Constantinople By Lady Mary Wortley Montagu - Ghizela Rowe

Constantinople By Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Give me Great God said I a Little Farm

In Summer shady

And in Winter warm

Where a cool spring

Gives birth to a clear brook

By Nature slideing down a mossy Rock

Not artfully in Leaden Pipes conveyed

Or greatly falling in a forced Cascade

Pure and unsullyed winding through ye Shade

All bounteous Heaven has added to my Praier

A softer Climate and a purer Air

Our Frozen Isle now chilling Winter binds

Deformed by Rains

And rough wth blasting Winds

Ye withered Woods grown white wth hoary Frost

By driving storms their scattered beautys lost

Trembling birds their leaveless coverts shun

And seek in distant Climes a warmer Sun

The Water Nymphs their silenced Urns deplore

Even Thames benumbed a River now no more

The barren Meadows give no more delight

By Glistening Snows made painfull to ye Sight

Fair fertile Fields to warm Indulgent Heaven

Has every Charm of every Season given

No Killing Cold deforms ye Beauteous Year

The springing Flowers no coming Winter Fear

But as ye Parent Rose decays and dies

Ye Infant Buds wth brighter Colours rise

And with fresh sweets ye Mother-scent supplys

Near them the Vielet glows wth odours blest

And blooms in more than Tyrian Purple drest

The rich Jonquils their golden gleam display

And shine in glorys emulateing day

These chearfull Groves their living Leaves retain

The Streams still murmur undefiled by Rain

And growing Green adorns ye Fruitfull Plain

The warbling Kind uninterrupted Sing

Warmed wth Enjoyment of perpetual Spring

Here from my Window I at once survey

The crouded City and resounding Sea

In distant Views see Assian Mountains rise

And Lose their Snowy Summits in ye Skies

Above those Mountains high Olympus Towers

The Parliamental Seat of Heavenly Powers