THE
TEARS
of
OLD
MAY-DAY
.
LED
by
the
jocund
train
of
vernal
hours
And
vernal
airs
,
uprose
the
gentle
May
;
Blushing
she
rose
,
and
blushing
rose
the
flow'rs
That
sprung
spontaneous
in
the
genial
ray
.
Her
locks
with
heav'n's
ambrosial
dews
were
bright
,
And
am'rous
zephyrs
flutter'd
on
her
breast
:
With
ev'ry
shifting
gleam
of
morning
light
The
colours
shifted
of
her
rainbow
vest
.
Imperial
ensigns
grac'd
her
smiling
form
,
A
golden
key
,
and
golden
wand
she
bore
;
This
charms
to
peace
each
sullen
eastern
storm
,
And
that
unlocks
the
Summer's
copious
store
.
Onward
in
conscious
majesty
she
came
,
The
grateful
honours
of
mankind
to
taste
;
To
gather
fairest
wreaths
of
future
fame
,
And
blend
fresh
triumphs
with
her
glories
past
.
Vain
hope
!
no
more
in
choral
bands
unite
Her
virgin
vot'ries
,
and
at
early
dawn
,
Sacred
to
May
and
Love's
mysterious
rite
,
Brush
the
light
dew-drops
Alluding
to
the
country
custom
of
gathering
May-dew
.
from
the
spangled
lawn
.
To
her
no
more
Augusta's
The
plate
garlands
of
London
.
wealthy
pride
Pours
the
full
tribute
from
Potosi's
mine
;
Nor
fresh-blown
garlands
village
maids
provide
,
A
purer
off'ring
,
at
her
rustic
shrine
.
No
more
the
Maypole's
verdant
height
around
To
Valour's
games
th'
ambitious
youth
advance
:
No
merry
bells
and
tabors'
sprightlier
sound
Wake
the
loud
carol
,
and
the
sportive
dance
.
Sudden
in
pensive
sadness
droop'd
her
head
,
Faint
on
her
cheeks
the
blushing
crimson
dy'd
—
"
O
!
chaste
victorious
triumphs
,
whither
fled
?
"
My
maiden
honours
,
whither
gone
?
"
she
cry'd
.
Ah
!
once
to
fame
and
bright
dominion
born
,
The
Earth
and
smiling
Ocean
saw
me
rise
,
With
time
coeval
and
the
star
of
morn
,
The
first
,
the
fairest
daughter
of
the
skies
.
Then
,
when
at
heav'n's
prolific
mandate
sprung
The
radiant
beam
of
new-created
day
,
Celestial
harps
,
to
airs
of
triumph
strung
,
Hail'd
the
glad
dawn
,
and
angels
call'd
me
MAY
.
Space
in
her
empty
regions
heard
the
sound
,
And
hills
,
and
dales
,
and
rocks
,
and
vallies
rung
;
The
sun
exulted
in
his
glorious
round
,
And
shouting
planets
in
their
courses
sung
.
For
ever
then
I
led
the
constant
year
;
Saw
Youth
,
and
Joy
,
and
Love's
enchanting
wiles
;
Saw
the
mild
Graces
in
my
train
appear
,
And
infant
Beauty
brighten
in
my
smiles
.
No
Winter
frown'd
.
In
sweet
embrace
ally'd
,
Three
sister
Seasons
danc'd
th'
eternal
green
;
And
Spring's
retiring
softness
gently
vy'd
With
Autumn's
blush
,
and
Summer's
lofty
mien
.
Too
soon
,
when
man
prophan'd
the
blessings
giv'n
,
And
Vengeance
arm'd
to
blot
a
guilty
age
,
With
bright
Astrea
to
my
native
heav'n
I
fled
,
and
flying
saw
the
Deluge
rage
:
Saw
bursting
clouds
eclipse
the
noontide
beams
,
While
sounding
billows
from
the
mountains
roll'd
,
With
bitter
waves
polluting
all
my
streams
,
My
nectar'd
streams
,
that
flow'd
on
sands
of
gold
.
