A gallery of famous English and American poets . hidden subtile which the entangled fowl was not aware;Through pathless wastes he doth pursue his nought but moor-fowl and wild beasts resort When the noon sun directly darts his beamsUpon your giddy heads, with fiery you may bathe yourself in cooling streams ;Or to the sweet adjoining grove trees with interwoven boughs conspireTo form a grateful shade;—there rural swainsDo tune their oaten reeds to rural strains;The silent birds sit listening on the sprays,And in soft charming notes do imitate their
A gallery of famous English and American poets . hidden subtile which the entangled fowl was not aware;Through pathless wastes he doth pursue his nought but moor-fowl and wild beasts resort When the noon sun directly darts his beamsUpon your giddy heads, with fiery you may bathe yourself in cooling streams ;Or to the sweet adjoining grove trees with interwoven boughs conspireTo form a grateful shade;—there rural swainsDo tune their oaten reeds to rural strains;The silent birds sit listening on the sprays,And in soft charming notes do imitate their you mav stretch yourself upon the , lulled with music, to kind slumbers pass:ISFo meagre cares your fancy will distract,And on that scene no tragic fears will act; 44 THOMSON. Save the dear image of a charming slie,Nought will tlie object of your vision be. Away the vicious pleasures of the town;Let empty jjartial fortune on me frown;But grant, ye powers, that it may be my lotTo live in peace from noisy towns remote. 7^*,. COLLINS. ODE TO EVENING. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear. Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs, and dying gales; 0 Nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired sunSits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts. With brede ethereal wove, Oerhang his wavy bed : Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed short shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wing; Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn. As oft he rises midst the twilight the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : Now teach me, maid composed. To breathe some softened strain, Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale,May not unseemly with its stillness suit; As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return! 12 4S 46 COLLINS. For when thy folding-star arising showsHis paly circlet, at his warning lampThe fragrant Hours, and ElvesWho slept in buds tne day.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
