WRITTEN ON NEW-YEAR'S EVve, while the bells WERE RINGING OUT THE OLD YEAR. I. AGAIN the smoothly circling year, Sweet bells in tuneful sounds express And months with plenty crown'd. II. While yet remains the courteous guest, Farewell, ye Seasons! roll away; Though age brings up the rear. III. Cheerful, I trust, for future good, Farewell, kind Year, which still has bless'd IV. Not yet-but now impends the stroke; Go, mingle with the countless past; V. But then with smiling grace appear, And witness that thy golden hours TO CHEERFULNESS. I. FAIR Cheerfulness, nymph who all nymphs dost excel; Ah, tell me, sweet Cheerfulness, where dost thou dwell? I would search the world round, thee, dear charmer, to find, And with thy rosy chaplet my forehead to bind. II. When, with thee, shall I drink of the clear crystal spring, While birds on the branches rejoicingly sing? When, with thee, on the sun-shiny hills shall I play, When all nature around us looks flowery and gay? III. O, why have I lost thee? What heedless offence, IV. Thou ever wert known with Religion to dwell, And gild with thy smiles her contemplative cell; With Innocence thou trippest light o'er the green, While the blue sky above shines all clear and serene V. With Philosophy oft thy gay moments were pass'd, When Socrates heighten'd the pleasing repast; With Industry ever thou lovest to go, Though she carry the milk-pail, or follow the plough. V.I. Far away from my bosom I banish'd thy foes, Unresting Ambition, wild Passion's excess, VII. Indeed, giddy Mirth and her frolicsome crew Yet my solitude often by thee has been bless'd; VIII. Why then art thou gone? O, inconstant as fair, Should gild, with mild lustre, life's most gloomy day. IX. Sweet songstress, dost thou with sad Philomel fly, To seek in new climes a more temperate sky; While the red-breast all winter continues to sing, And gladdens its snows with the music of spring? X. Thou shouldst be through life my companion and guide, Come sickness, come sorrow, whatever betide; Gift of heaven, to shorten our wearisome way, Through the valley of toil, to the regions of day. XI. But, methinks, in my heart still I hear thee re ply: I cherish one guest, who constrains thee to fly; For honied discourses, and stories twice told.* XII. Old Memory often will dwell on a tale That makes the fresh rose in thy garland grow pale: Yet what can he tell, that may justly displease Thee, whose cloud-piercing eye all futurity sees? -ειρημενα μυθολογεύειν. Hom. Od. xii. Human nature has in all ages been the same; and this has been the complaint of youth against age, and of cheerfulness against melancholy, from the earliest times. |