Page images
PDF
EPUB

50

55

60

65

70

The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,

That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas, regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!

No sense have they of ills to come,

Nor care beyond to-day;

Yet see how all around 'em wait
The Ministers of human fate,

And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
To seize their prey, the murtherous band!
Ah, tell them, they are men!

These shall the fury Passions tear,

The vultures of the mind,

Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame that skulks behind;

Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,

That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair
And Sorrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this shall tempt to rise,

Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,

And grinning Infamy,

The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
And hard Unkindness' altered eye,

That mocks the tear it forced to flow;

And keen Remorse with blood defiled,

And moody Madness laughing wild
Amid severest woe.

Lo! in the vale of tears beneath

A grisly troop are seen,

The painful family of Death,

More hideous than their queen.

This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
That every labouring sinew strains,

Those in the deeper vitals rage;

Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,

That numbs the soul with icy hand,

And slow-consuming Age.

To each his sufferings; all are men,

Condemned alike to groan,

The tender for another's pain,

The unfeeling for his own.

75

80

85

90

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,

95

And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.

[ocr errors]

5

ΤΟ

15

20

ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT

'Twas on a lofty vase's side,

Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers, that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,

Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purred applause.

Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream;

Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder saw;
A whisker first and then a claw,

With many an ardent wish,

She stretched in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?

What Cat's averse to fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood.
She mewed to every wat'ry god,

Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred;

Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.

A fav'rite has no friend!

25

30

35

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,

And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize;

40

Nor all, that glisters, gold.

ΤΟ

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

5 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bower,

Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those ragged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, 15 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

20

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,
The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

« PreviousContinue »