POEMS BY WILLIAM COWPER EARLY POEMS VERSES WRITTEN AT BATH, ON FINDING THE HEEL OF A SHOE, IN 1748 ORTUNE! I thank thee: gentle Goddess, thanks! Not that my Muse, though bashful, shall deny She would have thanked thee rather hadst thou cast A treasure in her way; for neither meed Of early breakfast, to dispel the fumes And bowel-racking pains of emptiness, Nor noontide feast, nor evening's cool repast, Hopes she from this, presumptuous,-though perhaps Nathless she thanks thee, and accepts thy boon, Whatever; not as erst the fabled cock, Spurned the rich gem thou gavest him. Wherefore, ah! Conferredst thou, Goddess? Thou art blind, thou say'st: B Pursue his destined way with symmetry And some proportion formed, now on one side, His prosperous way; nor fears miscarriage foul, AN ATTEMPT AT THE MANNER of Waller Then fear not I should e'er rebel, Nay, this were less absurd and vain But thou art mild as thou art fair; First from necessity we own your sway, Then scorn our freedom, and by choice obey. Drayton, March 1753. A SONG THE sparkling eye, the mantling cheek, Glassy locks, and brow serene, All meet in you, and you alone. Each single feature faintly warms: But where at once we view displayed Unblemished grace, the perfect maid Our eyes, our ears, our heart alarms. So when on earth the god of day Obliquely sheds his tempered ray, Through convex orbs the beams transmit, The beams that gently warmed before, Collected, gently warm no more, But glow with more prevailing heat. A SONG On the green margin of the brook "Am I less lovely then?" (she cries, "Oh yes, I see my languid eyes, My faded cheek, my colour fled : These eyes no more like lightning pierced, These cheeks grew pale, when Damon first His Phyllida betrayed. "The rose he in his bosom wore, How oft upon my breast was seen! But Damon first the cheat begun. " say, A SONG No more shall hapless Celia's ears Nor songs her slumbers to molest, With my fa, la, la. The fragrant flowers that once would bloom And flourish in her hair, Since she no longer breathes perfume Their odours to repair, Must fade, alas! and wither now, As placed on any common brow, With my fa, la, la. Her lip, so winning and so meek, As well she might by whistling seek As her forsaken gums may show, With my fa, la, la. The down that on her chin so smooth, So lovely once appeared, That, too, has left her with her youth, As fields, so green when newly sown, With stubble stiff are overgrown, With my fa, la, la. Then, Celia, leave your apish tricks, Those joys that suit your years; With my fa, la, la. UPON A VENERABLE RIVAL FULL thirty frosts since thou wert young Thou wretch! and hast thou lived so long, Ye Sages! spite of your pretences Not that I deem it weak to love, But ah! the pangs we lovers prove Unheeded on the youthful brow For once, then, if untutored youth, For once attempt not to despise What I esteem a rule: Who early loves, though young, is wise,— AN ODE ON READING MR. RICHARDSON'S HISTORY OF SIR CHARLES GRANDISON SAY, ye apostate and profane, Did e'er your idly-wasted love And lift you from the crowd? |