For sure from some enchanted isle, From some green Eden of the deep, From some sweet paradise afar, Oh gentle gale of Eden bowers, In Nature's more propitious home, Name to thy loved Elysian groves, That o'er enchanted spirits twine, A fairer form than cherub loves, And let the name be CAROLINE. CAROLINE. PART II. TO THE EVENING STAR. HOTHE GEM of the crimson-coloured Even, So fair thy pensile beauty burns, To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love, Descends and burns to meet with thee. Thine is the breathing, blushing hour, O! sacred to the fall of day, Queen of propitious stars, appear, And early rise, and long delay, D D Shine on her chosen green resort, Whose trees the sunward summit crown, And wanton flowers, that well may court An angel's feet to tread them down. Shine on her sweetly-scented road, Shine, where my charmer's sweeter breath Where, winnowed by the gentle air, And fall upon her brow so fair, Like shadows on the mountain snow. Thus, ever thus, at day's decline, O LEAVE this barren spot to me! Nor summer bud perfume the dew Thrice twenty summers I have seen The sky grow bright, the forest green; And many a wintry wind have stood In bloomless, fruitless solitude, Since childhood in my pleasant bower First spent its sweet and sportive hour, Since youthful lovers in my shade Their vows of truth and rapture made; And on my trunk's surviving frame Carved many a long-forgotten name. Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound, First breathed upon this sacred ground; By all that Love has whispered here, Or Beauty heard with ravished ear; As Love's own altar honour me : Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! |