Where beech-hung walks invite the feet to rove; Insuring by their silent far retreat
An hour apart, their mutual flame to' improve,
With converse such as love alone can mete;
Ne fits it here such talk to every ear repeat.
Whether the rustic's love be so complete
As his on whom a higher lot is fell?
Though education much refine the sweet,
If more it fixes it, I weet not well;
But this I weet, and this can algates tell,
The rustic's humble flame is far more bright
Than theirs who, led by riches, buy and sell
That goodly tie of fair connubial rite,
For sake of loveless gold, which blinds their dazed sight.
For 'tis not gold can strengthen virtuous love,
Ne is it thence can happiness accrue;
That noble passion soars all else above,
Save the firm basis of allegiaunce true;
Mammon has nought with Cupid's band to do;
And ever when he does his glare display,
Tempting the heart to thither turn its view,
From what it best should love, O! weal away!
I deem that wretched wight mistaketh night for
day.
Not so the guileless swain, who only loves
His maid, because she chiefest charms his sight;
Content and happy, when her heart approves
His proffer'd love, and makes return aright;
Nought else has she his service to delight,
No rich possessions, nor a ponderous purse;
But, void of these, in native worth is dight,
These, which of wedded pair oft prove the curse, And stir up strife, than which, 'twixt such, is nothing worse.
But now is time the saucers blue to range
On oaken table, and the cups beside ;
Which tempt the sire his pungent fumes to change
For sipping milder tea, the gossip's pride,
Which had whylear the rich alone supplied;
Nath'more so still, for now its taste benign
Full dearly is to village dames allied,
Who would to miss its grateful streams repine,
Much as the bard, if forced Castalia's fount resign.
And now Dan Phoebus han unyoked his team,
And blushing back to Thetis 'gins descend;
The smiling fields reflect his tingent beam,
Inviting forth the lover and the friend:
Grave matrons too and groups of children blend-
While mazy feet thus lead the younker train,
The old and stay'd apart their steps do bend,
Looking along how fares the blooming grain,
Bless the all-ripening sun, or augur coming rain.
Then passing homewards, as the shadows fall
From Night's dim curtain, and the silent dew
Empearls the turf with drops of moisture small,
They seek their cots, which soon again they view,
Just tinged with crimson's last decaying hue;
Which reach'd, full many a farewell wish is made,
And parting whisper from the lover true;
Who steals perchance a kiss, no whit afraid
To give offence, or have that friendly pledge gain-
Then all assembled round their homely board,
The Evening's temperate meal together share ;
The Sabbath supper haply may afford
Some greater dainty than their common fare;
But, ever when 'tis o'er, they all prepare
To bend their knees in seemly order round
Their thankful sire, who ends the day in prayer
To Him whose goodness through that day they've
found,
[abound.
And begs this night, and aye, his grace may so
Hail! tranquil eve of undisturbed day;
How pure the joys that, floating on thy beams,
Bid their mild radiance on the bosom play,
Rousing the soul from earth's delusive dreams,-
To seek the fruitful banks of Zion's streams;
There drink instruction, and imbibe the word
Of Wisdom, such as best the mind beseems.
O! may the swains for ever thus accord
In worship to enshrine the Sabbath of the Lord!
Now wishing each to each a night of rest,
They to their humble bed attonce retire,
With peace of mind, and health of body bless'd;
More worth than all that pomp which some desire;
More worth than fame, which wreathes the poet's
More worth than that the warrior toils to gain,
'Mid strifeful scenes of blood and wrathful fire;
More worth than is with victor kings to reign;
Is this advauncement high which crowns the sim-
ple swain.
All who possess a diamond so rare
Are truly rich, nor other riches need;
The guerdon this which Virtue has to wear,
To mark her dignity and lofty stead,
E'en when discover'd clad in peasant's weed:
But not confined to humble life, I ween,
Is this, of all her sons the happy meed;
Some few of lordly tire with her are seen,
Albe, 'mong these, full sorely misemprized she
been.
Now grant attendance on my lay awhile,
Ye who the shepherds of the sheepfold stand;
Right fain I would that Heaven upon you smile,
And cause you right to lead the simple band;
Nor, when the salvage spoilers be at hand,
Forsake your tender charge, like hireling base;
But stoutly 'gainst each bear and lion stand,
As did that shepherd lad of Jesse's race
Who Salem's royal courts with kingly praise did grace.
So mote ye teach the swains to love the Lord,
By showing Wisdom in her pleasant ways,
And how her paths do truest peace afford,
Far other than the world's deceitful maze,
Gilt with false splendour of vain Fancy's rays.
So mote that heavenly light to you descend,
Which brightens, with its soul-refreshing blaze,
All willing minds, to you its fulness lend,
Till your long toil in Heaven's eternal Sabbath end.
REFLECTION ON SUNDAY MORNING.
It is the Sabbath morn: The landscape smiles
Calm in the sun; and silent are the hills
And valleys and the blue serene of air.
The sea scarce trembles to the rippling gale,
Bright in tranquillity. The vanish'd lark
Breaks faint the silence, and disturbs it not.
Oh, native isle heloved! by rounding waves
Bosom'd remote, and hallow'd from the world!
What needs the dimly purpled light that glows
Through imaged glass, or what the measured chant
Of monkish strains to the deep organ's peal,
To rouse devotion? when thy clifts resound
The wave's mild murmur, and thy thickets green
Ring with the song of birds? when flowers in dew
Exhale their fragrance, and the sense is cheer'd
By air and sunshine? While fanatic groans,
Breathed from a gloomy spirit, rise to Him
Who spread this verdure o'er the fields, who bade
These violets spring, and lighted up the sun,
Be mine with silence of the heart to praise
His mercies, and adore his name of love.
Hail, scene of beauty! scene of Sabbath calm! Thou greenest earth! thou blue and boundless Thou sea, reposing like a stilly lake! [heaven! Hail, ye that blend your silence with the soul! Around, the unimaginable God
Moves visible to faith: but unconfused
With these the works and wonders of his hand :
These intercept his presence; not reveal;
He sojourns not in clouds, nor is the light
His essence; mingled with the common mass
|