ON HIS PROPOSING TO DOMESTICATE WITH THE
A MOUNT, not wearisome and bare and steep, But a green mountain variously up-piled, Where o'er the jutting rocks soft mosses creep, Or coloured lichens with slow oosing weep;
Where cypress and the darker yew start wild; And 'mid the summer torrent's gentle dash Dance brightened the red clusters of the ash; Beneath whose boughs, by those still sounds be- guiled,
Calm Pensiveness might muse herself to sleep;
Till haply startled by some fleecy dam,
That rustling on the bushy clift above, With melancholy bleat of anxious love,
Made meek enquiry for her wandering lamb:
Such a green mountain 'twere most sweet to climb, E'en while the bosom ached with lonelinessHow more than sweet, if some dear friend should bless
The adventurous toil, and up the path sublime Now lead, now follow: the glad landscape round, Wide and more wide, increasing without bound!
O then 't were loveliest sympathy, to mark The berries of the half-uprooted ash
Dripping and bright; and list the torrent's dash,- Beneath the cypress, or the yew more dark, Seated at ease, on some smooth mossy rock; In social silence now, and now to unlock The treasured heart; arm linked in friendly arm, Save if the one, his muse's witching charm Muttering brow-bent, at unwatched distance lag; Till high o'er head his beckoning friend appears, And from the forehead of the topmost crag Shouts eagerly for haply there uprears That shadowing PINE its old romantic limbs, Which latest shall detain the enamoured sight Seen from below, when eve the valley dims, Tinged yellow with the rich departing light; And haply, basoned in some unsunned cleft,
A beauteous spring, the rock's collected tears, Sleeps sheltered there, scarce wrinkled by the gale! Together thus, the world's vain turmoil left, Stretched on the crag, and shadowed by the pine, And bending o'er the clear delicious fount, Ah! dearest youth! it were a lot divine To cheat our noons in moralizing mood,
While west-winds fanned our temples toil-bedewed: Then downwards slope, oft pausing, from the mount, To some lone mansion, in some woody dale, Where smiling with blue eye, DOMESTIC BLISS Gives this the Husband's, that the Brother's kiss!
Thus rudely versed in allegoric lore,
The Hill of Knowledge I essayed to trace; That verdurous hill with many a resting-place, And
many a stream, whose warbling waters pour To glad, and fertilize the subject plains; That hill with secret springs, and nooks untrod, And many a fancy-blest and holy sod
Where INSPIRATION, his diviner strains Low murmuring, lay; and starting from the rocks Stiff evergreens, whose spreading foliage mocks Want's barren soil, and the bleak frosts of age, And Bigotry's mad fire-invoking rage!
O meek retiring spirit! we will climb, Cheering and cheered, this lovely hill sublime; And from the stirring world up-lifted high, (Whose noises, faintly wafted on the wind, To quiet musings shall attune the mind, And oft the melancholy theme supply)
There, while the prospect through the gazing eye Pours all its healthful greenness on the soul, We'll smile at wealth, and learn to smile at fame, Our hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same, As neighbouring fountains image, each the whole : 'Then when the mind hath drank its fill of truth
We'll discipline the heart to pure delight, Rekindling sober joy's domestic flame.
They whom I love shall love thee. Honoured youth! Now may Heaven realize this vision bright!
WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO PURCELL'S MUSIC.
WHILE my young cheek retains its healthful hues, And I have many friends who hold me dear; L! methinks, I would not often hear Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose All memory of the wrongs and sore distress, For which my miserable brethren weep! But should uncomforted misfortunes steep,
My daily bread in tears and bitterness; And if at death's dread moment I should lie
With no beloved face at my bed-side, To fix the last glance of my closing eye,
Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel-guide, Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!"
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