SEND, I send here my supremest kiss
To thee, my silver-footed Thamasis.
No more shall I reiterate thy strand,
Whereon so many stately structures stand:
Nor in the summer's sweeter evenings go,
To bath in thee, as thousand others doe:
No more shall I a long thy christall glide,
In barge with boughes and rushes beautifi'd,
With soft-smooth virgins for our chast disport,
To Richmond, Kingstone, and to Hampton-Court:
Never againe shall I with finnie ore
Put from or draw unto the faithfull shore,
And landing here, or safely landing there,
Make way to my beloved Westminster,
Or to the golden Cheap-side, where the earth
Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth.
May all clean nimphs and curious water dames
With swan-like state flote up and down thy streams:
No drought upon thy wanton waters fall
To make them leane, and languishing at all:
No ruffling winds come hither to discease
Thy pure and silver-wristed Naides.
Keep up your state, ye streams; and as ye spring,
Never make sick your banks by surfeiting.
Grow young with tydes, and though I see ye never, Receive this vow, so fare ye well for ever.
commerce brought into the public walk
The busy merchant; the big warehouse built; Raised the strong crane; choked up the loaded street
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between
Possessed the breezy void; the sooty hulk
Steered sluggish on; the splendid barge along
Rowed, regular, to harmony; around,
The boat, light skimming, stretched its oary wings;
While deep the various voice of fervent toil
From bank to bank increased.
THOU too, great father of the British floods!
With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods;
Where towering oaks their growing honors rear,
And future navies on thy shores appear.
Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives
A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.
No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.
Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays,
While led along the skies his current strays,
As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes,
To grace the mansion of our carthly gods:
Nor all his stars above a lustre show,
Like the bright beauties on thy banks below;
Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
Alexander Pope.
THE THAMES FROM COOPER'S HILL.
eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. Thames! the most loved of all the Ocean' sons,
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity;
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold:
His genuine and less guilty wealth to explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing
And hatches plenty for the ensuing spring;
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers which their infants overlay ;
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil;
But godlike his unwearied bounty flows;
First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his blessings to his banks confined,
But free and common as the sea or wind;
When he, to boast or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying towers
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where 't is, bestows it where it wants,
Cities in deserts, woods in cities, plants.
So that to us no thing, no place, is strange,
While his fair bosom is the world's Exchange.
O, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.
WHERE THAMES ALONG THE DAISIED MEADS.
WHERE Thames along the daisied meads
His wave in lucid mazes leads,
Silent, slow, serenely flowing,
Wealth on either side bestowing,
There in a safe though small retreat,
Content and Love have fixed their seat,
Love, that counts his duty pleasure;
Content, that knows and hugs his treasure.
From art, from jealousy secure,
As faith unblamed, as friendship pure,
Vain opinion nobly scorning,
Virtue aiding, life adorning,
Fair Thames along thy flowery side,
May thou whom truth and reason guide
All their tender hours improving,
Live like us, beloved and loving.
GLIMPSE of the river! it glimmers
Through the stems of the beeches;
Through the screen of the willows it shimmers
In long winding reaches;
Flowing so softly that scarcely
It seems to be flowing,
But the reeds of the low little islands
Are bent to its going;
And soft as the breath of a sleeper
Its heaving and sighing,
In the coves where the fleets of the lilies
At anchor are lying:
It looks as if fallen asleep
In the lap of the meadows, and smiling Like a child in the grass, dreaming deep Of the flowers and their golden beguiling.
A glimpse of the river! it glooms
Underneath the dark arches;
Across it the broad shadow looms,
And the eager crowd marches;
Where waiting the feet of the city,
Strong and swift it is flowing;
On its bosom the ships of the nations
Are coming and going;
Heavy laden, it labors and spends,
In a great strain of duty,
The power that was gathered and nursed
|