Elegy,

WRITTEN AT THE

HOTWELLS, BRISTOL.

INSCRIBED TO

THE REV. W. HOWLEY,

FELLOW OF WINCHESTER COLLEGE.

"Ibi hæc incondita secum

"Montibus et silvis studio jactabit inani."

VIRG.

Elegy,

WRITTEN AT THE

HOTWELLS, BRISTOL, JULY 1789.

THE morning wakes in shadowy mantle grey,
The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold,
Prone from the cliff the falcon wheels her way,
And long and loud the bell's slow chime is toll'd.

The redd'ning light gains fast upon the skies,
And far away the glist'ning vapours sail,

Down the rough steep th' accustom'd hedger hies,
And the stream winds in brightness thro' the vale!

How beauteous the pale rocks above the shore
Uplift their bleak and furrow'd aspect high;
How proudly desolate their foreheads hoar,
That meet the earliest sunbeam of the sky!

Bound to yon dusky mart,* with pennants gay,
The tall bark, on the winding water's line,
Between the riven cliffs plies her hard way,
And peering on the sight the white sails shine.

Alas! for those by drooping sickness worn,
Who now come forth to meet the cheering ray;
And feel the fragrance of the tepid morn

Round their torn breast and throbbing temples play!

Perhaps they muse with a desponding sigh

On the cold vault that shall their bones inurn; Whilst every breeze seems, as it whispers by, To breathe of comfort never to return.

Yet oft, as sadly-thronging dreams arise,
Awhile forgetful of their pain they gaze,
A transient lustre lights their faded eyes,
And o'er their cheek the tender hectick strays.

The purple morn that paints with sidelong gleam The cliff's tall crest, the waving woods that ring With charm of birds rejoicing in the beam,

Touch soft the wakeful nerve's according string.

* Bristol.