And while my humble wreath I hang With reverence on her lowly tomb, My heart still vibrates with the pang THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN ΤΟ CHARLOTTE. "O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, "Smooth sliding Mincia, crown'd with crisped reeds, "That strain I heard was of a higher mood, 66 but now my oat proceeds. MILTON. FAIR daughter of that fleeting race * Full many an oak, whose lofty head Since first I own'd that stony bed, Sunk dodder'd to its native ground. * The way to this beautiful fountain lies through a mossy heath, entirely covered with large fallen trees, mostly sunk into the earth by their own weight. And many a towering grove of pine, Since first my wat'ry course begun. And many a toiling race of man Has joy'd in youth, and mourn'd in age, Since first my pensive view began To trace their weary pilgrimage. And many a nymph with sounding bow, Has chac'd the deer o'er yonder rocks. And when the sun's meridian heat Yet, never did I pour my stream To bathe a breast more pure than thine, Or visit eyes in whose mild beam So clear the gentler virtues shine. When with light step thy naked feet I bid my streams with murmur sweet Their liquid melody prolong. When Echo to thy voice replies From yonder arch of rugged stone, When from yon hazle's pendant shade Come to my bosom, gentle maid, And lave thy streaming locks again. Pluck from my brink the flow'ry store That blushing decks the infant year, And to increase their beauty more, Deign round thy brow the wreath to wear. And when the summer's ardent glow And bathe thy graceful form again. Nor yet, when wint'ry tempests howl, Hard ice, that crusts my current clear, Renews more pure my sparkling stream; Thus may Affliction's hand severe Add lustre to the mental gem. Where'er you rove, where'er you rest, May Peace your pensive steps attend, And halcyon Innocence your breast From each contagious blast defend ! |