Pleasure arifing from Viciffitude.
Waves her dew-befpangled wing,
With vermil cheek, and whifper foft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The fleeping fragrance from the ground
And lightly o'er the living fcene
Scatters his freshest, tendereft green.
New-born flocks, in ruftic dance,
Frifking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief the Sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling extacy;
And leffening from the dazzled fight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
I 2
Rife, my Soul! on wings of fire,
Rife the rapt'rous Choir among ;
Hark! 'tis Nature ftrikes the Lyre,
And leads the general fong:
Warm let the lyric transport flow,
Warm, as the ray that bids it glow:
And animates the vernal grove
With health, with harmony and love.
Yefterday the fullen year
Saw the fnowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the mufic of the air,
The herd food drooping by :
Their raptures now that wildly flow,
No yesterday, nor morrow know;
"Tis Man alone that joy defcries
With forward, and reverted eyes.
Smiles on paft Misfortune's brow
Soft Reflection's hand can trace;
And o'er the cheek of Sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While Hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lower
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of diftant day.
Still, where rofy Pleafure leads,
See a kindred Grief pursue ;
Behind the steps that Mifery treads
Approaching Comfort view:
The hues of blifs more brightly glow,
Chaftis'd by fabler tints of woe;
And blended form, with artful ftrife,
The ftrength and harmony of life.
See the Wretch, that long has toft
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour loft,
And breathe, and walk again :
The meaneft floweret of the vale,
The fimpleft note that fwells the gale,
The common fun, the air, the kies,
To Him are opening Paradise.
Humble Quiet builds her cell,
Near the fource whence Pleafure flows;
She eyes the clear cryftalline well,
And taftes it as it goes.
While far below the madding Croud
Rufh headlong to the dangerous flood,
Where broad and turbulent it fweeps,
And perish in the boundless deeps.
*So Milton accents the word:
On the crystalline sky, in fapphire thron'd.
Mark where Indolence, and Pride,
Sooth'd by Flattery's tinkling found,
Go, foftly rolling, fide by fide,
Their dull, but daily round:
To thefe, if Hebe's felf fhould bring
The pureft cup from Pleafure's fpring,
Say, can they tafte the flavour high
Of fober, fimple, genuine Joy?
Mark Ambition's march fublime
Up to Power's meridian height ;
While pale-ey'd Envy fees him climb,
And fickens at the fight.
Phantoms of Danger, Death, and Dread,
Float hourly round Ambition's head;
While Spleen, within his rival's breaft,
Sits brooding on her fcorpion neft.
Happier he, the Peafant, far,
From the pangs of Paffion free,
That breathes the keen yet wholefome air
Of rugged Penury.
He, when his morning task is done,
Can flumber in the noontide fun;
And hie him home, at evening's clofe,
To fweet repaft, and calm repose.
He, unconfcious whence the blifs,
Feels and owns in carols rude,
That all the circling joys are his
Of dear Viciffitude.
From toil he wins his fpirits light,
From bufy day, the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
In Heav'n's beft treafures, Peace and Health.
|