Sir John Carr Poems

Here, far from all the pomp ambition seeks,
Much sought, but only whilst untasted praised,
Content and innocence, with rosy cheeks,
...

In a chariot of fire, thro Hell's flaming arch,
The Fury of Discord appear'd;
A myriad of demons attended her march,
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Upon the breezy cliff's impending brow,
With trembling step, the Hectic paus'd awhile;
As round his wasted form the sea-breeze blew,
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Here may he rest, who, shunning scenes of strife,
Enjoy'd at Dronningaard a Hermit's life:
The faithless splendour of a court he knew,
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Awake, my Muse! awake each slumb'ring string,
And (mighty subject!) of a Mushroom sing,
Fair to the eye, and pleasant to the taste;
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By the walk of the willows I pour'd out my theme,
The breath of the evening scarce dimpled the stream;
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Oh, Time! thy merits who can know?
Thy real nature who discover?
The absent lover calls thee slow,-
'Too rapid,' says the happy lover.
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Just as a fawn, in forest shade,
Trembling to meet th' admiring eye,
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Ah, stranger! if thy pilgrim footsteps love,
By meditation led, to wander here,
A suff'ring husband may thy pity move,
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Thou, lamp! the gods benignly gave,
To light a lover on his way;
Thou, Moon! along the silv'ry wave,
...