Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Now wrapt in fome mysterious dream,
A lone philofopher you feem;
Now quick from hill to vale you fly,
And now you sweep the vaulted sky :
A fhepherd next, yon haunt the plain,
And warble forth your oaten ftrain./
A lover now, with all the grace
Of that sweet paffion in your face ;
Then calm'd to friendship, you affume
The gentle-looking Harford's bloom,
As, with her Mufidora, fhe
(Her Mufidora fond of thee)
Amid the long withdrawing vale,
Awakes the rival'd nightingale.

morn,

Thine is the balmy breath of Just as the dew-bent rose is born; And while meridian fervors beat, Thine is the woodland dumb retreat; But chief when evening scenes decay, And the faint landscape fwims away, Thine is the doubtful foft decline, And that best hour of musing thine.

Defcending angels bless thy train, The virtues of the fage, and fwain;

Plain innocence, in white array'd,

[ocr errors]

Before thee lifts her fearless head
Religion's beams around thee fhine,
And cheer thy glooms with light divine:
About thee sports sweet Liberty,
And wrapt Urania fings to thee!

Oh, let me pierce thy fecret cell !
And in thy deep receffes dwell;
Perhaps from Norwood's oak-clad hill,
When Meditation has her fill,

I just may caft my careless eyes
Where London's fpiry turrets rife,
Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain,
Then fhield me in the woods again.

THOMSON

THE DRUM.

I HATE that Drum's difcordant found,
Parading round, and round, and round:
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To fell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace and glitt'ring arms;

And when ambition's voice commands,

To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands.

I hate that drum's discordant found,
Parading round, and round, and round:
To me it talks of ravag'd plains,
And burning towns, and ruin'd fwains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widows' tears, and orphans' moans;
And all that Mifery's hand bestows,
To fwell the catalogue of human woes.

SCOTT.

SONNET,

WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SPRING.

THE garlands fade that Spring fo lately wove, Each fimple flower which he had nurs'd in dew, Anemonies, that fpangled every grove,

The primrose wan, and hare-bell mildly blue.

No more shall violets linger in the dell,

Or purple orchis variegate the plain,

'Till Spring again fhall call forth every bell, And drefs with humid hand her wreaths again.

C

Ah! poor humanity! fo frail, fo fair,
Are the fond vifions of thy early day,
'Till tyrant Paffion, and corrofive Care,
Bid all thy fairy colours fade away!
Another May new buds and flow'rs shall bring;
Ah! why has happiness no fecond Spring?.

MRS. C. SMITH.

THE ROSE..

THE Rofe had been wash'd, just wash'd in a fhow`r,
Which Mary to Anna convey'd;

The plentiful moisture incumber'd the flower,
And weigh'd down its beautiful head.

The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, And it feem'd to a fanciful view

Το for the buds it had left with regret, weep

On the flourishing bush where it

I haftily feiz'd it, unfit as it was,

grew.

For a nofegay, fo dripping and drown'd, And fwinging it rudely-too rudely, alas! I fnapp'd it, it fell to the ground.

And fuch, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part
Some a& by the delicate mind,

Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart,
Already to forrow refign'd.

This elegant Rofe, had I fhaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile; And the tear that is wip'd, with a little address, May be follow'd, perhaps, by a smile.

COWPER.

FRIENDSHIP. AN Ode.

FRIENDSHIP, peculiar boon of Heav'n,
The noble mind's delight and pride,

To men and angels only given,

To all the lower world denied.

While Love, unknown among the blest,
Parent of thoufand wild defires,
The favage and the human breaft
Torments alike with raging fires.

With bright, but oft deftructive gleam,
Alike o'er all his lightnings fly;

Thy lambent glories only beam
Around the favorites of the sky.

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »