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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:26 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:26 -0700 |
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diff --git a/13586-h/13586-h.htm b/13586-h/13586-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb2adee --- /dev/null +++ b/13586-h/13586-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5742 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems, by Samuel Rogers</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.left {text-align: left; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13586 ***</div> + +<h1>Poems</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Samuel Rogers</h2> + +<h5>LONDON:</h5> + +<h5>PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES,<br /> +IN THE STRAND, BY T. BENSLEY, BOLT COURT, FLEET, STREET.</h5> + +<p class="center"> +1814. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="noindent"> +Oh could my Mind, unfolded in my page,<br /> +Enlighten climes and mould a future age;<br /> +There as it glow’d, with noblest frenzy fraught,<br /> +Dispense the treasures of exalted thought;<br /> +To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,<br /> +And bid the tear of emulation start!<br /> +Oh could it still, thro’ each succeeding year,<br /> +My life, my manners, and my name endear;<br /> +And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,<br /> +Still hold communion with the wise and just!—<br /> +Yet should this Verse, my leisure’s best resource,<br /> +When thro’ the world it steals its secret course,<br /> +Revive but once a generous wish supprest,<br /> +Chase but a sigh, or charm a care to rest;<br /> +In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,<br /> +Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;<br /> +Blest were my lines, tho’ limited their sphere,<br /> +Tho’ short their date, as his who trac’d them here. +</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem01">The Pleasures of Memory</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem02">Epistle to a Friend</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem03">Ode to Superstition</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem04">Written to be spoken in a Theatre</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem05">To——</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem06">The Sailor</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem07">To an old Oak</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem08">From Euripides</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem09">To Two Sisters</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem10">Written at Midnight</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem11">On a Tear</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem12">To a Voice that had been lost</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem13">From a Greek Epigram.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem14">To the Torso</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem15">To——</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem16">Written in a Sick Chamber</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem17">To a Friend on his Marriage</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem18">The Alps at Day-break</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem19">Imitation of an Italian Sonnet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem20">On——asleep.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem21">To the youngest Daughter of Lady **</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem22">An Epitaph on a Robin-Redbreast</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem23">A Wish</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem24">An Italian Song</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem25">To the Gnat</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem26">An Inscription in the Crimea</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem27">Captivity</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem28">A Character</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem29">Written in the Highlands of Scotland</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem30">A Farewell</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem31">To the Butterfly</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem32">Written in Westminster Abbey</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem33">The Voyage of Columbus</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem01"></a>THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY</h2> + +<p class="center"> +IN TWO PARTS +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hoc est<br /> +Vivere bis, vitâ posse priore frui. +</p> + +<p class="left"> +M<small>ART</small>. +</p> + +<h3>THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY<br /> +PART I</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +Dolce sentier…….<br /> +Colle, che mi piacesti,….<br /> +Ov’ ancor per usanza Amor mi mena;<br /> +Ben riconosco in voi l’usate forme,<br /> +Non, lasso, in me. +</p> + +<p class="left"> +P<small>ETRARCH</small> +</p> + +<h4>ANALYSIS OF THE FIRST PART.</h4> + +<p> +The Poem begins with the description of an obscure village, and of +the pleasing melancholy which it excites on being revisited after a +long absence. This mixed sensation is an effect of the Memory. From +an effect we naturally ascend to the cause; and the subject proposed +is then unfolded with an investigation of the nature and leading +principles of this faculty. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident that our ideas flow in continual succession, and +introduce each other with a certain degree of regularity. They are +sometimes excited by sensible objects, and sometimes by an internal +operation of the mind. Of the former species is most probably the +memory of brutes; and its many sources of pleasure to them, as well as +to us, are considered in the first part. The latter is the most perfect +degree of memory, and forms the subject of the second. +</p> + +<p> +When ideas have any relation whatever, they are attractive of each +other in the mind; and the perception of any object naturally leads +to the idea of another, which was connected with it either in time +or place, or which can be compared or contrasted with it. Hence +arises our attachment to inanimate objects; hence also, in some +degree, the love of our country, and the emotion with which we +contemplate the celebrated scenes of antiquity. Hence a picture +directs our thoughts to the original: and, as cold and darkness +suggest forcibly the ideas of heat and light, he, who feels the +infirmities of age, dwells most on whatever reminds him of the vigour +and vivacity of his youth. +</p> + +<p> +The associating principle, as here employed, is no less conducive to +virtue than to happiness; and, as such, it frequently discovers +itself in the most tumultuous scenes of life. It addresses our finer +feelings, and gives exercise to every mild and generous propensity. +</p> + +<p> +Not confined to man, it extends through all animated nature; and its +effects are peculiarly striking in the domestic tribes. +</p> + +<h3>THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +Twilight’s soft dews steal o’er the village-green,<br /> +With magic tints to harmonize the scene.<br /> +Still’d is the hum that thro’ the hamlet broke,<br /> +When round the ruins of their antient oak<br /> +The peasants flock’d to hear the minstrel play,<br /> +And games and carols clos’d the busy day.<br /> +Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more<br /> +With treasur’d tales, and legendary lore.<br /> +All, all are fled; nor mirth nor music flows<br /> +To chase the dreams of innocent repose.<br /> +All, all are fled; yet still I linger here!<br /> +What secret charms this silent spot endear?<br /> + Mark yon old Mansion frowning thro’ the trees.<br /> +Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling breeze.<br /> +That casement, arch’d with ivy’s brownest shade,<br /> +First to these eyes the light of heav’n convey’d.<br /> +The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court,<br /> +Once the calm scene of many a simple sport;<br /> +When nature pleas’d, for life itself was new,<br /> +And the heart promis’d what the fancy drew.<br /> + See, thro’ the fractur’d pediment reveal’d,<br /> +Where moss inlays the rudely-sculptur’d shield,<br /> +The martin’s old, hereditary nest.<br /> +Long may the ruin spare its hallow’d guest!<br /> + As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call!<br /> +Oh haste, unfold the hospitable hall!<br /> +That hall, where once, in antiquated state,<br /> +The chair of justice held the grave debate.<br /> + Now stain’d with dews, with cobwebs darkly hung,<br /> +Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung;<br /> +When round yon ample board, in due degree,<br /> +We sweeten’d every meal with social glee.<br /> +The heart’s light laugh pursued the circling jest;<br /> +And all was sunshine in each little breast.<br /> +’Twas here we chas’d the slipper by the sound;<br /> +And turn’d the blindfold hero round and round.<br /> +’Twas here, at eve, we form’d our fairy ring;<br /> +And Fancy flutter’d on her wildest wing.<br /> +Giants and genii chain’d each wondering ear;<br /> +And orphan-sorrows drew the ready tear.<br /> +Oft with the babes we wander’d in the wood,<br /> +Or view’d the forest-feats of Robin Hood:<br /> +Oft, fancy-led, at midnight’s fearful hour,<br /> +With startling step we seal’d the lonely tower:<br /> +O’er infant innocence to hang and weep,<br /> +Murder’d by ruffian hands, when smiling in its sleep.<br /> + Ye Household Deities! whose guardian eye<br /> +Mark’d each pure thought, ere register’d on high;<br /> +Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground,<br /> +And breathe the soul of Inspiration round.<br /> + As o’er the dusky furniture I bend,<br /> +Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend.<br /> +The storied arras, source of fond delight,<br /> +With old achievement charms the wilder’d sight;<br /> +And still, with Heraldry’s rich hues imprest,<br /> +On the dim window glows the pictur’d crest.<br /> +The screen unfolds its many-colour’d chart.<br /> +The clock still points its moral to the heart.<br /> +That faithful monitor ’twas heav’n to hear!<br /> +When soft it spoke a promis’d pleasure near:<br /> +And has its sober hand, its simple chime,<br /> +Forgot to trace the feather’d feet of Time?<br /> +That massive beam, with curious carvings wrought,<br /> +Whence the caged linnet sooth’d my pensive thought;<br /> +Those muskets, cas’d with venerable rust;<br /> +Those once-lov’d forms, still breathing thro’ their dust,<br /> +Still from the frame, in mould gigantic cast,<br /> +Starting to life—all whisper of the past!<br /> + As thro’ the garden’s desert paths I rove,<br /> +What fond illusions swarm in every grove!<br /> +How oft, when purple evening ting’d the west,<br /> +We watch’d the emmet to her grainy nest;<br /> +Welcom’d the wild-bee home on weary wing,<br /> +Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring!<br /> +How oft inscrib’d, with ‘Friendship’s votive rhyme,<br /> +The bark now silver’d by the touch of Time;<br /> +Soar’d in the swing, half pleas’d and half afraid,<br /> +Thro’ sister elms that wav’d their summer-shade;<br /> +Or strew’d with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat,<br /> +To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat!<br /> + Childhood’s lov’d group revisits every scene;<br /> +The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green!<br /> +Indulgent M<small>EMORY</small> wakes, and lo, they live!<br /> +Cloth’d with far softer hues than Light can give.<br /> +Thou first, best friend that Heav’n assigns below,<br /> +To sooth and sweeten all the cares we know;<br /> +Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm,<br /> +When nature fades, and life forgets to charm;<br /> +Thee would the Muse invoke!—to thee belong<br /> +The sage’s precept, and the poet’s song.<br /> +What soften’d views thy magic glass reveals,<br /> +When o’er the landscape Time’s meek twilight steals!<br /> +As when in ocean sinks the orb of day,<br /> +Long on the wave reflected lustres play;<br /> +Thy temper’d gleams of happiness resign’d<br /> +Glance on the darken’d mirror of the mind.<br /> + The School’s lone porch, with reverend mosses gray,<br /> +Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay.<br /> +Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn,<br /> +Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn:<br /> +Unheard the shout that rent the noontide air,<br /> +When the slow dial gave a pause to care.<br /> +Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear,<a href="#fn1" name="fnref1" id="fnref1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +Some little friendship form’d and cherish’d here!<br /> +And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems<br /> +With golden visions, and romantic dreams!<br /> + Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz’d<br /> +The Gipsy’s faggot—there we stood and gaz’d;<br /> +Gaz’d on her sun-burnt face with silent awe,<br /> +Her tatter’d mantle, and her hood of straw;<br /> +Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o’er;<br /> +The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,<br /> +Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred,<br /> +From rifled roost at nightly revel fed;<br /> +Whose dark eyes flash’d thro’ locks of blackest shade,<br /> +When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bay’d:—<br /> +And heroes fled the Sibyl’s mutter’d call,<br /> +Whose elfin prowess scal’d the orchard-wall.<br /> +As o’er my palm the silver piece she drew,<br /> +And trac’d the line of life with searching view,<br /> +How throbb’d my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears,<br /> +To learn the colour of my future years!<br /> + Ah, then, what honest triumph flush’d my breast!<br /> +This truth once known—To bless is to be blest!<br /> +We led the bending beggar on his way,<br /> +(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray)<br /> +Sooth’d the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,<br /> +And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.<br /> +As in his scrip we dropt our little store,<br /> +And wept to think that little was no more,<br /> +He breath’d his prayer, “Long may such goodness live!”<br /> +’Twas all he gave, ’twas all he had to give.<br /> +Angels, when Mercy’s mandate wing’d their flight,<br /> +Had stopt to catch new rapture from the sight.<br /> + But hark! thro’ those old firs, with sullen swell<br /> +The church-clock strikes! ye tender scenes, farewell!<br /> +It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace<br /> +The few fond lines that Time may soon efface.<br /> + On yon gray stone, that fronts the chancel-door.<br /> +Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no more,<br /> +Each eve we shot the marble thro’ the ring,<br /> +When the heart danc’d, and life was in its spring;<br /> +Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth,<br /> +That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.<br /> + The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed,<br /> +Where now the sexton rests his hoary head.<br /> +Oft, as he turn’d the greensward with his spade,<br /> +He lectur’d every youth that round him play’d;<br /> +And, calmly pointing where his fathers lay,<br /> +Rous’d him to rival each, the hero of his day.<br /> + Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush! while here alone<br /> +I search the records of each mouldering stone.<br /> +Guides of my life! Instructors of my youth!<br /> +Who first unveil’d the hallow’d form of Truth;<br /> +Whose every word enlighten’d and endear’d;<br /> +In age belov’d, in poverty rever’d;<br /> +In Friendship’s silent register ye live,<br /> +Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give.<br /> + —But when the sons of peace and pleasure sleep,<br /> +When only Sorrow wakes, and wakes to weep,<br /> +What spells entrance my visionary mind,<br /> +With sighs so sweet, with transports so refin’d?