Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
To Arno.
TO ARNO .
W HEN the bleak blast of Winter howls o ' er the blue hill ; And the Valley is stripp'd of its verdant array ; When the Moon faintl y gleams on ihe frcst-silver'd spray , And the yellow leaves flit o ' er the ice-mantled till ;
The poor simple offspring of Labour and Care , By his turf-lighted hearth , sits resign'd to his lot ; While the flame of affection illumines his cor , And the often-told talc cheers the gloom of Despair : For him , the blest beam of the soul-speaking eye , The smile of pure Love , has its raptures in store ; And though the wild storm round his threshold shall roar ,
He sinks to soft slumber , and dreams but of Joy . No hopeless , fond passion corrodes in his breast , His rude rushy pillow invites to repose ;¦ No couch of light down and rich fragrance he knows , But he knows , what is sweeter—a pallet of rest ! For what ;\ ve the pleasures the "World can bestow , The gay mirthful scene , or the banquet . profuse ?
What the laurel of Fame , or the song of the Muse , When the heart bleeds in silence the victim of woe ? O ' er each vision of bliss that fond Fancy assumes , See the fix'd brow of Prudence frown sadly severe ; While my cheek , warm with blushes , is chill'd with Love ' s teafy And the sigh of" R . egret fans the flame that consumes ; For , perish the thoughtthat can meanly desire
, The cold balm of Pity to sooth its despair ; My passion shall scorn the dear object to sharej And , exulting in silence , shall proudly expire ! Yes ; in Silence , proud Silence , I'll muse o'er his worth , Though reflection shall steal the faint rose from my cheek ; Though my eye ' s faded lustre its poison shall speak , And my heart-bursting sighs bend my frame to the earth .
Then rest , my fond bosom ; henceforth be at peace ; Thy hope ' s , and fliy anguish , will shortly be o ' er ; . Stern Prudence will frown oh thy frailty no more , When in Death ' s cold embrace all thy sorrows shall ceastf .
3 f et , each praise that to Taste and to Genius belong , Blest Bard ! kind Consoler ! for ever be ' thine 1 Still for Friendship the wreath of attention entwine , And the Muse shall with rapture repay my sweet song ! LAURA ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
To Arno.
TO ARNO .
W HEN the bleak blast of Winter howls o ' er the blue hill ; And the Valley is stripp'd of its verdant array ; When the Moon faintl y gleams on ihe frcst-silver'd spray , And the yellow leaves flit o ' er the ice-mantled till ;
The poor simple offspring of Labour and Care , By his turf-lighted hearth , sits resign'd to his lot ; While the flame of affection illumines his cor , And the often-told talc cheers the gloom of Despair : For him , the blest beam of the soul-speaking eye , The smile of pure Love , has its raptures in store ; And though the wild storm round his threshold shall roar ,
He sinks to soft slumber , and dreams but of Joy . No hopeless , fond passion corrodes in his breast , His rude rushy pillow invites to repose ;¦ No couch of light down and rich fragrance he knows , But he knows , what is sweeter—a pallet of rest ! For what ;\ ve the pleasures the "World can bestow , The gay mirthful scene , or the banquet . profuse ?
What the laurel of Fame , or the song of the Muse , When the heart bleeds in silence the victim of woe ? O ' er each vision of bliss that fond Fancy assumes , See the fix'd brow of Prudence frown sadly severe ; While my cheek , warm with blushes , is chill'd with Love ' s teafy And the sigh of" R . egret fans the flame that consumes ; For , perish the thoughtthat can meanly desire
, The cold balm of Pity to sooth its despair ; My passion shall scorn the dear object to sharej And , exulting in silence , shall proudly expire ! Yes ; in Silence , proud Silence , I'll muse o'er his worth , Though reflection shall steal the faint rose from my cheek ; Though my eye ' s faded lustre its poison shall speak , And my heart-bursting sighs bend my frame to the earth .
Then rest , my fond bosom ; henceforth be at peace ; Thy hope ' s , and fliy anguish , will shortly be o ' er ; . Stern Prudence will frown oh thy frailty no more , When in Death ' s cold embrace all thy sorrows shall ceastf .
3 f et , each praise that to Taste and to Genius belong , Blest Bard ! kind Consoler ! for ever be ' thine 1 Still for Friendship the wreath of attention entwine , And the Muse shall with rapture repay my sweet song ! LAURA ,