Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
' The swains and the nymphs all admire Thy wisdom , which charms ev ' ry ear;—Fair Annis alone can inspire The shepherd ' s fond song of his dear . That shepherd , whose guilt could betray The loveliest m . ' . iden fo shame , To horrors must fall a just prev , And curs'd thro' the annals of Fame . '
' The quick palpitaticnsof love Throbb'd wildly thro' every vein ; Their eyes , darting ( ire , now rove : Their transports no bounds can restrain ! Hejirdemly press'd the fond maid , fheir bosoms in mutual fire , Inraptur'd they sunk in the shade , All melting in am ' rous desire !
No longer in innocence bless'd , Ah ! who her sad state can describe ? No longer in raptures caress'd—The swain only seems to deride ! 'Ah , hapless !—how wretched am I , So lately the Queen of the plain !'The beautiful damsel wouldcrv—Tiie groves only echo'd the strain .
Ye virgins , who tend your fair flocks That wantonly frisk o ' er the field , Be careful to shim the dread rocks , Where virtue to passion shal ! yield ! ' Adieu to the sweet sylvan scene , That floats o ' er the eve ivith delight , Where nature , fair nature , is seen Array'd in harmonious plight !
' Farewel , all ye prospects of joy , That fondly allur'd my poor mind , Such prospects are wont to decoy , And nought but remorse ieave behind ! ' The willow that screens my low cot , Remote from all intercourse here , Till terrible death seals my lot , Shall witness only the teur !'
Thus wept the sad Annis thro' day , The gloom of night brought no relief—The songsters accompanied her lay , In warblings responsive of grief ! When Corydon , touch'd with regret , His honour and passion to prove , Keturn'd to the tenderest mate , And happiness crowr . 'd their true love ! r .
ELEGY ; WKITTEN NEAIl THE SOUHC * E OF THE RIVER DERWENT , III the -aihls of the Peak cf Derbyshire . BY DR .. DARWIN . DERWENT ! what scenes thwandering
y waves behold , [ stray , Asburstingfrom thy hundred springs they And down these vales in sounding torrent ' s roll'd , Seek to the shining east their mazy way !
Here *\ v dart aldets , leaning from th ? . cliff . Dip their long arms and wave their umbrage wide , ^ There , as emerging rocks alarm my skiff , While moonlight dances on thy foaming tide . Flow on , ye waves ! where dress'd in gorgeous pride , [ bov .- ' rs . Fair Chatsworth beams amid her roseate
Spreads her smooth lawns along your willowy side , [ gilded towers . And crests your woodlands with her Flow on , ye waves ! where nature ' s rudest child , [ floods , Frowning incumbent o ' er the dusty Rock over rock , on tnoun'aii ; mountain pil'd , [ woods . Old Matlock sits , and shakes his crown of
But when proud Derby ' s glittering vanes ye view , [ rents drink , Where hisgay meads your sparkling cur-Should bright i . Iizapress the morning dew , And bend her peaceful footsteps to ' your brink ; Stop , ' gentlewaves ! in circlingeddiesplay , And as your scaly squadrons gaze around ,
Oh , bid your nymphs with pencil fine pourtray Her angel form upon your silver ground ! With playful malice from her kindling cheeks [ passing stream , Steal the warm blush , and tinge your Mock the sweet transient dimples , as she speaks
, And as she turns her eye reflect the beam . And tell her , Derwent , as you murmur bj r , How in those wilds with hopeless' love I burn , [ sigh , Teach your lone vales , and echoingwavesto And mix my briny sorrows with your urn !
ADDRESS . WI . 1 TTEN FOR A PRIVATE THEATRE . I .-fromignoblesloth to rouse the soul , Or wild and warring passions to confrou !; ¦ If wiih riiild voice to soothe the throbbing heart , To bid the tear of tender ity start
p ; To fan the steady Patriot ' s ardent flame , Re-animate fair Virtue's fainting frame , Andtinge the cheek of ' conscious guilt ivith shame , Are deeds that with superior grace adorn , Tiie Tragic Muse her angry face may scorn : [ the strain , For still to rouseto sootheto breathe
, , That wakens pity , still has grae'd her reign . [ hand , The Grecian tyrant , with remorseless Who spreads destruction round his trembling land , Deaf to its groans , who madly could rejoice , Yet it lier mild but all-commanding voice ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
' The swains and the nymphs all admire Thy wisdom , which charms ev ' ry ear;—Fair Annis alone can inspire The shepherd ' s fond song of his dear . That shepherd , whose guilt could betray The loveliest m . ' . iden fo shame , To horrors must fall a just prev , And curs'd thro' the annals of Fame . '
' The quick palpitaticnsof love Throbb'd wildly thro' every vein ; Their eyes , darting ( ire , now rove : Their transports no bounds can restrain ! Hejirdemly press'd the fond maid , fheir bosoms in mutual fire , Inraptur'd they sunk in the shade , All melting in am ' rous desire !
