Classic Poem

FROM THE BANKS OF THE IRWAN .

Where trembling poplars shade their parent vale,
And tune to melody the mountain gale;
Where Irwan murmurs musically slow,
And breathing breezes through his osiers blow;
Friend of my heart, behold thy poet laid
In the dear silence of his native shade!
Ye sacred vales, where oft the muse, unseen,
Led my light steps along the moon-light green;
Ye scenes, where peace and fancy held their reign,
For ever lov'd, and once enjoy'd again!
Ah! where is now, that nameless bliss refin'd;
That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind?
As sweet the wild rose bares its balmy breast,
As soon, the breeze with murmurs soothes to rest;
As smooth, the stream of silver Irwan flows;
As fair, each flower along his border blows;
Yet dwells not here that nameless bliss refin'd,
That tranquil hour, that vacancy of mind.
Is it that knowledge is allied to woe;
And are we happy, only ere we know?
Is it that Hope withholds her golden ray,
That Fancy's fairy visions fade away?
Or can I, distant far from all that's dear,
Be happy only when Almena's near?
That truth, the feelings of my heart disclose:
Too dear the friendship for the friend's repose.
Thus mourn'd the muse, when through his osiers wild,
The hill-born Irwan rais'd his head and smil'd:
" Child of my hopes," he fondly cried, " forbear;
Nor let thy Irwan witness thy despair.
Has peace indeed forsook my flowery shore?
Shall Fame, and Hope, and Fancy charm no more?
Though Fame and Hope in kindred air depart,
Yet Fancy still should hold thee to her heart;
For, at thy birth, the village hind has seen
Her light wings waving o'er the shadowy green.
With rosy wreaths she crown'd the new-born hours,
And rival fairies fill'd thy bed with flowers:
In vain — if grief shall waste thy blooming years,
And life dissolve in solitude and tears."