« PoprzedniaDalej »
On an Infant.
To the dark and silent tomb,
I no smiling pleasures knew;
Happy infant, early bless'd!
No delights are worth thy stay,
All our gayety is vain,
HAIL, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Soon as the daisy decks the green,
Delightful visitant! with thee
The school-boy, wand'ring in the wood,
Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Sweet bird! thy bow'r, is ever green,
O could I fly, I'd fly with thee ;
We'd make, with social wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring.
Day. A pastoral in three parts.
IN the barn the tenant cock,
Swiftly, from the mountain's brow,
Paints with gold the village spire.
Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night;
See the chatt'ring swallow spring;
Now the pine-tree's waving top
Gently greets the morning gale;
Daisies, on the dewy dale.
From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd,
Sipping dew before the sun.
Where the limpid stream distils,
When 'tis sun-drove from the hills.
Colin's for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe)
Sweet-O sweet, the warbling throng,
Echoes to the rising day.
FERVID on the glitt'ring flood,
By the brook the shepherd dines,
From the fierce meridian heat, Shelter'd by the branching pines,. Pendant o'er his grassy seat.
Now the flock forsakes the glade,
Echo, in her airy round,
O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound,
Save the clack of yonder mill. Cattle court the zephyrs bland,
Where the streamlet wanders cool;; Or with languid silence stand Midway in the maishy pool.
But, from mountain, dell or stream,
Scorch its soft, its silken wings.
Nature's lull'd-serene-and still! Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill. Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh descending show'r, Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raises ev'ry fainting flow'r.
Now the hill-the hedge-are green, Now the warblers' throats in tune; Blithesome is the verdant scene, Brighten'd by the beams of Noon!
O'ER the heath the heifer strays
Now he sets behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden sky? Can the pencil's mimic skill
Copy the refulgent dye?
Trudging as the ploughmen go,
(To the smoaking hamlet bound,) Giant-like their shadows grow
Lengthen'd o'er the level ground.
Where the rising forest spreads
Shelter for the lordly dome! To their high-built airy beds,
See the rooks returning home!
As the lark, with vary'd tune,
Carols to the ev'ning loud: Mark the mild resplendent moon, Breaking through a parted cloud!
Now the hermit howlet peeps
From the barn or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps, Curling on the silver lake.
As the trout in speckled pride,