Rests the tired mind and waking loves to dream, My spirit shall revisit thee, dear cot! Thy jasmine and thy window-peeping rose, And myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. And I shall sigh fond wishes-sweet abode! Ah! had none greater! and that all had such! It might be so-but the time is not yet. Speed it, O Father! Let thy kingdom come!
SHEPHERD'S COTTAGE GARDEN.
WHERE Woods of ash and beech And partial copses fringe the green hill foot, The upland shepherd rears his modest home. There wanders by a little nameless stream That from the hill wells forth, bright now and clear, Or after rain with chalky mixture gray, But still refreshing in its shallow course The cottage garden; most for use design'd, Yet not of beauty destitute. The vine Mantles the little casement, yet the briar Drops fragrant dew among the July flowers; And pansies ray'd, and freak'd and mottled pinks Grow among balm and rosemary and rue:
There honeysuckles flaunt and roses blow Almost uncultured: Some with dark green leaves Contrast their flowers of pure unsullied white; Others, like velvet robes of regal state Of richest crimson, while in thorny moss Enshrined and cradled, the most lovely wear The hues of youthful beauty's glowing cheek.
With fond regret I recollect e'en now,
In spring and summer, what delight I felt Among these cottage gardens, and how much Such artless nosegays, knotted with a rush By village housewife or her ruddy maid, Were welcome to me; soon and simply pleased.
RETURNING FROM AN EVENING VISIT.
Now let me mark civility's arrears Where'er recorded, and repay at eve The long due visit to the distant friend, That, by the full orb lighted, I may march Mute and contemplative at leisure home. Mild be the temperature of heaven, serene The silent atmosphere. Let fancy deem She feels the moon-beam warm. Be nothing heard, Save the far distant murmur of the deep- Or the near grasshopper's incessant note That snug beneath the wall in comfort sits, And chirping imitates the silvery chink Of wages told into the ploughman's palm— Or gentle curlew, bidding kind good night To the spent villager, or e'er his hand The cottage taper quench-or grazing ox His dewy supper from the savoury herb Audibly gathering-or cheerful hind From the loved harvest feast returning home, Whistling at intervals some rustic air, Or at due distance chanting in the vale Exhilarated song. Such rural sounds, If haply noticed by the musing mind,
Sweet interruption, yield, and thrice improve The solemn luxury of idle thought.
Oft at yon huddled town that guards remote The sounding ship yard and contiguous port, By sweet civility detain'd, the bridge, At such late hour returning, let me pass; What time aloft the moon, no more rotund, Shines gibbous o'er the pure and still expanse Of tide-uplifted Ouse, and lends to Night An ample mirror, where her sober eye Her twinkling jewelry and face serene, Thrice placid and thrice beauteous, may behold.
DOMESTIC COMFORT ON A STORMY
PLEASANT the hearth and converse snug within, While the nocturnal tempest raves without, For entrance buffeting the sash in vain; [eaves And while the sullen shower from the drench'd Drips fast, and on the flooded pavement spanks. In such a night, who feels not Heaven his friend To bless him with a warm secure abode Impervious to the blast and chilly shower? Who feels it not vast privilege to sit
And court the glowing embers of his hearth, Till at his bidding their aspiring flames Illuminate and cheer his farthest room? Who deems it not rich pleasure, then, to read By the clear taper unannoyed, or sweep The strings of harmony unvex'd, and hear At every pause the persevering storm
Rave at his window, in his chimney howl? Who thinks his lot unhappy, then, to sup At an ill furnish'd board, whose only fare Springs from the dairy and the winnow'd floor? Who deems not shelter and a crust a feast, To the hard fate of him who plods without Fatigued and weather-foil'd, or his more hard Who wrestles with inclement skies above And tossing seas beneath, nor dares retire, Fearful of shipwreck, till the dawn returns? Is he not lapp'd in paradise who thinks, Ere slumber close his eyes, how others toil While peace and comfort curtain him around?
ERE yet I sing the round-revolving year, And show the toils and pastime of the swain, At Alcon's grave I drop a pious tear; Right well he knew to raise his learned strain, And, like his Milton, scorn'd the rhyming chain. Ah! cruel fate, to tear him from our eyes; Receive his wreath, albe the tribute's vain, From the green sod may flowers immortal rise, To mark the sacred spot where the sweet poet lies.
It is the cuckoo that announceth spring, And with his wreakful + tale the spouse doth fray: Meanwhile the finches harmless ditties sing, And hop, in buxom youth, from spray to spray, The late Mr. Thomson. + Revengeful.
Proud as Sir Paridel of rich array.
The little wantons that draw Venus' team Chirp amorous through the groves in bevies gay; And he, who erst gain'd Leda's fond esteem, Now sails on Thamis' tide, the glory of the stream!
Proud as the Turkish soldan, chaunticleer Sees with delight his numerous race around: He grants fresh favours to each female near; For love as well as cherisaunce renown'd. The waddling dame that did the Gauls confound Her tawny sons doth lead to rivers cold; While Juno's dearling with majestic bound,. To charm his leman + doth his train unfold, That glows with vivid green, that flames with burning gold.
The balmy cowslip gilds the smiling plain, The virgin snowdrop boasts her silver hue, A hundred tints the gaudy daisy stain, And the meek violet, in amis blue,
Cleeps low to earth, and hides from public view: But the rank nettle rears her crest on high; So ribalds loose their front unblushing shew, While modest merit doth neglected lie, And pines in lonely shade, unseen of vulgar eye.
See! all around the gallless culver's‡ bill, Meanwhile the nightingale's becalming lays Mix with the plaintive music of the rill, The which in various gyres the meadow bays §. Behold! the welkin bursts into a blaze! Fast by the car of light the nimble hours, In songs of triumph, hail his genial rays;
+ Lover.. + Dove. ◊ Bathes.
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