Classic Poem

What time fair Spring, with dewy hand,
Awakes her cowslip bloom;
And hawthorn boughs, by breezes fann'd,
Diffuse a rich perfume:

Young Theron down the valley stray'd
At evening's silent hour;
When bright the setting sumbeams play'd
On Hertford's distant tower.

He sigh'd, and cast around his eye
O'er all the pleasing scene;
Now tow'rds the golden-clouded sky,
Now on the fields of green.

" Thrice has fair Spring her cowslip bloom
Awak'd with dewy hand;
And hawthorn boughs diffus'd perfume,
By western breezes fan'd;

" Since here, at evening's silent hour,
Delighted oft I stray'd;
While bright on Hertford's distant tower
The setting sunbeams play'd:

" 'Twas then the flatterer Hope was near,
And sung this soothing strain:
" Where through the trees yon tow'rs appear
Far o'er the level plain;

" " There oft thy pleasant evening-walk
Thy favourite Maid shall join,
And all the charms of tender talk
And tuneful song be thine:

" " With thee she'll hear the bleat of flocks,
The throstle's mellow lay;
The rills that murmur o'er the rocks,
The whispers of the spray. "

" So sung false Hope — Deceiv'd I heard,
And set my heart at ease;
The future then so fair appear'd,
It made the present please.

" So sung false Hope — The' approaching years,
That distant look'd so gay,
With clouds of cares and storms of fears
All fraught, have pass'd away.

" As glides yon sun adown the sky,
As rolls yon rapid stream;
So fast our joys and sorrows fly,
And, flown, appear a dream.

" Be then the' events that Time has brought,
To me not brought in vain;
By painful disappointment taught,
Let wisdom be my gain!"

Thus Theron spoke, and earnest eyed
The sun's departing ray;
Again he look'd, again he sigh'd,
And homeward bent his way.