Classic Poem

Neglected now the early daisy lies,
Nor thou, pale primrose, bloom'st the only prize;
Advancing spring profusely spreads abroad
Flow'rs of all hues, with sweetest fragrance stored.
Where'er she treads, love gladdens every plain,
Delight on tiptoe bears her lucid train,
Sweet hope with conscious brow before her flies,
Anticipating wealth from summer skies.
All nature feels her renovating sway,
The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow gay,
And trees and shrubs, no longer budding seen,
Display the new-grown branch of lighter green.
On airy downs the shepherd idling lies,
And sees tomorrow in the marbled skies;
Here then, my soul, thy darling theme pursue,
For every day was Giles a shepherd too.
Small was his charge—no wilds had they to roam,
But bright enclosures circling round their home.
Nor yellow-blossomed furze, nor stubborn thorn
(The heath's rough produce) had their fleeces torn;
Yet ever roving, ever seeking thee,
Enchanting spirit, dear variety!
Oh happy tenants, prisoners of a day,
Released to ease, to pleasure, and to play!
Indulged through every field by turns to range,
And taste them all in one continual change—
For though luxuriant their grassy food,
Sheep long confined but loathe the present good;
Instinctively they haunt the homeward gate,
And starve and pine with plenty at their feet.
Loosed from the winding lane, a joyful throng,
See, o'er yon pasture how they pour along!
Giles round their boundaries takes his usual stroll,
Sees every pass secured, and fences whole—
High fences, proud to charm the gazing eye,
Where many a nestling first assays to fly;
Where blows the woodbine, faintly streaked with red,
And rests on every bough its tender head;
Round the young ash its twining branches meet,
Or crown the hawthorn with its odours sweet.
Say, ye that know, ye who have felt and seen
Spring's morning smiles, and soul-enliv'ning green,
Say, did you give the thrilling transport way?
Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play
Leaped o'er your path with animated pride,
Or gazed in merry clusters by your side?
Ye who can smile (to wisdom no disgrace)
At the arch meaning of a kitten's face,
If spotless innocence and infant mirth
Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth;
In shades like these pursue your fav'rite joy,
Midst nature's revels, sports that never cloy.
A few begin a short but vigorous race,
And indolence abashed soon flies the place;
Thus challenged forth, see thither one by one,
From every side assembling playmates run.
A thousand wily antics mark their stay,
A starting crowd impatient of delay;
Like the fond dove from fearful prison freed,
Each seems to say, ‘Come, let us try our speed!’
Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong,
The green turf trembling as they bound along;
Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb,
Where every molehill is a bed of thyme;
There panting stop, yet scarcely can refrain—
A bird, a leaf, will set them off again!
Or if a gale with strength unusual blow,
Scatt'ring the wild-brier roses into snow,
Their little limbs increasing efforts try,
Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly.
Ah, fallen rose, sad emblem of their doom;
Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom!
Though unoffending innocence may plead,
Though frantic ewes may mourn the savage deed,
Their shepherd comes, a messenger of blood,
And drives them bleating from their sports and food.
Care loads his brow, and pity wrings his heart,
For lo, the murd'ring butcher with his cart
Demands the firstlings of his flock to die,
And makes a sport of life and liberty!
His gay companions Giles beholds no more—
Closed are their eyes, their fleeces drenched in gore;
Nor can compassion, with her softest notes,
Withhold the knife that plunges through their throats.
Down, indignation! Hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way
Beneath approaching summer's fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is universal joy.