Summer
O Phoebus! down the western sky,
Far hence diffuse thy burning ray,
Thy light to distant worlds supply,
And wake them to the cares of day.
Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care,
Come,
Cynthia, lovely queen of night!
Refresh me with a cooling breeze,
And cheer me with a lambent light.
Lay me, where o'er the verdant
Her living carpet Nature spreads;
Where the green bower with roses crown'd,
In showers its fragrant foliage spreads.
Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let music die along the grove;
Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And every strain be tuned to love.
Come,
Stella, queen of all my heart!
Come, born to fill its vast desires!
Thy looks perpetual joy impart,
Thy voice perpetual love inspires.
Whilst all my wish and thine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn,
Let sighing gales our sights repeat,
Our murmurs - murmuring brooks return.
Let me when Nature calls to rest,
And blushing skies the morn foretell,
Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell.
Samuel Johnson
Other author posts
Horace Book II Ode 9
Clouds do not always veil the skies, Nor showers immerse the verdant plain; Nor do the billows always rise, Or storms afflict the ruffled main
To Miss Hickman Playing the Spinet
Bright Stella, form'd for universal reign, Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain; When in your eyes resistless lightnings play, Awed into love our conquer'd hearts obey,
On Lyce - An Elderly Lady
Ye nymphs whom starry rays invest, By flattering poets given, Who shine, by lavish lovers dress'd, In all the pomp of heaven
On Seeing a Bust of Mrs Montague
Had this fair figure, which this frame displays, Adorn'd in Roman time the brightest days, In every dome, in every sacred place, Her statue would have breathed an added grace,