Then
vanquish'd
many
a
sea-girt
isle
and
grove
,
Their
forests
floating
on
the
wat'ry
plain
:
Then
,
fam'd
for
arts
and
laws
deriv'd
from
Jove
,
My
Atalantis
See
Plato
.
sunk
beneath
the
main
.
No
longer
bloom'd
primeval
Eden's
bow'rs
,
Nor
guardian
dragons
watch'd
the
Hesperian
steep
:
With
all
their
fountains
,
fragrant
fruits
and
flow'rs
,
Torn
from
the
continent
to
glut
the
deep
.
No
more
to
dwell
in
sylvan
scenes
I
deign'd
,
Yet
oft
descending
to
the
languid
earth
,
With
quick'ning
pow'rs
the
fainting
mass
sustain'd
,
And
wak'd
her
slumb'ring
atoms
into
birth
.
And
ev'ry
echo
caught
my
raptur'd
name
,
And
ev'ry
virgin
breath'd
her
am'rous
vows
,
And
precious
wreaths
of
rich
immortal
fame
,
Show'r'd
by
the
Muses
,
crown'd
my
lofty
brows
.
But
chief
in
Europe
,
and
in
Europe's
pride
,
My
Albion's
favour'd
realms
,
I
rose
ador'd
;
And
pour'd
my
wealth
to
other
climes
deny'd
,
From
Amalthea's
horn
with
plenty
stor'd
.
Ah
me
!
for
now
a
younger
rival
claims
My
ravish'd
honours
,
and
to
her
belong
My
choral
dances
,
and
victorious
games
,
To
her
my
garlands
and
triumphal
song
.
O
say
what
yet
untasted
bounties
flow
,
What
purer
joys
await
her
gentler
reign
?
Do
lillies
fairer
,
vi'lets
sweeter
blow
?
And
warbles
Philomel
a
softer
strain
?
Do
morning
suns
in
ruddier
glory
rise
?
Does
ev'ning
fan
her
with
serener
gales
?
Do
clouds
drop
fatness
from
the
wealthier
skies
?
Or
wantons
Plenty
in
her
happier
vales
?
Ah
!
no
:
the
blunted
beams
of
dawning
light
Skirt
the
pale
orient
with
uncertain
day
;
And
Cynthia
,
riding
on
the
car
of
night
,
Thro'
clouds
embattled
faintly
wins
her
way
.
Pale
,
immature
,
the
blighted
verdure
springs
,
Nor
mounting
juices
feed
the
swelling
flow'r
;
Mute
all
the
groves
,
nor
Philomela
sings
When
Silence
listens
at
the
midnight
hour
.
Nor
wonder
,
man
,
that
Nature's
bashful
face
,
And
op'ning
charms
her
rude
embraces
fear
:
Is
she
not
sprung
of
April's
wayward
race
,
The
sickly
daughter
of
th'
unripen'd
year
?
With
show'rs
and
sunshine
in
her
fickle
eyes
,
With
hollow
smiles
proclaiming
treach'rous
peace
;
With
blushes
,
harb'ring
in
their
thin
disguise
The
blast
that
riots
on
the
Spring's
increase
.
Is
this
the
fair
invested
with
my
spoil
By
Europe's
laws
,
and
Senates'
stern
command
?
Ungen'rous
Europe
,
let
me
fly
thy
soil
,
And
waft
my
treasures
to
a
grateful
land
:
Again
revive
on
Asia's
drooping
shore
My
Daphne's
groves
,
or
Lycia's
ancient
plain
:
Again
to
Afric's
sultry
sands
restore
Embow'ring
shades
,
and
Lybian
Amnion's
fane
:
Or
haste
to
northern
Zembla's
savage
coast
,
There
hush
to
silence
elemental
strife
;
Brood
o'er
the
region
of
eternal
Frost
,
And
swell
her
barren
womb
with
heat
and
life
.
Then
Britain
—
here
she
ceas'd
.
Indignant
grief
,
And
parting
pangs
her
fault'ring
tongue
supprest
:
Veil'd
in
an
amber
cloud
,
she
sought
relief
,
And
tears
,
and
silent
anguish
told
the
rest
.