Imatges de pàgina

While lusty Labour scouting sorrow
Bids the Dame a glad good-morrow,
Who jogs the accustomed road along,
And paces cheery to her cheering song.


But not our filmy pinion

We scorch amid the blaze of day,
When Noontide’s fiery-tresséd minion

Flashes the fervid ray.
Aye from the sultry heat

We to the cave retreat
O'ercanopied by huge roots intertwined
With wildest texture, blackened o'er with age:
Round them their mantle green the ivies bind,

Beneath whose foliage pale

Fanned by the unfrequent gale We shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage.


Thither, while the murmuring throng
Of wild-bees hum their drowsy song,
By Indolence and Fancy brought,
A youthful Bard, “unknown to Fame,”

Wooes the Queen of Solemn Thought,
And heaves the gentle misery of a sigh

Gazing with tearful eye,
As round our sandy grot appear
Many a rudely sculptured name

To pensive Memory dear!
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured hue

We glance before his view :


O’er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed
And twine the future garland round his head.


When Evening's dusky car

Crowned with her dewy star
Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy ilight ;

On leaves of aspen trees

We tremble to the breeze
Veiled from the grosser ken of mortal sight.

Or, haply, at the visionary hour,
Along our wildly-bowered sequestered walk,
We listen to the enamoured rustic's talk;
Heave with the heavings of the maiden's breast,
Where young-eyed Loves have hid their turtle nest;

Or guide of soul-subduing power
The glance, that from the half-confessing eye
Darts the fond question or the soft reply.


Or through the mystic ringlets of the vale
We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank:
Or, silent-sandaled, pay our defter court,
Circling the Spirit of the Western Gale,
Where wearied with his flower-caressing sport,

Supine he slumbers on a violet bank;
Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam
By lonely Otter's sleep-persuading stream ;
Or where his wave with loud unquiet song
Dashed o'er the rocky channel froths along ;
Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest,
The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast.


Hence, thou lingerer, Light!

Eve saddens into Night.
Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view

The sombre hours, that round thee stand

With down-cast eyes (a duteous band)
Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew

Sorceress of the ebon throne !
Thy power

the Pixies own,
When round thy raven brow

Heaven's lucent roses glow,
And clouds in watery colours drest
Float in light drapery o'er thy sable vest:
What time the pale moon sheds a softer day
Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam:
For 'mid the quivering light 'tis ours to play,
Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream.


Welcome, Ladies ! to the cell

Where the blameless Pixies dwell : But thou, sweet Nymph! proclaimed our Faery Queen,

With what obeisance meet

Thy presence shall we greet ?
For lo! attendant on thy steps are seen

Graceful Ease in artless stole,
And white-robed Purity of soul,

With Honour's softer mien;
Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair,
And meek-eyed Pity eloquently fair,
Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view,

As snow-drop wet with dew.


Unboastful Maid! though now the Lily pale

Transparent grace thy beauties meek; Yet ere again along the impurpling vale, The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove, Young Zephyr his fresh flowers profusely throws,

We'll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek ; And, haply, from the nectar-breathing Rose

Extract a Blush for Love!



As late each flower that sweetest blows
I plucked, the Garden's pride!
Within the petals of a Rose
À sleeping Love I spied.


Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;
All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,
Nor scared his balmy rest:
And placed him, caged within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.

But when unweeting of the guile
Awoke the prisoner sweet,
He struggled to escape awhile
And stamped his faery feet.

Áh! soon the soul-entrancing sight
Subdued the impatient boy!
He gazed ! he thrilled with deep delight !
Then clapped his wings for joy.

“ And O!” he cried—" of magic kind
What charms this Throne endear!
Some other Love let Venus find
I'll fix my empire here."



CUPID, if storying Legends tell aright,
Once framed a rich Elixir of Delight.
A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fixed,
And in it Nectar and Ambrosia mixed :
With these the magic dews, which Evening brings,
Brushed from the Idalian star by faery wings :
Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he joined,
Each gentler Pleasure of the unspotted mind-
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow,
And Hope, the blameless Parasite of Woe.
The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise,
The steamy Chalice bubbled up in sighs ;
Sweet sounds transpired, as when the enamoured Dove
Pours the soft murmuring of responsive Love.
The finished work might Envy vainly blame,
And “ Kisses” was the precious Compound's name.
With half the God his Cyprian Mother blest,
And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.

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July, 1705.

* See Note.

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