<br /> + Ethereal Power! whose smile, at noon of night,<br /> +Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight;<br /> +Instils that musing, melancholy mood,<br /> +Which charms the wise, and elevates the good;<br /> +Blest MEMORY, hail! Oh grant the grateful Muse,<br /> +Her pencil dipt in Nature’s living hues,<br /> +To pass the clouds that round thy empire roll,<br /> +And trace its airy precincts in the soul.<br /> + Lull’d in the countless chambers of the brain,<br /> +Our thoughts are link’d by many a hidden chain.<br /> +Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise!<a href="#fn2" name="fnref2" id="fnref2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +Each stamps its image as the other flies!<br /> +Each, as the various avenues of sense<br /> +Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense,<br /> +Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art,<br /> +Controul the latent fibres of the heart.<br /> +As studious PROSPERO’S mysterious spell<br /> +Conven’d the subject-spirits to his cell;<br /> +Each, at thy call, advances or retires,<br /> +As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires.<br /> +Each thrills the seat of sense, that sacred source<br /> +Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course,<br /> +And thro’ the frame invisibly convey<br /> +The subtle, quick vibrations as they play.<br /> + Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore;<br /> +From Reason’s faintest ray to NEWTON soar,<br /> +What different spheres to human bliss assign’d!<br /> +What slow gradations in the scale of mind!<br /> +Yet mark in each these mystic wonders wrought;<br /> +Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought!<br /> + The adventurous boy, that asks his little share,<br /> +And hies from home with many a gossip’s prayer,<br /> +Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see<br /> +The dear abode of peace and privacy;<br /> +And as he turns, the thatch among the trees,<br /> +The smoke’s blue wreaths ascending with the breeze,<br /> +The village-common spotted white with sheep,<br /> +The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep;<a href="#fn3" name="fnref3" id="fnref3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +All rouse Reflection’s sadly-pleasing train.<br /> +And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again.<br /> + So, when the mild TUPIA dar’d explore<br /> +Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown before,<br /> +And, with the sons of Science, woo’d the gale<br /> +That, rising, swell’d their strange expanse of sail;<br /> +So, when he breath’d his firm yet fond adieu,<a href="#fn4" name="fnref4" id="fnref4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +Borne from his leafy hut, his carv’d canoe,<br /> +And all his soul best lov’d—such tears he shed,<br /> +While each soft scene of summer-beauty fled:<br /> +Long o’er the wave a wistful look he cast,<br /> +Long watch’d the streaming signal from the mast;<br /> +Till twilight’s dewy tints deceiv’d his eye,<br /> +And fairy forests fring’d the evening sky.<br /> + So Scotia’s Queen, as slowly dawn’d the day,’<a href="#fn5" name="fnref5" id="fnref5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Rose on her couch, and gaz’d her soul away.<br /> +Her eyes had bless’d the beacon’s glimmering height,<br /> +That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light;<br /> +But now the morn with orient hues pourtray’d<br /> +Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade:<br /> +All touch’d the talisman’s resistless spring,<br /> +And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing!<br /> + Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire,<a href="#fn6" name="fnref6" id="fnref6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire.<br /> +And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth,<br /> +Warm as the life, and with the mirror’s truth.<br /> +Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot’s sigh;<a href="#fn7" name="fnref7" id="fnref7"><sup>[7]</sup></a><br /> +This makes him wish to live, and dare to die.<br /> +For this young FOSCARI, whose hapless fate<a href="#fn8" name="fnref8" id="fnref8"><sup>[8]</sup></a><br /> +Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate,<br /> +When exile wore his blooming years away,<br /> +To sorrow’s long soliloquies a prey,<br /> +When reason, justice, vainly urg’d his cause,<br /> +For this he rous’d her sanguinary laws;<br /> +Glad to return, tho’ Hope could grant no more,<br /> +And chains and torture hail’d him to the shore.<br /> + And hence the charm historic scenes impart:<br /> +Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart.<br /> +Aerial forms, in Tempe’s classic vale,<br /> +Glance thro’ the gloom, and whisper in the gale;<br /> +In wild Vaucluse with love and LAURA dwell,<br /> +And watch and weep in ELOISA’S cell.’<a href="#fn9" name="fnref9" id="fnref9"><sup>[9]</sup></a><br /> +’Twas ever thus. As now at VIRGIL’S tomb,<a href="#fn10" name="fnref10" id="fnref10"><sup>[10]</sup></a><br /> +We bless the shade, and bid the verdure bloom:<br /> +So TULLY paus’d, amid the wrecks of Time,<a href="#fn11" name="fnref11" id="fnref11"><sup>[11]</sup></a><br /> +On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime;<br /> +When at his feet, in honour’d dust disclos’d,<br /> +The immortal Sage of Syracuse repos’d.<br /> +And as his youth in sweet delusion hung,<br /> +Where once a PLATO taught, a PINDAR sung;<br /> +Who now but meets him musing, when he roves<br /> +His ruin’d Tusculan’s romantic groves?<br /> +In Rome’s great forum, who but hears him roll<br /> +His moral thunders o’er the subject soul?<br /> + And hence that calm delight the portrait gives:<br /> +We gaze on every feature till it lives!<br /> +Still the fond lover views the absent maid;<br /> +And the lost friend still lingers in his shade!<br /> +Say why the pensive widow loves to weep,<a href="#fn12" name="fnref12" id="fnref12"><sup>[12]</sup></a><br /> +When on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep:<br /> +Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace<br /> +The father’s features in his infant face.<br /> +The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away,<br /> +Won by the charm of Innocence at play;<br /> +He bends to meet each artless burst of joy,<br /> +Forgets his age, and acts again the boy.<br /> + What tho’ the iron school of War erase<br /> +Each milder virtue, and each softer grace;<br /> +What tho’ the fiend’s torpedo-touch arrest<br /> +Each gentler, finer impulse of the breast;<br /> +Still shall this active principle preside,<br /> +And wake the tear to Pity’s self denied.<br /> + The intrepid Swiss, that guards a foreign shore,<br /> +Condemn’d to climb his mountain-cliffs no more,<br /> +If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild<a href="#fn13" name="fnref13" id="fnref13"><sup>[13]</sup></a><br /> +Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguil’d,<br /> +Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise,<br /> +And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs.<br /> + Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the charm:<br /> +Say why VESPASIAN lov’d his Sabine farm;<a href="#fn14" name="fnref14" id="fnref14"><sup>[14]</sup></a><br /> +Why great NAVARRE, when France and freedom bled,<a href="#fn15" name="fnref15" id="fnref15"><sup>[15]</sup></a><br /> +Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed.<br /> +When DIOCLETIAN’S self-corrected mind<a href="#fn16" name="fnref16" id="fnref16"><sup>[16]</sup></a><br /> +The imperial fasces of a world resign’d,<br /> +Say why we trace the labours of his spade,<br /> +In calm Salona’s philosophic shade.<br /> +Say, when contentious CHARLES renounc’d a throne,<a href="#fn17" name="fnref17" id="fnref17"><sup>[17]</sup></a><br /> +To muse with monks unletter’d and unknown,<br /> +What from his soul the parting tribute drew?<br /> +What claim’d the sorrows of a last adieu?<br /> +The still retreats that sooth’d his tranquil breast,<br /> +Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppress’d.<br /> + Undamp’d by time, the generous Instinct glows<br /> +Far as Angola’s sands, as Zembla’s snows;<br /> +Glows in the tiger’s den, the serpent’s nest,<br /> +On every form of varied life imprest.<br /> +The social tribes its choicest influence hail:—<br /> +And, when the drum beats briskly in the gale,<br /> +The war-worn courser charges at the sound,<br /> +And with young vigour wheels the pasture round.<br /> + Oft has the aged tenant of the vale<br /> +Lean’d on his staff to lengthen out the tale;<br /> +Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breath’d,<br /> +From sire to son with pious zeal bequeath’d.<br /> +When o’er the blasted heath the day declin’d,<br /> +And on the scath’d oak warr’d the winter-wind;<br /> +When not a distant taper’s twinkling ray<br /> +Gleam’d o’er the furze to light him on his way;<br /> +When not a sheep-bell sooth’d his listening ear,<br /> +And the big rain-drops told the tempest near;<br /> +Then did his horse the homeward track descry,<a href="#fn18" name="fnref18" id="fnref18"><sup>[18]</sup></a><br /> +The track that shunn’d his sad, inquiring eye;<br /> +And win each wavering purpose to relent,<br /> +With warmth so mild, so gently violent,<br /> +That his charm’d hand the careless rein resign’d,<br /> +And doubts and terrors vanish’d from his mind.<br /> + Recall the traveller, whose alter’d form<br /> +Has borne the buffet of the mountain-storm;<br /> +And who will first his fond impatience meet?<br /> +His faithful dog’s already at his feet!<br /> +Yes, tho’ the porter spurn him from the door,<br /> +Tho’ all, that knew him, know his face no more,<br /> +His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each,<br /> +With that mute eloquence which passes speech.—<br /> +And see, the master but returns to die!<br /> +Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly?<br /> +The blasts of heav’n, the drenching dews of earth,<br /> +The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth,<br /> +These, when to guard Misfortune’s sacred grave,<br /> +Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.<br /> + Led by what chart, transports the timid dove<br /> +The wreaths of conquest, or the vows of love?<br /> +Say, thro’ the clouds what compass points her flight?<br /> +Monarchs have gaz’d, and nations bless’d the sight.<br /> +Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and mountains rise,<br /> +Eclipse her native shades, her native skies;—<br /> +’Tis vain! thro’ Ether’s pathless wilds she goes,<br /> +And lights at last where all her cares repose.<br /> + Sweet bird! thy truth shall Harlem’s walls attest,<a href="#fn19" name="fnref19" id="fnref19"><sup>[19]</sup></a><br /> +And unborn ages consecrate thy nest.<br /> +When, with the silent energy of grief,<br /> +With looks that ask’d, yet dar’d not hope relief,<br /> +Want, with her babes, round generous Valour clung,<br /> +To wring the slow surrender from his tongue,<br /> +’Twas thine to animate her closing eye;<br /> +Alas! ’twas thine perchance the first to die,<br /> +Crush’d by her meagre hand, when welcom’d from the sky.<br /> + Hark! the bee winds her small but mellow horn,<a href="#fn20" name="fnref20" id="fnref20"><sup>[20]</sup></a><br /> +Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn.<br /> +O’er thymy downs she bends her busy course,<br /> +And many a stream allures her to its source.<br /> +’Tis noon, ’tis night. That eye so finely wrought,<br /> +Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought.<br /> +Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind;<br /> +Its orb so full, its vision so confin’d!<br /> +Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell?<br /> +Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell?<br /> +With conscious truth retrace the mazy clue<br /> +Of varied scents, that charm’d her as she flew?<br /> +Hail, MEMORY, hail! thy universal reign<br /> +Guards the least link of Being’s glorious chain. +</p> + +<h3>THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY<br /> +PART II.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +Delle cose custode, e dispensiera. +</p> + +<p class="left"> +TASSO. +</p> + +<h4>ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART.</h4> + +<p> +The Memory has hitherto acted only in subservience to the senses, and +so far man is not eminently distinguished from other animals: but, +with respect to man, she has a higher province; and is often busily +employed, when excited by no external cause whatever. She preserves, +for his use, the treasures of art and science, history and +philosophy. She colours all the prospects of life: for ‘we can only +anticipate the future, by concluding what is possible from what is +past.’ On her agency depends every effusion of the Fancy, whose +boldest effort can only compound or transpose, augment or diminish +the materials which she has collected and retained. +</p> + +<p> +When the first emotions of despair have subsided, and sorrow has +softened into melancholy, she amuses with a retrospect of innocent +pleasures, and inspires that noble confidence which results from the +consciousness of having acted well. When sleep has suspended the +organs of sense from their office, she not only supplies the mind +with images, but assists in their combination. And even in madness +itself, when the soul is resigned over to the tyranny of a +distempered imagination, she revives past perceptions, and awakens +the train of thought which was formerly most familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Nor are we pleased only with a review of the brighter passages of +life. Events, the most distressing in their immediate consequences, +are often cherished in remembrance with a degree of enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +But the world and its occupations give a mechanical impulse to the +passions, which is not very favourable to the indulgence of this +feeling. It is in a calm and well-regulated mind that the Memory is +most perfect; and solitude is her best sphere of action. With this +sentiment is introduced a Tale, illustrative of her influence in +solitude, sickness, and, sorrow. And the subject having now been +considered, so far as it relates to man and the animal world, the +Poem concludes with a conjecture, that superior beings are blest with +a nobler exercise of this faculty. +</p> + +<h3>THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +Sweet MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale,<br /> +Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,<br /> +To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.<br /> +Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.<br /> +Ages and climes remote to Thee impart<br /> +What charms in Genius, and refines in Art;<br /> +Thee, in whose hand the keys of Science dwell,<br /> +The pensive portress of her holy cell;<br /> +Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp<br /> +Oblivion steals upon her vestal-lamp.<br /> + The friends of Reason, and the guides of Youth,<br /> +Whose language breath’d the eloquence of Truth;<br /> +Whose life, beyond preceptive wisdom, taught<br /> +The great in conduct, and the pure in thought;<br /> +These still exist, by Thee to Fame consign’d,<a href="#fn21" name="fnref21" id="fnref21"><sup>[21]</sup></a><br /> +Still speak and act, the models of mankind.<br /> + From Thee sweet Hope her airy colouring draws;<br /> +And Fancy’s flights are subject to thy laws.<br /> +From Thee that bosom-spring of rapture flows,<br /> +Which only Virtue, tranquil Virtue, knows.<br /> + When Joy’s bright sun has shed his evening ray,<br /> +And Hope’s delusive meteors cease to play;<br /> +When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close,<br /> +Still thro’ the gloom thy star serenely glows;<br /> +Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night<br /> +With the mild magic of reflected light.