My bark the tide of young desire, Amid ensanguined fields of war, His spectre shapes, a ghastly band: Nor Danger's horrid front appals; Nor Death his fierce unconquer'd soul can tame, Or from his grasp withhold the glorious meed of Fame. But let me wander far away From the loud drum and neighing steed, Through many a pansie-painted mead, Where Isis' bright-hair'd Naiads stray; High o'er my head a pendent bower Let the broad elm and branching pine With intermingling umbrage twine; There Love's impassion'd song I'll pour, And summon every wave that dances near, Bridling his wanton speed my Lesbia's praise to hear. Where the pale lamp's waning eye At eve, from out the cloister'd nook, Casts o'er the gloom a lingering look, There let the sage his labours ply; And many a feat of champion bold, And many a legendary rhyme Snatch from the sepulchre of Time, And frequent, as the night grows old, At fear-engender'd forms recoil aghast, And hear unhallow'd ghosts wail in each hollow blast. But o'er my haunts with influence bland Bind in harmonious chains my soul, And ecstasy and bliss inspire; While to the charmed ear in heavenly strains, Enamour'd of thy touch, each trembling chord complains. Then, fairest, let my bosom feel So shall my song exalt thy praise above REV. G. HUDDISFORD. AMATORY ODE. Now hath the Sun his evanescent fires Quench'd in the billows of the western main; Cease their soft carols all the feather'd choirs, And gloomy solitude usurps the plain. Rise, ye deep shades, ye waves in darkness roll, Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade; Wake not my love:-Let not your thundering cry With dread alarm the haunt of peace infest; Here breathe in soft Æolian melody Each cadence sweet that charms the soul to rest. Ye spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear, Issuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb, What time deep shadowing clouds thy radiant sphere, Cynthia, involve in night's meridian gloom), Hence to deserted fane or mouldering hall, Or the gaunt felon's ruthless course control; With monitory shriek the wretch appal, And to compunction wake his torpid soul. But walk not near the couch were Lesbia lies Like some rich pearl in its enamel'd shell, Or sainted relic, from profaner eyes Secluded in the dim shrine's silver cell. Wanton, ye fairies, round her tranquil bower, Let your bright tapers' visionary ray The raven-tinctured robe of Night illume; And, streaming o'er your spangled crests, display The wave-enamour'd halcyon's emerald plume. And bid your minstrel fays, a shadowy choir, That charm the planets from their spheres sublime, Celestial songs, that love and joy inspire, Chant to their golden harps' harmonious chime. And when morn's purple streaks the' horizon stain, And fairies fly the peal of Chanticleer, Let Fancy still your glittering hues retain, Still let your wild notes tremble on her ear. Then, Lesbia, wake thy beauties, fresher far Than Galatea boasted when she laved In the smooth deep her coral-axled car, And the stern heart of Neptune's son enslaved. Wake at his call, to soothe whose soul in vain Morn sheds her radiant beam, her odorous airs, Save when, attentive to his artless strain, That radiant beam, those odours Lesbia shares. He asks no laureate wreath to deck his brows, No golden meed his bounded wishes claim, Bless'd if the object of his tenderest vows Smile on his lay-for Lesbia's smile is fame. REV. G. HUDDISFORD. TO THE NAIAD OF GLYMPTON BROOK. NAIAD, unseen of mortal eyes, Whose light steps haunt this current lone, Where gentle Zephyr's balmy sighs, With thy wild wave in unison, Blend their aerial melodies; Let me to thy deserted shades And teach thine echoes Lesbia's name Unheard, unnoticed, let me rove Thy trembling osier wreaths among, And woo the Muse where none reprove Affection's unambitious song, Nor chide the plaint of hopeless love. There, when the Day's dim eyelids close, Oh, softly bid thy babbling wave No angler's cruel arts are mine, Ye timid tenants of the brook! Wrought by my hand no viewless line, Disguised by me no treacherous hook Bids you your little lives resign. |