Amatory Odes: Ode V. To the Naiad of Glympton Brook

aiad, unseen of mortal eyes, Whose light steps haunt this current lone, Where gentle Zephyr's balmy sighs, With thy wild wave in unison, Blend their aërial melodies;

Let me to thy deserted shades Reveal the never-dying flame That all my pensive soul pervades, And teach thine echoes Lesbia's name E'er the soft light of evening fades!

Unheard, unnotic'd, let me rove Thy trembling osier wreaths among, And woo the Muse where none reprove Affection's unambitious song, Nor chide the plaint of hopeless love.

There, when the Day's dim eyelids close, Hide me within some shadowy cave; And, ministring to calm repose, Oh softly bid thy babbling wave Kiss the dank sedge that round it grows!

No Angler's cruel arts are mine, Ye timid Tenants of the brook! Wrought by my hand no viewless line, Disguis'd by me no treacherous hook, Bids you your little lives resign.

Nor this pellucid rill refrain To sip, Ye Minstrels of the air! Your downy plumage to distain With blood no fatal Tube I bear, Nor pay with death your artless strain.

That Breast no savage sports can share, Where glow Affection's generous fires: Soft Pity finds her mansion there, All whom the breath of life inspires By her own sorrows taught to spare.

Mine, Gentle Naiad, be the dell Whose clear stream laves thy chrystal grot: Near its green margin let me dwell, By all but One dear Maid forgot, And bid a world of cares farewell.

Oft let me view thy trembling tide Chequer'd with Cynthia's silver light, What time, in Fancy's train descried, Before my fascinated sight Past Joy's illusive phantoms glide.

Hopeless of happier hours to come, No more array'd in flattering hues For me the buds of Pleasure bloom: Yet deigns, at Fancy's call, the Muse To gild Affliction's deepening gloom.

With Lesbia's praise the strain shall glow; Oh may she taste each bliss supreme That Hope can paint, or Love bestow; And calm as Glym's sequester'd stream May her life's gentle current flow!

Wind, Lovely Brook, thy murmuring way, Still with my sorrows sympathize: So may thy banks fresh flow'rs inlay, Thy waves in rich redundance rise, Mild Zephyrs on thy bosom play!

If Zephyr should his breath deny, My sighs shall fan thy flowery beds; If parching thy channel dry, The tears desponding Passion sheds Shall its exhausted stream supply.