Some truths, from long experience flowing, Was ne'er the portion of the proud. 'This is the temper most endearing; Though wide proud pomp her banners spreads, An heavenlier power good nature bearing Each heart in willing thraldom leads. 'Taste not from fame's uncertain fountain The peace-destroying streams that flow, Nor from ambition's dangerous mountain Look down upon the world below. The princely pine on hills exalted, Whose lofty branches cleave the sky, By winds, long braved, at last assaulted, Is headlong whirl'd in dust to lie; Whilst the mild rose, more safely growing Amidst retirement's shelter blowing, Exchanges sweets with every gale. Wish not for beauty's darling features, Moulded by nature's fondling power, For fairest forms 'mong human creatures Shine but the pageants of an hour. 'I saw the pride of all the meadow, At noon, a gay Narcissus, blow Upon a river's bank, whose shadow Bloom'd in the silver waves below; 'By noontide's heat its youth was wasted, The waters, as they pass'd, complain'd: At eve its glories all were blasted, And not one former tint remain'd. To guide the traveller on his way; 'But should some hapless wretch, pursuing, There seek the never wasted treasure, If Heaven with children crown your dwelling, The' example you have felt pursue.' . Midst custom's slaves he lived resign'd, He loathed the scenes of guile and strife, To leave this fretful farce of life. Yet to whate'er above was fated For what all bounteous Heaven created, I THE TOMB OF SHAKSPEARE. A Wision. WHAT time the jocund rosy-bosom'd hours On earth's green mantle from his musky wing; The morn unbarr'd the' ambrosial gates of light, Westward the raven-pinion'd darkness flew, The landscape smiled in vernal beauty bright, And to their graves the sullen ghosts withdrew. The nightingale no longer swell'd her throat With lovelorn plainings, tremulous and slow; And on the wings of silence ceased to float The gurgling notes of her melodious woe: The god of sleep mysterious visions led In gay procession 'fore the mental eye, freed soul a while her mansion fled, To try her plumes for immortality. And my Through fields of air methought I took my flight, On Avon's banks I lit, whose streams appear tomb, The year's first feathery songsters warble near, And violets breathe and earliest roses bloom. Here Fancy sat (her dewy fingers cold Decking with flowerets fresh the' unsullied sod) And bathed with tears the sad sepulchral mould, Her favourite offspring's long and last abode. · Ah! what avails (she cried a poet's name? Let gentle Otway, white robed pity's priest, From grief domestic teach the tears to flow; Or Southern captivate the impassion'd breast With heartfelt sighs and sympathy of woe. · For not to these his genius was confined, Nature and I each tuneful power had given, Poetic transports of the maddening mind, And the wing'd words that waft the soul to heaven. The fiery glance of the' intellectual eye, Piercing all objects of creation's store, Which on this world's extended surface lie; And plastic thought that still created more.' O grant (with eager rapture I replied), Grant me, great goddess of the changeful eye! To view each being in poetic pride, To whom thy son gave immortality.' Sweet Fancy smiled and waved her mystic rod, When straight these visions felt her powerful And one by one succeeded at her nod, [arm, As vassal sprites obey the wizard's charm. First a celestial form ' (of azure hue, Whose mantle, bound with brede etherial, flow'd To each soft breeze its balmy breath that drew) Swift down the sunbeams of the noontide rode. Ariel, in the Tempest. |