Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/19

Rh Tho' round each latticed bower and shaded room, Soft airs waft fragrant with the citron bloom. Their bright festoons the flowery woodbines braid, Wed tree to tree, and join the distant shade. While from each sculptur'd urn, in beauteous row, The rich geranium spreads its scarlet glow: Beneath the southern sash the myrtle bears Our ruder winters and inclement airs. Though round the walls the pictur'd tablets shine, And all the wealth of Titian's art is mine; Yet no sweet voice its silver music wakes, O'er my fond eye no form of beauty breaks, No gentle hand my morning meal prepares, My studious noon, my evening saunter shares; No steps of gladness wander through the grove, No lute is sounding from the soft alcove, And when the summer sun sinks down to rest, This cheek lies piilow'd on no loved one's breast.

Poet and friend! from every haunted grove, Where, wild of wing, young fancy loves to rove; Where'er thy devious footsteps wont to stray, Each muse, each grace, companions of thy way, Pause o'er the page which friendship gives to fame, And mark the verse inscribed with Parnell's name. See the poor minstrel leave his silent towers, His moss-grown gardens, and neglected bowers. Pleas'd for awhile with pilgrim-steps to roam, He found in Twickenham's groves a dearer home, And sooth'd alike by friendship and the muse,