BOW THEN TO HIM, the LORD of ALL,
Whose nod bids empires rise and fall,
EARTH, HEAV'N, and NATURE'S SIRE;
To HIM, Who, matchless and alone,
Has fix'd in boundless space His throne,
Unchang'd, unchanging still, while worlds and suns ex-
pire !
Senza l'amabile
Dio di Citera,
I di non torano
Di primavera;
Non spira un zeffiro,
Non spunta un fior.-METASTASIO.
O chase the clouds of life's tempestuous hours,
To strew its short but weary way with flow'rs,
New hopes to raise, new feelings to impart,
And pour celestial balsam on the heart;
For this to man was lovely woman giv'n,
The last, best work, the noblest gift of HEAV'N.
At EDEN'S gate, as ancient legends say,
The flaming sword for ever bars the way;
Not ours to taste the joys our parents shar'd,
But pitying NATURE half our loss repair'd,
Our wounds to heal, our murmurs to remove,
She left mankind the PARADISE of LOVE.
All-conqu'ring LOVE! thy pow'rful reign surrounds
Man's wildest haunts, and earth's remotest bounds:
Alike for thee th' untainted bosom glows
'Mid eastern sands and hyperborean snows:
Thy darts unerring fly with strong control,
Tame the most stern, and nerve the softest soul,
Check the swift savage of the sultry zone,
And bend the monarch on his glitt'ring throne.
When wakeful MEMORY bids the mind explore The half-hid deeds of years that are no more, How few the scenes her hand can picture there Of heart-felt bliss untroubled by a care! Yet many a charm can pow'rful FANCY raise, To point the smiling path of future days; There too will HOPE her genial influence blend, Faithless, but kind; a flatt'rer, but a friend.
But most to cheer the lover's lonely hours,
Creative FANCY wakes her magic pow'rs;
Most strongly pours, by ardent love refin'd,
Her brightest visions on the youthful mind.
Hence, when at eve with lonely steps I rove
The flow'r-enamell'd plain or dusky grove,
Or press the bank with grassy tufts o'erspread,
Where the brook murmurs o'er its pebbly bed;
Then steals thy form, ROSALIA, on my sight,
In artless charms pre-eminently bright:
By HOPE inspir'd, my raptur'd thoughts engage
To trace the lines of FATE's mysterious page
At once in air, the past, the present, fade;
In fairy-tints the future stands display'd;
No clouds arise, no shadows intervene,
To veil or dim the visionary scene.
Within the sacred altar's mystic shade, I see thee stand, in spotless white array'd; I hear thee there thy home, thy name resign, I hear the awful vow that seals thee mine. Not on my birth propitious FORTUNE smil'd, Nor proud AMBITION mark'd me for her child; For me no dome with festal splendour shines; No pamper'd lacquies spread their length'ning lines No venal crowds my nod obsequious wait; No summer-friends besiege my narrow gate; Joys such as these, if joys indeed they be, Indulgent NATURE ne'er design'd for me: I ask them not: she play'd a kinder part : She gave a nobler gift, ROSALIA's heart.
The simple dwelling by affection rear'd; The smiling plains, by calm content endear'd;
The classic book-case, deck'd with learning's store,
Rich in historic truth, and bardic lore;
The garden-walks, in NATURE's liv'ry dress'd;
Will these suffice to make ROSALIA bless'd?
And will she never feel a wish to roam
Beyond the limits of our rural home?
How sweet, when SPRING has crown'd, by genial show'rs,
The woods with verdure, and the fields with flow'rs,
When fleeting SUMMER holds his burning reign,,
Or fruitful AUTUMN nods with golden grain,
With thee, dear girl, each well-known path to tread,
Where blooming shrubs their richest odours shed,
With thee to mark the seasons' bright career,
The varied blessings of the rip'ning year.
When frost-crown'd WINTER binds the earth in chains,
And pours his snow-storms on the whit'ning plains,
Then shall the pow'r of constant LOVE be found,
To chase the deep'ning gloom that low'rs around.
