The moon, preceded by the breeze But soft-the golden glow subsides! Where Time upon the wither'd tree The wither'd tree was once in prime; I'm lifted to the blue expanse; Come, Science, by my side, advance, Let us descend-The daring flight And Science, in the maze of light, Is impotent and blind. What are those wild, those wandering fires That o'er the moorland ran?— Vapours. How like the vague desires That cheat the heart of man! But there's a friendly guide!—a flame, That lambent o'er its bed, Enlivens, with a gladsome beam, The hermit's osier shed. Among the russet shades of night, And darts along the dusk so bright, In coverts (where the few frequent), How smooth that rapid river slides, The poppies, pendent o'er its sides Pleasure's intoxicated sons! Save where a starry space, between, Old Error thus, with shades impure, Yet sometimes, through the deep obscure, Sleep and her sister Silence reign; To'savage herds, that hunt for prey, For having trod a devious way, As luckless is the virgin's lot, The passions, a relentless train! She seeks the paths of peace in vain, How bright the little insects blaze, Where willows shade the way; As proud as if their painted rays Could emulate the day! power "Tis thus, the pigmy sons of Ungentle clouds deform! The silver host, that shone so bright, Is hid behind a storm! The angry elements engage! An oak (an ivied bower!) Repels the rough wind's noisy rage, The rancour, thus, of rushing Fate A raven, from some greedy vault, Bids me, and 'tis a solemn thought! The tomb!-The consecrated dome! Yon village, to the moral mind, Where sleep hath lull'd the labour'd hind, 'Tis but the churchyard of the night; An emblematic bed! That offers to the mental sight The temporary dead. From hence I'll penetrate, in thought, 'Tis peace-the little chaos pass'd! The nightingale, a welcome guest! And Hope, just wandering from my breast, Yes-When yon lucid orb is dark, My soul, a more celestial spark, Fann'd by the light, the lenient breeze, My limbs refreshment find; And moral rhapsodies, like these, Give vigour to the mind. A LANDSCAPE. Rura mihi et irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes. Now that Summer's ripen'd bloom Humble dales, and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths, and fields Yellow'd o'er with waving gold. Goats upon that frowning steep, Fearless, with their kidlings browse; On the uplands, every glade Shiver'd by a thunderstroke, From the mountain's misty ridge, O'er the brook a ruin'd oak, Near the farmhouse, forms a bridge. |