Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save. But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn! O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!'
'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd, That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind;
My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.
'O pity, great Father of Light,' then I cry'd,
Thy creature who fain would not wander from thee; Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:
From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free!'
And darkness and doubt are now flying away,
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.
So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending, And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!
On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.'
WHEN in the crimson cloud of even
The lingering light decays,
And Hesper on the front of Heaven
His glittering gem displays;
Deep in the silent vale, unseen, Beside a lulling stream,
A pensive youth, of placid mien, Indulged this tender theme.
Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled High o'er the glimmering dale; Ye woods, along whose windings wild Murmurs the solemn gale:
Where Melancholy strays forlorn,
And Woe retires to weep,
What time the wan Moon's yellow horn Gleams on the western deep:
To you, ye wastes, whose artless charns Ne'er drew ambition's eye,
'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms,
To your retreats I fly.
Deep in your most sequester'd bower Let me at last recline,
Where Solitude, mild, modest power,
Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
'How shall I woo thee, matchless fair! Thy heavenly smile how win?
Thy smile that smooths the brow of Care, And stills the storm within.
O wilt thou to thy favourite grove
Thine ardent votary bring,
And bless his hours, and bid them move Serene, on silent wing?
Oft let Remembrance sooth his mind With dreams of former days, When in the lap of Peace reclined He framed his infant lays;
When Fancy roved at large, nor Care Nor cold Distrust alarm'd,
Nor Envy with malignant glare
His simple youth had harm'd.
''Twas then, O Solitude! to thee His early vows were paid,
From heart sincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade.
Ah why did Fate his steps decoy
In stormy paths to roam,
Remote from all congenial joy !— O take the wanderer home.
Thy shades, thy silence now be mine, Thy charms my only theme;
My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream.
Whence the scared owl on pinions gray Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose.
'O, while to thee the woodland pours Its wildly warbling song,
And balmy from the bank of flowers The Zephyr breathes along;
Let no rude sound invade from far, No vagrant foot be nigh,
No ray from Grandeur's gilded car Flash on the startled eye.
'But if some pilgrim through the glade Thy hallow'd bowers explore,
O guard from harm his hoary head, And listen to his lore;
For he of joys divine shall tell, That wean from earthly wo,
And triumph o'er the mighty spell That chains his heart below.
For me, no more the path invites Ambition loves to tread ;
No more I climb those toilsome heights, By guileful Hope misled ;
Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more
To Mirth's enlivening strain;
For present pleasure soon is o'er, And all the past is vain,'
"Tis said of widow, maid, and wife, That honour is a woman's life.
The trav'ller, if he chance to stray, May turn uncensur'd to his way; Polluted streams again are pure, And deepest wounds admit a cure; But woman no redemption knows ; The wounds of honour never close!
Though distant ev'ry hand to guide, Nor skill'd on life's tempestuous tide; If once her feeble bark recede, Or deviate from the course decreed, In vain she seeks the friendly shore, Her swifter folly flies before; The circling ports against her close, And shut the wand'rer from repose; Till by conflicting waves opprest, Her found'ring pinnace sinks to rest.
Are there no off'rings to atone For but a single error?- -None. Though woman is avow'd of old No daughter of celestial mould, Her temp'ring not without allay, And form'd but of the finer clay, We challenge from the mortal dame, The strength angelic natures claim ; Nay more for sacred stories tell, That e'en immortal angels fell.
Whatever fills the teeming sphere Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying elements endu'd,
Was form'd to fall, and rise renew'd.
The stars no fix'd duration know, Wide oceans ebb, again to flow; The moon repletes her waning face, All-beauteous, from her late disgrace; And suns, that mourn approaching night, Refulgent rise, with new-born light.
In vain may death and time subdue, While nature mints her race anew, And holds some vital spark apart, Like virtue, hid in ev'ry heart; 'Tis hence, reviving warmth in seen To clothe a naked world in green. No longer barr'd by winter's cold, Again the gates of life unfold; Again each insect tries his wing, And lifts fresh pinions on the spring: Again from ev'ry latent root The bladed stem and tendril shoot, Exhaling incense to the skies, Again to perish, and to rise.
And must weak woman then disown The change to which a world is prone? In one meridian brightness shine, And ne'er like ev'ning suns decline? Resolv'd and firm alone?- -Is this
What we demand of woman ?—Yes. But should the spark of vestal fire, In some unguarded hour expire; Pity may mourn, but not restore, And woman falls- -to rise no more. Within this sublunary sphere, A country lies- -no matter where; The clime may readily be found By all who tread poetic ground. A stream, call'd Life, across it glides, And equally the land divides; And here, of Vice the province lies, And there, the hills of Virtue rise. Upon a mountain's airy stand, Whose summit look'd to either land, An ancient pair their dwelling chose, As well for prospect as repose; For mutual faith they long were fam'd, And Temp'rance and Religion nam'd.
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