Obrázky stránek

Shall be despised and overlooked no moreg
Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,
Impart to things inanimate a voice,
And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice ;
The sound shall cun along the winding vales,
And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.

Ye groves (the statesman at his desk exclaims,
Sick of a thousand disappointed aims,)
My patrimonial reasure and my pride,
Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide,
Receive me languishing for that repose,
The servant of the public never knows.
Ye saw me once (al those regretted days,
When boyish innocace was all my praise!)
Hour after hour delghtfully allot
To studies then faniliar, since forgot,
And cultivate a tase for ancient song,
Catching its ardou; as I mused along;
Nor seldom, as prpitious heaven might send,
What once I valud and could boast, a friend,
Were witnesses how cordialiy I pressed
His undissemblingvirtue to my breast;
Receive me now, iot uncorrupt as then,
Nor guiltless of ccrupting other men,
But versed in arts that, while they seem to stay

falling empire,hasten its decay.

To the fair haven of my native home,
The wreck of what I was fatigued I come ;
For once I can approve the patriot's voice,
And make the course he recommend my choice
We meet at last in one sincere desire,
His wish and mine both prompt me to retire.
'Tis done-he steps into the welcome chaise,
Lolls at his ease behind four handsone bays,
That whirl away from business and çebate
The disincumbered Atlas of the state.
Ask not the boy, who when the breeze of morn
First shakes the glittering drops fron every thorn,
Unfolds his flock, and under bank or bush
Sits linking cherry stones, or plattng rush,
How fair is freedom ?-he was alwys free:
To carve bis rustic name upon a tee,
To snare the mole, or with ill-fashoned hook
To draw the incautious minnow frm the brook,
Are life's prime pleasures in his sinple view,
His flock the chief concern he ever knew ;
She shines but little in his heedless yes,
The good we never miss we rarely rize :
But ask the noble drudge in state affirs,
Escaped from office and its constant ares,
What charms he sees in freedom's spile expressed;
In freedom lost so long, now repossesed ;

[graphic][merged small]
[ocr errors]

The tongue, whose strains were cogent as commands,
Revered at home, and felt in foreign lands,
Shall own itself a stammerer in that cause,
Or plead its silence as its best applause.
He knows indeed that whether dressed or rude,
Wild without art, or artfully subdued,
Nature in every form inspires delight,
But never marked her with so just a sight.
Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store,
With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er,
Green balks and furrowed lands, the stream, that

Its cooling vapour over the dewy meads,
Downs, that almost escape the enquiring eye,
That melt and fade into the distant sky,
Beauties he lately slighted as he passed,
Seem all created since he travelled last.
Master of all the enjoyments he designed,
No rough annoyance rankling in his mind,
What early philosophic hours he keeps,
How regular his meals, how sound he sleeps!
Not sounder he, that on the mainmast head,
While morning kindles with a windy red,
Begins a long look-out for distant land,
Nor quits till evening watch his giddy stand,
Then swift descending with a seaman's haste;
Slips to his hammoc, and forgets the blast.

« PředchozíPokračovat »