Classic Poem

Written in the Park of Wentworth-House, the seat of Earl Fitzwilliam, on being told that the oaks on Temple Hill were sown by Lord Milton, when three years old.

Here, rosy Light, with purest influence shine,
Here, zephyrs bland with cheering dews combine,
And latent rills, and vernal rains, to swell
The silky leaf beyond its wintry cell:
And ye, who weave the woodlands summer-bowers,
Here bend your steps ye fair etherial powers!
On this bright slope, with plastic fingers, guide
These youthful oaks to mount in sylvan pride;
Save them, sweet guardians, when mid polar snows
The Sire of Storms awakes from dread repose,
Yokes the fierce tempests to his howling car,
And calls, with thundering voice, the elements to war.
Shield their young boles, when o'er the snowy waste
In rapid triumph rides the arrowy blast;
Watch, when the swollen spring o'erleaps its bound
And robs their infant roots of fostering mound;
Guard their soft buds from mildew's baleful power,
And Jove's red bolt in heaven's indignant hour:
Nurse, and protect them, till revolving time
On this fair summit sees them rise sublime,
With grace superior this sweet scene adorn,
And yield their shade to Wentworths yet unborn.
And when in full perfection's height they stand,
Waving their ample boughs, serenely grand,
O may they bloom true emblems of his worth
Who gave their embryos to the genial earth,
While yet his little feet uncertain trod
Timid and slow along the grassy sod.
Such be the beauty of his mind matur'd,
By taste embellish'd, and to toil inur'd,
Expanded by Religion's sacred rays,
Enrich'd by classic lore of ancient days,
His bosom girt with Truth's celestial zone,
His youthful lips her pure and living throne,
Where sterling sense shall charm in mild Persuasion's tone!
Thus, deck'd with every precious gift of Health,
High on the pedestal of Rank and Wealth,
Long may he tower, unshaken in his place,
Like the Patrician-Oak, his country's strength and grace!