While west-winds fanned our temples toil-bedewed: 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 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 drunk 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! 1796. L LINES TO W. L. ESQ. WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO HILE my young cheek retains its health- And I have many friends who hold me dear; !methinks, I would not often hear Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angelguide, Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died! ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG MAN OF WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT AND ENCE that fantastic wantonness of woe, go, Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strewed, Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part Was slaughtered, where o'er his uncoffined limbs The flocking flesh-birds screamed! Then, while thy heart Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind) What nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal! O abject! if, to sickly dreams resigned, All effortless thou leave life's common-weal A prey to tyrants, murderers of mankind. SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER. EAR native brook! wild streamlet of the How many various-fated years have past, I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast, Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ray, But straight with all their tints thy waters rise, Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey, And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes, Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled [way, Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! that once more I were a careless child! SONNET. COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796. FT o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll Which makes the present (while the flash doth last) Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past, Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul R Self-questioned in her sleep: and some have said Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve, While we wept idly o'er thy little bier! SONNET, TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME. HARLES! my slow heart was only sad, when first I scanned that face of feeble infancy : For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst All I had been, and all my child might be! But when I saw it on its mother's arm, And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm Impressed a father's kiss: and all beguiled Of dark remembrance and presageful fear, I seemed to see an angel-form appear * Ην που ἡμῶν ἡ ψύχη πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εἴδει γενέσθαι. PLAT. in Phædon. |