Classic Poem

To Miss Fortesque,

I.

Ye sylvan scenes with artless beauty gay,
Ye gentle shades of Wickham! say
What is the charm that each successive year
Which sees me with my Lucy here
Can thus to my transported heart
A sense of joy unfelt before impart?

II.

Is it glad Summer's balmy breath that blows
From the fair jasmine and the blushing rose?
Her balmy breath and all her blooming store
Of rural bliss was here before;
Oft' have I met her on the verdant side
Of Norwood Hill, and in the yellow meads
Where Pan the dancing Graces leads,
Array'd in all her flow'ry pride;
No sweeter fragrance now the gardens yield,
No brighter colours paint th' enamell'd field.

III.

Is it to Love these new delights I owe?
Four times has the revolving sun
His annual circle thro' the zodiack run
Since all that Love's indulgent pow'r
On favour'd mortals can bestow
Was giv'n to me in this auspicious bow'r.

IV.

Here first my Lucy sweet in virgin charms
Was yielded to my longing arms;
And round our nuptial bed
Hov'ring with purple wings th' Idalian boy
Shook from his radiant torch the blissful fires
Of innocent desires,
While Venus scatter'd myrtles o'er her head.
Whence then this strange increase of joy?
He only he can tell who, match'd like me,
(If such another happy man there be)
Has by his own experience try'd
How much the wife is dearer than the bride.