Festival of song: a series of evenings with the poets . n have I paused on every charm. The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm. The never-failing brook, the busy mill. The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. For talking age, and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blest the coming day. When toil remitting lent its turn to play. And all the village train, from labour free. Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree ; While many a pastime circled in the shade. The young contending as the old surveyd ; And many a gambol froli
Festival of song: a series of evenings with the poets . n have I paused on every charm. The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm. The never-failing brook, the busy mill. The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. For talking age, and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blest the coming day. When toil remitting lent its turn to play. And all the village train, from labour free. Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree ; While many a pastime circled in the shade. The young contending as the old surveyd ; And many a gambol frolickd oer the ground. And sleights of art and feats of strength went round ; And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; The dancing pair that simply sought renown, By holding out, to tire each other down ; The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face. While secret laughter tittered round the place ; The bashful virgins sidelong looks of love, The matrons glance, that would those looks reprove ; I^^^^ffi^^^l. These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these,With sweet succession, taught een toil to please ;These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms,—but all those charms are fled. Now let us con over his tribute to Retirement :— O blest Retirement ! friend to lifes from care, that never must be blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,A vouth of labour with an age of ease :134 Who quits a world where strong temptations tryAnd, since tis hard to combat, learns to fly !For him no wretches, born to work and weep,Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ;No surly porter stands in guilty state,To spurn imploring famine from the gate :But on he moves to meet his latter end,Angels around befriending virtues friend ;Sinks to the grave with unperceived resignation gently slopes the way :And, all his prospects brightening to the last,His heaven commences e
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
