But soon the pageant fades away! Fatigued with splendour's irksome beams; Of native groves and wonted streams; Pants for the scenes that charm'd her youthful eyes, Where Truth maintains her court, and banishes Disguise. Then hither oft, ye senators! retire; Honour and moral beauty shine With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine. Yes, here alone did highest Heaven ordain The lasting magazine of charms, Whatever wins, whatever warms, Whatever fancy seeks to share, The great, the various, and the fair, Her impulse nothing may restrain. Or whence the joy mid columns, towers, To rear some breathless vapid flowers, From rooms of silken foliage vain, But how must faithless Art prevail, For dimpled brook and leafy grove, For that rich luxury of thought they love! Ah, no! from these the public sphere requires Example for its giddy bands; From these impartial Heaven demands To spread the flame itself inspires; To sift Opinion's mingled mass, Impress a nation's taste, and bid the sterling pass. Happy, thrice happy they, Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone Round the gay precincts of a throne With mild, effective beams! Who bands of fair ideas bring, By solemn grot or shady spring, To join their pleasing dreams! Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy; They only that deserve, enjoy. What though nor fabled Dryad haunt their grove, Nor Naiad near their fountains rove? Yet all embodied to the mental sight, A train of smiling Virtues bright Shall there the wise retreat allow, Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer's brow. And though, by faithless friends alarm'd, Near Percy Lodge, with awe-struck mien, Nature exalt the mound where Art shall build, Begin, ye songsters of the grove! Let no harsh dissonance disturb the morn; Her sacred solitudes profane, The lowly shepherd's votive strain, Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer, Fearful, yet not averse, that Somerset should hear. TO A FRIEND, On some slight Occasion estranged from him. HEALTH to my friend, and many a cheerful day! Around his seat may peaceful shades abide! Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles, away, And till they crown our union gently glide! Ah me! too swiftly fleets our vernal bloom! Lost to our wonted friendship, lost to joy! Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume, Ere wintry doubt its tender warmth destroy! Say, were it ours, by Fortune's wild command, Life is that stranger land, that alien clime: Myriads of souls', that knew one parent mould, Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance! But we have met-where ills of every form, Where passions rage, and hurricanes descend; Say, shall we nurse the rage, assist the storm, And guide them to the bosom-of a friend? Yes, we have met-through rapine, fraud, and wrong: Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore! Why leave thy friend amid the boisterous throng, Ere death divide us, and we part no more? For, O! pale Sickness warns thy friend away; I see stern Fate his ebon wand display, And point the wither'd regions of the tomb. Then the keen anguish from thine eye shall start, |