For my garments, let them be But when he renews the year 55 Birds have dropt their winter-plumes; 60 When from Salem's gates he drove Unaffected carelessness. No perfumes have there a part, Borrow'd from the chemist's art; But such as rise from flow'ry beds, 75 Or the falling jasmine sheds! 'Twas the odor of the field Esau's rural coat did yield That inspir'd his father's prayer For blessings of the earth and air. 80 Of gums or powders had it smelt, The supplanter, then unfelt, Easily had been descry'd For one that did in tents abide, For some beauteous handmaid's joy 85 And his mother's darling boy.2 Let me then no fragrance wear But what the winds from gardens bear In such kind, surprising gales As gather'd from Fidentia's vales 90 All the flowers that in them grew; Which intermixing, as they flew, In wreathen garlands dropt again On Lucullus, and his men, Who, cheer'd by the victorious sight 95 Trebl'd numbers put to flight. Let me, when I must be fine, In such natural colors shine; Wove, and painted by the sun, Whose resplendent rays to shun, 100 When they do too fiercely beat, Let me find some close retreat Where they have no passage made Thro' those windings, and that shade. 1 Solomon. I Kings, 7:1-12. 2 Genesis, 25-27. Exert thy voice, sweet harbinger of This moment is thy time to sing, Pleasing best when unconfin'd, When to please is least design'd, 10 Soothing but their cares to rest; 15 Cares do still their thoughts molest, And still th' unhappy poet's breast, Like thine, when best he sings, is plac'd against a thorn.1 She begins; let all be still! Muse, thy promise now fulfil! "Twill not be! then change thy note; 25 Yet as far the muse outflies. If a fluent vein be shown 35 Or censure what we cannot reach. When the loos'd horse now, as his pasture leads, 30 Comes slowly grazing thro' th' adjoining meads, Whose stealing pace, and lengthen'd shade we fear, Till torn up forage in his teeth we hear; When nibbling sheep at large pursue their food, And unmolested kine re-chew the cud; 35 When curlews cry beneath the villagewalls, And to her straggling brood the partridge calls: Their shortliv'd jubilee the creatures keep, Which but endures whilst tyrant-man does sleep; When a sedate content the spirit feels, 40 And no fierce light disturb, whilst it reveals; But silent musings urge the mind to seek Something too high for syllables to speak; Now whilst he gaz'd, a gallant drest 55 At this the swain, whose venturous soul 60 Advanc'd in open sight; "Nor have I cause of dreed," he said, "Who view, by no presumption led, Your revels of the night. ""Twas grief for scorn of faithful love, Which made my steps unweeting3 rove Amid the nightly dew." "Tis well, the gallant cries again, 65 We faeries never injure men Who dare to tell us true. Withouten hands the dishes fly, 85 But now to please the faerie king, Some wind and tumble like an ape, And other-some transmute their shape 90 In Edwin's wondering eyes. Till one at last that Robin hight,2 From thence, "Reverse my charm," he "And let it fairly now suffice The gambol has been shown." 100 But Oberon answers with a smile, Content thee, Edwin, for a while, 105 The vantage is thine own. Then screaming all at once they fly Through all the land before. 115 But soon as Dan Apollo rose, With lusty livelyhed" he talks He seems a dauncing as he walks; The story told, Sir Topaz mov'd, 1 all the time (or, pos- Lord; master (from sibly, all the com- 2 was called seized • such Latin master) liveliness dominus, the youth formerly approved by Edith 175 Chill, dark, alone, adreed,1 he lay, Till up the welkin2 rose the day, contempt, as of a mean kind of hawk. A kestrel is a common European fal con. Will-o'-the-wisp. 8 deftly 180 Then deem'd the dole was o'er: But wot ye well his harder lot? His seely back the bunch has got Which Edwin lost afore. How deep yon azure dyes the sky, 10 Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie, While through their ranks in silver pride The nether crescent seems to glide! The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe, The lake is smooth and clear beneath, 15 Where once again the spangled show Descends to meet our eyes below. The grounds which on the right aspire, In dimness from the view retire: The left presents a place of graves, 20 Whose wall the silent water laves. That steeple guides thy doubtful sight Among the livid gleams of night. There pass, with melancholy state, By all the solemn heaps of fate, 25 And think, as softly-sad you tread Above the venerable dead, "Time was, like thee they life possest, And time shall be that thou shalt rest." Those graves, with bending osier1 bound, 30 That nameless heave the crumbled ground, Quick to the glancing thought disclose, The flat smooth stones that bear a name, The marble tombs that rise on high, 40 Whose dead in vaulted arches lie, Whose pillars swell with sculptur'd stones, Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones, These, all the poor remains of state, Adorn the rich, or praise the great; 45 Who while on earth in fame they live, Are senseless of the fame they give. Hah! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, 50 They rise in visionary crowds, And all with sober accent cry, Now from yon black and funeral yew,2 That bathes the charnel-house with dew, 55 Methinks I hear a voice begin; (Ye ravens, cease your croaking din, Ye tolling clocks, no time resound O'er the long lake and midnight ground!) It sends a peal of hollow groans, 60 Thus speaking from among the bones: "When men my scythe and darts supply, 65 Fools! if you less provok'd your fears, "Why then thy flowing sable stoles, Deep pendant cypress,3 mourning poles, Loose scarfs to fall athwart thy weeds, 1 willow 2 The yew is a common tree in graveyards. A kind of thin cloth, often used for mourning. A pole (pile) is a fabric with a heavy nap. Long palls, drawn hearses, cover'd steeds, 75 And plumes of black, that, as they tread, Nod o'er the scutcheons of the dead? "Nor can the parted body know, Nor wants the soul, these forms of woe, As men who long in prison dwell, 80 With lamps that glimmer round the cell, Whene'er their suffering years are run, Spring forth to greet the glittering sun: Such joy, though far transcending sense, Have pious souls at parting hence. 85 On earth, and in the body plac'd, A few, and evil years they waste; But when their chains are cast aside, See the glad scene unfolding wide, Clap the glad wing, and tower away, 90 And mingle with the blaze of day." A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT Lovely, lasting peace of mind! Ambition searches all its sphere Of pomp and state, to meet thee there. Encreasing avarice would find Thy presence in its gold enshrin’d. 15 The bold adventurer ploughs his way Through rocks amidst the foaming sea, To gain thy love; and then perceives Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. The silent heart, which grief assails, 20 Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales. Sees daisies open, rivers run, And seeks, as I have vainly done, In trailing purple o'er the ground;1 To range the circuit of the sky, Converse with stars above, and know 30 All Nature in its forms below; The rest it seeks, in seeking dies, 1 in wearing the purple robes of royalty |