The blackbird has fled to another retreat,

Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charmed me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,

9

With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, 15 Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;

Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.1

20

THE SHRUBBERY.

WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION.

O HAPPY shades! to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me!
How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree!

This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
Those alders quivering to the breeze,
Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine,
And please, if anything could please.

5

1 Note to Ed. of 1803.-Mr Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the following manner :—

The change both my heart and my fancy employs,

I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys;
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we,

But fixed unalterable Care

Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness everywhere,

And slights the season and the scene.

For all that pleased in wood or lawn,

While peace possessed these silent bowers, Her animating smile withdrawn,

Has lost its beauties and its powers.

The saint or moralist should tread

This moss-grown alley, musing, slow;

They seek like me the secret shade,
But not, like me, to nourish woe!

Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste
Alike admonish not to roam ;
These tell me of enjoyments past,
And those of sorrows yet to come.

A COMPARISON.

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade,

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid!

Silent and chaste she steals along,

Far from the world's gay busy throng,

With gentle yet prevailing force,

Intent upon her destined course;

Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blessed where'er she goes;
Pure-bosomed as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face!

ΙΟ

15

20

5

ΙΟ

ODE TO PEACE.

COME, peace of mind, delightful guest!
Return and make thy downy nest

Once more in this sad heart:
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view;

We therefore need not part.

Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,
From avarice and ambition free,

And pleasure's fatal wiles?

For whom, alas! dost thou prepare

The sweets that I was wont to share,

The banquet of thy smiles?

The great, the gay, shall they partake
The heaven that thou alone canst make,
And wilt thou quit the stream
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the sequestered shed,
To be a guest with them?

For thee I panted, thee I prized,

For thee I gladly sacrificed

Whate'er I loved before,

And shall I see thee start away,

And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say, "Farewell! we meet no more"?

5

IO

15

20

3. MISCELLANEOUS.

EXTRACTS FROM "CONVERSATION."

A.

YE powers who rule the tongue, if such there are,
And make colloquial happiness your care,
Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate,
A duel in the form of a debate.

The clash of arguments and jar of words,
Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords,
Decide no question with their tedious length
(For opposition gives opinion strength),
Divert the champions prodigal of breath,
And put the peaceably-disposed to death.
Oh thwart me not, Sir Soph, at every turn,
Nor carp at every flaw you may discern ;
Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue,
I am not surely always in the wrong ;
'Tis hard if all is false that I advance,

5

IO

15

A fool must now and then be right by chance.

Not that all freedom of dissent I blame;

No, there I grant the privilege I claim.

A disputable point is no man's ground,
Rove where you please, 'tis common all around.
Discourse may want an animated No,
To brush the surface, and to make it flow;
But still remember, if you mean to please,
To press your point with modesty and ease.
The mark at which my juster aim I take,
Is contradiction for its own dear sake.

20

25

Set your opinion at whatever pitch,

Knots and impediments make something hitch;
Adopt his own, 'tis equally in vain,

Your thread of argument is snapped again;
The wrangler, rather than accord with you,
Will judge himself deceived,-and prove it too.
Vociferated logic kills me quite,

A noisy man is always in the right;

I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair,
Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare,
And when I hope his blunders are all out,
Reply discreetly, "To be sure—no doubt."
Dubius is such a scrupulous good man,-
Yes, you may catch him tripping if you can.
He would not with a peremptory tone
Assert the nose upon his face his own;
With hesitation admirably slow,

30

35

40

He humbly hopes-presumes—it may be so.
His evidence, if he were called by law

45

To swear to some enormity he saw,

For want of prominence and just relief,

Would hang an honest man, and save a thief.
Through constant dread of giving truth offence,
He ties up all his hearers in suspense;
Knows what he knows, as if he knew it not;
What he remembers seems to have forgot;

50

His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall,
Centering at last in having none at all.
Yet though he tease and baulk your listening

ear,

He makes one useful point exceeding clear;
Howe'er ingenious on his darling theme

A sceptic in philosophy may seem,