THE GARDEN ROSE AND THE WILD ROSE. AS DEE, whose current free from stain, Darts swiftly through the stagnant mass, Unmixed, unsullied as they flow- The keeper of her dreams might dwell. But ah! they will not, will not last- We turn the former prospect o'er; Come, then; thy kind recesses ope! And bring my morning scenes again! TO ENON'S wild and silent shade, Or, where the hermit, BELA, leads Where once she soothed my slumbering hour: And oft, what storms her bosom tear, Her deeply-wounded banks declare. Where EDEN's fairer waters flow, By MILTON's bower, or OsTy's brow, Or, winding round the Druid's grave, To these fair scenes of FANCY's reign, "Twas thus of old a poet prayed; Th' indulgent power his prayer approved, And, ere the gathered Rose could fade, Restored him to the scenes he loved. |