« PreviousContinue »
Danger and death a dread delight inspire ;
Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile;
Hail, noblest structures imaged in the wave!
heard the narratives of age, The battle's havoc, and the tempest's rage; Long have ye known Reflection's genial ray Gild the calm close of Valour's various day.
Time's sombrous touches soon correct the piece, Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease: A softer tone of light pervades the whole, And steals a pensive languor o'er the soul.
Hast thou thro’ Eden's wild-wood vales pursued Each mountain-scene, majestically rude ; To note the sweet simplicity of life, Far from the din of Folly's idle strife; Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, revered That modest stone which pious PEMBROKE reared; Which still records, beyond the pencil's power, The silent sorrows of a parting hour; Still to the musing pilgrim points the place, Her sainted spirit most delights to trace?
Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride,
As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower
And as the sparks of social love expand,
But these pure joys the world can never know;
Once, and domestic annals tell the time, (Preserved in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) When Nature smiled, and o'er the landscape threw Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue,