THE WISH.
FROM THE ITALIAN.
Oh! that in some far solitude,
Where earthly cares might ne’er intrude,
From man’s vain pomp and friendship free,
My lot of joy were fixed with thee!
Where thou alone shouldst prove and share
My wealth, my greatness, and my care;
Where all the heaven I sought on high
Should be the azure of thine eye;
And every flower that decks the field
In thy pure brow and cheek revealed;
Where gazing on thy face the while,
And basking in thy sunny smile,
Like some fair river’s noiseless tide
The stream of passing years should glide;
And like the clear and gushing spring,
Life’s fount still new-born raptures fling.
There, when in happiness grown old,
The fires of youthful hearts are cold,
And youthful pleasures fleet away
Before our locks of sober gray;
Should love, retired with modest grace,
To holier friendship yield his place;
And from the ashes of his fires,
Though all their brilliant light expires,
Content should bud, to gild the gloom,
And flourish in perennial bloom!