For she was happy once; her citron groves
Sigh'd to the whispers of the purest loves;
Her proud Pagodas, in the First of time,
Saw Science born, and wondrous Lore sublime;
Lovely, she slept, in Cashmere's fairy bow'rs,
Or sat enthron'd on Delhi's strength of towers.
How chang'd the scene! pale Hymen's altar falls,
Th' impure Seraglio rears its prison walls;
Steals o'er the soul the Koran's chilling gloom,
And Science westward bends her parting plume.
But Time speeds on; and tho' th' Impostor's pow'r
Fiercely hath rag'd its dark and dreadful hour;
Tho' rude o'er Afric's sands the whirlwind pass'd,
And Asia rock'd beneath the rolling blast-
Yet Hope, soft-smiling, lifts her seraph form
And points to sun-bright days, beyond the storm!
Hail, sun-bright days! more fair, than was, of old,
Saturnian age, by fabling Fancy told-
Hail, sun-bright days! bring on your radiant train,
Peace, Mercy, Love, resume your halcyon reign;
Bid ancient Lore, and classic Taste refin'd,
Raise the low thought, and harmonize the mind;
While heaven-born Truth, (tho dimm'd, forbid to fade,)
With beam, more strong from Error's transient shade,
Breaks forth unclouded, and on Mecca's night
Pours the full flood of everlasting light.
University College, Oxford.
SEE, fairest of the nymphs, that play
In vernal meadows, blooming May
Comes tripping o'er the plain :
Lo! all the gay, the genial powers
That deck the woods, or tend the flowers,
Compose her smiling train.
See, softer, rosier hues adorn
The glowing cheek of blushing morn,
When first she wakes the light:
Behold! a thousand gentle shades
Attend the evening, o'er the glades,
And glad the sullen night.
What sweets perfume the balmy air!
While Flora bids her glittering care
In all their beauty shine.
See Nature round, beneath, above,
All big with joy, all breathing love
And gratitude divine.
O say! amid these general smiles,
What care corrodes-what joy beguiles
My friend's unsettled soul?
Say, does he join the senseless throng
Of Comus' sons, and raise the song
Around th' empoison'd bowl?
my
s generous mind,
Adorn'd with native taste, refin'd
By all the powers of art,
Would never basely thus resign,
For all the feverish joys of wine,
The raptures of the heart.
Or does some maiden, heavenly fair,
With rosy cheeks, and auburn hair,
And Love's inviting breast,
At length awaken young Desire,
Set all his glowing soul on fire,
And break his golden rest?
But lo! a thousand maidens, all
Just ready to obey his call,
Display their venal charms,
And trim their locks, and tune their sighs,
And try the force of sparkling eyes,
And wave their snowy arms!
Thus Spring revives, and Summer glows,
And Beauty smiles, and Nectar flows,
In vain to soothe his soul:
While led by Fancy's playful blaze,
The longing youth deluded strays,
Unblest from pole to pole.
Alas! my friend, how vain to roam,
And seek abroad the joys that home
And home alone bestows:
The beam of mirth that lights the face-
The love that warms the fond embrace-
The bliss that ever grows.
What! tho' the awful pride of Rome
Unequall'd swells the daring dome,
And emulates the skies:
Tho' many a temple's sad remains
Spread o'er Hesperia's storied plains,
In broken pomp arise:
Tho' o'er Helvetia's magic ground
Rocks swell on rocks confus'd around,
And torrents roar between :
Tho' here a town, and there a farm,
Perch'd on the breezy summit, charm,
And soothe the Sylvan scene:
What! though the Rhine, supreme of floods,
Through castled cliffs, and pendent woods,
And towns renown'd in song:
For ever full-for ever great—
Thro' every age, in equal state,
Majestic rolls along:
Yet say! can Art, with all its toys -
Can Nature's nobler, better joys,
Content the restless mind?
Like morning dreams, the phantoms play,
One fleeting hour-then fade away,
Nor leave a trace behind.
Then homeward turn! there at the gate,
A thousand pleasures ready wait-
A thousand dear delights,
Amuse the vacant hours of day,
Around the social table play,
And brighten up thy nights.
There, fairest of the powers above,
Young Hymen waves the torch of Love,
And wooes thee to advance:
And there the Loves, a blooming band,
And sister Graces, hand in hand,
Begin the mystic dance.
The Muse, that loves a green retreat,
Already hovers o'er thy seat,
And wanders thro' thy groves :
Already, hark! the tuneful powers
Awake the echoes of thy bowers,
And sing thy future loves.
Time's treacherous current steals along,
And bears us on his tide:
While thinly scatter'd up and down,
A flower may deck, a thicket crown,
It's bleak, unsightly side.
Then hasten! snatch each floweret, while
The Fates allow it still to smile,
For soon it's date is o'er;
And, as you pass, enjoy the shade,
Whose vernal honours soon must fade-
Must fade-to bloom no more.
|