Sidor som bilder

The moon, preceded by the breeze

That bade the clouds retire,
Appears, amongst the tufted trees,

A phenix-nest on fire.
But soft--the golden glow subsides!

Her chariot mounts on high!
And now in silver'd pomp she rides

Pale regent of the sky!
Where Time upon the wither'd tree

Hath carved the moral chair,
I sit, from busy passions free,

And breathe the placid air.
The wither'd tree was once in prime;

Its branches braved the sky!
Thus, at the touch of ruthless Time,

Shall youth and vigour die. I'm lifted to the blue

It glows serenely gay!
Come, Science, by my side, advance,

We'll search the milky way.
Let us descend—The daring flight

Fatigues my feeble mind;
And Science, in the maze of light,

Is impotent and blind.
What are those wild, those wandering fires

That o'er the moorland ran ?-
Vapours.--How like the vague desires

That cheat the heart of man!
But there's a friendly guide !-a flame,

That lambent o’er its bed,
Enlivens, with a gladsome beam,

The hermit's osier shed.

Among the russet shades of night,

It glances from afar!
And darts along the dusk so bright,

It seems a silver star!
In coverts (where the few frequent),

If Virtue deigns to dwell,
'Tis thus the little lamp, Content,

Gives lustre to her cell.
How smooth that rapid river slides,

Progressive to the deep!
The poppies, pendent o'er its sides

Have charm’d the waves to sleep.
Pleasure's intoxicated sons!

Ye indolent! ye gay!
Reflect-for, as the river runs,

Life wings its trackless way.
That branching grove of dusky green

Conceals the azure sky;
Save where a starry space, between,

Relieves the darken’d eye.
Old Error thus, with shades impure,

Throws sacred Truth behind:
Yet sometimes, through the deep obscure,

She bursts upon the mind.
Sleep and her sister Silence reign;

They lock the shepherd's fold: But hark-I hear a lamb complain, 'Tis lost


the world! To'savage herds, that hunt for prey,

An unresisting prize!
For having trod a devious way,
The little rambler dies.

As luckless is the virgin's lot,

Whom pleasure once misguides; When hurried from the halcyon cot,

Where Innocence presides The passions, a relentless train!

To tear the victim run : She seeks the paths of peace in vain,

Is conquer'd-and undone. How bright the little insects blaze,

Where willows shade the way; As proud as if their painted rays

Could emulate the day! "Tis thus, the pigmy sons of power

Advance their vain parade! Thus, glitter in the darken'd hour,

And like the glowworms fade! The soft serenity of night

Ungentle clouds deform! The silver host, that shone so bright,

Is hid behind a storm! The angry elements engage!

An oak (an ivied bower!) Repels the rough wind's noisy rage,

And shields me from the shower. The rancour, thus, of rushing Fate

I've learn’d to render vain :
For whilst Integrity's her seat,

The soul will sit serene.
A raven, from some greedy vault,

Amidst that cloister'd gloom, Bids me, and ’tis a solemn thought!

Reflect upon the tomb.

The tomb!—The consecrated dome!

The temple raised to Peace! The port that to its friendly home

Compels the human race ! Yon village, to the moral mind,

A solemn aspect wears; Where sleep hath lulld the labour'd hind,

And kill'd his daily cares :
"Tis but the churchyard of the night;

An emblematic bed!
That offers to the mental sight

The temporary dead.
From hence I'll penetrate, in thought,

The grave's unmeasured deep;
And tutor’d, hence, be timely taught

To meet my final sleep.
'Tis peace—the little chaos pass'd!

The gracious moon restored!
A breeze succeeds the frightful blast,

That through the forest roar’d!
The nightingale, a welcome guest!

Renews her gentle strains ; And Hope, just wandering from my breast,

Her wonted seat regains. Yes-When


lucid orb is dark,
And darting from on high,
My soul, a more celestial spark,

Shall keep her native sky.
Fann'd by the light, the lenient breeze,

My limbs refreshment find;
And moral rhapsodies, like these,

Give vigour to the mind.


Rura mihi et irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes.


Now that Summer's ripen'd bloom

Frolics where the Winter frown'd, Stretch'd upon these banks of broom,

We command the landscape round. Nature in the prospect yields

Humble dales, and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths, and fields

Yellow'd o'er with waving gold. Goats upon that frowning steep,

Fearless, with their kidlings browse; Here a fiock of snowy sheep,

There a herd of motley cows. On the uplands, every glade

Brightens in the blaze of day; O’er the vales, the sober shade

Softens to an evening gray. Where the rill, by slow degrees,

Swells into a crystal pool, Shaggy rocks and shelving trees

Shoot to keep the waters cool. Shiver’d by a thunderstroke,

From the mountain's misty ridge, O’er the brook a ruin'd oak,

Near the farmhouse, forms a bridge.

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