But, hail the calm reality, Hail the Heavenly bowers of peace, And the spirit sinks to ease, Lull'd by distant symphonies. Oh! to think of meeting there The friends whose graves receiv'd our tear, The daughter lov'd, the wife ador'd, To our widow'd arms restor'd; And all the joys which death did sever, Given to us again for ever! Who would cling to wretched life, MUSIC, Written between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, with a few subsequent verbal alterations. MUSIC, all powerful o'er the human mind, At her command the various passions lie; Her martial sounds can fainting troops inspire Urge on the warrior grey with length of days. Far better she when with her soothing lyre She charms the faulchion from the savage grasp, And melting into pity vengeful ire, Looses the bloody breast-plate's iron clasp. With her in pensive mood I long to roam, Whilst mellow sounds from distant copse arise, With rapture thrill'd each worldly passion dies, And pleas'd attention claims the passive mind. Soft through the dell the dying strains retire, Romantic sounds! such is the bliss ye give, That heaven's bright scenes seem bursting on the soul; With joy I'd yield each sensual wish, to live For ever 'neath your undefil'd controul. Oh surely melody from heaven was sent, To cheer the soul when tir'd with human strife, ODE TO THE HARVEST MOON. Cum ruit imbriferum ver: Spicea jam campis cum messis inhorruit, et cum Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agrestis adoret. VIRGIL MOON of harvest, herald mild "Tis thou that glad'st with joy the rustic throng, Promptest the tripping dance, th' exhilarating song. Moon of harvest, I do love In the blue vault of the sky, Where no thin vapour intercepts thy ray, But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way. Pleasing 'tis, oh, modest moon! When boundless plenty greets his eye, Storms and tempests, floods and rains, Stern despoilers of the plains, Hence away, the season flee, Drive the clouds along the sky; But may all nature smile with aspect boon, When in the heavens thou shew'st thy face, oh, Harvest Moon! 'Neath yon lowly roof he lies, The husbandman, with sleep-seal'd eyes; |