VERSES
written
in
an
Alcove
.
Jam
Cytherea
choros
ducit
Venus
imminente
Luna
.
HORAT.
NOW
the
moon-beam's
trembling
lustre
Silvers
o'er
the
dewy
green
,
And
in
soft
and
shadowy
colours
Sweetly
paints
the
checquer'd
scene
.
Here
between
the
opening
branches
Streams
a
flood
of
soften'd
light
,
There
the
thick
and
twisted
foliage
Spreads
the
browner
gloom
of
night
.
This
is
sure
the
haunt
of
fairies
,
In
yon
cool
Alcove
they
play
;
Care
can
never
cross
the
threshold
,
Care
was
only
made
for
day
.
Far
from
hence
be
noisy
clamour
,
Sick
disgust
and
anxious
fear
;
Pining
grief
and
wasting
anguish
Never
keep
their
vigils
here
.
Tell
no
tales
of
sheeted
spectres
,
Rising
from
the
quiet
tomb
;
Fairer
forms
this
cell
shall
visit
,
Brighter
visions
gild
the
gloom
.
Choral
songs
and
sprightly
voices
Echo
from
her
cell
shall
call
;
Sweeter
,
sweeter
than
the
murmur
Of
the
distant
water
fall
.
Every
ruder
gust
of
passion
Lull'd
with
music
dies
away
,
Till
within
the
charmed
bosom
None
but
soft
affections
play
:
Soft
,
as
when
the
evening
breezes
Gently
stir
the
poplar
grove
;
Brighter
than
the
smile
of
summer
,
Sweeter
than
the
breath
of
love
.
Thee
,
th'
inchanted
Muse
shall
follow
,
LISSY
!
to
the
rustic
cell
,
And
each
careless
note
repeating
Tune
them
to
her
charming
shell
.
Not
the
Muse
who
wreath'd
with
laurel
,
Solemn
stalks
with
tragic
gait
,
And
in
clear
and
lofty
vision
Sees
the
future
births
of
fate
;
Not
the
maid
who
crown'd
with
cypress
Sweeps
along
in
scepter'd
pall
,
And
in
sad
and
solemn
accents
Mourns
the
crested
heroe's
fall
;
But
that
other
smiling
sister
,
With
the
blue
and
laughing
eye
,
Singing
,
in
a
lighter
measure
,
Strains
of
woodland
harmony
:
All
unknown
to
fame
or
glory
,
Easy
,
blith
and
debonair
,
Crown'd
with
flowers
,
her
careless
tresses
Loosely
floating
on
the
air
.
Then
,
when
next
the
star
of
evening
Softly
sheds
the
silent
dew
,
Let
me
in
this
rustic
temple
,
LISSY
!
meet
the
Muse
and
you
.