The Vartree. Mary Tighe (née Blachford) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Tighe, Mary, 1772-1810. Psyche, With Other Poems. London Printed for LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW 1811 pp. 244-247. 314p.

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The Vartree . Quivi le piante più che altrove ombrose E l'erba molle , e il fresco dolce appare POLIZIANO . SWEET are thy banks , O Vartree ! when at morn Their velvet verdure glistens with the dew ; When fragrant gales by softest Zephyrs borne Unfold the flowers , and ope their petals new . How bright the lustre of thy silver tide , Which winds , reluctant to forsake the vale ! How play the quivering branches on thy side , And lucid catch the sun-beam in the gale ! And sweet thy shade at Noon's more fervid hours , When faint we quit the upland gayer lawn To seek the freshness of thy sheltering bowers , Thy chesnut glooms , where day can scarcely dawn . How soothing in the dark sequestered grove To see thy placid waters seem to sleep ; Pleased they reflect the sombre tints they love , As unperceived in silent peace they creep . The deepest foliage bending o'er thy wave Tastes thy pure kisses with embracing arms , While each charmed Dryad stoops her limbs to lave Thy smiling Naïad meets her sister charms . Beneath the fragrant lime , or spreading beech , The bleating flocks in panting crowds repose : Their voice alone my dark retreat can reach , While peace and silence all my soul compose . Here , Mary , rest ! the dangerous path forsake Where folly lures thee , and where vice ensnares , Thine innocence and peace no longer stake , Nor barter solid good for brilliant cares . Shun the vain bustle of the senseless crowd , Where all is hollow that appears like joy ; Where , the soft claims of feeling disallowed , Fallacious hopes the baffled soul annoy . Hast thou not trod each vain and giddy maze , By Flattery led o'er Pleasure's gayest field ? Basked in the sunshine of her brightest blaze , And proved whate'er she can her votaries yield ? That full completion of each glowing hope , Which youth and novelty could scarce bestow , From the last dregs of Joy's exhausted cup Canst thou expect thy years mature shall know ? Hast thou not tried the vanities of life , And all the poor , mean joys of Fashion known ? Blush then to hold with Wisdom longer strife , Submit at length a better guide to own . Here woo the Muses in the scenes they love ; Let Science near thee take her patient stand : Each weak regret for gayer hours reprove , And yield thy soul to Reason's calm command .