ELEGY
.
JOYLESS
I
seek
the
solitary
shade
,
Where
dusky
Contemplation
veils
the
scene
,
The
dark
retreat
(
of
leafless
branches
made
)
Where
sick'ning
sorrow
wets
the
yellow'd
green
.
The
darksome
ruins
of
some
sacred
cell
,
Where
erst
the
sons
of
Superstition
trod
,
Tott'ring
upon
the
mossy
meadow
,
tell
We
better
know
,
but
less
adore
our
God
.
Now
,
as
I
mournful
tread
the
gloomy
cave
,
Thro'
the
wide
window
(
once
with
mysteries
dight
)
The
distant
forest
,
and
the
dark'ned
wave
Of
the
swoln
Avon
ravishes
my
sight
.
But
see
the
thick'ning
vell
of
evening's
drawn
,
The
azure
changes
to
a
sabled
blue
;
The
rapt'ring
prospects
fly
the
less'ning
lawn
,
And
Nature
seems
to
mourn
the
dying
view
.
Self-sprighted
Fear
creeps
silent
thro'
the
gloom
,
Starts
at
the
rust'ling
leaf
,
and
rolls
his
eyes
;
Aghast
with
horror
,
when
he
views
the
tomb
,
With
every
torment
of
a
hell
he
flies
.
The
bubbling
brooks
in
plantive
murmurs
roll
,
The
bird
of
omen
,
with
incessant
scream
,
To
melancholy
thoughts
awakes
the
soul
,
And
lulls
the
mind
to
contemplation's
dream
.
A
dreary
stillness
broods
o'er
all
the
vale
,
The
clouded
moon
emits
a
feeble
glare
;
Joyless
I
seek
the
darkling
hill
and
dale
;
Where'er
I
wander
sorrow
still
is
there
.
Bristol
,
Nov.
17.
1769
.