Classic Poem

— Exulting Beauty, — phantom of an hour,
— — Whose magic spells enchain the heart,
— Ah! what avails thy fascinating pow'r,
— — Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art?
— — — Thy lip, where balmy nectar glows;
— — — Thy cheek, where round the damask rose
— — A thousand nameless Graces move,
— — — Thy mildly speaking azure eyes,
— — Thy golden hair, where cunning Love
— — — In many a mazy ringlet lies?
— — Soon as thy radiant form is seen,
— — Thy native blush, thy timid mien,
— Thy hour is past! thy charms are vain!
— Ill-Nature haunts thee with her sallow train,
— Mean Jealousy deceives thy list'ning ear,
And Slander stains thy cheek with many a bitter tear.

— In calm retirement form'd to dwell,
— — Nature, thy handmaid fair and kind,
— — For thee, a beauteous garland twin'd;
— The vale-nurs'd Lily's downcast bell
— — Thy modest mien display'd,
— The snow-drop, April's meekest child,
— With myrtle blossoms undefil'd,
— — Thy mild and spotless mind pourtray'd;
— Dear blushing maid, of cottage birth,
— — 'Twas thine, o'er dewy meads to stray,
— While sparkling health, and frolic mirth,
— — Led on thy laughing Day.

— Lur'd by the babbling tongue of Fame,
— Too soon, insidious Flatt'ry came;
— — Flush'd Vanity her footsteps led,
— — — To charm thee from thy blest repose,
— — While Fashion twin'd about thy head
— — — A wreath of wounding woes;
— See Dissipation smoothly glide,
— Cold Apathy, and puny Pride,
Capricious Fortune, dull, and blind,
— O'er splendid Folly throws her veil,
— While Envy's meagre tribe assail
Thy gentle form, and spotless mind.

— Their spells prevail! no more those eyes
— — Shoot undulating fires;
— On thy wan cheek, the young rose dies,
— — Thy lip's deep tint expires;
— Dark Melancholy chills thy mind;
— — Thy silent tear reveals thy woe;
Time strews with thorns thy mazy way,
Where'er thy giddy footsteps stray,
— Thy thoughtless heart is doom'd to find
— — An unrelenting foe.

— 'Tis thus, the infant Forest flow'r
— — Bespangled o'er with glitt'ring dew,
— At breezy morn's refreshing hour,
— — Glows with pure tints of varying hue,
Beneath an aged oak's wide spreading shade,
Where no rude winds, or beating storms invade.
— Transplanted from its lonely bed,
— — No more it scatters perfumes round,
— No more it rears its gentle head,
— — Or brightly paints the mossy ground;
— For ah! the beauteous bud, too soon,
— — Scorch'd by the burning eye of day;
— Shrinks from the sultry glare of noon,
— — Droops its enamell'd brow, and blushing, dies away.

— Exulting Beauty, — phantom of an hour,
— — Whose magic spells enchain the heart,
— Ah! what avails thy fascinating pow'r,
— — Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art?
— — — Thy lip, where balmy nectar glows;
— — — Thy cheek, where round the damask rose
— — A thousand nameless Graces move,
— — — Thy mildly speaking azure eyes,
— — Thy golden hair, where cunning Love
— — — In many a mazy ringlet lies?
— — Soon as thy radiant form is seen,
— — Thy native blush, thy timid mien,
— Thy hour is past! thy charms are vain!
— Ill-Nature haunts thee with her sallow train,
— Mean Jealousy deceives thy list'ning ear,
And Slander stains thy cheek with many a bitter tear.

— In calm retirement form'd to dwell,
— — Nature, thy handmaid fair and kind,
— — For thee, a beauteous garland twin'd;
— The vale-nurs'd Lily's downcast bell
— — Thy modest mien display'd,
— The snow-drop, April's meekest child,
— With myrtle blossoms undefil'd,
— — Thy mild and spotless mind pourtray'd;
— Dear blushing maid, of cottage birth,
— — 'Twas thine, o'er dewy meads to stray,
— While sparkling health, and frolic mirth,
— — Led on thy laughing Day.

— Lur'd by the babbling tongue of Fame,
— Too soon, insidious Flatt'ry came;
— — Flush'd Vanity her footsteps led,
— — — To charm thee from thy blest repose,
— — While Fashion twin'd about thy head
— — — A wreath of wounding woes;
— See Dissipation smoothly glide,
— Cold Apathy, and puny Pride,
Capricious Fortune, dull, and blind,
— O'er splendid Folly throws her veil,
— While Envy's meagre tribe assail
Thy gentle form, and spotless mind.

— Their spells prevail! no more those eyes
— — Shoot undulating fires;
— On thy wan cheek, the young rose dies,
— — Thy lip's deep tint expires;
— Dark Melancholy chills thy mind;
— — Thy silent tear reveals thy woe;
Time strews with thorns thy mazy way,
Where'er thy giddy footsteps stray,
— Thy thoughtless heart is doom'd to find
— — An unrelenting foe.

— 'Tis thus, the infant Forest flow'r
— — Bespangled o'er with glitt'ring dew,
— At breezy morn's refreshing hour,
— — Glows with pure tints of varying hue,
Beneath an aged oak's wide spreading shade,
Where no rude winds, or beating storms invade.
— Transplanted from its lonely bed,
— — No more it scatters perfumes round,
— No more it rears its gentle head,
— — Or brightly paints the mossy ground;
— For ah! the beauteous bud, too soon,
— — Scorch'd by the burning eye of day;
— Shrinks from the sultry glare of noon,
— — Droops its enamell'd brow, and blushing, dies away.