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Addressed to Miss Stapleton
SHE came—she is gone—we have met— | |
| And meet perhaps never again; | |
| The sun of that moment is set, | |
| And seems to have risen in vain. | |
| Catharina has fled like a dream, | 5 |
| (So vanishes pleasure, alas!) | |
| But has left a regret and esteem | |
| That will not so suddenly pass. | |
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| That last evening ramble we made, | |
| Catharina, Maria, and I, | 10 |
| Our progress as often delay’d | |
| By the nightingale warbling nigh. | |
| We paused under many a tree, | |
| And much was she charm’d with a tone, | |
| Less sweet to Maria and me, | 15 |
| Who so lately had witness’d her own. | |
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| My numbers that day she had sung, | |
| And gave them a grace so divine, | |
| As only her musical tongue | |
| Could infuse into numbers of mine. | 20 |
| The longer I heard, I esteem’d | |
| The work of my fancy the more, | |
| And e’en to myself never seem’d | |
| So tuneful a poet before. | |
| |
| Though the pleasures of London exceed | 25 |
| In number the days of the year, | |
| Catharina, did nothing impede, | |
| Would feel herself happier here; | |
| For the close-woven arches of limes | |
| On the banks of our river, I know, | 30 |
| Are sweeter to her many times | |
| Than aught that the city can show. | |
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| So it is, when the mind is endued | |
| With a well-judging taste from above, | |
| Then, whether embellish’d or rude, | 35 |
| ’T is nature alone that we love. | |
| The achievements of art may amuse, | |
| May even our wonder excite, | |
| But groves, hills, and valleys diffuse | |
| A lasting, a sacred delight. | 40 |
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| Since then in the rural recess | |
| Catharina alone can rejoice, | |
| May it still be her lot to possess | |
| The scene of her sensible choice! | |
| To inhabit a mansion remote | 45 |
| From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, | |
| And by Philomel’s annual note | |
| To measure the life that she leads. | |
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| With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, | |
| To wing all her moments at home; | 50 |
| And with scenes that new rapture inspire | |
| As oft as it suits her to roam; | |
| She will have just the life she prefers, | |
| With little to hope or to fear, | |
| And ours would be pleasant as hers, | 55 |
| Might we view it enjoying it here. | |
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