by warlike Honour led;
and, while around her ports rejoice, while all her sons adore thy choice, with him for ever wed!
HE bright-haired sun with warmth benign bids tree and shrub and swelling vine their infant buds display:
again the streams refresh the plains which Winter bound in icy chains, and sparkling bless his ray. Life-giving Zephyrs breathe around, and instant glows th' enamel'd ground with Nature's varied hues :
not so returns our youth decayed, alas! nor air nor sun nor shade the spring of life renews.
The sun's too quick-revolving beam will soon dissolve the human dream, and bring th' appointed hour: too late we catch his parting ray, and mourn the idly-wasted day,
no longer in our power.
Then happiest he, whose lengthened sight pursues by virtue's constant light
a hope beyond the skies;
where frowning Winter ne'er shall come, but rosy Spring for ever bloom
and suns eternal rise.
In a drear-nighted December, too happy, happy Brook, thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer-look;
but with a sweet forgetting they stay their crystal fretting, never, never petting
about the frozen time.
Ah! would 'twere so with many a gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any writhed not at passéd joy?
to know the change and feel it, when there is none to heal it, nor numbéd sense to steal it- was never said in rhyme.
OW each creature joys the other, passing happy days and hours;
one bird reports unto another, in the fall of silver showers;
whilst the earth, our common mother, hath her bosom decked with flowers. Whilst the greatest torch of heaven with bright rays warms Flora's lap, making nights and days both even,
cheering plants with fresher sap: my field of flowers quite bereaven wants refresh of better hap. Echo, daughter of the air,
(babbling guest of rocks and hills) knows the name of my fierce fair, and sounds the accents of my ills. Each thing pities my despair,
whilst that she her lover kills: whilst that she (O cruel maid!) doth me and my love despise;
my life's flourish is decayed, that depended on her eyes: but her will must be obeyed;
and well he ends for love who dies.
UEEN of fresh flowers,
whom vernal stars obey,
bring thy warm showers, bring thy genial ray.
In nature's greenest livery drest descend on earth's expectant breast,
to earth and heaven a welcome guest, thou merry month of May!
Mark! how we meet thee at dawn of dewy day! hark! how we greet thee with our roundelay!
while all the goodly things that be in earth and air and ample sea are waking up to welcome thee, thou merry month of May!
Flocks on the mountains,
and birds upon their spray,
tree, turf, and fountains
all hold holiday;
and Love, the life of living things,
Love waves his torch and claps his wings,
and loud and wide thy praises sings,
thou merry month of May.
YEST Rantled O'er with dreary snow;
VESTREEN the mountain's rugged brow
the sun set red behind the hill, and every breath of wind was still; but ere he rose, the southern blast a veil o'er heaven's blue arch had cast: thick rolled the clouds, and genial rain poured the wide deluge o'er the plain: fair glens and verdant vales appear, and warmth awakes the budding year. O'tis the touch of fairy hand
that wakes the spring of Northern land! it warms not there by slow degrees, with changeful pulse, the uncertain breeze;
but sudden on the wondering sight bursts forth the beam of living light; and instant verdure springs around, and magic flowers bedeck the ground: returned from regions far away the red-winged throstle pours his lay; the soaring snipe salutes the spring, as the breeze whistles through his wing; and, as he hails the melting snows, the heath-cock claps his wings and crows.
OW that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost her snow-white robes; and now no more the frost
candies the grasse, or castes an ycie creame upon the silver lake or chrystall streame;
but the warme sunne thawes the benummed earth, and makes it tender; gives a sacred birth to the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree the drowzie cuckow and the humble bee. Now doe a quire of chirping minstrels bring in tryumph to the world the youthfull Spring: the vallies, hills, and woods, in rich araye, welcome the comming of the long'd-for May. Now all things smile: only my Love doth lowre; nor hath the scalding noon-day sunne the power to melt that marble yce, which still doth hold her heart congealed, and makes her pittie cold. The oxe which lately did for shelter flie into the stall, doth now securely lie in open fields; and love no more is made by the fire-side; but, in the cooler shade, Amyntas now doth with his Cloris sleepe under a sycamoure, and all things keepe time with the season-only she doth carry June in her eyes, in her heart January.
ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE
NOW the golden Morn aloft Now
waves her dew-bespangled wing,
with vermeil cheek and whisper soft she woos the tardy Spring:
till April starts, and calls around the sleeping fragrance from the ground, and lightly o'er the living scene scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance, frisking ply their feeble feet; forgetful of their wintry trance
the birds his presence greet: but chief, the skylark warbles high his trembling thrilling ecstacy;
and, lessening from the dazzled sight, melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
saw the snowy whirlwind fly; mute was the music of the air, the herd stood drooping by: their raptures now that wildly flow no yesterday nor morrow know; 'tis Man alone that joy descries with forward and reverted eyes.
383 Smiles on past Misfortune's brow soft Reflection's hand can trace, and o'er the cheek of Sorrow throw
a melancholy grace;
while Hope prolongs our happier hour, or deepest shades, that dimly lour and blacken round our weary way, gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy Pleasure leads, see a kindred Grief pursue; behind the steps that Misery treads approaching Comfort view: the hues of bliss more brightly glow chastised by sabler tints of woe, and blended form, with artful strife, the strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost on the thorny bed of pain, at length repair his vigour lost and breathe and walk again:
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