to the river lodon by thomas warton - richard mitchley lyrics
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ah, what a weary race my feet have run
since first i trod thy banks with alders crowned
and thought my way was all through fairy ground
beneath thy azure sky and golden sun
where first my muse to lisp her notes begun
while pensive memory traces back the round
which fills the varied interval between
much pleasure, more of sorrow marks the scene
sweet native stream thy skies and suns so pure
no more return to cheer my evening road!
yet still one joy remains, that not obscure
nor useless all my vacant days have flowed
from youth’s gay dawn to manhood’s prime mature
nor with the muses laurel unbestowed!
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