<br /> + The beauteous maid, that bids the world adieu,<br /> +Oft of that world will snatch a fond review;<br /> +Oft at the shrine neglect her beads,<br /> +to trace Some social scene, some dear, familiar face,<br /> +Forgot, when first a father’s stern controul<br /> +Chas’d the gay visions of her opening soul:<br /> +And ere, with iron tongue, the vesper-bell<br /> +Bursts thro’ the cypress-walk, the convent-cell,<br /> +Oft will her warm and wayward heart revive,<br /> +To love and joy still tremblingly alive;<br /> +The whisper’d vow, the chaste caress prolong,<br /> +Weave the light dance and swell the choral song;<br /> +With rapt ear drink the enchanting serenade,<br /> +And, as it melts along the moonlight-glade,<br /> +To each soft note return as soft a sigh,<br /> +And bless the youth that bids her slumbers fly.<br /> + But not till Time has calm’d the ruffled breast,<br /> +Are these fond dreams of happiness confest.<br /> +Not till the rushing winds forget to rave,<br /> +Is Heav’n’s sweet smile reflected on the wave. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +From Guinea’s coast pursue the lessening sail,<br /> +And catch the sounds that sadden every gale.<br /> +Tell, if thou canst, the sum of sorrows there;<br /> +Mark the fixt gaze, the wild and frenzied glare,<br /> +The racks of thought, and freezings of despair!<br /> +But pause not then—beyond the western wave,<br /> +Go, view the captive barter’d as a slave!<br /> +Crush’d till his high, heroic spirit bleeds,<br /> +And from his nerveless frame indignantly recedes.<br /> + Yet here, ev’n here, with pleasures long resign’d,<br /> +Lo! M<small>EMORY</small> bursts the twilight of the mind:<br /> +Her dear delusions sooth his sinking soul,<br /> +When the rude scourge presumes its base controul;<br /> +And o’er Futurity’s blank page diffuse<br /> +The full reflection of her vivid hues.<br /> +’Tis but to die, and then, to weep no more,<br /> +Then will he wake on Congo’s distant shore;<br /> +Beneath his plantain’s antient shade, renew<br /> +The simple transports that with freedom flew;<br /> +Catch the cool breeze that musky Evening blows,<br /> +And quaff the palm’s rich nectar as it glows;<br /> +The oral tale of elder time rehearse,<br /> +And chant the rude, traditionary verse;<br /> +With those, the lov’d companions of his youth,<br /> +When life was luxury, and friendship truth.<br /> + Ah! why should Virtue fear the frowns of Fate?<br /> +Hers what no wealth can win, no power create!<br /> +A little world of clear and cloudless day,<br /> +Nor wreck’d by storms, nor moulder’d by decay;<br /> +A world, with M<small>EMORY’S</small> ceaseless sun-shine blest,<br /> +The home of Happiness, an honest breast.<br /> + But most we mark the wonders of her reign,<br /> +When Sleep has lock’d the senses in her chain.<br /> +When sober Judgment has his throne resign’d,<br /> +She smiles away the chaos of the mind;<br /> +And, as warm Fancy’s bright Elysium glows,<br /> +From Her each image springs, each colour flows.<br /> +She is the sacred guest! the immortal friend!<br /> +Oft seen o’er sleeping Innocence to bend,<br /> +In that dead hour of night to Silence giv’n,<br /> +Whispering seraphic visions of her heav’n.<br /> + When the blithe son of Savoy, journeying round<br /> +With humble wares and pipe of merry sound,<br /> +From his green vale and shelter’d cabin hies,<br /> +And scales the Alps to visit foreign skies;<br /> +Tho’ far below the forked lightnings play,<br /> +And at his feet the thunder dies away,<br /> +Oft, in the saddle rudely rock’d to sleep,<br /> +While his mule browses on the dizzy steep,<br /> +With M<small>EMORY’S</small> aid, he sits at home, and sees<br /> +His children sport beneath their native trees,<br /> +And bends, to hear their cherub-voices call,<br /> +O’er the loud fury of the torrent’s fall.<br /> + But can her smile with gloomy Madness dwell?<br /> +Say, can she chase the horrors of his cell?<br /> +Each fiery flight on Frenzy’s wing restrain,<br /> +And mould the coinage of the fever’d brain?<br /> + Pass but that grate, which scarce a gleam supplies,<br /> +There in the dust the wreck of Genius lies!<br /> +He, whose arresting hand sublimely wrought<br /> +Each bold conception in the sphere of thought;<br /> +And round, in colours of the rainbow, threw<br /> +Forms ever fair, creations ever new!<br /> +But, as he fondly snatch’d the wreath of Fame,<br /> +The spectre Poverty unnerv’d his frame.<br /> +Cold was her grasp, a withering scowl she wore;<br /> +And Hope’s soft energies were felt no more.<br /> +Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art!<a href="#fn22" name="fnref22" id="fnref22"><sup>[22]</sup></a><br /> +From the rude wall what bright ideas start!<br /> +Ev’n now he claims the amaranthine wreath,<br /> +With scenes that glow, with images that breathe!<br /> +And whence these scenes, these images, declare.<br /> +Whence but from Her who triumphs o’er despair? +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Awake, arise! with grateful fervor fraught,<br /> +Go, spring the mine of elevating thought.<br /> +He, who, thro’ Nature’s various walk, surveys<br /> +The good and fair her faultless line pourtrays;<br /> +Whose mind, prophan’d by no unhallow’d guest,<br /> +Culls from the crowd the purest and the best;<br /> +May range, at will, bright Fancy’s golden clime,<br /> +Or, musing, mount where Science sits sublime,<br /> +Or wake the spirit of departed Time.<br /> +Who acts thus wisely, mark the moral muse,<br /> +A blooming Eden in his life reviews!<br /> +So rich the culture, tho’ so small the space,<br /> +Its scanty limits he forgets to trace.