ »