XVIII. Th' exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,. To him nor vanity nor joy could bring. His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed To work the wo of any living thing, By trap, or net; by arrow or by sling; These he detested, those he scorn'd to wield: He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king, And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. XIX. Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves And sees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves, Would Edwin this majestic scene resign For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies? Ah! no he better knows great Nature's charms to prize. XX. And oft he traced the uplands, to survey, When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn, But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile. XXI. And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound! XXII. In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, XXIII. "O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!" (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.) "Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, "Of late so grateful in the hour of drought! "Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought "To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake? "Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought? "For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, "And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake. *Brightness, splendour. The word is used by some late writers, as well as by Milton. XXIV. "Where now the rill melodious, pure, and cool, "And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty crown'd! “Ah! see, th' unsightly slime, and sluggish pool, "Have all the solitary vale imbrown'd; "Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound. "The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray. "And, hark! the river, bursting every mound, "Down the vale thunders; and with wasteful sway "Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away. XXV. "Yet such the destiny of all on earth: "Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time, "Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime. XXVI. "And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, "Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn, "But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, "Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. "Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return? "Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? "Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, "And spring shall soon her vital influence shed, "Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead. XXVII. "Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, "When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive? "Shall nature's voice to man alone unjust, "Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live? "Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive "With disappointment, penury, and pain? "No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive; "And man's majestic beauty bloom again, "Bright thro' th' eternal year of love's triumphant reign." |