Summer-Evening, A
By Thomas Oldham
Come, my dear Love, and let us climb yon hill,
The prospect, from its height, will well reward
The toil of climbing; thence we shall command
The various beauties of the landscape round.
Now we have reached the top. O! what a scene
Opens upon the sight, and swallows up
The admiring soul! She feels as if from earth
Uplifted into heaven. Scarce can she yet
Collect herself, and exercise her powers.
While o'er heaven's lofty, wide-extended arch,
And round the vast horizon, the bold eye
Shoots forth her view, with what sublime delight
The bosom swells! See, where the God of day,
Who through the cloudless ether long has rid
On his bright, fiery car, amidst a blaze
Of dazzling glory, and in wrath shot round
His burning arrows, with tyrannic power
Oppressing Nature, now, his daily course
Well-nigh completed, toward the western goal
Declines, and with less awful majesty
Concludes his reign; his flamy chariot hid
In floods of golden light that dazzles still,
Though less intense. O! how these scenes exalt
The throbbing heart! Louisa, canst thou bear
These strong emotions? do they not o'erpower
Thy tender nerves? I fear, my Love, they do;
Those eyes that, late, with transport beam'd so bright,
Now veil their rays with the soft, dewy shade
Of tenderness. Let us repose awhile;
The roots of yonder tree, cover'd with moss,
Present a pleasing seat; there let us sit.
Hark! Zephyr wakes, and sweetly-whispering, tells
The approach of Eve; already Nature feels
Her soothing influence, her refreshing breath;
The fields, the trees, imbibe the cool, moist air,
Their feverish thirst allay, and smile revived.
The Soul, too, feels her influence, sweetly soothed
Into a tender calm. O! let us now,
My loved Louisa! let us now enjoy
The landscape's charms, and all the nameless sweets
Of this, our favourite hour, for ever dear
To Fancy and to Love. Cast round thy sight
Upon the altered scene, nor longer fear
The dazzling sun; his latest, lingering beams
Where are they? can'st thou find them? see! they gild
The glittering top of yonder village-spire;
Upon that distant hill they faintly shine;
And look! the topmost boughs of this tall oak
Majestic, which o'ercanopies our heads,
Yet catch their tremulous glimmerings: now they fade,
Fade and expire; and, as they fade, the Moon,
The full-orb'd Moon, that seem'd, erewhile, to melt
In the bright azure, from the darkening sky
Emerging slow, and silent, sheds around
Her snowy light, that with the day's last, dim
Reflection, from the broad, translucid lake,
Insensibly commingles, and unites
In sweetest harmony, o'er all the scene
Diffusing magic tints, enchanting power.
How lovely every object now appears!
Each in itself, and how they all combine
In one delightful whole! What eye, what heart,
O Nature! can resist thy potent charms
When thus in soft, transparent shade half-veil'd?
Now Beauty and Sublimity, methinks,
Upon the lap of Eve, embracing sleep.
Mark the tree-tops, my Love, of yonder wood,
Whose moonlight foliage fluctuates in the breeze,
Say, do they not, in figure, motion, hue,
Resemble the sea-waves at misty dawn?
What shadowy shape along the troubled lake
Comes this way moving? how mysteriously
It glides along! how indistinct its form!
Imagination views with sweet surprise
The unknown appearance breathless in suspense.
The Spirit of the waters can it be,
On his aerial car? some fairy Power?
Pants not thy heart, Louisa, half-alarm'd?
It grows upon the sight, strange, watery sounds
Attend its course; hark! was not that a voice?
O! 'tis a fishing-boat! its sails and oars
I now discern. The church-clock strikes! how loud
Burst forth its sound into the startled air,
That feels it still, and trembles far around!
My dearest Love! it summons us away;
The dew begins to fall; let us depart:
How sweetly have we spent this evening-hour!