« EelmineJätka »
While, by the taper's trembling light,
I seem those awful scenes to tread
Where chiefs or legislators lie,
Whose triumphs move before my eye
In arms and antique pomp array'd;
While now i taste the Ionian song,
Now bend to Plato's godlike tongue
Resounding through the olive shade.
But should some chearful, equal friend
Bid leave the studious
Let mirth on wisdom then attend,
And social ease on learned toil.
Then while, at love's uncareful shrine,
Each dictates to the god of wine
Her name whom all his hopes obey,
What flattering dreams each bosom warm,
While absence, heightening every charm,
Invokes the flow-returning May !
May, thou delight of heaven and earth,
When will thy genial ftar arise?
The auspicious morn, which gives thee birth,
Shall bring Eudora to my eyes.
Within her fylvan haunt behold,
As in the happy garden old,
She moves like that primeval fair :
Thither, ye filver-sounding lyres,
Ye tender smiles, ye chaste desires,
Fond hope and mutual faith, repair.
And if believing Love can read
His better omens in her eye,
Then shall my fears, o charming maid,
And every pain of absence die:
Then shall my jocund harp, attun'd
To thy true ear, with sweeter found
Pursue the free Horatian song:
Old Tyne shall listen to my tale,
And echo, down the bordering vale,
The liquid melody prolong.
To-Nicht retir’d the queen of heaven
With young Endymion says:
And now to Hesper is it given
Awhile to rule the vacant sky,
Till she shall to her lamp supply
A stream of brighter rays.
O Hesper, while the starry throng
With awe thy path surrounds, Oh listen to my suppliant song, If haply now the vocal sphere Can suffer thy delighted ear
To stoop to mortal sounds.
So may the bridegroom's genial strain
Thee still invoke to shine :
So may the bride's unmarried train
To Hymen chaunt their flattering vow,
Still that his lucky torch may glow
With lustre pure as thine.
Far other vows must i prefer
To thy indulgent power.
Alass, but now i paid my tear
On fair Olympia's virgin tomb:
And lo, from ce, in quest i roam
Of Philomela's bower.
Propitious send thy golden ray,
Thou purest light above :
Let no false flame seduce to stray
Where gulph or steep lie hid for harm :
But lead where music's healing charm
May footh afflicted lave.
To them, by many a grateful song
In happier seasons vow'd,
These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong :
Oft by yon filver stream we walk’d,
Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd,
Beneath yon copfes stood.
Nor seldom, where the · beechen' boughs
That roofless tower invade,
We came while her inchanting Muse
The radiant moon above us held :
Till by a clamorous owl compellid
She fled the solemn shade.
But hark; i hear her liquid tone.
Now, Hesper, guide my feet
Down the red marle with moss o'ergrown,
Through yon wild thicket next the plain,
Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane
:. Which leads to her retreat.
See the green space : on either hand
Inlarg'd it spreads around:
See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade
Extends o'er half the level mead
Inclos'd in woods profound.
Hark, how through many a melting note
She now prolongs her lays :
How sweetly down the void they float !
The breeze their magic path attends:
The stars shine out: the forest bends:
The wakeful heifers gaze.
Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring
To this fequefter'd spot,
If then the plaintive Syren fing,
Oh softly tread beneath her bower,
And think of heaven's disposing power,
Of man's uncertain lot.