Nibbling the water lilies as they pass, Long may they roam these hermit waves, that sleep Where, though her far-off twilight ditty steal, Long grafs and willows form the woven wall, And swings above the roof the poplar tall. Thence iffuing oft unwieldy as they stalk, They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk; Safe from your door ye hear at breezy morn The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn; No ruder found your desert haunts invades Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys careffed, Haply fome wretch has eyed, and called thee bleffed ; I fee her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or ftraw-built shed, By pointing to a shooting star on high. When low-hung clouds each star of fummer hide, And fireless are the valleys far and wide, Where the brook brawls along the public road Dark with bat-haunted afhes ftretching broad, Oft has she taught them on her lap to play Delighted with the glowworm's harmlefs ray, Tofs light from hand to hand, while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around. Oh! when the bitter fhowers her path affail, And roars between the hills the torrent gale; No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! Prefs the fad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears; No tears can chill them, and no bofom warms, Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms! Sweet are the founds that mingle from afar, Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the folemn colouring of night; 'Mid groves of clouds that creft the mountain's brow, And round the weft's proud lodge their fhadows throw, Like Una fhining on her gloomy way, The half-feen form of Twilight roams aftray; Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and small, -The lights are vanished from the watery plains: And ever, as we fondly mufe, we find The foft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind. The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed, From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon Salute with boding note the rifing moon, Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground, And pouring deeper blue to Æther's bound; And pleased, her folemn pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold. See o'er the eastern hill, where darkness broods Far to the western flopes with hamlets white: Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's own morn, 'Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; Yet does fhe ftill, undaunted throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile. Even now fhe decks for me a distant scene, (For dark and broad the gulf of time between,) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray, (Sole bourn, fole wish, fole object of my way; How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear; How sweet its ftreamlet murmurs in mine ear!) Where we, my Friend, to happy days fhall rise, 'Till our small share of hardly-paining fighs (For fighs will ever trouble human breath) Creep hufhed into the tranquil breaft of death. |