Classic Poem

Addressed to the Rev. H. LL — D, on his Poem entitled — " S WAFFHAM Jubilee , " April 23, 1789

F ROM the forest, and furze-skirted plain,
Where ease and simplicity dwell,
Soft warbles the wild-flowing strain,
That fancy attunes to the shell:
I sit at the foot of a tree,
And pour forth my song to the gale,
But Zephyr shall wast it to thee,
As he skims o'er the thyme-tufted vale:

He often invites me to sing
In artless accord with his lyre,
Slow murmurs the quivering string
As his pinions approach to the wire;
Then sweet are the strains to the ear —
When Zephyr assists in the lay;
The shepherds flock round me to hear,
Their lambkins all carelessly play.

O Strephon, thy sweet-flowing song,
To beauty, and merit consign'd,
Thro' ages thy fame shall prolong,
And stamp its fair traits on the mind:
With truth, and conciseness imprest
Thy numbers harmoniously flow,
Thou wakest to sweet transport the breast,
And strikest the deep measures of woe.

You feel the bright charm that inspires,
You give to sage merit its due,
Beware of the beauty that fires —
It steals on a poet like you:
We sport with the arrows of Love,
He laughs at our folly unseen,
I heard him, ere while, in the grove,
As I fat on the verge of the green:

I saw him at blush of the morn,
Shake the dew from his quivering wing,
He perch'd on a twig of the thorn,
While the lark was essaying to sing,
Then sprang thro' the regions of air;
To Swaffham directed his flight;
You'll find the sly wanderer there
When Hesperus leads on the night:

Alert to the ball-room he flies,
Where beauty and harmony reign;
Takes his station in Mar — n's bright eyes:
The pride of our rural domain!
When summer comes laughing along,
She gladdens our village and grove,
The woodlands are vocal with song,
And sweet sounds the carol of love.

The praises of Th — pe you rehearse,
The Muses unite in her praise,
The subject ennobles the verse,
With rapture we dwell on the lays!
Her music impassioned, we hear,
Sweet compound of nature and art!
It steals on the listening ear,
And swells with warm transport the heart.

And B — ch — ry, skilful to trace,
The planets that radiate on high,
Whose mind skims the wonderful space,
The boundless expanse of the sky!
Whose heart still attent to the poor,
Seeks out the wan object distrest,
Who ne'er from her sheltering door,
Return'd with deep anguish opprest.

To Wh — te when you cheerfully sing
I honor the subject you chuse;
A chaplet, the first of the spring,
She'll accept from the hand of thy muse:
All chaste as its infantine bloom
Is the taste in her manners defined,
And rich as its mingled perfume
The virtues that gladden her mind.

When you tune the sad numbers to Lee —
How truly pathetic they flow!
What mind unaffected can see
The gloomy presages of woe?
O cease the sad cause to deplore,
Each blessing has still its alloy;
Ah, dwell on misfortune no more;
The season awakes us to joy.

Come see with the sparkling throng
Diana, the queen of the chace,
She comes with the dance and the song,
She moves, — and each motion is grace!
She sweeps the soft strings of her lyre,
Chaste harmony hovers around!
She warbles — the echoing wire
Returns the just concords of sound.

Attend to the measures she sings —
Her subject is passion refined,
Her language persuasively brings
Calm peace, and content to the mind;
For pleasures more lasting, and true,
She flies the rude champaign, and grove;
To share in the village with you —
The social endearments of love.