Beside the cheerful fire's familiar blaze,
Shall MEMORY trace the deeds of long past days;
Of those propitious hours when first I strove
To win thy gentle ear with tales of love,
When, while thy angel-blushes half-conceal'd
The kind consent thy bashful smiles reveal'd,
From those bright eyes a soft expression stole,
That spoke the silent language of the soul.
Or haply then the poet's song may cheer The dark death-season of th' accomplish'd year: Together then we'll roam the sacred plain, Where the bright NINE in ceaseless glory reign; By HOMER led, through TROJAN battles sweep; With VIRGIL cleave the tempest-beaten deep; Trace the bold flights of SHAKESPEARE'S muse of fire; Strike the wild chords of GRAY's enraptur'd lyre; From MILTON learn with holy zeal to glow; Or weep with OSSIAN o'er a tale of woe. Nor less shall MUSIC charm: her pow'r sublime Shall oft beguile the ling'ring steps of TIME:
Then, as I watch, while my ROSALIA sings,
Her seraph fingers sweep the sounding strings,
In soft response to sorrow's melting lay,
Or joy's loud swell, that steals our cares away,
My heart shall vibrate to the heav'nly sound,
And bless the stars our mutual fates that bound.
And oft, when darkness veils the stormy skies,
Beneath our roof shall FRIENDSHIP's voice arise;
On ev'ry breast her sacred influence pour'd,
Shall crown with gen'rous mirth our social board;
The chosen few, to TASTE and VIRTUE dear,
Shall meet a welcome, simple, but sincere.
Not from our door, his humble pray'r denied,
The friendless man shall wander unsupplied;
Ne'er shall the wretch, whom fortune's ills assail,
Tell there in vain his melancholy tale :
Thy heart, where NATURE'S noblest feelings glow,
Will throb to heal the bending stranger's woe;
On mercy's errand wilt thou oft explore
The crazy dwellings of the neighb'ring poor,
To blunt the stings of want's unsparing rage,
To smooth the short and painful path of age,
The childless widow's drooping head to raise,
And cheer her soul with hopes of better days:
For thee the pray'r affliction's child shall frame,
And lisping orphans bless ROSALIA's name.
Soon shall new objects thy affection share,
New hopes, new duties claim ROSALIA's care.
How will thy anxious eye exulting trace
The charms and virtues of thy infant-race!
Thy tender hand with sense and taste refin'd
Shall stamp each impulse of the rip'ning mind,
And early teach their little steps to stray
Through VIRTUE's paths, and WISDOM's flow'ry way.
Thus may our lives in one smooth tenor flow; Possess'd of thee, I ask no more below. That constant love, which bless'd with genial rays The bright and happy spring-time of our days, Shall still dispel the clouds of woe and strife
From the full summer of progressive life.
The hand of TIME may quench the ardent fire
Of rising passion, and of young desire;
But that pure flame esteem first taught to burn
Can only perish in the silent urn.
And when the last, the solemn hour draws near,
That bids us part from all that charm'd us here,
Then on our thoughts the heav'nly hope shall rise,
To meet in higher bliss, in better skies,
In those bright mansions of the just above,
Where all is RAPTURE, INNOCENCE, and LOVE.
MARIA'S RETURN TO HER NATIVE COTTAGE.
[First published in 1806.]
Si perda la vita,
Finisca il martire;
E meglio morire,
Che viver cosi.-METASTASIO.
HE whit'ning ground
In frost is bound;
The snow is swiftly falling;
While coldly blows the northern breeze,
And whistles through the leafless trees,
In hollow sounds appalling.
On this cold plain,
Now reach'd with pain,
Once stood my father's dwelling:
Where smiling pleasure once was found,
Now desolation frowns around,
And wintry blasts are yelling.
Hope's visions wild
My thoughts beguil'd,
My earliest days delighting,
Till unsuspected treach'ry came,
Beneath affection's specious name,
The lovely prospect blighting.
With many a wile
Of blackest guile
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