Circling the base of the Poetic mount A stream there is, which rolls in lazy flow A mead of mildest charm delays the unlabouring feet. Not there the cloud-climbed rock, sublime and vast, * There for the monarch-murdered Soldier's tomb * War, a Fragment. ↑ John the Baptist, a Poem. Monody on John Henderson. Still soar, my Friend, those richer views among, Or Autumn's shrill gust moan in plaintive sound, With fruits and flowers she loads the tempest-honoured ground. LINES. WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER 1795, IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM BRISTOL, "Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better, As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart." NOR travels my meandering eye green ANON. Move with " radiance" through the grass, O ever present to my view! And soothes your boding fears: Beloved Woman! did you fly With cruel weight these trifles press breast But why with sable wand unblest I felt it prompt the tender dream, And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans The onward-surging tides supply Dark reddening from the channelled Isle* (Where stands one solitary pile *The Holmes, in the Bristol Channel. Unslated by the blast) The watchfire, like a sullen star Even there-beneath that light-house tower— In the tumultuous evil hour Ere Peace with Sara came, Time was, I should have thought it sweet And there in black soul-jaundiced fit When mountain surges bellowing deep Plunged foaming on the shore. Then by the lightning's blaze to mark But Fancy now more gaily sings; As sky-larks 'mid the corn, On summer fields she grounds her breast: Nods, till returning morn. LINES. O mark those smiling tears, that swell Blest visitations from above, When stormy Midnight howling round The tears that tremble down your cheek, And from your heart the sighs that steal How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet I seize you in the vacant air, 'Tis said, in Summer's evening hour And so shall flash my love-charged eye Shoots rapid through the frame! 57 |