HASTEN from your coral caves
Every Nymph, that sportive laves
In the green sea's oozy wells,
And gilds the fins, and spots the shells!
Hasten, and our morrice join,
Ere the gaudy morning shine!
Rising from the foamy wave,
Instantly your aid we crave.
Come, and trip, like our gay band,
Traceless on the amber sand.
Haste, or we must hence
away,
Yet an hour, and all is day!
At your bidding, from our feet
Shall the ocean monsters fleet;
Sea-nettle and sting-fish glide
Back, upon the refluent tide.
Haste, the dawn has streak'd the cloud,
Hark the village cock has crow'd!
See, the clouds of night retire,
Hesper gleams with languid fire;
Quickly then our revel join,
The blush of morn is on the brine.
Loiterers! we must hence away,
Yonder breaks the orb of day!
Ан, woe is me! from day to day
I drag a life of pain and sorrow:
Yet still, sweet Hope, I hear thee say
"Be calm, thine ills will end to-morrow."
The morrow comes, but brings to me
No charm disease or grief relieving!
And am I ever doomed to see,
Sweet Hope, thy promises deceiving!
Yet, false and cruel as thou art,
Thy dear delusions will I cherish:
I cannot, dare not with thee part,
Since I, alas! with thee must perish.
TO A PLACE OF RESIDENCE IN THE
NORTH OF ENGLAND.
AH! hills beloved, as o'er your barren sides, My trembling eye with pensive sorrow glides; Too busy fancy paints the dreaded day, That calls me mournful from your scenes away! What lurking charm can give so keen a smart From scenes, ungenial to my soul, to part? No waters murmur down your white cliffs steep; No fructive streamlets through the vallies creep. But scowling tempests on the hill-tops stand, And angry demons wait their dread command: Terrific nature, robed in Horror's vest, Affrights the softer passions from the breast. Yet, wand'ring oft along these mountains wild, Of every pang my heart has been beguiled; Sweet soothing converse gives to ev'ry scene, Delightful prospects and a pleasing mien. Ye busy scenes, where giddy pleasures rove, Your haunts are barren of the bliss I love.
Farewell to Friendship and its peaceful joys,
If the mind riot in those gaudy toys
Which the gay worldling in his routs enjoys;
Far other charms assuage the widow's grief,
To other helps she looks for sure relief.
Far other charms assuage the keener woe,
"Which lovers tender hearts are doomed to know."
Deep in the shade of some embowering wood
They find a shelter from the whelming flood.
And now whilst sorrows in my bosom reign,
Which festive pleasures strive to heal in vain ;
Sick'ning and sad, I leave the sportive road,
Where mirth and laughter fix their mad abode;
Wand'ring alone, whilst Cynthia rules on high,
I pour my sad notes to the midnight sky.
To you, my friends, whose bosoms ever heave,
With sighs of sympathy, when others grieve;
The plaintive strains of weeping elegy,
A source of real happiness supply.
To fling the notes of rapture from my lyre,
Whilst wond'ring nations listen and admire,
A tardy fancy and an unfledged muse,
To all my hopes and diligence refuse.
Yet friends regard the motive which commands
This simple tribute from my willing hands;
Nor in the poet's faults forget to view
A mind to ev'ry grateful feeling true.
Tho' Camus' sons invite me to his shore,
Where genius rambles and where sages pore;
With unfeigned grief I turn my tearful eyes
To where yon hills in sullen grandeur rise.
Oft in the farthest wilds by man untrod
Sweet violets flourish, and tall cedars nod.
Nor is the shepherd's hut, the woodman's cot,
By bounteous nature in her gifts forgot..
The ruddy hue, which decks Maria's face,
Her bliss declares, and heightens every grace.
Far from the tainted air of cities born,
She daily rises with the blushing morn,
In sweet domestic cares, in innocence and peace,
Each flitting moment sees her bliss increase.
No cankering care corrodes her simple breast,
No sad reflections haunt her hours of rest.
Sweet state of nature! O, most envied bliss!
Why from your placid joys a friend dismiss ?
When in the busy scenes of life I roam,
Where syren pleasures find a welcome home;
O, may my devious feet be ever led,
Still in the paths of happiness to tread,
Nor ever wander from that tranquil road,
Which through the vale of peace ascends to God!
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