With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, O Luxury! thou curst by heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own. At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe: Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Ev'n now the devastation is begun, Down where yon anch'ring vessels spread the sail, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. And kind connubial tenderness are there; And piety, with wishes plac'd above, FOUR ELEGIES; DESCRIPTIVE AND MORAL. SCOTT. ELEGY I. WRITTEN AT THE APPROACH OF SPRING. STERN Winter hence with all his train removes; Yet lovelier scenes shall crown th' advancing year, O fancy, paint not coming days too fair! But should kind spring her wonted bounty show'r I shun the scenes where madd'ning passion raves; The grassy lane, the wood-surrounded field, The clay-built cot, to me more pleasure yield And yet ev'n here, amid these secret shades, And death's dread dart is ever in my sight. While genial suns to genial show'rs succeed, (The air all mildness, and the earth all bloom) While herds and flocks range sportive o'er the mead, Crop the sweet herb, and snuff the rich perfume; O why alone to hapless man deny'd To taste the bliss inferior beings boast ? O why this fate, that fear and pain divide His few short hours on earth's delightful coast? Ah cease—no more of Providence complain ! 'Tis sense of guilt that wakes the mind to woe, Gives force to fear, adds energy to pain, And palls each joy by Heav'n indulg'd below: Why else the smiling infant-train so blest, Ere dear-bought knowledge ends the peace within, Or wild desire inflames the youthful breast, Or ill propension ripens into sin ? As to the bleating tenants of the field, As to the sportive warblers on the trees, To them their joys sincere the seasons yield, And all their days and all their prospects please! Such joys were mine when from the peopled streets, Where on THAMESIS' banks I liv'd immur'd, The new-blown fields, that breath'd a thousand sweets, TO SURRY'S wood-crown'd hills my steps allur'd. O happy hours, beyond recov'ry fled! What share I now," that can your loss repay," While o'er my mind these glooms of thought are spread, And veil the light of life's meridian ray? |