"And deep they quaff the inspiring bowl "That kindles gladness in the soul.--[41] "But now the moon, exalted high, "Adds lustre to the earth and sky, "And in the mighty ocean's glass "Admires the beauties of her face-- "About her orb you may behold "The circling stars that freeze with cold-- "But they in brighter seasons please, "Winter can find no charms in these, "While less ambitious, we admire, "And more esteem domestic fire. "O could I there a mansion find "Suited exactly to my mind "Near that industrious, heavenly train "Of rustics honest, neat, and plain; "The days, the weeks, the years to pass "With some good-natured, longing lass, "With her the cooling spring to sip, "And seize, at will, her damask lip; "The groves, the springs, the shades divine, "And all Arcadia should be mine! "Steep me, steep me, some poppies deep "In beechen bowl, to bring on sleep; "Love hath my soul in fetters bound, "Through the dull night no sleep I found;-- "O gentle sleep! bestow thy dreams "Of fields, and woods, and murmuring streams, "Dark, tufted groves, and grottoes rare, "And Flora, charming Flora, there. "Dull Commerce, hence, with all thy train "Of debts, and dues, and loss, and gain; "To hills, and groves, and purling streams, "To nights of ease, and heaven-born dreams, "While wiser Damon hastes away, "Should I in this dull city stay, "Condemn'd to death by slow decays "And care that clouds my brightest days? "No--by Silenus' self I swear, "In rustic shades I'll kill that care." So spoke Lysander, and in haste His clerks discharg'd, his goods re-cased, And to the western forests flew With fifty airy schemes in view; His ships were set to public sale-- But what did all this change avail?-- In three short months, sick of the heavenly train, In three short months--he moved to town again. [37] From the edition of 1809. The 1786 edition has the note, "Written 1770." [38] Shenstone.--_Ed. 1786._ [39] Sylvan.--_Ed. 1786._ [40] Dolly.--_Ed. 1786._ [41] "But swift as changing goblets pass, They bless the virtues of the glass."--_Ed. 1786._ THE DYING ELM[42] Sweet, lovely Elm, who here dost grow Companion of unsocial care, Lo! thy dejected branches die Amidst this torrid air-- Smit by the sun or blasting moon, Like fainting flowers, their verdure gone. Thy withering leaves, that drooping hang, Presage thine end approaching nigh; And lo! thy amber tears distill, Attended with that parting sigh-- O charming tree! no more decline, But be thy shades and love-sick whispers mine. Forbear to die--this weeping eye Shall shed her little drops on you, Shall o'er thy sad disaster grieve, And wash thy wounds with pearly dew, Shall pity you, and pity me, And heal the languor of my tree!