Classic Poem

Addressed to a Gentleman in Wales .

O, Strephon, how can you forsake
Those scenes — where the goddesses rove?
The mountain, that's crown'd with the lake,
The grotto, that's veil'd by the grove?
The seat, that you scoop'd in the rock?
Where oft you, at even, recline, —
Hear shepherds return with their flock
All under your favorite pine.

One morn, the beginning of May,
At dawn, to the mountain you flew,
The landscape around you was gay,
The grass — all-bespangled with dew;
The lake's mossy-margin you prest,
The rod was suspended on high,
A Naiad, she stood all confest,
Directing the fish to the fly:

The halcyon skimm'd over the flood
And ruffled the wave with her wing,
Blithe Zephyrus paused in the wood,
" To hear how the feather'd-folks sing;"
A moment he stopp'd in the grove,
Then brush'd to the top of the hill;
There breathing soft accents of love, —
To the tink of a neighb'ring rill.

" O give me, — enraptured you cried,
" On the brow of this mountain to dwell,
" Sweet Clio, shall sit by my side,
" Her voice shall make vocal my cell;
" Then Boreas unheeded may blow,
" Bid tempests wide ravage the dale;
" We'll mark how the clouds roll below ,
" All born on the wings of the gale. "

Thus, Strephon, was heard to essay
The ditty, that flow'd from his heart;
Dan Phaebus, assisted the lay,
'Twas eve, and he wish'd to depart —
His last vivid beam, struck the rock,
As flaming, he plunged in the main:
The shepherd return'd with his flock,
And his pipe, it enliven'd the plain.

Just then, the chaste Luna was seen —
With Vesperus close by her side,
Slow rising, the mountains between
Aslant — struck her rays on the tide:
He thought it high time to descend,
(His farm touch'd the foot of the hill)
Yet, paused he awhile to attend —
To the tink of his favorite rill.

Thus musing, he sank on his seat,
That hung on the verge of the steep;
Old Morpheus he play'd him a cheat —
And, instantly lull'd him to sleep:
Bright Sol found him there when he rose,
And put madam Fancy to flight;
Who'd checker'd poor Strephon's repose,
With all the mad whims of the night:

He dream'd — back to N — — — , he flew,
Thro' ether, at cool even-tide,
And suddenly, rose to his view —
A mansion, and fair-blushing bride!
" Farewell — ye bleak mountains (he said),
" Ye wilds, and ye deserts — so drear!
" I fly, — to embrace the dear maid;
" Whose image still follows me here. "