Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs Part 7

Darkness crept slowly o'er the East!

Upon the Barn-roof watch'd the Cat; Sweet breath'd the ruminating Beast At rest where DOLLY musing sat.

A simple Maid, who could employ The silent lapse of Evening mild, And lov'd its solitary joy; For Dolly was Reflection's child.

He who had pledg'd his word to be Her life's dear guardian, far away, The flow'r of Yeoman Cavalry, Bestrode a Steed with trappings gay.

And thus from memory's treasur'd sweets, And thus from Love's pure fount she drew That peace, which busy care defeats, And bids our pleasures bloom anew.

Six weeks of absence have I borne Since HENRY took his fond farewell: The charms of that delightful morn My tongue could thus for ever tell.

He at my Window whistling loud, Arous'd my lightsome heart to go: Day, conqu'ring climb'd from cloud to cloud; The fields all wore a purple glow.

We stroll'd the bordering flow'rs among: One hand the Bridle held behind; The other round my waist was flung: Sure never Youth spoke half so kind!

The rising Lark I could but hear; And jocund seem'd the song to be: But sweeter sounded in my ear, 'Will _Dolly_ still be true to me!'

From the rude Dock my skirt had swept A fringe of clinging burrs so green; Like them our hearts still closer crept, And hook'd a thousand holds unseen.

High o'er the road each branching bough Its globes of silent dew had shed; And on the pure-wash'd sand below The dimpling drops around had spread.

The sweet-brier op'd its pink-ey'd rose, And gave its fragrance to the gale; Though modest flow'rs may sweets disclose; More sweet was HENRY'S earnest tale.

He seem'd, methought, on that dear morn, To pour out all his heart to me; As if, the separation borne, The coming hours would joyless be,

A bank rose high beside the way, And full against the Morning Sun; Of heay'nly blue there Violets gay His hand invited one by.

The posy with a smile he gave; I saw his meaning in his eyes: The withered treasure still I have; My bosom holds the fragrant prize.

With his last kiss he would have vow'd; But blessings crouding forc'd their way: Then mounted he his Courser proud; His time elaps'd, he could not stay.

Then first I felt the parting pang;-- Sure the worst pang the Lover feels!

His Horse unruly from me sprang, The pebbles flew beneath his heels;

Then down the road his vigour tried, His rider gazing, gazing still; _'My dearest, I'll be true_,' he cried:-- And, if he lives, I'm sure he will.

Then haste, ye hours, haste, Eve and Morn, Yet strew your blessings round my home: Ere Winter's blasts shall strip the thorn My promis'd joy, my love, will come.

LINES OCCASIONED BY A VISIT TO WHITTLEBURY FOREST,

NORTHAMPTONs.h.i.+RE, IN AUGUST, 1800.

ADDRESSED TO MY CHILDREN.

Genius of the Forest Shades!

Lend thy pow'r, and lend thine ear!

A Stranger trod thy lonely glades, Amidst thy dark and bounding Deer; Inquiring Childhood claims the verse, O let them not inquire in vain; Be with me while I thus rehea.r.s.e The glories of thy Sylvan Reign.

Thy Dells by wint'ry currents worn, Secluded haunts, how dear to me!

From all but Nature's converse borne, No ear to hear, no eye to see.

Their honour'd leaves the green Oaks rear'd, And crown'd the upland's graceful swell; While answering through the vale was heard Each distant Heifer's tinkling bell.

Hail, Greenwood shades, that stretching far, Defy e'en Summer's noontide pow'r, When August in his burning Car Withholds the Cloud, withholds the Show'r.

The deep-ton'd Low from either Hill, Down hazel aisles and arches green, (The Herd's rude tracks from rill to rill) Roar'd echoing through the solemn scene.

From my charm'd heart the numbers sprung, Though Birds had ceas'd the choral lay: I pour'd wild raptures from my tongue, And gave delicious tears their way.

Then, darker shadows seeking still, Where human foot had seldom stray'd, I read aloud to every Hill Sweet Emma's Love, 'the Nut-brown Maid.'

Shaking his matted mane on high The gazing Colt would raise his head; Or, tim'rous Doe would rus.h.i.+ng fly, And leave to me her gra.s.sy bed: Where, as the azure sky appear'd Through Bow'rs of every varying form, Midst the deep gloom methought I heard The daring progress of the storm.

How would each sweeping pond'rous bough Resist, when straight the Whirlwind cleaves, Das.h.i.+ng in strength'ning eddies through A roaring wilderness of leaves!

How would the p.r.o.ne descending show'r From the green Canopy rebound!

How would the lowland torrents pour!

How deep the pealing thunder sound!

But Peace was there: no lightnings blaz'd:-- No clouds obscur'd the face of Heav'n: Down each green op'ning while I gaz'd, My thoughts to home, and you, were giv'n.

O tender minds! in life's gay morn Some clouds must dim your coming day; Yet, bootless pride and falsehood scorn, And peace like this shall cheer your way.

Now, at the dark Wood's stately side, Well pleas'd I met the Sun again; Here fleeting Fancy travell'd wide!

My seat was destin'd to the Main: For, many an Oak lay stretch'd at length, Whose trunks (with bark no longer sheath'd) Had reach'd their full meridian strength Before your Father's Father breath'd!

Perhaps they'll many a conflict brave, And many a dreadful storm defy; Then groaning o'er the adverse wave, Bring home the flag of victory.

Go, then, proud Oaks; we meet no more!

Go, grace the scenes to me denied, The white Cliffs round my native sh.o.r.e, And the loud Ocean's swelling tide.

'Genius of the Forest Shades,'

Sweet, from the heights of thy domain, When the grey ev'ning shadow fades, To view the Country's golden grain!

To view the gleaming Village Spire Midst distant groves unknown to me; Groves, that grown bright in borrow'd fire, Bow o'er the peopled Vales to thee!

Where was thy Elfin train that play Round _Wake's_ huge Oak, their favourite tree; May a poor son of Song thus say, Why were they not reveal'd to me!

Yet, smiling Fairies left behind, Affection brought you to nay view; To love and tenderness resign'd, I sat me down and thought of you.

When Morning still unclouded rose, Refresh'd with sleep and joyous dreams, Where fruitful fields with woodlands close, I trac'd the births of various streams.

From beds of Clay, here creeping rills Unseen to parent _Ouse_ would steal; Or, gus.h.i.+ng from the northward Hills, 'Would glitter through _Toves'_ winding dale.

But ah! ye cooling springs, farewell!

Herds, I no more your freedom share; But long my grateful tongue shall tell What brought your gazing stranger there.

'Genius of the Forest Shades, 'Lend thy power, and lend thine ear;'

Let dreams still lengthen thy long glades, And bring thy peace and silence here.

SONG FOR A HIGHLAND DROVER RETURNING FROM ENGLAND.

Now fare-thee-well, England; no further I'll roam; But follow my shadow that points the way home; Your gay southern Sh.o.r.es shall not tempt me to stay; For my Maggy's at Home, and my Children at play!