Ode to the Nightingale

ET

RD OF

OW! ­why complain      In such soft melody of Song,    That

HO, am'rous of thy Strain,      The ling'ring cadence doth prolong?    Ah! tell me, tell me, why,    Thy dulcet Notes ascend the sky.    Or on the filmy vapours glide    Along the misty moutain's side?    And wherefore dost Thou love to dwell,    In the dark wood and moss-grown cell,    Beside the willow-margin'd stream­    Why dost Thou court wan Cynthia's beam?    Sweet Songstress­if thy wayward fate    Hath robb'd Thee of thy bosom's mate,    Oh, think not thy heart-piercing moan      Evap'rates on the breezy air,      Or that the plaintive Song of Care    Steals from

HY Widow'd Breast alone.    Oft have I heard thy mournful Tale,    On the high Cliff, that o'er the Vale    Hangs its dark brow, whose awful shade    Spreads a deep gloom along the glade:    Led by its sound,

I've wander'd far,    Till crimson evening's flaming Star    On Heav'n's vast dome refulgent hung,    And round ethereal vapours flung;    And oft I've sought

AN

ID,    In rosy dimply smiles array'd,    Till forc'd with every

PE to part,    Resistless Pain subdued my Heart.    Oh then, far o'er the restless deep      Forlorn my poignant pangs I bore,    Alone in foreign realms to weep,      Where

VY's voice could taunt no more.    I hop'd, by mingling with the gay,    To snatch the veil of Grief away;    To break Affliction's pond'rous chain;

IN was the Hope­in vain I sought    The placid hour of careless thought,    Where Fashion wing'd her light career,      And sportive Pleasure danc'd along,      Oft have I shunn'd the blithsome throng,    To hide th'involuntary tear,        For e'en where rapt'rous transports glow,    From the full Heart the conscious tear will flow,    When to my downy couch remov'd,

CY recall'd my wearied mind      To scenes of

IP left behind,    Scenes still regretted, still belov'd!    Ah, then I felt the pangs of Grief,    Grasp my warm Heart, and mock relief;    My burning lids Sleep's balm defied,

And on my fev'rish lip imperfect murmurs died.    Restless and sad­I sought once more    A calm retreat on

IN's shore;    Deceitful

PE, e'en there I found      That soothing

IP's specious name    Was but a short-liv'd empty sound,      And

VE a false delusive flame.    Then come,

Sweet

RD, and with thy strain,    Steal from my breast the thorn of pain;    Blest solace of my lonely hours,    In craggy caves and silent bow'rs,    When

PY Mortals seek repose,    By Night's pale lamp we'll chaunt our woes,    And, as her chilling tears diffuse    O'er the white thorn their silv'ry dews,    I'll with the lucid boughts entwine      A weeping Wreath, which round my Head    Shall by the waning Cresent shine,      And light us to our leafy bed,­    But ah! nor leafy beds nor bow'rs    Fring'd with soft

AY's enamell'd flow'rs,    Nor pearly leaves, nor Cynthia's beams,    Nor smiling Pleasure's shad'wy dreams,    Sweet

RD, not e'en

HY melting

Can calm the Heart, where

NT

OW

NS.