Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 354, January 31, 1829 - Various - Страница 3

From gayer scenes, where pleasure's mad career

Infects the milder avenues of thought,

Where secret Envy swells the note of Fear,

And Hope is in its own illusion caught.

Where, in Ambition's thorny path of power,

Contending votaries bow to toils of state,

I turn, regardless of the passing hour,

To trace the havoc of avenging fate.

Ne'er may the wanton love of active life

Control the sage's precepts of repose,

Ne'er may the murmurs of tumultuous strife

Wreck the tranquillity of private woes.

Here, on the crumbling relics of a stone,

O'er which the pride of masonry has smiled,

Here am I wont to ruminate alone.

And pause, in Fancy's airy robe beguil'd.

Disparting time the towers of ages bends,

Forms and indignant sinks the proudest plan,

O'er the neglected path the weed extends,

Nor heeds the wandering steps of thoughtful man.

Here expiation, murder has appeased,

Treason and homicide have been forgiven,

Pious credulity her votaries eased,

Nor blamed th' indulgent majesty of heaven.

Some erring matron has her crimes disclosed,

Some father conscious of awak'ning fate,

Safe from revenge, hath innocence reposed,

Unseen and undisturbed at others' hate.

Some sorrowing virgin her complainings poured

With pious hope has many a pang relieved;

Here the faint pilgrim to his rest restored,

The scanty boon of luxury has received.

Sated with conquest from the noise of arms,

The aged warrior with his fame retired,

Careless of thirsty spoil,—of war's alarms—

Nor with imperial emulation fired.

Where once her orisons devotion paid

By fear, or hope, or reverence inspired,

The sad solicitude of youth allay'd,

And age in resignation calm attired.

The houseless cottager from wind severe,

His humble habitation oft has made;

Once gloomy penitence sat silent there,

And midnight tapers gleam'd along the shade.

The lonely shepherd here has oft retired,

To count his flock and tune his rustic lay,

Where loud Hosannas distant ears inspired,

And saintly vespers closed the solemn day.