Samuel Rogers
As thro' the hedge-row shade the violet steals, And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals; Her softer charms, but by their influence known,
Once more, enchanting girl, adieu! I must be gone while yet I may, Oft shall I weep to think of you;
Mine be a cot beside the hill, A bee-hive's hum shall sooth my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
Villula,..........et pauper agelle, Me tibi, et hos un' mecum, et quos semper amavi, Commendo.
Shepherd, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner, Whate'er thou art, who wouldst allay thy thirst, Drink and be glad. This cistern of white stone,
Dear is my little native vale, The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale
Caged in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake When the hern screams along the distant lake, Her little heart oft flutters to be free,
Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said, When piping winds are hush'd around, A small note wakes from underground,
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees. The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon, Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,
While on the cliff with calm delight she kneels, And the blue vales a thousand joys recall, See, to the last, last verge her infant steals!
Love, under Friendship's vesture white, Laughs, his little limbs concealing; And oft in sport, and oft in spite,
I. 1. Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence! Thy chain of adamant can bind
Sleep on, and dream of Heav'n awhile. Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still seem to smile,
Oh! that the Chemist's magic art Could crystallize this sacred treasure! Long should it glitter near my heart,
Oh could my Mind, unfolded in my page, Enlighten climes and mould a future age; There as it glow'd, with noblest frenzy fraught,
The sun-beams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountain's brow: With hounds and horns the hunters rise,
Hoc est Vivere bis, vit' posse priore frui. MART. Dolce sentier.......
Delle cose custode, e dispensiera. TASSO. ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART.
The Sailor sighs as sinks his native shore, As all its lessening turrets bluely fade; He climbs the mast to feast his eye once more,
CHI SE' TU, CHE VIENI----? DA ME STESSO NON VEGNO. DANTE.
Ah! little thought she, when, with wild delight, By many a torrent's shining track she flew, When mountain-glens and caverns full of night
On thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew. Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers;
Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor? A'ris et lingua sum filia; Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum. AUSONIUS.
Immota manet; multosque nepotes, Multa vir'm volvens durando s'cula, vincit. VIRG. Round thee, alas, no shadows move!
Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, Mingling with her thou lov'st in fields of light; And, where the flowers of paradise unfold,
And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone, (Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd) Still sit as on the fragment of a world;
When by the green-wood side, at summer eve, Poetic visions charm my closing eye; And fairy-scenes, that Fancy loves to weave,
Ah! why with tell-tale tongue reveal [1] What most her blushes would conceal? Why lift that modest veil to trace
Well may you sit within, and, fond of grief, Look in each other's face, and melt in tears. Well may you shun all counsel, all relief.
Whoe'er thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, Mark where the small remains of Greatness lie.[2] There sleeps the dust of Him for ever gone;
Yes, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain! I wake, I breathe, and am myself again. Still in this nether world; no seraph yet!
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs, And my step falters on the faithless floor, Shades of departed joys around me rise,
There, in that bed so closely curtain'd round, Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay, A father sleeps! Oh hush'd be every sound!
Blue was the loch, [1] the clouds were gone, Ben-Lomond in his glory shone, When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze
