<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454923" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Inscriptions: III: Whoe'er Thou Art Whose Pat In Summer Lies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies<br>Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove<br>Of branching oaks a rural palace old<br>Imbosoms. there dwells Albert, generous lord<br>Of all the harvest round. and onward thence<br>A low plain chapel fronts the morning light<br>Fast by a silent riv'let. Humbly walk,<br>O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground;<br>And on that verdant hilloc, which thou see'st<br>Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand<br>Sprinkle fresh water from the brook and strew<br>Sweet-smelling flowers. for there doth Edmund rest,<br>The learned shepherd; for each rural art<br>Fam'd, and for songs harmonious, and the woes<br>Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride<br>Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave<br>In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous heaven<br>With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care,<br>Avenge her falshood. nor could all the gold<br>And nuptial pomp, which lur'd her plighted faith<br>From Edmund to a loftier husband's home,<br>Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside<br>The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate<br>The mournful story. haply some fair maid<br>May hold it in remembrance, and be taught<br>That riches cannot pay for truth or love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mark+Akenside">Mark Akenside</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454923" data-title="Inscriptions: III: Whoe'er Thou Art Whose Pat In Summer Lies de Mark Akenside" data-description="Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove Of branching oaks a rural palace old Imbosoms. there dwells Albert, generous lord Of all the harvest round. and onward thence A low plain chapel fronts th..."></div> </div> </div>

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