WHEN AURORA'S soft blushes o'erspread the blue hill, <br />And the mist dies away at the glances of morn; <br />When the birds join the music that floats on the rill, <br />And the beauties of spring the young woodlands adorn. <br /> <br />To breathe the pure air and enliven my soul, <br />I bound from my cottage exulting and gay; <br />No care to molest me, no pow'r to controul, <br />I sport with my lambkins, as thoughtless as they. <br /> <br />Yet, the bright tear of pity bedews my fond eyes, <br />When I think that for MAN the dear victims must fall, <br />While nature such stores of provision supplies, <br />And the bounties of Heaven are common to all. <br /> <br />Ah! tell me, Reflection, why custom decreed <br />That the sweet feather'd songsters so slaughter'd should be? <br />For the board of the rich the poor minstrels may bleed, <br />But the fruits of the field are sufficient for me. <br /> <br />When I view the proud palace, so pompously gay, <br />Whose high gilded turrets peep over the trees; <br />I pity its greatness and mournfully say, <br />Can mortals delight in such trifles as these! <br /> <br />Can a pillow of down sooth the woe-stricken mind, <br />Can the sweets of Arabia calm sickness and pain; <br />Can fetters of gold Love's true votaries bind, <br />Or the gems of Peru Time's light pinions restrain? <br /> <br />Can those limbs which bow down beneath sorrow and age, <br />From the floss of the silk-worm fresh vigour receive; <br />Can the pomp of the proud, death's grim tyrant assuage, <br />Can it teach you to die, or instruct you to live? <br /> <br />Ah, no! then sweet PEACE, lovely offspring of Heav'n, <br />Come dwell in my cottage, thy handmaid I'll be; <br />Thus my youth shall pass on, unmolested and even, <br />And the winter of age be enliven'd by thee!<br /><br />Mary Darby Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pastoral-stanzas/
