Hester Lynch SALUSBURY

I wrote the following little Ode two Months after I married Piozzi on 23 July 1784, to a little Robin Redbreast who used to sing at my Window for a few Crumbs every Morning. — Mr Johnson says the Verses are very pretty, & much in Lord Lyttelton’s Style. a good one says he - for a Lady.

1
Gentle Bird a Moment stay
Nor so soon amid the Throng
Of feather’d Folk the Woods among,
Sweetly sing or wildly stray;
Gentle Bird a Moment stay—
Harmoniously a while to chear
The Sorrows of the drooping Year,
Hoary Winter to beguile,
And stretch his frost-fix’d Features to a Smile;
Gentle Robin stay a while!
With thy sweet thy artless Lay,
Still hail the slowly-rising Day;
And if Ceres’ Gifts can charm,
Or Gratitude thy Bosom warm,
Still to claim thy wonted Meed,
At my Window still to feed,
Still within my Sight to play
Gentle Bird a Moment stay:


2
While the Lark’s loud Note
Tears her trembling Throat
Ambitious of Renown;
While the Bullfinch borrows
His Artificial Sorrows
No Joy, no Grief his own:
While Philomel alone
To the swiftly-gliding Moon
Tells her Silence-soothing Tale:
Do thou to ev’ry conscious Gale
That breathes on Streatham’s verdant Vale,
Of Nuptial Bliss record the Sweets,
And sing of Streatham’s calm Retreats;
Her long drawn Walk, her piny Grove,
Where Happiness has deign’d to rove,
Where Love and Peace, & Friendship join,
A Wreath for Hymen’s Brows to twine;
Where You like me have most Delight to prove
The Joys of rural Life—and sweet connubial Love.

3
Friend to Meekness, Foe to Strife!
Model of Domestick Life!
Let our flutt’ring Friends whose Fires
Wanton Spring alone inspires
Die at December’s Touch so rude,
And sink at thoughts of Solitude;
While with calm Content our Guest
Winter to us no Fears can bring;
To him whose Mind with peace is blest,
Each Month is May, each Season—Spring.
Though faintly glimm’ring on the Sight
The Snows in ill-form’d Hillocks rise;
He whose pure Conscience is as white
Secure external Frost defies.
Sweet Warbler then, still charm these Plains,
Nor envy Philomela’s Strains
While Thyrsis first of Shepherd Swains
Thy genuine Song approves:
Encourag’d by his partial Praise,
My weaker Voice I strive to raise,
And tune for him my Sylvan Lays
Through Streatham’s vocal Groves.