ENGLISH POETRY AND PROSE OF THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT I. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FORERUNNERS ANNE, COUNTESS OF WIN- THE TREE 1903 Fair tree, for thy delightful shade 'T is just that some return be made; Sure some return is due from me To thy cool shadows and to thee. 5 When thou to birds dost shelter give Thou music dost from them receive; If travellers beneath thee stay Till storms have worn themselves away, That time in praising thee they spend, 10 And thy protecting pow'r commend; The shepherd here, from scorching freed, Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed, Whilst his lov'd nymph in thanks bestows Her flow'ry chaplets on thy boughs. 15 Shall I then only silent be, And no return be made by me? 20 Untouch'd by the rash workman's hand, Prevent1 the axe, and grace thy end, Give me, O indulgent Fate! 'Mongst paths so lost, and trees so high, 1 come before; anticipate 1 5 That the world may ne'er invade, No intruders thither come, News, that charm to list'ning ears, Courteous Fate! afford me there When of old the calf was drest - 30 Nor could the mighty patriarch's board 1 A kind of edible 2A small bird, the com- ing, often served as a delicacy. 3 as if about to break For my garments, let them be But when he renews the year 55 Birds have dropt their winter-plumes; 60 When from Salem's gates he drove Unaffected carelessness. No perfumes have there a part, For one that did in tents abide, 85 And his mother's darling boy.2 Let me then no fragrance wear But what the winds from gardens bear In such kind, surprising gales As gather'd from Fidentia's vales 90 All the flowers that in them grew; Which intermixing, as they flew, In wreathen garlands dropt again On Lucullus, and his men, Who, cheer'd by the victorious sight 95 Trebl'd numbers put to flight. Let me, when I must be fine, In such natural colors shine; Wove, and painted by the sun, Whose resplendent rays to shun, 100 When they do too fiercely beat, Let me find some close retreat Where they have no passage made Thro' those windings, and that shade. 1 Solomon. I Kings, 7:1-12. a Genesis, 25-27. Exert thy voice, sweet harbinger of This moment is thy time to sing, Pleasing best when unconfin'd, When to please is least design'd, 10 Soothing but their cares to rest; 15 Cares do still their thoughts molest, And still th' unhappy poet's breast, Like thine, when best he sings, is plac'd against a thorn.1 She begins; let all be still! Muse, thy promise now fulfil! "Twill not be! then change thy note; Let division2 shake thy throat. Hark! division now she tries; 25 Yet as far the muse outflies. 10 The waving moon and trembling leaves are seen; When freshen'd grass now bears itself upright, And makes cool banks to pleasing rest invite, When spring the woodbine and the bramble-rose, And where the sleepy cowslip shelter'd grows; Whilst now a paler hue the foxglove takes, Yet chequers still with red the dusky brakes; When scatter'd glow-worms, but in twilight fine, Show trivial beauties watch their hour to shine, Whilst Salisb'ry stands the test of every light 20 In perfect charms and perfect virtue bright; When odors which declin'd repelling day Thro' temp'rate air uninterrupted stray; When darken'd groves their softest shadows wear, And falling waters we distinctly hear; 25 When thro' the gloom more venerable shows Some ancient fabric, awful in repose, While sunburnt hills their swarthy looks conceal And swelling haycocks thicken up the vale; When the loos'd horse now, as his pasture leads, 30 Comes slowly grazing thro' th' adjoining meads, Whose stealing pace, and lengthen'd shade we fear, Till torn up forage in his teeth we hear; When nibbling sheep at large pursue their food, And unmolested kine re-chew the cud; 35 When curlews cry beneath the villagewalls, And to her straggling brood the partridge calls; Their shortliv'd jubilee the creatures keep, Which but endures whilst tyrant-man does sleep; When a sedate content the spirit feels, 40 And no fierce light disturb, whilst it reveals; But silent musings urge the mind to seek Something too high for syllables to speak; |