English

Marked you a Bee who circled round our ears,
And stunned them with his noisy trumpeting,
Now faintly heard? Again these flowers he nears,
But drops among them with more cautious wing.
With his monotonous voice he first to sleep
Hath lulled these maiden flowers, and now doth steal,
Just as Dishonesty will watch and creep,
To rob them whilst they nothing fear or feel.
When he is sated, with a louder blow
Of his deep horn he'll hence—but not by stealth;
Glad and rejoicing you shall hear him go,

Say, what is that, whose friendly aid supplies
The first pure glow that paints the morning skies?
Whose wond'rous pow'r can ease the captive's gloom,
And yield sweet novelty to cheer his doom? —
When friend and foe a pitying ear denies,
To me the pris'ner turns his weary eyes.
When martial crowds appear, in order drest,
Then is my charm by simple maids confest.
For me, Curiosity — uncheck'd by Time,
In idle search may waste its fading prime;
For me will ling'ring Hope consume the hour,
And feeble Indolence enjoys my power!

In the gloom of the night, over ditches I fly,
And cheer the poor traveller's road;
Tho' silent, a pleasant companion am I,
Till he views his beloved abode.

Tho' often despis'd and neglected when near,
Yet oft am I seen at a distance,
And some wou'd not think ev'n a thousand too dear
To purchase my timely assistance.—

Yet soon is my friendship disdain'd and forgot,
And I'm meanly immur'd for my pains:
Like Genius oppress'd, in Adversity's lot,
Not a spark of my glory remains!

Come let us drive business and sorrow away,
And, forgetting to-morrow, live merry to-day;
Since man is of clay-mold, and life is a span,
Let us moisten our clay, and laugh while we can.

Those dull mortals I hate, who are full of their store,
And who, having enough, still wish to get more;
Or those, who cry out, That the nation's in ruin,
Because they can't share in the spoils of undoing:

But let me be plac'd in a snug easy chair,
With a friend at my side like myself void of care,

When Royalty its gracious ray extends,
And princely pow'r with condescension blends,
All hearts must then the heav'n-born light adore,
That smile that chears, when Fortune smiles no more!

By sorrows and by fear, the heart deprest,
Shall feel its warmth more grateful than the rest;
And long the mem'ry of that hour retain,
When cold Oblivion spread its shade in vain!
Thus, mighty Prince! the Sun's resplendent beam,
The poor man's cordial, and the poet's theme!
Whilst o'er the noblest scene it casts its ray,

Here, in this bower, greenest of summer nooks,
The wild Bee's mew, the Violet's hiding-place,
Listening the bickerings of two brawling brooks,
We sat, and watched them wrangle and embrace;
Till tired of this, one of her choicest books
I drew from forth its hold, which she 'gan trace,
But I could nothing read, save her fair face —
Its eyes, its smiles, and fond tale-telling looks —
Oh comment sweet, the poet's text excelling!
I heard her voice, but naught of what she said;
And all she spake in love, and all she read,

That Love when journeying to Delight should tire!
That Beauty, too, (both of celestial birth,)
Should faint and pine for wants that are of earth,
And which the body only doth require!
That souls which soar to heaven, and would wing higher,
Should be thus imped, in their divinest mirth,
By things to minds immortal nothing-worth,
And which clean spirits loathe as an alloying mire! —
These muttered thoughts, that baffled Bliss did frame,
My bosomed love half heard — and took for chiding

(5,1) Verba mea auribus percipe, domine, intellege clamorem meum
Word þu min onfoh, wuldres ealdor,
and mid earum gehyr, ece drihten
[I]ntnede uoci orationis mee, rex meus et deus meus
Ongyt mine clypunga cu├░um gereorde,
beheald min gebed holdum mode;
þu eart min cyning and eac ece god
(5,2) Quoniam ad te orabo: Domine, mane exaudies uocem meam.
For├░on ic to ├░e, ece drihten,
so├░um gebidde, and ├░u symble gehyr
morgena gehwylce mine stefne
(5,3) Mane adstabo tibi et uidebo, quoniam non deus uolens iniquitatem tu es

Behold, the triumphing Sun looks forth again!
The angry clouds which murmured at his will,
O'ercome by his kind smile, have wept a rain
Of penitent tears, and the storm's gust is still,
We may now leave our leafy-dark retreat,
And shape our course as was our first intent; —
The grass is fresh and lusty, and our feet
Skim o'er't like fairies', leaving it unbent.
The wanton, busy-handed Zephyrs raise

Hail! led by science to explore,
P IOZZI ! welcome to our shore,
Thou ornament of female kind,
Above thy sex how far refin'd,
With ev'ry softer virtue grac'd,
Improv'd by knowledge and by taste!
Here came thy Johnson, but inclin'd
The saults believ'd unseen to find;
Could vulgar errors thus retain
A mind so vig'rous in their chain?
Mean prejudice and party-rage
Obscure the lustre of his page.
But thou, prepar'd with candid eye
More beauties than defects to spy,
The progress of the arts shalt view,