Fables of Flowers for the Female Sex. With Zephyrus and Flora, a Vision

Soft sigh’d the west winds, murm’ring o’er the dale, Whose ev’ry charm rose fresher from the breeze; The lofty hills more boldly kiss’d the gale, Which skimm’d their tops, and shook the wavy trees.

III.

The sun descending, shot his golden beams Askance, with many a cloud his ev’ning throne Adorn’d; while mountains, woods, and lucent streams, With the last blushes of his radiance shone.

IV.

Far stretching hence, Cambria’s rough heights I view, Where Liberty long since forlorn retir’d, Left fairer climes, and skies of brighter hue, And, but at last, triumphantly expir’d:

V.

And wide around me wound the fertile vale[2], Fit theme and subject of the poet’s song; Whose num’rous beauties load the passing gale, Whose breath repeats them, as it glides along.

[2] The Vale of Cluyd.

VI.

Bright Phœbus sunk, dim twilight now succeeds, Still gleaming dubious with uncertain ray, While tremblingly among the vocal reeds The ev’ning breezes still more faintly play.

VII.

Amid this beauteous, soft, and flow’ry scene, On a high bank, all listless, I reclin’d; Whose shelving sides were crown’d with lively green, By tufted trees and bord’ring flow’rs confin’d.

VIII.

Here, while the landscape faded on my sight, Wild Fancy’s eye still brighter scenes supply’d; I view’d not the last track of parting light, Nor mark’d the fanning breezes as they dy’d.

IX.

At length, Imagination, roving maid, Though gentle sleep had fetter’d all my pow’rs In golden chains, my busy soul convey’d To other landscapes and immortal bow’rs.

X.

Methought I stood amidst a garden fair, Whose bounds no sight of mortal eye could trace, Situate mid-way, betwixt earth, seas, and air, Unmark’d by Time, uncircumscrib’d by Space.

XI.

Not half so sweet was that delightsome dale, Which to my waking view appear’d so bright; For here did never-ceasing suns prevail, With mildest sweetness temp’ring heav’nly light.

XII.

Spring breath’d eternal glories o’er the land: And gentlest winds, o’er fragrant lawns that blow, Nurs’d beauteous buds unset by mortal hand, And op’ning flow’rs that without planting grow.

XIII.

Serene the heav’ns, save where a cloudy shrine, Big with cœlestial plenty, sail’d on high, Show’r’d Spring’s own roses from her seat divine, And drew a purple radiance o’er the sky.

XIV.

Meanwhile, soft music echoing from each grove, Tun’d to enchanting notes most soft and clear, That breath’d the soul of harmony and love, Thrill’d the rapt breast, and charm’d the list’ning ear.

XV.

And still the while, with voices loud and sweet, The warbling birds in dulcet concert join’d, The waters murm’ring flow with cadence meet, “Low answer’d by the gently whisp’ring wind.”

XVI.

These themes of wonder silent I survey’d, Attentive hanging on each dying sound; Pleas’d with the glories which I saw display’d, And scenes of joy and pleasure op’ning round.

XVII.

Yet still methought a certain want appear’d, Of some to own this spot, so heav’nly fair, Else were each charming flow’ret vainly rear’d, “To bloom unnotic’d to the desart air:”

XVIII.

Else, were in vain these soft melodious strains, Which the whole soul of harmony inspir’d, Pour’d to the wild woods and the lonely plains, Though worthiest still by all to be admir’d.

XIX.

Such were creation’s first imperfect hours, When the gay heav’ns in early beauty shone, And earth, bedeck’d with beasts, birds, plants, and flow’rs, Spread all her bosom to the genial sun;

XX.

Unfinish’d still the mighty work appear’d, Till Man, the lord of all, was bid to rise; With open brow his face divine who rear’d, And sought with upright look his native skies.

XXI.

Thus as I paus’d, still louder swell’d the notes, From ev’ry bush, and brake, and echoing hill; While choirs cœlestial seem’d to tune their throats, And, with glad voice the chearful chorus fill.