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James Thomson - The Four Seasons : Spring
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But absent, what fantastic woes, aroused, 
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed, 
Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life? 
Neglected fortune flies; and sliding swift, 
Prone into ruin fall his scorn`d affairs. 
`Tis nought but gloom around: the darken`d sun 
Loses his light. The rosy-bosom`d Spring 
To weeping fancy pines; and yon bright arch, 
Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
All Nature fades extinct: and she alone, 
Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought, 
Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 
Books are but formal dulness, tedious friends; 
And sad amid the social band he sits, 
Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue 
The unfinish`d period falls: while borne away 
On swelling thought, his wafted spirit flies 
To the vain bosom of his distant fair; 
And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix`d 
In melancholy site, with head declined, 
And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, 
Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 
To glimmering shades, and sympathetic glooms; 
Where the dun umbrage o`er the falling stream,  
Romantic, hangs; there through the pensive dusk 
Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost, 
Indulging all to love: or on the bank 
Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze 
With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. 
Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day, 
Nor quits his deep retirement, till the Moon 
Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy east, 
Enlightened by degrees, and in her train 
Leads on the gentle Hours; then forth he walks, 
Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, 
With soften`d soul, and woos the bird of eve 
To mingle woes with his: or, while the world 
And all the sons of Care lie hush`d in sleep, 
Associates with the midnight shadows drear; 
And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours 
His idly-tortured heart into the page, 
Meant for the moving messenger of love; 
Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 
With rising frenzy fired. But if on bed 
Delirious flung, sleep from his pillow flies. 
All night he tosses, nor the balmy power 
In any posture finds; till the grey Morn 
Lifts her pale lustre on the paler wretch, 
Exanimate by love: and then perhaps 
Exhausted Nature sinks a while to rest, 
Still interrupted by distractèd dreams, 
That o`er the sick imagination rise, 
And in black colours paint the mimic scene. 
Oft with the enchantress of his soul he talks; 
Sometimes in crowds distress`d; or if retired 
To secret winding flower-enwoven bowers, 
Far from the dull impertinence of Man, 
Just as he, credulous, his endless cares 
Begins to lose in blind oblivious love, 
Snatch`d from her yielded hand, he knows not how, 
Through forests huge, and long untravel`d heaths 
With desolation brown, he wanders waste, 
In night and tempest wrapp`d: or shrinks aghast, 
Back, from the bending precipice; or wades 
The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 
The farther shore; where succourless, and sad, 
She with extended arms his aid implores; 
But strives in vain; borne by the outrageous flood 
To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave, 
Or whelm`d beneath the boiling eddy sinks. 
These are the charming agonies of love, 
Whose misery delights. But through the heart 
Should jealousy its venom once diffuse, 
`Tis then delightful misery no more, 
But agony unmix`d incessant gall, 
Coroding every thought, and blasting all 
Love`s paradise. Ye fairy prospects, then, 
Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy, 
Farewell! ye gleamings of departed peace, 
Shine out your last! the yellow-tinging plague 
Internal vision taints, and in a night 
Of livid gloom imagination wraps. 
Ah then! instead of love-enliven`d cheeks, 
Of sunny features, and of ardent eyes 
With flowing rapture bright, dark looks succeed 
Suffused and glaring with untender fire; 
A clouded aspect, and a burning cheek, 
Where the whole poison`d soul, malignant, sits, 
And frightens love away. Ten thousand fears 
Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 
Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms 
For which he melts in fondness, eat him up 
With fervent anguish, and consuming rage. 
In vain reproaches lend their idle aid, 
Deceitful pride, and resolution frail, 
Giving false peace a moment. Fancy pours, 
Afresh, her beauties on his busy thought, 
Her first endearments twining round the soul, 
With all the witchcraft of ensnaring love. 
Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew 
Flames through the nerves, and boils along the veins; 
While anxious doubt distracts the tortured heart 
For e`en the sad assurance of his fears 
Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth 
Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, 
Through flowery tempting paths, or leads a life 
Of fever`d rapture or of cruel care; 
His brightest aims extinguish`d all, and all 
His lively moments running down to waste. 
But happy they! the happiest of their kind! 
Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
`Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 
Unnatural oft and foreign to the mind, 
That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 
Attuning all their passions into love; 
Where friendship full-exerts her softest power, 
Perfect esteem enliven`d by desire 
Ineffable, and sympathy of soul; 
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 
With boundless confidence: for nought but love 
Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 
Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 
Well-merited, consume his nights and days: 
Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they feel; 
Let eastern tyrants, from the light of Heaven, 
Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possess`d 
Of a mere lifeless, violated form: 
While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
Disdaining fear. What is the world to them, 
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all? 
Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish; 
Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
Or on the mind, or mind-illumined face; 
Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, 
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 
Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 
And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
The human blossom blows; and every day, 
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 
The father`s lustre, and the mother`s bloom. 
Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, 
To teach the young idea how to shoot, 
To pour the fresh instruction o`er the mind, 
To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
Oh, speak the joy! ye, whom the sudden tear 
Surprises often, while you look around, 
And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, 
All various Nature pressing on the heart: 
An elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven! 
These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; 
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 
Still find them happy; and consenting Spring 
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads: 
Till evening comes at last, serene and mild; 
When after the long vernal day of life, 
Enamour`d more, as more remembrance swells 
With many a proof of recollected love, 
Together down they sink in social sleep; 
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.
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