Shelter'd by the branching pines, By the ivy'd abbey wall. Echo in her airy round, Where the streamlet wanders cool; But from mountain, dell, or stream, Not a leaf has leave to stir, Nature's lull'd, serene, and still; EVENING. O'ER the heath the heifer strays See the rooks returning home! Carols to the evening loud; Mark the mild resplendent moon Breaking through a parted cloud! Now the hermit-owlet peeps From the barn, or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps, Curling on the silver lake. As the trout, in speckled pride, Playful on its bosom springs; To the banks in ruffled tide Verges in successive rings. Tripping through the silken grass, O'er the path-divided dale, Mark the rose-complexion'd lass, With her well-pois'd milking-pail. Linnets, with unnumber'd notes, And the cuckoo-bird with two, Tuning sweet their mellow throats, Bid the setting sun adieu. § 34. The Contemplatist: a Night Piece. Cunningham.. "Nox erat "Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes, pictæque "volucres." THE Queen of Contemplation, Night, 'Tis strange, the many marshall'd stars, A kind, a philosophic calm The cool creation wears! The feather'd race how still! The sweets, that, bending o'er their banks, Revive in little velvet ranks, And scent the western wind. The Moon, preceded by the breeze But soft-the golden glow subsides! Where Time upon the wither'd tree I sit from busy passions free, And science, in the maze of light, What are those wild, those wand'ring fires, But there's a friendly guide!—a flame, Among the russet shades of night, And darts along the dusk; so bright, In coverts (where the few frequent) How smooth that rapid river slides That branching grove of dusky green Save where a starry space between Old Error, thus, with shades impure Yet, sometimes, through the deep obscure Sleep, and her sister Silence reign, They lock the shepherd's fold! But hark-I hear a lamb complain, 'Tis lost upon the wold ! To savage herds, that hunt for prey, For having trod a devious way, As luckless is the Virgin's lot, Whom pleasure once misguides: Could emulate the Day! 'Tis thus the pigmy sons of pow'r 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,) A raven, from some greedy vault, The tomb!--The consecrated dome! Yon village, to the moral mind, 'Tis but the church-vard of the Night; That offers to the mental sight From hence, I'll penetrate in thought Tis peace (the little chaos past!) And Hope (just wand'ring from my breast YesWhen yon lucid orb is dark, Fann'd by the light, the lenient breeze, And moral rhapsodies, like these, In yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen | grove, [flowery plain, Where winds the slow wave through the To these fond arms you led the tyrant, Love, With Fear, and Hope, and Folly in his train. My lyre, that, left at careless distance, hung Light on some pale branch of the osier shade, To lays of amorous blandishment you strung, And e'er my sleep the lulling music play'd. "Rest, gentle youth! while on the quivering breeze Slides to thine ear this softly-breathing strain; Sounds that move smoother than the steps of ease, And pour oblivion in the ear of pain. In this fair vale eternal Spring shall smile, And Time unenvious crown the roseate hour; Eternal Joy shall every care beguile, [flower. Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every The silver stream, that down its crystal way Frequent has led thy musing steps along, Shall, still the same, its funny mazes play, And with its murmurs melodise thy song. Unfading green shall these fair groves adorn; Those living meads immortal flowers unfold: In rosy smiles shall rise each blushing morn, And every evening close in clouds of gold. The tender Loves that watch thy slumbering rest, And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles [breast, strew, Shall charm, through all approaching life, thy And feed the flame of ever young Desire. Come, gentle Loves! your myrtle garlands bring; The smiling bower with cluster'd roses spread; Come, gentle airs! with incense-dropping wing The breathing sweets of vernal odor shed. Hark, as the strains of swelling music rise, How the notes vibrate on the fav'ring gale! Auspicious glories beam along the skies, And powers unseen the happy moments hail! Ecstatic hours! so every distant day, Like this, serene on downy wings shall move; Rise, crown'd with joys that triumph o'er decay, The faithful joys of fancy and of love." ELEGY II. AND were they vain, those soothing lays ye sung? Children of Fancy! yes, your song was vain; On each soft air though rapt Attention hung, And Silence listen'd on the sleeping plain. The strains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear, And still to smile the mimic beauties seem, Though now the visionary scenes appear Like the faint traces of a vanish'd 'dream. Mirror of life: the glories thus impart Of all that Youth, and Love, and Fancy frame, When painful Anguish speeds the piercing dart, Or Envy blasts the blooming flowers of Fame. Nurse of wild wishes, and of fond desires, The prophetess of Fortune, false and vain, Yet on the rock my dropping garments lie; And smooth my silent minutes as they glide. And with thy soothing hand my weary eyelids close. Then shall the cares of love and glory cease, In Lyttelton though all the Muses praise, If these extol, or those debase a name. His generous praise shall then delight no more, Nor the sweet magic of his tender lays Shall touch the bosom which it charm'd before. Nor then, though Malice, with insidious guise Nor then, though Envy broach her blackening Of friendship, ope the unsuspecting breast; lies, Shall these deprive me of a moment's rest, O state to be desir'd! when hostile rage Prevails in human more than savage haunts; When man with man eternal war will wage, And never yield that mercy which he wants: When dark design invades the cheerful hour, And draws the heart with social freedom warm, Its cares, its wishes, and its thoughts to pour, Smiling insidious with the hopes