THE GROTTO. LXX. SHERIDAN. UNCOUTH is this moss-covered Grotto of stone, And damp is the shade of this dew-dropping tree: Yet I this rude grotto with rapture will own; And, Willow, thy damps are refreshing to me. For this is the grotto where Delia reclin❜d, Then tell me, thou Grotto of moss-covered stone, And tell thou Willow, with leaves dropping dew, me, Did Delia seem vex'd when Horatio was gone, And did she confess her resentment to you? 10 Methinks now each bough, as you're waving it, tries To hint how she frown'd, when I dar'd to advise, True, true, silly leaves, so she did, I allow; She frown'd-but no rage in her looks could I see; She frown'd-but reflection had clouded her brow; She sighed but perhaps 'twas in pity to me. Then wave thy leaves brisker, thou Willow of woe, I tell thee no rage in her looks could I see; I cannot, I will not believe it was so→ She was not, she could not be angry with me. For well did she know that my heart meant no wrong, Which err'd from the feelings it could not explain. Yet oh! if indeed I've offended the maid, If Delia my humble monition refuse, Sweet Willow! the next time she visits thy shade, And thou, stony Grot! in thy arch may'st preserve Two lingering drops of the night-fallen dew; And just let them fall at her feet- and they'll serve As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you. Or, lest they unheeded should fall at her feet, Let them fall on her bosom of snow ;-and I swear, The next time I visit thy moss-covered seat, I'll pay thee each drop in a genuine tear. So may'st thou, green Willow, for ages thus toss While yet there's a poet to make thee his theme.— Nay more-May my Delia still give you her charms Each evening, and sometimes the whole evening long : Then, Grotto, be proud to support her white arms, And, Willow, wave all thy green tops to her song. TO A LADY. LXXI. -FROM THE LOUNGER. FAR, far from me my Delia goes, And all my prayers, my tears are vain; Till Delia bless these eyes again. Companion of the wretched, come, Thy heavenly presence gilds the gloom, Oh! who can tell what Time may do, Can she reject a love so true? Can Delia e'er forsake her friend? |