Robert Bloomfield

“ And often found Life's hopes to stand
On props as weak in Wisdom's eyes:
Its conic crown
Still sliding down,
Again heap'd up, then down again;
The sand above more hollow grew,
Like days and years still filt'ring through,
And mingling joy and pain.
While thus I spin and sometimes sing,
(For now and then my heart will glow)
Thou measur'st Time's expanding wing
By thee the noontide hour I know:
Though silent thou,
Still shalt thou flow,
And jog along thy destin'd way:
But when I glean the sultry fields,
When Earth her yellow Harvest yields,
Thou get'st a Holiday. ”

“ When the Spring broods, and Pigs, and Lambs were rear'd,
(A time when George and Phoebe might be spar'd,)
Their birth-place they should visit once again,
To try with joint endeavours to obtain
From Record, or Tradition, what might be
To chain, or set their chain'd affections free:
Affinity beyond all doubts to prove;
Or clear the road for Nature and for Love.
Never, till now, did PHOEBE count the hours,
Or think May long, or wish away its flowers;
With mutual sighs both fann'd the wings of Time;
As we climb Hills and gladden as we climb,
Eager Expectation. ”

“ WALTER caught fire: nor was he charm'd alone
With conscious Truth's firm elevated tone;
JANE from her seat sprang forward, half afraid,
Attesting with a blush what Goody said.
Her Lover took a more decided part:—
(O! 'twas the very Chord that touch'd his heart,) —
Alive to the best feelings man can prize,
A Bridegroom's transport sparkled in his eyes;
Love, conquering power, with unrestricted range
Silenc'd the arguments of Time and Change;
And led his vot'ry on, and bade him view,
And prize the light-wing'd moments as they flew:
The Confession. ”

“ Blest his kind words, and thank'd him with a sigh.
Thus was the sacred compact doubly seal'd;
Thus were her spirits rais'd, her bruises heal'd:
Thankful, and cheerful too, no more afraid,
Thus little PHOEBE was the Miller's Maid.
Grateful they found her; patient of controul:
A most bewitching gentleness of soul
Made pleasure of what work she had to do:
She grew in stature, and in beauty too.
Five years she pass'd in this delightful home;
Five happy years: but, when the sixth was come,
The New Comer. ”

“ Goody, her dim eyes wiping, rais'd her brow,
And saw the young pair look they knew not how;
Perils and Power while humble minds forego,
Who gives them half a Kingdom gives them woe;
Comforts may be procur'd and want defied,
Heav'ns! with how small a Sum, when right applied!
How little of outward Good suffices for Happiness.
Give Love and honest Industry their way,
Clear but the Sun-rise of Life's little day,
Those we term poor shall oft that wealth obtain,
For which th' ambitious sigh, but sigh in vain:
Wealth that still brightens, as its stores increase ”

“ For my Maggy's at Home, and my Children at play!
Tis this makes my Bonnet set light on my brow,
Gives my sinews their strength and my bosom its glow.
Farewell, Mountaineers! my companions, adieu;
Soon, many long miles when I'm severed from you,
I shall miss your white Horns on the brink of the Bourne,
And o'er the rough Heaths, where you'll never return:
But in brave English pastures you cannot complain,
While your Drover speeds back to his Maggy again.
O Tweed! gentle Tweed, as I pass your green vales,
More than life, more than Love, my tir'd Spirit inhales ”

“ The Recognition.
'And scandal added'——'Hold!' the Miller cried,
And, in an instant, stood at Phoebe's side;
For he observed, while list'ning to the tale,
Her spirits faulter'd, and her cheeks turn'd pale;
Whilst her clasp'd hands descended to her knee
She sinking whisper'd forth, 'O God, 'tis he!
The good Man, though he guess'd the pleasing truth,
Was far too busy to inform the Youth;
But stirr'd himself amain to aid his Wife,
Who soon restor'd the trembler back to life. ”

“ But in my memory live, and ever will,
A mother's dying words......I hear them still:
She said, to one who watch'd her parting breath,
"Don't separate the Children at my death;
They're not both mine: but—" Here the scene was clos'd;
She died, and left us helpless and expos'd;
Nor Time hath thrown, nor Reason's opening power,
One friendly ray on that benighted hour.'
Ne'er did the Chieftains of a Warring State
Hear from the Oracle their half-told fate
With more religious fear, or more suspense,
Than Phoebe now endur'd:—for every sense
The Perplexity. ”

“ Dry cloaths procur'd, and cheer'd her shiv'ring guest,
And sooth'd the sorrows of her infant breast.
But as she stript her shoulders, lily-white,
What marks of cruel usage shock'd their sight!
Weals, and blue wounds, most piteous to behold
Upon a Child yet scarcely Ten years old.
The Miller felt his indignation rise,
Yet, as the weary stranger clos'd her eyes,
And seem'd fatigu'd beyond her strength and years,
'Sleep, Child,' he said, 'and wipe away your tears.'
They watch'd her slumbers till the storm was done ”

“ Hung many a well-turn'd Shoe and glitt'ring Share;
Where WALTER, as the charmer tripp'd along,
Would stop his roaring Bellows and his Song.—
Dawn of affection; Love's delicious sigh!
Caught from the lightnings of a speaking eye,
That leads the heart to rapture or to woe,
'Twas WALTER'S fate thy mad'ning power to know;
And scarce to know, ere in its infant twine,
As the Blast shakes the tendrils of the Vine,
The Separation. ”

“ The Miller from a Market Town hard by,
Brought home a sturdy Youth his strength to try,
To raise the sluice-gates early every morn,
To heave his powder'd sacks and grind his corn:
And meeting Phoebe, whom he lov'd so dear,
'I've brought you home a Husband, Girl?—D'ye hear?
He begg'd for work; his money seem'd but scant:
Those that will work 'tis pity they should want. ”

“ Bearing with inward joy, and honest pride,
A trust of WALTER'S kinsman ere he died,
A hard-earn'd mite, deposited with care,
And with a miser's spirit worshipt there.
He found what oft the generous bosom seeks,
In the Dame's court'seys and JANE'S blushing cheeks,
That consciousness of Worth, that freeborn Grace,
Which waits on Virtue in the meanest place. ”

“ Such as fools say become not Men to shed;
Past hours of bliss, regenerated charms,
Rose, when he felt his Daughter in his arms:
So tender was the scene, the generous Dame
Wept, as she told of Phoebe's virtuous fame,
And the good Host, with gestures passing strange,
Abstracted seem'd through fields of joy to range:
Rejoicing that his favour'd Roof should prove
Virtue's asylum, and the nurse of Love ”

“ Precious relief; sure friends that forward press
To tell the mind's unspeakable distress.
Ye Youths, whom crimson'd health and genuine fire
Bear joyous on the wings of young desire,
Ye, who still bow to Love's almighty sway,
What could true passion, what could Walter say?
Age, tell me true, nor shake your locks in vain,
Tread back your paths, and be in love again ”

“ I was not prepar'd for the decided, and I may surely say extraordinary attention which the Public has shewn towards the Farmer's Boy: the consequence has been such as my true friends will rejoice to hear; it has produc'd me many essential blessings. And I feel peculiarly gratified in finding that a poor man in England may assert the dignity of Virtue, and speak of the imperishable beauties of Nature, and be heard, and heard, perhaps, with greater attention for his being poor. ”

“ A tenderness to all he said;
'My Boys, how proud am I to have
'My name thus round the Country spread!
'Through all my days I've labour'd hard,
'And could of pains and Crosses tell;
'But this is Labour's great reward,
'To meet ye thus, and see ye well.
'My good old Partner, when at home,
'Sometimes with wishes mingles tears;
'Goody, says I, let what wool come,
'We've nothing for them but our pray'rs.
Old Man's Joy continued.
'May you be all as old as I,
'And see you? Sons to manhood grow;
'And, many a time before you die,
'Be just as pleas'd as I am now.' ”

“ All unprepared the sweet surprise to bear;
His heart beat high, for Jane herself was there.—
Flusht was her cheek; she seem'd the full-blown flower,
For warmth gave loveliness a double power;
Round her fair brow the deep confusion ran,
A waving handkerchief became her fan,
Her lips, where dwelt sweet love and smiling ease,
Puff'd gently back the warm assailing breeze.
'I've travell'd all these weary miles with pain,
'To see my native village once again;
'And show my true regard for neighbour Hind;
'Not like you, Walter, she was always kind.'
Resentment and Tenderness. ”

“ Show you the littleness of wealth and pow'r?
Advent'rous climbers of the Mountain's brow;
While Love, their master, spreads his couch below—
'My dearest Jane,' the untaught Walter cried,
As half repell'd he pleaded by her side;
'My dearest Jane, think of me as you may—'
Thus—still unutter'd what he strove to say,
They breath'd in sighs the anguish of their minds,
And took the path that led to neighbour Hind's.
A secret joy the well-known roof inspir'd,
Small was its store, and little they desir'd;
Jane dried her tears; while Walter forward flew
To aid the Dame ”

“ There Scotland, my darling, lies full in my view,
With her bare-footed Lasses and Mountains so blue:
To the Mountains away; my heart bounds like the Hind;
For home is so sweet, and my Maggy so kind. ”

“ For, back she turn'd for something left behind;
Again the same, till George grew tir'd of home,
And peevishly exclaim'd, 'Come, Phoebe, come.'
Another hindrance yet he had to feel:
As from the door they tripp'd with nimble heel,
The Old Soldier.
A poor old Man, foot-founder'd and alone,
Thus urgent spoke, in Trouble's genuine tone:
'My pretty Maid, if happiness you seek,
May disappointment never fade your cheek!—
Your's be the joy;—yet, feel another's woe ”

“ That noble and worthy Family, and all my immediate and unknown Friends, will, I hope, believe the sincerity of my thanks for all their numerous favours, and candidly judge the Poems before them.
R. BLOOMFIELD.
Sept. 29, 1801.
P.S. Since affixing the above date, an event of much greater importance than any to which I have been witness, has taken place, to the universal joy (it is to be hoped) of every inhabitant of Europe. My portion of joy shall be expressed while it is warm: and the reader will do sufficient justice, if he only believes it to be sincere. ”

“ A Spring o'erhung with many a flow'r,
The grey sand dancing in its bed,
Embank'd beneath a Hawthorn bower,
Sent forth its waters near my head:
A rosy Lass approach'd my view;
I caught her blue eye's modest beam:
The stranger nodded 'How d'ye do!'
And leap'd across the infant stream. ”

“ The pieces of a later date are, the Widow to her Hour-Glass, the Fakenham Ghost, Walter and Jane, &c. At the tune of publishing the Farmer's Boy, circumstances occurred which rendered it necessary to submit these Poems to the perusal of my Friends: under whose approbation I now give them, with some confidence as to their moral merit, to the judgment of the Public. And as they treat of village manners, and rural scenes, it appears to me not ill-tim'd to avow, that I have hopes of meeting in some degree the approbation of my Country. ”

“ Nay, be compos'd; for all will yet be well,
Though here our history's too long to tell'—
A long-lost Father found, the mystery clear'd,
What mingled transports in her face appear'd!
The gazing Veteran stood with hands uprais'd—
'Art thou indeed my Child! ”

“ Who've found abroad good friends to own 'em;
Then, in such Coats have shown their joy,
E'en their own Fathers have not known 'em.
[Illustration]
NANCY A Song.
You ask me, dear Nancy, what makes me presume
That you cherish a secret affection for me?
When we see the Flow'rs bud, don't we look for the Bloom?
Then, sweetest, attend, while I answer to thee.
When we Young Men with pastimes the Twilight beguile,
I watch your plump cheek till it dimples with joy:
And observe, that whatever occasions the smile,
You give me a glance; but provokingly coy. ”

“ Love of Prudence.
'Nature's first wants hard labour should supply;
'But should it fail, 'twill be too late to fly.
'Some Summers hence, if nought our loves annoy,
'The image of my Jane may lisp her joy ”

“ Proud crested Fiend, the World's worst foe, ”

“ With Love their guide, and Goody for their friend.
[Illustration]
THE MILLER'S MAID. A Tale.
Near the high road upon a winding stream
An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame:
The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days,
And all the Country echo'd with his praise:
His Wife, the Doctress of the neighb'ring Poor,
[Footnote: This village and the poor of this neighbourhood know what it is
to have possest such a blessing, and feel at this moment what it is to
lose it by death. C.L.
Troston, 13th of September, 1801.]
Drew constant pray'rs and blessings round his door. ”

“ JANE felt for WALTER; felt his cruel pain,
While Pity's voice brought forth her tears again.
'Don't scold him, Neighbour, he has much to say,
'Indeed he came and met me by the way.'
The Dame resum'd—'Why then, my Children, why
'Do such young bosoms heave the piteous sigh?
'The ills of Life to you are yet unknown ”