The Bijou;
or Annual of Literature and the Arts
compiled by William Fraser
London: William Pickering,
1828
pp. pp. 313-314
Oh! had your lot been, haply, cast among | 19 |
The gay tricked bevies ofthe city's throng, | 20 |
Ye might have followed, with bedazzled eyes, | 21 |
The lures outspread by Vice within her halls, | 22 |
Full teeming with low crouching votaries; | 23 |
Ye might have battened in the sensual stalls, | 24 |
Where vilde Indulgnce — all ashamedhg — hies. — | 25 |
Out on the erimes and sins of Capitals! | 26 |
For in their wilderness all silent stalks | 27 |
Gaunt wolfish care — and red- eyed Hatred walks | 28 |
And Anger burns, and fevered Envy toils | 29 |
To heap upon her overteeming fane | 30 |
Fresh fathered plunder, and the gory spoils | 31 |
Of white- robed Innocence, and Virtue slain; | 32 |
And crested Pride hath in loud mockery trod, | 33 |
Aping the semblance of a mighty God; | 34 |
And beautous Honor panic- stricken fled; | 35 |
While boldly followeth the minion Shame, | 36 |
Usurper base of Modesty long dead, | 37 |
And tromping forth its foul degraded name! | 38 |
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But for my simple lover they are gone! — | 39 |
That valley now is mute — and desolate; | 40 |
No sound is heard of pipe by shepherd blown — | 41 |
No lightly carolled — joyous songs prevail — | 42 |
Save when the eve- consenting nightingale | 43 |
Gives a sweet requiem to their early fate! — | 44 |
Far in the shady dell there lies a mound | 45 |
Laved by a stream — and bright with flowers around | 46 |
And there the Rustics made their earlygrave! — | 47 |
Desease came o'er the youth — and his hot blood | 48 |
In fiery eddies boiled — until he stood | 49 |
A victim marked by Death's relentless hand — | 50 |
And then he fell — whom neither art could save | 51 |
Nor medicinal herb! — and she — the good — | 52 |
And beautiful, his loss could not withstand: — | 53 |
For what of joy could this dull world impart— | 54 |
Pale grew her cheek — and broke her tender heart! | 55 |
Peace to their slumbers — tho' no funeral stone — | 56 |
Pageant, nor gilded 'scutcheon deck their grave — | 57 |
Yet few among those hills have mourned — will mourn | 58 |
The bright, the beautiful, the young, the brave: — | 59 |
More precious tears — that love and virtue own — | 60 |
Than splendour's train, and pomp — and heart of | 61 |
stone! | 62 |