Stiff evergreens, whose spreading foliage mocks O meek retiring spirit! we will climb, There, while the prospect through the gazing eye Pours all its healthful greenness on the soul, We'll smile at wealth, and learn to smile at fame, Our hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same, As neighbouring fountains image, each the whole: Then when the mind hath drunk its fill of truth We'll discipline the heart to pure delight, Rekindling sober joy's domestic flame. They whom I love shall love thee, honoured youth! Now may Heaven realize this vision bright! LINES TO W. L. WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO PURCELL'S MUSIC. HILE my young W hues, cheek retains its healthful And I have many friends who hold me dear; Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose With no beloved face at my bed-side, To fix the last glance of my closing eye, [guide, Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT H AND CAUSELESS MELANCHOLY. ENCE that fantastic wantonness of woe, O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear! To plundered want's half-sheltered hovel go, Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear Moan haply in a dying mother's ear: Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strewed, Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part Was slaughtered, where o'er his uncoffined limbs The flocking flesh-birds screamed! Then, while thy heart Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind) What nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal! O abject! if, to sickly dreams resigned, All effortless thou leave life's common-weal A prey to tyrants, murderers of mankind. SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER. D EAR native brook! wild streamlet of the West! How many various-fated years have past, What happy, and what mournful hours, since last I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast, Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ray, But straight with all their tints thy waters rise, Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows gray, And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes, Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled [way Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! could I be once more a careless child! SONNET. COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796. OF FT o'er Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past, 1 Ην που ἡμῶν ἡ ψύχη πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εïdel yevέodai.-Plat. in Phædon. We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore. O my sweet baby! when I reach my door, Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st moan, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve, While we wept idly o'er thy little bier! SONNET. TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME. CH HARLES! my For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm Impressed a father's kiss: and all beguiled Of dark remembrance and presageful fear, THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN. COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN, IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY. D ORMI, Jesu! Mater ridet Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt, Si non dormis, Mater plorat, Inter fila cantans orat, Blande, veni, somnule. ENGLISH. SLEEP, sweet babe! my cares beguiling; Mother sits beside thee smiling; If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, I EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. TS balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its mother's breast, And such my infant's latest sigh! |