Ever blessed be those innocent days, Ever sweet their remembrance to me; When often, in silent amaze, Enraptured, I’d gaze upon thee! Whilst arching adown the black sky Thy colours glowed on the green hill, To catch thee as lightning I’d fly, But aye you eluded my skill.
From hill unto hill your gay scene You shifted—whilst crying aloud, I ran, till at length from the green, You shifted, at once to the cloud! So, vain worldly phantoms betray The youths who too eager pursue, When ruined and far led astray, Th’ illusion escapes from their view.
Those peaceable days knew no care, Except what arose from my play, My favourite lambkin and hare, And cabin I built o’er the way. p. 207No cares did I say? Ah! I’m wrong: Even childhood from cares is not free: Far distant I see a grim throng Shake horrible lances at me!
p. 207
One day—I remember it still— For pranks I had played on the clown Who lived on the neighbouring hill, My cabin was trod to the ground. Who ever felt grief such as I When crashed by this terrible blow? Not Priam, the monarch of Troy, When all his proud towers lay low.
And grief upon grief was my lot: Soon after, my lambkin was slain; My hare, having strayed from its cot, Was chased by the hounds o’er the plain. What countless calamities teem From memory’s page on my view!— How trifling soever you seem, Yet once I have wept over you.
Then cease, foolish heart, to repine; No stage is exempted from care: If you would true happiness find, Come follow! and I’ll show you where. But, first, let us take for our guide The Word which Jehovah has penned; By this the true path is descried Which leads to a glorious end.
How narrow this path to our view! How steep an ascent lies before! Whilst, foolish fond heart, laid for you Are dazzling temptations all o’er. p. 208What bye-ways with easy descent Invite us through pleasures to stray! Whilst Satan, with hellish intent, Suggests that we ought to obey.
p. 208
But trust not the father of lies, He tempts you with vanity’s dream; His pleasure, when touched, quickly dies, Like bubbles that dance on the stream. Look not on the wine when it glows All ruddy, in vessels of gold; At last it will sting your repose, And death at the bottom unfold. {208}
But lo! an unnatural night Pours suddenly down on the eye; The
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