« ПредишнаНапред »
THE LIFE OF MAN.
(MRS, ANN GILBERT.]
ALONG the dim valley, aslant from the mountain,
How fair are the colours of even that float! That sleep in the streamlet, that glance from the foun
tain, Or mark the low casement in hamlet remote; And sweet is the music the cool zephyr swelling,
The lark's latest vesper, the sheep.bell afar, The bee's homeward hum to his bark.covered dwelling,
Or shepherd's lone song to the earliest star. The whisper of brooks, over smooth pebbles creeping,
The flock winding slowly along to the fold; The moon's yellow beam on the placid hill sleeping,
Now splendid no longer with crimson and gold ;Then throbs the young stranger to life, and to sorrow,
Enjoyment's fine thrill to each feeling convey'd ; All hope, he bounds onward to welcome the morrow,
And pluck its wild roses ere yet they can fade. But, plucked its wild roses,-to-morrow departed,
And life's purple blossoms surmounted with snow, No longer the fine thrill of pleasure is darted,
Alert through the current, now check'd in its flow : Still glitters the sun-beam aslant from the fountain,
On late dying breezes float harmonies sweet ; With Nature's wild music the sky.lark is mounting,
And bees homeward hum to their woodland retreat. But man, changing man, is forsaking his dwelling,
The eye, once enchanted, is weary and dim; No more the fond bosom with rapture is swelling,
And Nature breathes vainly redundant for him ;
Amid the gay scene, with infirmity bending,
His thin silver tresses to summer winds wave, And the flower that in years vanished long, he was
lending, Prepares to expand her next bloom on his grave.
The willow whence oft the lithe twig he would sever
In life's idle morn, o'er his dwelling shall weep; The nightingale's song, that delighted him ever,
Flow liquid, nor wake his unchangeable sleep; The sun's early beam, or in glory declining,
Around his green grave shall its brilliancy pour, And Time's busy children exult in its shining,
But this wither'd nerve plays responsive no more.
Brief story!—the tears of regret, fast descending,
Would blot from the landscape a vista so drear; If this, child of hope, be thy bright vision's ending,
0, wherefore live on the ill-omen'd career?But no,-if one truth to the heart can be spoken
By feeling, by reason, by Oracle high, 'Tis this,-that when Life's golden bowl shall be broken,
Thy star, Immortality, breaks on the sky!
UNAW'd by threats, unmov'd by force,
Collected, calm, resign'd!
Say whence this turn of mind.
"Tis Patience-Lenient Goddess, hail !
Thy threaten'd fight to stay ;
And rul'd with gentle sway.
Through all the various turns of fate,
My wayward lot has known;
When sorrow weigh'd me down?
'Twas Patience-Temperate Goddess, stay! For still thy dictates I obey,
Nor yield to passion's power;
In one ill-fated hour.
When robb'd of what I held most dear,
Of her I loved so well;
Forbade the tide to swell ?
'Twas Patience-Goddess ever calm,
breast thy balm,
When sick and languishing in bed,
(Sleep, which e'en pain beguiles) What taught me calmly to sustain A feverish being rack'd with pain,
And dress'd my looks with smiles. 'Twas Patience-Heaven-descended maid! Implor'd, fled swiftly to my aid;
And lent her fost’ring breast; Watch'd my
sad hours with parent care, Repell’d the approaches of despair,
And sooth'd my soul to rest.
When my prophetic soul,
my fears control ? 'Twas Patience-Gentle Goddess, hear ! Be ever to thy suppliant near,
Nor let one murmur rise ;
The sweet domestic ties.
(POPE.] Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song : To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades, The dreams of Pindus and th’ Aonian maids,
Delight no more-0 Thou, my voice inspire,
Rapt into future times, the bard begun: