Whilst early sink away the starry Twins,
Pursuing sunset, eastern heaven begins
To lift Arcturus, with that Coronet
Upon the brow of Summer glittering set;
5] And rich the country now, with shady roads
And hollow lanes embank'd with fern; white loads
Of fragrant hawthorn-bloom, but when this bloom
Grows fainter, bramble-roses in its room;
And sunny paths for milkmaids, winding through
10] The grass thick-set with yellow flow'rs and blue,
Millions of little blue and yellow flow'rs;
Rich are the warm, long, lustrous, golden hours,
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That nourish the green javelins of the wheat,
The delicate flax, the tufted clover sweet,
15] And barley's drooping beard, and speckled oats.
The yorlin'syellowhammer (Emberiza citrinella).
trembling sigh of pleasure floats
On sultry wind; the landrail's hoarse crake-crake
Still keeps the meadows and cornfields awake
When two clear twilights mingle in the sky
20] Of glowing June. A broad white margin dry
Around Lough Braccan, yet our four-oar'd boat
At this long jetty's end lies well afloat.
Your hand, fair London girl; your hand, my Jane;
Lord Camlin lifts wee Molly; Fred is fain
25] Of Pictor's hand, the glowing P.R.B.
Two elder guests embark more leisurely,
Grave William Downing, an official man,
George Roe, as grave, but on a different plan,
Our Irish antiquary,both exact,
30] Elaborate and minute, but every fact
Turns here to poetry, and there to prose.
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Bloomfield himself is steersman: off she goes,
Cleaving the glassy flood; blue summer smiles
Above, below; green headlands, wooded isles
35] Shift past them; and the mountain's royal folds,
With shadows such as purple velvet holds.
A softer landscape and a fairer sky
Around the moving boat in mirror'd beauty lie.
Bloomfield and Camlin talk, old friends and dear,
40] Of much; of horses, flax-mills, home-brew'd beer;
Of London; of Ned Stanley, said to be
Lazy and blasé in sublime degree;
And of elections. Laurence said, You know,
My rebel grandsire, sixty years ago,
45] With Grattan gave his vote in College-green,
Or else Lord Lisnamoy I might have been.
Stand for the county, Bloomfield.So I might.
Under what banner would you have me fight?
They ask'd you?Yes, with watchword Tenant-right:
50] But what had I to promise? All my lore
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Leaves this a darker matter than before.
Tory I'm not ; yet have no pocket plan
To re-divide the world. Besides, a man
With place and solid work, had better stay
55] And do what comes to hand the best he may.
You have done much.To make good tenants sure,
And weed away the bad; attempt a cure
Of sloven habits, ignorance, and waste,
(All step by step, for such things bear not haste;)
60] To teach the children; to forbear to mix
With Church affairs, or party politics
The simple programme, less or more fulfill'd.
And here you are, not ruin'd yet, nor kill'd.
So has it happened. Still, I never saw,
65] Nor yet can see, foundation for a law,
Amidst our manifold complexities,
Perplexities, (and what a web are these!)
But here alone: waste and indebted lands
Being wisely bought into the nation's hands,
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70] You might thereon create a novel class
Of Irishmen, to leaven all the mass
With hope, and industry, and loyalty,
(My favourite crotchetwell, so let it be)
Small Owners, namely. North, south, east, and west,
75] I'd plant them, and they'd surely do their best;
With great and permanent results, if slow.
I wish it had been thought-of years ago!
I mean to try it now, on petty scale.
Dysart's estate was brought at last to sale
80] A week since, and one good-sized lot is mine,
Which, parcell'd out with care, I shall assign
To various peasant purchasers. 'Tis plain
Already that I shall not lose but gain
On the mere bargain. Money must be paid,
85] But part may on the land itself be laid.
No burdensome conditions I inflict,
And all on both sides shall be clear and strict.