No longer in innocence bless'd , Ah ! who her sad state can describe ? No longer in raptures caress'd—The swain only seems to deride ! 'Ah , hapless !—how wretched am I , So lately the Queen of the plain !'The beautiful damsel wouldcrv—Tiie groves only echo'd the strain .
Ye virgins , who tend your fair flocks That wantonly frisk o ' er the field , Be careful to shim the dread rocks , Where virtue to passion shal ! yield ! ' Adieu to the sweet sylvan scene , That floats o ' er the eve ivith delight , Where nature , fair nature , is seen Array'd in harmonious plight !
' Farewel , all ye prospects of joy , That fondly allur'd my poor mind , Such prospects are wont to decoy , And nought but remorse ieave behind ! ' The willow that screens my low cot , Remote from all intercourse here , Till terrible death seals my lot , Shall witness only the teur !'
Thus wept the sad Annis thro' day , The gloom of night brought no relief—The songsters accompanied her lay , In warblings responsive of grief ! When Corydon , touch'd with regret , His honour and passion to prove , Keturn'd to the tenderest mate , And happiness crowr . 'd their true love ! r .
ELEGY ; WKITTEN NEAIl THE SOUHC * E OF THE RIVER DERWENT , III the -aihls of the Peak cf Derbyshire . BY DR .. DARWIN . DERWENT ! what scenes thwandering
y waves behold , [ stray , Asburstingfrom thy hundred springs they And down these vales in sounding torrent ' s roll'd , Seek to the shining east their mazy way !
Here *\ v dart aldets , leaning from th ? . cliff . Dip their long arms and wave their umbrage wide , ^ There , as emerging rocks alarm my skiff , While moonlight dances on thy foaming tide . Flow on , ye waves ! where dress'd in gorgeous pride , [ bov .- ' rs . Fair Chatsworth beams amid her roseate
Spreads her smooth lawns along your willowy side , [ gilded towers . And crests your woodlands with her Flow on , ye waves ! where nature ' s rudest child , [ floods , Frowning incumbent o ' er the dusty Rock over rock , on tnoun'aii ; mountain pil'd , [ woods . Old Matlock sits , and shakes his crown of
But when proud Derby ' s glittering vanes ye view , [ rents drink , Where hisgay meads your sparkling cur-Should bright i . Iizapress the morning dew , And bend her peaceful footsteps to ' your brink ; Stop , ' gentlewaves ! in circlingeddiesplay , And as your scaly squadrons gaze around ,
Oh , bid your nymphs with pencil fine pourtray Her angel form upon your silver ground ! With playful malice from her kindling cheeks [ passing stream , Steal the warm blush , and tinge your Mock the sweet transient dimples , as she speaks
, And as she turns her eye reflect the beam . And tell her , Derwent , as you murmur bj r , How in those wilds with hopeless' love I burn , [ sigh , Teach your lone vales , and echoingwavesto And mix my briny sorrows with your urn !
ADDRESS . WI . 1 TTEN FOR A PRIVATE THEATRE . I .-fromignoblesloth to rouse the soul , Or wild and warring passions to confrou !; ¦ If wiih riiild voice to soothe the throbbing heart , To bid the tear of tender ity start
p ; To fan the steady Patriot ' s ardent flame , Re-animate fair Virtue's fainting frame , Andtinge the cheek of ' conscious guilt ivith shame , Are deeds that with superior grace adorn , Tiie Tragic Muse her angry face may scorn : [ the strain , For still to rouseto sootheto breathe
, , That wakens pity , still has grae'd her reign . [ hand , The Grecian tyrant , with remorseless Who spreads destruction round his trembling land , Deaf to its groans , who madly could rejoice , Yet it lier mild but all-commanding voice ,