Those matted woods where birds forget to sing But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd, The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake- And savage men more murderous still than they- 356 While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love. Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day, That call'd them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure pass'd, Hung round their bowers, and fondly look'd their last- He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave; 378 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear While her fond husband strove to lend relief O luxury! thou curs'd by Heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee; Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank, unwieldy woe Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land: Down, where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, And kind connubial tenderness, are there – And piety with wishes plac'd above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 406 And thou, sweet poetry! thou loveliest maid, Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame- 428 |