THE
MAN
OF
SORROW
.
BY
MR.
GREVILLE
.
AH
!
what
avails
the
lengthening
mead
,
By
Nature's
kindest
bounty
spread
Along
the
vale
of
flowers
!
Ah
!
what
avails
the
darkening
grove
,
Or
Philomel's
melodious
love
,
That
glads
the
midnight
hours
!
For
me
(
alas
!
)
the
god
of
day
Ne'er
glitters
on
the
hawthorn
spray
,
Nor
night
her
comfort
brings
:
I
have
no
pleasure
in
the
rose
:
For
me
no
vernal
beauty
blows
,
Nor
Philomela
sings
.
See
,
how
the
sturdy
peasants
stride
,
Adown
yon
hillock's
verdant
side
,
In
chearful
ignorance
blest
!
Alike
to
them
the
rose
or
thorn
,
Alike
arises
every
morn
,
By
gay
Contentment
drest
.
Content
,
fair
daughter
of
the
skies
,
Or
gives
spontaneous
,
or
denies
,
Her
choice
divinely
free
,
She
visits
oft
the
hamlet-cot
,
When
Want
and
Sorrow
are
the
lot
Of
Avarice
and
me
.
But
see
—
or
is
it
Fancy's
dream
?
Methought
a
bright
celestial
gleam
Shot
sudden
thro'
the
groves
,
Behold
,
behold
,
in
loose
array
,
Euphrosyne
more
bright
than
day
,
More
mild
than
Paphian
doves
!
Welcome
,
O
!
welcome
,
Pleasure's
queen
!
And
see
,
along
the
velvet
green
,
The
jocund
train
advance
:
With
scatter'd
flowers
they
fill
the
air
,
The
wood-nymph's
dew-bespangled
hair
Plays
in
the
sportive
dance
.
Ah
!
baneful
grant
of
angry
heaven
,
When
to
the
feeling
wretch
is
given
A
soul
alive
to
joy
!
Joys
fly
with
every
hour
away
,
And
leave
th'
unguarded
heart
a
prey
To
cares
,
that
Peace
destroy
.
And
see
,
with
visionary
haste
,
(
Too
soon
the
gay
delusion
past
)
Reality
remains
!
Despair
has
seiz'd
my
captive
soul
,
And
Horror
drives
without
controul
,
And
slackens
still
the
reins
.
Ten
thousand
beauties
round
me
throng
,
What
beauties
,
say
,
ye
nymphs
,
belong
To
the
distemper'd
soul
?
I
see
the
lawn
of
hideous
dye
,
The
towering
elm
nods
misery
,
With
groans
the
waters
roll
.
Ye
gilded
roofs
,
Palladian
domes
,
Ye
vivid
tints
of
Persia's
looms
,
Ye
were
for
misery
made
—
'Twas
thus
the
Man
of
Sorrow
spoke
,
His
wayward
step
then
pensive
took
Along
th'
unhailow'd
shade
.