of harm. Vain man, to others' failings still severe, Yet not one foible in himself can find; Another's faults to Folly's eyes are clear, But to her own e'en Wisdom's self is blind. O let me still, from these low follies free, This sordid malice, and inglorious strife, Myself the subject of my censure be, And teach my heart to comment on my life. With thee, Philosophy, still let me dwell, My tutor'd mind from vulgar meanness save; Bring Peace, bring Quiet to my humble cell, And bid them lay the green turf on my grave. ELEGY III. BRIGHT o'er the green hills rose the morning ray, The wood-lark's song resounded on the plain, Fair nature felt the warm embrace of day, And smil'd through all her animated reign. When young Delight, of Hope and Fancy born, His head on tufted wild-thyme half-reclin'd, Caught the gay colors of the orient morn, And thence of life this picture vain design'd: "Oborn to thoughts, to pleasures more sublime Than beings of inferior nature prove! To triumph in the golden hours of Time, And feel the charms of fancy and of love! "High favor'd man! for him unfolding fair In orient light this native landscape smiles; For him sweet Hope disarms the hand of Care, Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles. "Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring, Breathes not a gale along the bending mead, Trills not a songster of the soaring wing, But fragrance, health, and melody succeed. "O let me still with simple nature live, My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay, No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave; So Health and Peace be near my humble home, A cool stream murmur, and a green tree wave. "So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain At eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring; The muse of Pity wake her soothing strain, And tune to sympathy the trembling string. "Thus glide the pensive moments o'er the vale, While floating shades of dusky night descend; Not left untold the lover's tender tale, Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend. "To love and friendship flow the social bowl! To Attic wit and elegance of mind; To all the native beauties of the soul, The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd! "Then to explore whatever ancient sage Studious from Nature's early volume drew, To trace sweet Fiction through her golden age, And mark how fair the sun-flower, Science, blew! "Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire, Hesperian fancy, or Aonian ease; Some melting note from Sappho s tender lyre, Some strain that Love and Phoebus taught to please. "Nor seldom, loit'ring as I muse along, Mark from what flower the breeze its sweetness bore; Or listen to the labor-soothing song Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er. "Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow, The green height gain'd, in museful rapture Sleep to the murmur of the woods below, [lie, Or look on Nature with a lover's eye. Он, yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay! Fond hopes, of Innocence and Fancy born! For you I'll cast these waking thoughts away, For one wild dream of life's romantic morn. Ah, no! the sunshine o'er each object spread By flattering Hope, the flowers that blew so Like the gay gardens of Armida fled, [fair, And vanish'd from the powerful rod of Care. So the poor pilgrim, who, in rapturous thought Seems on his way by guardian seraphs brought, Plans his dear journey to Loretto's shrine, Secs aiding angels favor his design. Ambrosial blossoms, such of old as blew By those fresh founts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses all his passage strew: So Fancy dreams; but Fancy's dreams are vain. Wasted and weary on the mountain's side; His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies, Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide, And prone beneath his cruel sabre dies. Life's morning landscape gilt with orient light, Where Hope and Joy and Fancy hold their reign, The grove's green wave, the blue stream sparkling bright, [wain ; The blithe hours dancing round Hyperion's In radiant colors Youth's free hand portrays, Then holds the flattering tablet to his eye; Nor thinks how soon the vernal grove decays, Nor sees the dark cloud gathering o'er the sky. Hence Fancy, conquer'd by the dart of Pain, And wandering far from her Platonic shade, Mourns o'er the ruins of her transient reign, Nor unrepining sees her visions fade. Their parent banish'd, hence her children fly The fairy race that fill'd her festive train': Joy tears his wreath, and Hope inverts her eye, And Folly wonders that her dream was vain. § 36. A Letter from Italy to the Right Honor- And still I seem to tread on classic ground; To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course, Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire, With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; ments To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents; Een the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, Immortal glories in my mind revive, Au amphitheatre's amazing height Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires, How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land, And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand! But what avail her unexhausted stores, Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores, With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart, The smiles of nature, and the charms of art, While proud Oppression in her valleys reigns, And Tyranny usurps her happy plains? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The redd'ning orange and the swelling grain; Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines, And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines; Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst, And in the loaded vineyard dies for thirst. Oh Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, And smiling Plenty leads the wanton train; |