"My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none "Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains, "And, Matthew, for thy Children dead I'll be a son to thee!" At this he grasped my hand, and said "Alas! that cannot be." We rose up from the fountain-side; And down the smooth descent Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And through the wood we went; And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock, He sang those witty rhymes. About the crazy old church clock, And the bewildered chimes. XVIII. LINES WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING. How richly glows the water's breast And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Such views the youthful Bard allure; Who would not cherish dreams so sweet, Though grief and pain may come to-morrow? XIX. REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS, Written upon the Thames near Richmond. GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide, O Thames! that other Bards may see As now, fair River! come to me. O glide, fair Stream! for ever so, As thy deep waters now are flowing. Vain thought!.... Yet be as now thou art, That in thy waters may 'be seen The image of a poet's heart, How bright, how solemn, how serene! Now let us, as we float along, For him suspend the dashing oar; pray that never child of Song * Collins's Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, 1 believe, of the poems which were published during his lifetime. This Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza. XX. I AM not One who much or oft delight |