Come then, great Worth, and teach me how to glow,
And with thy sweetness teach my verse to flow.
Come, my Constantia, and inspire my lays,
For thou alone sing'st equal to thy praise.
Ye vernal gales, who fanned the ambrosial grove,
Where first Myrtilla crowned my sighs with love,
On your soft wings let Damon's numbers float;
Ye feathered songsters, swell the echoing note;
Trees, whisper praises, and ye meads, look gay,
For fair Myrtilla warms the amorous lay.
When flaming Sirius robed Apollos' brow,
With fiercer heat and scorched the world below,
I saw the fair one, rambling o'er the meads;
The drooping willows reared their mournful heads,
The fainting birds again began to sing,
And smiling Nature fondly thought 'twas spring.
Not chaste Dictinna with her silver train
Appeared so graceful, or could cause such pain.
With eyes and feet averse she fled the green,
And turned to see if she had fled unseen.
Here Spring's gay lap once poured forth all its stores,
And Joy's soft breezes winged the rolling hours,
The brightening landscapes swelled with teeming grain,
And smiling Ceres plumed the floating plain.
But now no more these rural scenes delight,
Nor flowery prospects glad our raptured sight.
Constantia's gone; Spring paints the blooming meads,
But to confess, how she, without her, fades.
The noisy town attracts the fair one's eye,
To seek the pleasures of a milder sky.
Then droop, ye flowerets, for Constantia's gone,
And joy no more shall glitter on the thorn.
The bees may well forget their waxen store,
And beauteous nature smile in spring no more.
No more Arabian gales their odours shed,
Beauty and sweetness with Constantia's fled.
Elegiack ditties chant o'er Spring's sad urn,
And Philomel shall teach the woods to mourn.
The eve comes on, in solemn brown arrayed,
And weeps in dews that fair Constantia's fled.
Nectarean streams the oak forgets to yield,
And lurking tares o'errun the uncultured field.
The gales are taught to sigh; the waving reed
Trembles the ditty to the mournful mead.
The Muses haunt Parnassus' cooling groves,
And blooming Paphos courts the smiles and loves
But if Myrtilla shall prefer the plain,
Here Venus smiles, and here the Muses reign.
In spring the open lawn delights the eye,
And cooling groves, when Sirius fires the sky;
When Autumn purples o'er the fruitful field,
To pluck the fruits which trees luxuriant yield;
But in my heart one constant passion glows;
My love-sick breast none but Constantia knows
Come, visit then, my fair, the enamelled mead;
For thee the myrtle weaves its friendly shade.
Here crystal streams meander through the grove,
And every zephyr wafts the strains of love.
Come, lovely maid, more beauteous, than the morn,
And with your smiles these sylvan scenes adorn.
Though spring's return hath damasked o'er the field,
And in the rose her gayest plumes revealed,
Nature, to gain her own, must speak your praise,
She in your blush a fairer rose displays.
Come, my Constantia, leave the busy town,
And teach another Eden here to bloom.
To thee the feathered choir devote their lays,
And warble lavish musick in your praise.
When with your lyre you swell melodious songs,
E'en Orpheus owns to thee the wreath belongs.
The wolf shall fawn at thy soft tale of love,
And amorous trees shall crowd into a grove.
At thy return, the rose shall bloom again,
And breathe new fragrance o'er the joyful plain.
Autumn's rich cup shall pour its blissful stream,
And joy's bright nectar overlook the brim.
But, hark! yon hills resound a pleasing theme,
And frisking lambkins gambol to the hymn.
In vain, ye gales, that cool meridian heats,
Ye strive to hide from whence you stole your sweets.
Constantia comes; at that revered name,
Tygers forget to rage, and wolves grow tame.
To you the palm I yield; yours be the praise,
For 'tis Constantia, shines throughout your lays.
Hail, queen of Muses! now the tuneful Nine
Shall court thy smile, and in your praise combine.
But, hark! the plains the pleasing name resound;
Constantia's come, tunes all the vocal ground,
While her bright charms such joyful smiles diffuse,
To speak her worth, let silence hush the muse.
To give the fair her meritorious praise,
Numbers would fail, and sound itself must cease
These verses make the conclusion of a forensick disputation in the chapel at Cambridge University, on the question, "Whether learning be conducive to the happiness of man." The manuscript shows no date, but the hand writing and the nature of the exercise refer the lines to his junior or senior year.
THE unweeting swain, while Nature round him spreads
Her rich luxuriance o'er the fertile meads,
By custom forced, assumes his native plough,
And feels no pleasures, but from labour flow,
But where proud Learning pours her golden blaze,
The curious eye the wondrous world surveys;
Sees thousand beauties paint the cheek of day,
And all Elysium glitter from a spray;
Sees craggy mountains rear their daring throne,
While suppliant vales the sovereign monarch own.
While gay confusion decks the varying scene,
What floods of glory burst from Heaven's bright mien.
What glittering gems adorn the crown of night;
The mind is lost in regions of delight!
Here rolls majestick, Dian's silver car;
Here heaven stooped down to embrace her brightest star,
When Newton rose, sublimely great, from earth,
And boldly spoke whole systems into birth.
Around the walls of heaven the planets roll,
And her resplendent pavements gild the pole.
Behold the son of wisdom joyful rise,
And wing his native element the skies;
See him, rejoicing, leave this mean abode,
And lost in rapture 'mid the thrones of God,
Unnumbered pleasures swell his heaving breast;
Words are too feeble, silence speaks the rest!
THE REFINEMENT OF MANNERS
An Exhibition Poem, delivered in the chapel of Harvard University, September 27, 1791.
HE natural world, by Heaven's stupendous plan,
Is formed an emblem of the life of man.
Vain is the wish, that Spring's Favonian reign,
With Autumn's golden stores, should crown the plain;
And vain the hope, in life's first dawn, to find
Those nerves of thought, that grace the ripened mind.
Nature, too proud in one poor garb to appear,
Varies her livery with the varying year.
Her laws, unchanged by Time's insidious power,
Unravel centuries or revolve an hour;
|