Of nature's forms produce. This fond desire
Prompts me to sing the lonely silvan scenes
Of AMWELL, which, so oft in early youth,
While novelty enhanc'd their native charms,
Gave rapture to my soul; and often, still,
On life's calm moments shed serener joy.
- John Scott
Monday 14 December 1812
Lydia read the poem aloud as Mr Bennet’s carriage carried their part of the party to Ware. Jane listened attentively as the girl read the words of the poet, John Scott. Mr Bennet ignored them, immersed in a bookof philosophy.
“By winding pathways through the waving corn,
We reach the airy point that prospect yields,
Not vast and awful, but confin'd and fair;
Not the black mountain and the foamy main;
Not the throng'd city and the busy port;
But pleasant interchange of soft ascent,
And level plain, and growth of shady woods,
And twining course of rivers clear, and sight
Of rural towns and rural cots, whose roofs
Rise scattering round, and animate the whole.”
Lydia looked up when she finished reading the lengthy poem aloud. “He certainly loved his home a great deal more than the city. You must take an interest in his work, Papa, if you go to visit his family every year. Do you like his work because he prefers the glories of the country to town?”
Mr Bennet lowered his volume and regarded her with a raised brow. “I do enjoy the work of Mr Scott, though I will admit that I find a great deal more to discuss with his son-in-law. I preferApology for Retirementto his descriptive work of Amwell.”
Lydia lifted the volume she held, and found the verse in question.
“WHY asks my Friend what cheers the passing day,
Where these lone fields my rural home inclose;
That me no scenes the pompous city shows
Lure from that rural residence away?
Now thro' my laurel groves I musing stray,
Now breathe the gale that o'er the lilac blows,
Now in my grotto's solemn cells repose,
Or down the smooth vale wind at evening gray;
