LINES WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGE-WATER, SEPTEMBER, 1795, IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM BRISTOL. Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better For what so sweet can labored lay impart As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart-ANON. NOR travels my meandering eye I mark the glow-worm as I pass, Move with " green radiance" through the grass, O ever present to my view! And soothes your boding fears: Chilled Friendship's dark disliking eye, Or Mirth's untimely din? With cruel weight these trifles press When aches the Void within. But why with sable wand unblest I felt it prompt the tender dream, And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans The onward-surging tide supply Dark reddening from the channell'd Isle* The watch-fire, like a sullen star, Rude cradled on the mast. Even there-beneath that light-house towerIn the tumultuous evil hour Ere Peace with Sara came, Time was, I should have thought it sweet And watch the storm-vexed flame. And there in black soul-jaundiced fit When mountain surges bellowing deep Plunged foaming on the shore. Then by the lightning's blaze to mark And when a second sheet of light But Fancy now more gaily sings; The Holmes, in the Bristol Channel. As sky-larks 'mid the corn, On summer fields she grounds her breast: O mark those smiling tears, that swell Such are the tender woes of Love When stormy Midnight howling round The tears that tremble down your cheek Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek In Pity's dew divine; And from your heart the sighs that steal Shall make your rising bosom feel The answering swell of mine! How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet I paint the moment we shall meet ! With eager speed I dart I seize you in the vacant air, And fancy, with a husband's care |