LINES COMPOSED WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT OF BROCKLEY COOMB, SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY, 1795. WITH many a pause and oft reverted eye ('Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, I rest-and now have gained the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud towers, and cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd fields, and prospect-bounding sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here! LINES IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER. O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love Who vowed to meet her ere the morning light, But broke my plighted word—ah! false and recreant wight! Last night as I my weary head did pillow With thoughts of my dissevered Fair engrost, Chill Fancy drooped wreathing herself with willow, As though my breast entombed a pining ghost. "From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast, Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way; My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey." But Love, who heard the silence of my thought, Contrived a too successful wile, I ween: And whispered to himself, with malice fraught— "Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen: To-morrow shall he ken her altered mien!" Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing With pathless wound it pierced him to the heart. Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance? For straight so fair a Form did upwards start (No fairer decked the bowers of old Romance) That Sleep enamoured grew, nor moved from his sweet trance! My Sara came, with gentlest look divine; Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam: I felt the pressure of her lip to mine! Whispering we went, and Love was all our theme Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem, He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did 'bide, That I the living image of my dream Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd— "O! how shall I behold my Love at even-tide!" July, 1795. TO THE AUTHOR OF POEMS PUBLISHED ANONYMOUSLY AT BRISTOL, IN UNBOASTFUL Bard! whose verse concise yet clear 66 The Ivy wreathes yon Oak, whose broad defence Is rich with tints heaven-borrowed; the charmed Shall eye gaze sky. undazzled there, and love the softened Circling the base of the Poetic mount The vapour-poisoned Birds, that fly too low, A mead of mildest charm delays the unlabouring feet. Not there the cloud-climbed rock, sublime and vast, That like some giant king o'erglooms the hill; There for the monarch-murdered Soldier's tomb You wove the unfinished wreath of saddest hues ;* And to that holier chaplet added bloom, Besprinkling it with Jordan's cleansing dews.t But lo! your Henderson awakes the Muse-‡ His Spirit beckoned from the Mountain's height! You left the plain and soared 'mid richer views! |