Scarce sixteen summers had I seen, And rov'd my native bow'rs; Nor stray'd my thoughts beyond the green, Bedew'd with shrubs and flow'rs.
When late a stranger youth appear'd; I neither wish'd nor sought him; He came, but whence I never heard, And spake what love had taught him.
His hair in graceful ringlets play'd, All eyes are charm'd that view them, And o'er his comely shoulders stray'd, Where wanton zephyrs blew them.
His speaking eye of azure hue Seem'd ever softly suing, And such an eye, so clear and blue, Ne'er shone for maid's undoing.
His face was fair, his cheek was red, With blushes ever burning; And all he spoke was deftly said, Though far beyond my learning.
Where'er I stray'd, the youth was nigh, His look soft sorrows speaking; Sweet maid! he'd say, then gaze and sigh, As if his heart were breaking.
And once, as low his head he hung, I fain would ask the meaning; When round my neck his arms he flung, Soft tears his grief explaining.
Such freedom ne'er was ta'en till now, And now 'twas unoffending; Shame spread my cheek with ruddy glow, My eyes kept downward bending.
Nor aught I spoke, my looks he read, As if with anger burning; No--not one word--away he sped, Ah! would he were returning.
_Port Folio_, I-189, Mar. 29, 1806, Phila.
From Gessner's "New Idyls." THE ZEPHYRS. [b].
[Prose translation.] _Weekly Visitant_, I-158, May 17, 1806, Salem.
[S. Gessner, _Die Zephyre_. W. Hooper, _New Idylles_, p. 16.]
From Gessner's "New Idylles." THE CARNATION.
[Prose translation.] _Weekly Visitant_, I-159, May 17, 1806, Salem.
[S. Gessner, _Die Nelke_. W. Hooper, _New Idylles_, p. 7.]
Imitated from Klopstock's ode to his future mistress. By Thomas Campbell, Esq., author of Pleasures of Hope.
_Evening Fire-Side or Lit. Misc._, II-165, May 24, 1806, Phila.
[F. G. Klopstock, _Die künftige Geliebte_.
The above imitation appeared first in a newspaper, _Newport Mercury_, No. 2160, Aug. 30, 1803, Newport.]
THE FOWLER--A SONG. Altered from a German air, in the opera of "Die Zauberlôte."
A CARELESS whistling lad am I, On sky-lark wings my moments fly; There's not a _Fowler_ more renown'd In all the world--for ten miles round! Ah! who like me can spread the net? Or tune the merry flageolet?
Then why--O why should I repine, Since all the roving birds are mine? The thrush and linnet in the vale, The sweet sequester'd nightingale, The bulfinch, wren, and wood-lark, all Obey my summons when I call: O! could I form some cunning snare To catch the coy, coquetting fair, In _Cupid's_ filmy web so fine, The pretty girls should all be mine!
