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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy XI. He Complains How Soon the Pleasing Novelty of Life Is Over</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Mr. Jago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ah me, my Friend! it will not, will not last,<br>This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes;<br>The charm dissolves; th' aerial music's past;<br>The banquet ceases, and the vision flies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where are the splendid forms, the rich perfumes?<br>Where the gay tapers, where the spacious dome?<br>Vanish'd the costly pearls, the crimson plumes,<br>And we, delightless, left to wander home!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vain now are books, the sage's wisdom vain!<br>What has the world to bribe our steps astray?<br>Ere Reason learns by studied laws to reign,<br>The weaken'd passions, self-subdued, obey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Scarce has the sun seven annual courses roll'd,<br>Scarce shown the whole that Fortune can supply,<br>Since, not the miser so caress'd his gold,<br>As I, for what it gave, was heard to sigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the world's stage I wish'd some sprightly part,<br>To deck my native fleece with tawdry lace!<br>'Twas life, 'twas taste, and-oh! my foolish heart!<br>Substantial joy was fix'd in power and place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you, ye works of Art! allured mine eye,<br>The breathing picture, and the living stone:<br>'Though gold, though splendour, Heaven and Fate deny,<br>Yet might I call one Titian stroke my own!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Smit with the charms of Fame, whose lovely spoil,<br>The wreath, the garland, fire the poet's pride,<br>I trimm'd my lamp, consumed the midnight oil-<br>But soon the paths of health and fame divide!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft, too, I pray'd; 'twas Nature form'd the prayer,<br>To grace my native scenes, my rural home;<br>To see my trees express their planter's care,<br>And gay, on Attic models, raise my dome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now 'tis o'er, the dear delusion's o'er!<br>A stagnant breezeless air becalms my soul;<br>A fond aspiring candidate no more,<br>I scorn the palm before I reach the goal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Youth! enchanting stage, profusely bless'd!<br>Bliss even obtrusive courts the frolic mind;<br>Of health neglectful, yet by health caress'd,<br>Careless of favour, yet secure to find.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then glows the breast, as opening roses fair;<br>More free, more vivid, than the linnet's wing;<br>Honest as light, transparent e'en as air,<br>Tender as buds, and lavish as the Spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not all the force of manhood's active might,<br>Not all the craft to subtle age assign'd,<br>Not Science shall extort that dear delight,<br>Which gay Delusion gave the tender mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Adieu, soft raptures! transports void of care!<br>Parent of raptures, dear Deceit, adieu!<br>And you, her daughters, pining with despair,<br>Why, why so soon her fleeting steps pursue?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tedious again to curse the drizzling day!<br>Again to trace the wintry tracks of snow!<br>Or, soothed by vernal airs, again survey<br>The self-same hawthorns bud, and cowslips blow!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Life! how soon of every bliss forlorn!<br>We start false joys, and urge the devious race;<br>A tender prey; that cheers our youthful morn,<br>Then sinks untimely, and defrauds the chase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a><div class=q>
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<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=539264" data-title="Elegy XI. He Complains How Soon the Pleasing Novelty of Life Is Over de William Shenstone" data-description="To Mr. Jago.


Ah me, my Friend! it will not, will not last,
This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes;
The charm dissolves; th' aerial music's past;
The banquet ceases, and the vision flies.

Where are the splendid forms, the rich perfumes?..."></div>
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