To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love, So kind a star thou seem'st to be, Sure some enamour'd orb above Descends and burns to meet with thee. Thine is the breathing, blushing hour, Chased by the soul-subduing power Of Love's delicious witchery. O! sacred to the fall of day, Queen of propitious stars, appear, And early rise, and long delay, When Caroline herself is here! Shine on her chosen green resort, Whose trees the sunward summit crown, And wanton flowers, that well may court An angel's feet to tread them down. Shine on her sweetly-scented road, Thou star of evening's purple dome, That lead'st the nightingale abroad, And guid'st the pilgrim to his home. Shine, where my charmer's sweeter breath Where dying winds a sigh bequeath Where, winnow'd by the gentle air, And fall upon her brow so fair, Like shadows on the mountain snow. Thus, ever thus, at day's decline, In converse sweet, to wander far, O bring with thee my Caroline, And thou shalt be my Ruling Star! FIELD FLOWERS. YE field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, Yet, wildings of Nature, I doat upon you, And of birchen glades breathing their balm, While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine re mote, And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon's note Made music that sweeten'd the calm. Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune Where I thought it delightful your beauties to find, mind, And your blossoms were part of her spell. Ev'n now what affections the violet awakes; What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes, Can the wild water-lily restore; What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks, And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks In the vetches that tangled their shore. |