Ode to Miss Farren

From her own garden, BEAUTY chose, In all its bloomy pride, the ROSE, And from the feather'd race, the DOVE; Then, FARREN! on thy cheek she threw The blushing Flow'r's enchanting hue, Then form'd thy temper from the Bird of Love.

Ah! though I'm doom'd to roam afar, Yet shall the Morning's beamy star, Yet shall the placid glow of Eve Recal thy charms to bless my mind: Dear charms! with dearer virtues join'd, So shall my heart at times forget to grieve,

And often will I loit'ring stay, Till the dark mountains veil the Day, While thus delicious Fancy cheers— For then more sweet on ev'ry plain The Linnet trills her farewel strain, And then more lovely NATURE's self appears.

And sure the happy Youths who gaze Upon thine Eyes resistless blaze, Where gay Life's polish'd circles shine, Or view amid the Comic Scene, Thy dimpled smiles, and graceful mien, Shall find "their bosoms sympathize with mine."

Whether thou show'st with matchless skill, Unsteady Fashion's froward will, As heartless Maid, or heedless Wife, Truth, Nature, Sentiment prevail, And through the Mirth-inspiring Tale, All FICTION seems absorb'd in REAL LIFE.

Oh, what delight to hourly trace The fine expression of thy face, Thy winning elegance, and ease; To see those teeth, of lust'rous pearl, Thy locks profuse of many a curl, And hear thy voice, omnipotent to please!

With thee to pace the mountain's side, Or mark the rushy riv'let glide, That murm'ring rolls a scanty stream; Till winding in the vale below, It seems t'exult with vainer glow, And gaily wanton in the lunar beam.

Still might the seasons change—with thee, Not Winter's self could dreary be, Nor sultry Summer's heats offend. The howling winds the pelting show'r, Could not disturb my rapt'rous hour, Nor ever gloom my mind—with such a friend.

At midnight then no more I'd stand, Where Ocean's surges lash the land, Nor fondly list the Screech-owl's tongue— Ah me! I dream—th' illusion's o'er— Henceforth in silence I'll adore, And thou, sweet Nymph! forgive the ardent song.