Written January 1790.
Tho ' far from Arun's-Vale I rove
The verdant mead, the beechen-grove,
The stream that winds along —
Where first, as many a swain can tell,
I waked the soft melodious shell
And kindled into song;
Yet, pictured on my faithful mind,
In vivid traits exact, refined,
Those varied beauties glow;
The Wood ascends in rural pride,
The Castle frowning o'er the tide
That peaceful glides below.
Now fix'd on Norfolk's bleaky shore,
I hear the German ocean roar
And view the raging main,
As oft at solemn close of day
I steal along the lonesome way,
That skirts the sandy plain:
True to the scenes I once held dear,
I scarce restrain the twinkling tear,
The rising sigh repress,
When Mem'ry from her precious store
Selects those friends, which here no more
My longing eyes shall bless.
O Mem'ry! great immmortal power!
Thy solace in the presenThour,
Can life's dull lapse supply;
Thou lead'st along th' eventful page
From childhood bland, to ripen'd age
The retrospective eye.
Among the scenes of childhood gay
Reverting fancy loves to play
The flowery banks between,
Where tufted thyme, and vi'lets bloom,
And mingling sweet their rich perfume,
Impregn the laughing scene:
She sees the bubbling runnels flow
Brisk issuing from the rock below,
And o'er the bending grass —
Marks how the currents devious glide,
Adown the valley's sloping side
Gay sparkling as they pass.
She sees in yonder sunny glade
That penetrates the sullen shade,
Alcanors' graceful form,
With Portia, — whose collected mind,
To all the ills of life resign'd,
Contemn'd the adverse storm.
Descending on the nether plain
Lo! many a nymph, and many a swain
Her eager eyes regale!
The carol that Eliza sung —
As recent from her tuneful tongue,
Still vibrates in the vale:
Alonzo marks the warbling notes,
And swells the descant as it floats
With minstrelsy sublime!
Companions of my youthful days,
How fancy loves to thrid the maze,
Obscured by misty time!
Where are your gentle spirits flown?
To distant regions all unknown,
From whose sequester'd bourn
No traveller returns, — to say —
How fares the pilgrim on his way,
From earthly comforts torn.
To cheer the span that lies between
The present and the closing scene,
And life's mix'd coil defy —
To smooth the rugged path below,
And open thro' this vale of woe
" A visto to the sky " —
Be this, O sacred Muse thy care,
With pious strains my mind prepare
To meet th' angelic throng:
That when the spirit takes its flight,
In fields of empyrean height!
I catch the heavenly song.
Tho ' far from Arun's-Vale I rove
The verdant mead, the beechen-grove,
The stream that winds along —
Where first, as many a swain can tell,
I waked the soft melodious shell
And kindled into song;
Yet, pictured on my faithful mind,
In vivid traits exact, refined,
Those varied beauties glow;
The Wood ascends in rural pride,
The Castle frowning o'er the tide
That peaceful glides below.
Now fix'd on Norfolk's bleaky shore,
I hear the German ocean roar
And view the raging main,
As oft at solemn close of day
I steal along the lonesome way,
That skirts the sandy plain:
True to the scenes I once held dear,
I scarce restrain the twinkling tear,
The rising sigh repress,
When Mem'ry from her precious store
Selects those friends, which here no more
My longing eyes shall bless.
O Mem'ry! great immmortal power!
Thy solace in the presenThour,
Can life's dull lapse supply;
Thou lead'st along th' eventful page
From childhood bland, to ripen'd age
The retrospective eye.
Among the scenes of childhood gay
Reverting fancy loves to play
The flowery banks between,
Where tufted thyme, and vi'lets bloom,
And mingling sweet their rich perfume,
Impregn the laughing scene:
She sees the bubbling runnels flow
Brisk issuing from the rock below,
And o'er the bending grass —
Marks how the currents devious glide,
Adown the valley's sloping side
Gay sparkling as they pass.
She sees in yonder sunny glade
That penetrates the sullen shade,
Alcanors' graceful form,
With Portia, — whose collected mind,
To all the ills of life resign'd,
Contemn'd the adverse storm.
Descending on the nether plain
Lo! many a nymph, and many a swain
Her eager eyes regale!
The carol that Eliza sung —
As recent from her tuneful tongue,
Still vibrates in the vale:
Alonzo marks the warbling notes,
And swells the descant as it floats
With minstrelsy sublime!
Companions of my youthful days,
How fancy loves to thrid the maze,
Obscured by misty time!
Where are your gentle spirits flown?
To distant regions all unknown,
From whose sequester'd bourn
No traveller returns, — to say —
How fares the pilgrim on his way,
From earthly comforts torn.
To cheer the span that lies between
The present and the closing scene,
And life's mix'd coil defy —
To smooth the rugged path below,
And open thro' this vale of woe
" A visto to the sky " —
Be this, O sacred Muse thy care,
With pious strains my mind prepare
To meet th' angelic throng:
That when the spirit takes its flight,
In fields of empyrean height!
I catch the heavenly song.