"Play on, happy youth! who, with innocence 66 blest, "In guileless amusements your moments em "ploy; "Your sports how enliv'ning! how balmy your "rest! "No cares deeply rankling, your peace to de "Nor yours those false joys quickly ending in “pain, "Nor passions, fierce blazing, with reason at “This season, ah! cherish, nor wish to be men! "Ah! guiltless enjoy the mild morning of life! "Too soon to this calm will rough tempests suc"ceed; 66 (This truth, ye belov'd, with reluctance I tell!) "Unnumber'd obstructions your bliss will impede, "And time, the bright visions of fancy dispel! "Too soon each soft bosom, where peace holds her 66 reign, "The shafts of misfortune and anguish must " prove; "Too soon the salt tear your blithe features dis "tain; “Sad tribute to friendship, to duty, or love! "Or envy, or avarice, your souls shall enthral, "Or fiery ambition, aspiring to fame; " Or dark brooding calumny, bloated with gall, "Your cheering pretensions to favour disclaim; "Chill want, or disease, will your vigour repress, "Or care-wrinkl'd age, surely wasting, tho' slow; "Or guilt's sable horrors your bosoms distress; “Each moment embittering, enhancing each woe! 66 Acasto, like you, could once frolic and play; "(Smiling Hope ever painting new scenes of de"light) "Like you, could with cheerfulness toil thro' the "Now palsied, decrepid, and bending with years, "In vain a short respite from anguish he prays; "No soul-soothing pleasure his bosom e'er cheers, Save that with which Virtue her vot'ries repays! 66 "But Virtue, alas! how imperfect below! "And man, how inconstant, how feeble, how frail! "By the wild gusts of passion oft driv'n to and fro, He flies like the feather which floats in the "gale. "Ah! be cautious betimes! then, your innocence "prize, "And let Virtue your every affection engage; "Th' enchantments of Vice, and her pleasures des"pise, "Nor in youth hoard up pain and repentance "for age. "Think not, from those tears, that Acasto desires "Your flow of gay spirits, brisk health's rosy glow, "Or that vigour unbroke which your gambols inspires : 66 "He envies no pleasures which these can bestow: "He weeps for that bliss which with innocence " dwells, "This gem "Too often despis'd for vice, folly, or strife; the fam'd treasures of India excels; ""Tis the dew-drop of heav'n, the nepenthe of 66 life! "How long, of this blessing depriv'd, must he 66 mourn, "And his stains, time-contracted, with sorrow " bewail! "How long must his soul with keen anguish be "torn, "And remorse, deeply stinging, his bosom " assail!" He ceas'd, and in silence gave vent to his sighs; ON THE RAINBOW. HAIL, sportive Iris, deck'd in various hues Elate he springs along the flow'ry meads; With beating heart his fancy'd prize surveys; Mocking his toil, thy transient form recedes, And disappointment on his bosom preys. Emblem, how striking, of terrestrial bliss, And man, intent that fleeting bliss to gain! Who fondly deems the flatt'ring phantom his, Till late, experience proves his wishes vain! Still, as the stripling moves, the Iris flies! TO EVENING. HAIL, grateful Ev'ning! nurse of mild desires! Friend to the serious soul-improving thought, Far from the haunts of pleasure (falsely call'd!) Soft as on yonder dew-bespangled plain, And on my head thy choicest blessings pour! Let Contemplation, sunk in thought profound; Heart-cheering Hope; Content, with mien se date; Brisk Fancy, darting wide her looks around; And meek-ey'd Silence, on thy steps await! |