Then mourn not the decrees of Fate,
That gave his life so short a date,
And I will join my tenderest sighs,
To think that youth so swiftly flies!
HEALTH. AN ECLOGUE.
Now early shepherds o'er the meadow pass,
And print long footsteps in the glittering grass;
The cows neglectful of their pasture stand,
By turns obsequious to the milker's hand:
When Damon softly trod the shaven lawn,
Damon, a youth from city cares withdrawn;
Long was the pleasing walk he wander'd through,
A cover'd arbour clos'd the distant view;
There rests the youth, and while the feather'd throng
Raise their wild music, thus contrives a soug.
'Here wafted o'er by mild Etesian air,
Thou country goddess, beauteous Health! repair;
Here let my breast through quivering trees inhale
Thy rosy blessings with the morning gale.
What are the fields, or flowers, or all I see?
Ah! tasteless all, if not enjoy'd with thee.
'Joy to my soul! I feel the goddess nigh,
The face of nature cheers as well as I;
O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run,
The smiling daisies blow beneath the Sun,
The brooks run purling down with silver waves,
The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves,
The chirping birds from all the compass rove
To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove:
High sunny summits, deeply shaded dales,
Thick mossy banks, and flowery winding vales,
With various prospect gratify the sight,
And scatter fix'd attention in delight.
'Come, country goddess, come, nor thou suffice,
But bring thy mountain-sister, Exercise.
Call'd by thy lovely voice, she turns her pace,
Her winding horn proclaims the finish'd chase;
She mounts the rocks, she skims the level plain,
Dogs, hawks, and horses, crowd her early train:
Her hardy face repels the tanning wind,
And lines and meshes loosely float behind.
All these as means of toil the feeble see,
But these are helps to pleasure join'd with thee.
'Let Sloth lie softening till high noon in down,
Or, lolling, fan her in the sultry town,
Unnerv'd with rest; and turn her own disease,
Or foster others in luxurious ease:
I mount the courser, call the deep-mouth'd hounds,
The fox unkennell'd flies to covert grounds;
I lead where stags through tangled thickets tread,
And shake the saplings with their branching head;
I make the falcons wing their airy way,
And soar to seize, or stooping strike their prey;
To snare the fish I fix the luring bait;
To wound the fowl I load the gun with fate:
'Tis thus through change of exercise I range,
And strength and pleasure rise from every change.
Here, beauteous Health! for all the year remain,
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
O come! thou goddess of my rural song,
And bring thy daughter, calm Content, along;
Dame of the ruddy cheek and laughing eye,
From whose bright presence clouds of sorrow fly:
For her I mow my walks, I plat my bow'rs,
Clip my low hedges, and support my flow'rs;
To welcome her, this summer seat I dress'd,
And here I court her when she comes to rest;
When she from exercise to learned ease
Shall change again, and teach the change to please.
'Now friends conversing my soft hours refine,
And Tully's Tusculum revives in mine:
Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat,
And such as make me rather good than great:
Or o'er the works of easy fancy rove,
Where flutes and innocence amuse the grove:
The native Bard that on Sicilian plains
First sung the lowly manners of the swains;
Or Maro's muse that in the fairest light
Paints rural prospects and the charms of sight;
These soft amusements bring Content along,
And fancy, void of sorrow, turns to song.
Here, beauteous Health! for all the year remain,
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
Parnell.
MORNING: A PASTORAL.
IN the barn the tenant cock,
Close to partlet perch'd on high,
Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock!)
Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping sunbeam, now
Paints with gold the village spire.
Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night;
And the lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.
From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chattering swallow spring;
Darting through the one-arch'd bridge,
Quick she dips her dappled wing.
Now the pine-tree's waving top
Gently greets the morning gale:
Kidlings, now, begin to crop
Daisies, in the dewy dale.
From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd
(Restless till her task be done),
Now the busy bee's employ'd,
Sipping dew before the Sun.
Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid stream distils,
Sweet refreshment waits the flock
When 'tis sun-drove from the hills.
Colin, for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe)
Anxious, hears the huntsman's horn,
Boldly sounding, drown his pipe.
Sweet, O sweet, the warbling throng,
On the white emblossom'd spray!
Nature's universal song
Echoes to the rising day.
NOON: A PASTORAL.
FERVID on the glittering flood,
Now the noontide radiance glows:
Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew-drop's left the rose.
By the brook the shepherd dines;
From the fierce meridian heat
Shelter'd, by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his grassy seat.
Now the flock forsakes the glade,
Where, uncheck'd, the sunbeams fall;
Sure to find a pleasing shade
By the ivy'd abbey wall.
Echo, in her airy round
O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound, Save the clack of yonder mill.
Cattle court the zephyrs bland, Where the streamlet wanders cool; Or with languid silence stand Midway in the marshy pool.
But from mountain, dell, or stream,
Not a fluttering zephyr springs :
Fearful lest the noontide beam
Scorch its soft, its silken wings.
|