This day refolv❜d I dare to plight my vow,
This day, long fince the feaft of love decreed,
Embolden'd will I fpeak my flame, nor thou
Refufe to hear how fore my heart does bleed.”
Yet if I fhould behold my love awake,
Ah frail refolves, ah whither will ye fly?
Full well I know I fhall not filence break,
But ftruck with awe almoft for fear fhall die.
Oh no, I will not truft a fault'ring fpeech
In broken phrase an aukward tale to tell,
A tale, whose tendernefs no tongue can reach,
Nor fofteft melody can utter well.
my meek eye, best herald to my heart, I will compose to soft and downcast look, And at one humble glance it shall impart
My love, nor fear the language be miftook.
For she shall read (apt scholar at this lore)
With what fond paffion my true bofom glows, How hopeless of return I still adore,
Nor dare the boldness of my wifh disclose.
Should she then smile,-yet ah! fhe fmiles on all,
Her gentle temper pities all distress;
On every hill, each vale, the fun-beams fall,
Each herb, and flow'r, each tree, and shrub they bless.
Alike all nature grateful owns the boon,
The universal ray to all is free;
Like fond Endymion should I hope the moon,
Because among the reft she shines on me?
Hope, vain prefumer, keep, oh keep away:
Ev'n if my woe her gentle bofom move,
Pity fome look of kindness may display;
But each foft glance is not a look of love.
Yet heav'nly visitant, thou doft not quit
Those bow'rs where angels fweet divifion fing, Nor deigneft thou on mortal fhrine to fit
Alone, for round thee ever on the wing,
Glad choirs of loves attend, and hov'ring wait
Thy mild command; of these thy blooming train Oh bid some sylph in morning dreams relate,
yet my love awake, my fecret pain.
WHERE aged elms in many a goodly row,
Give yearly shelter to the constant crow,
A manfion ftands: - long fince the pile was rais'd,
Whofe Gothic grandeur the rude hind amaz❜d.
For the rich ornament on every part,
Confefs'd the founder's wealth, and workman's art :
Though as the range of the wide court we tread,
The broken arch now totters o'er the head;
And where of old rofe high the social smoke,
Now swallows build, and lonely ravens croak.
Though Time, whofe touch each beauty can deface,
Has torn from every tow'r the sculptur'd grace;
Though round each stone the fluggard ivy crawls,
Yet ancient state fits hov'ring on the walls.
Where wont the feftal chorus to refound, And jocund dancing frequent beat the ground,
Now Silence spreads around her gloomy reign,
Save when the mastiff clanks his iron chain,
Save when his hoarfe bark echoes dire alarm,
Fierce to protect the place from midnight harm,
Its only guard; no revel founding late
Drives the night villain from the lonely gate.
An hallow'd matron and her fimple train
These folemn battlements alone contain ;
An hoary dowager, whofe placid face
Old age has deck'd with lovely aweful grace;
With almost vernal bloom her cheek still strow'd,
As beauty ling'ring left her lov'd abode;
That lov'd abode, where join'd with truth and sense
She form'd the features to mute eloquence,
And bade them charm the ftill attentive throng,
Who watch'd the facred leffons of her tongue.
For not through life the dame had liv'd retir'd,
But once had fhone, e'en 'midst a court admir'd:
What time the lov'd poffeffor of her charms
Returning from the war in victor arms,
Call'd from his monarch's tongue the plaufive praise,
While honour wreath'd him with unfading bays.
She, happy partner of each joyful hour,
Then walk'd ferene amid the pomp of pow'r :
While all confefs'd no warrior's wifh could move
For fairer prize, than fuch accomplish'd love:
Nor to that love could aught more tranfport yield,
Than graceful valour from the victor field.
Thus flourish'd once the beauteous and the brave;
But mortal blifs meets still th' untimely grave:
Aurelius died his relict's pious tear
O'er his lov'd afhes frequent flow'd fincere,
Each decent rite with due obfervance paid,
Each folemn requiem offer'd to his fhade,
Plac'd 'mid the brave his urn in holy ground,
And bade his hallow'd banners wave around.
Then left the gaudy scenes of pomp and power,
While prudence beckon'd to that ancient bower,
And thofe paternal fields, the fole remains
Of ample woods and far-extended plains,
Which tyrant cuftom rudely tore away
To distant heirship an expected prey.
Serene fhe fought the far-retired grove,
Once the blefs'd manfion of her happy love,
Pleas'd with the thought, that memory oft would raife
A folemn profpect of those blooming days
Aurelius gave her pious purpose now
To keep ftill conftant to her facred vow;
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