« EelmineJätka »
He saw, but blasted with excess of light,
Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car
Two coursers of etherial race,
Scatters from her pictur'd urn
Thoughts that breathe and words that burn;
But ah! 'tis heard no more
Oh! lyre divine! what daring spirit
Wakes thee now; tho' he inherit
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the Muses' ray
Yet shall he mount and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,
Beneath the good how far-but far above the great.
On the Spring.
O! where the rosy-bosom'd hours,
Disclose the long expecting flowers
The untaught harmony of spring,
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
How vain the ardor of the crowd,
Still is the toiling hand of Care,
Yet hark! how thro' the peopled air
The insect youth are on the wing,
To Contemplation's sober eye,
And they that creep and they that fly
Alike the busy and the gay
But flutter thro' life's little day,
In Fortune's varying colours drest! Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance, Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance They leave, in dust to rest.
Methinks I hear, in accents low,
Poor Moralist! and what art thou?
Thy joys no glitt'ring female meets,
No painted plumage to display : On hasty wings thy youth is flown, Thy sun is set, thy spring is goneWe frolic while 'tis May.
On the Death of a favorite Cat, drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes.
WAS on a lofty vase's side,
Where China's gayest art had dy'd
The azure flow'rs that blow,
Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
Still had she gaz'd, but, 'midst the tide,
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize!
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,
Eight times emerging from the flood,
No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd,
From hence, ye Beauties! undeceiv'd,
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes,