SOLITUDE.
[September, 1772.]
Free from envy, strife and sorrow,
Jealous doubts, and heart-felt fears;
Free from thoughts of what to-morrow
May o'er-charge the soul with cares—
Live I in a peaceful valley,
By a neighbouring lonely wood;
Giving way to melancholy,
(Joy, when better understood).
Near me ancient ruins falling
10
From a worn-out castle's brow;
Once the greatest [chiefs] installing,
Where are all their honours now?
Here in midnight's gloomy terror
I enjoy the silent night;
Darkness shews the soul her error,
Darkness leads to inward light.
Here I walk in meditation,
Pond'ring all sublunar things,
From the silent soft persuasion,
Which from virtue's basis springs. 20
What, says truth, are pomp and riches?
Guilded baits to folly lent;
Honour, which the soul bewitches,
When obtain'd, we may repent.
By me plays the stream meand'ring
Slowly, as its waters glide;
And, in gentle murmurs wand'ring,
Lulls to downy rest my pride.
Silent as the gloomy graves are
30
Now the mansions once so loud;
Still and quiet as the brave, or
All the horrors of a croud.
This was once the seat of plunder,
Blood of heroes stain'd the floor;
Heroes, nature's pride and wonder,
Heroes heard of now no more.
Owls and ravens haunt the buildings,
Sending gloomy dread to all;
Yellow moss the summit yielding,
40
Pellitory decks the wall.
Time with rapid speed still wanders,
Journies on an even pace;
Fame of greatest actions squanders,
But perpetuates disgrace.
Sigh not then for pomp or glory;
What avails a heroe's name?
Future times may tell your story,
To your then disgrace and shame.
Chuse some humble cot as this is,
50
In sweet philosophic ease;
With dame Nature's frugal blisses
Live in joy, and die in peace.
G. Ebbare.