<br /> +But the fond fool, when evening shades the sky,<br /> +Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh!<a href="#fn23" name="fnref23" id="fnref23"><sup>[23]</sup></a><br /> +The weary waste, that lengthen’d as he ran,<br /> +Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a span!<br /> + Ah! who can tell the triumphs of the mind,<br /> +By truth illumin’d, and by taste refin’d?<br /> +When Age has quench’d the eye and clos’d the ear,<br /> +Still nerv’d for action in her native sphere,<br /> +Oft will she rise—with searching glance pursue<br /> +Some long-lov’d image vanish’d from her view;<br /> +Dart thro’ the deep recesses of the past,<br /> +O’er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast;<br /> +With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night,<br /> +And snatch the faithless fugitive to light.<br /> + So thro’ the grove the impatient mother flies.<br /> +Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries;<br /> +Till the light leaves the truant boy disclose,<br /> +Long on the wood-moss stretch’d in sweet repose.<br /> + Nor yet to pleasing objects are confin’d<br /> +The silent feasts of the reflecting mind.<br /> +Danger and death a dread delight inspire;<br /> +And the bald veteran glows with wonted fire,<br /> +When, richly bronz’d by many a summer-sun,<br /> +He counts his scars, and tells what deeds were done.<br /> + Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea’s glorious pile;<br /> +And ask the shatter’d hero, whence his smile?<br /> +Go, view the splendid domes of Greenwich—Go,<br /> +And own what raptures from Reflection flow.<br /> + Hail, noblest structures imag’d in the wave!<br /> +A nation’s grateful tribute to the brave.<br /> +Hail, blest retreats from war and shipwreck, hail!<br /> +That oft arrest the wondering stranger’s sail.<br /> +Long have ye heard the narratives of age,<br /> +The battle’s havoc, and the tempest’s rage;<br /> +Long have ye known Reflection’s genial ray<br /> +Gild the calm close of Valour’s various day.<br /> + Time’s sombrous touches soon correct the piece,<br /> +Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease:<br /> +A softer tone of light pervades the whole,<br /> +And steals a pensive languor o’er the soul.<br /> + Hast thou thro’ Eden’s wild-wood vales pursued<a href="#fn24" name="fnref24" id="fnref24"><sup>[24]</sup></a><br /> +Each mountain-scene, majestically rude;<br /> +To note the sweet simplicity of life,<br /> +Far from the din of Folly’s idle strife:<br /> +Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, rever’d<br /> +That modest stone which pious PEMBROKE rear’d;<br /> +Which still records, beyond the pencil’s power,<br /> +The silent sorrows of a parting hour;<br /> +Still to the musing pilgrim points the place,<br /> +Her sainted spirit most delights to trace?<br /> + Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride,<br /> +O’er his dead son the gallant O<small>RMOND</small> sigh’d.<a href="#fn25" name="fnref25" id="fnref25"><sup>[25]</sup></a><br /> +Thus, thro’ the gloom of S<small>HENSTONE’S</small> fairy grove,<br /> +M<small>ARIA’S</small> urn still breathes the voice of love.<br /> + As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower<br /> +Awes us less deeply in its morning hour,<br /> +Than when the shades of Time serenely fall<br /> +On every broken arch and ivy’d wall;<br /> +The tender images we love to trace,<br /> +Steal from each year a melancholy grace!<br /> +And as the sparks of social love expand,<br /> +As the heart opens in a foreign land;<br /> +And, with a brother’s warmth, a brother’s smile,<br /> +The stranger greets each native of his isle;<br /> +So scenes of life, when present and confest,<br /> +Stamp but their bolder features on the breast;<br /> +Yet not an image, when remotely view’d,<br /> +However trivial, and however rude,<br /> +But wins the heart, and wakes the social sigh,<br /> +With every claim of close affinity!<br /> + But these pure joys the world can never know;<br /> +In gentler climes their silver currents flow.<br /> +Oft at the silent, shadowy close of day,<br /> +When the hush’d grove has sung its parting lay;<br /> +When pensive Twilight, in her dusky car,<br /> +Comes slowly on to meet the evening-star;<br /> +Above, below, aerial murmurs swell,<br /> +From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell!<br /> +A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light.<br /> +Stealing soft music on the ear of night.<br /> +So oft the finer movements of the soul,<br /> +That shun the sphere of Pleasure’s gay controul,<br /> +In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise,<br /> +And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Once, and domestic annals tell the time,<br /> +(Preserv’d in Cumbria’s rude, romantic clime)<br /> +When nature smil’d, and o’er the landscape threw<br /> +Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue,<br /> +A blithe and blooming Forester explor’d<br /> +Those loftier scenes S<small>ALVATOR’S</small> soul ador’d;<br /> +The rocky pass half hung with shaggy wood,<br /> +And the cleft oak flung boldly o’er the flood;<br /> +Nor shunn’d the path, unknown to human tread,<br /> +That downward to the night of caverns led;<br /> +Some antient cataract’s deserted bed.<br /> + High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose,<a href="#fn26" name="fnref26" id="fnref26"><sup>[26]</sup></a><br /> +And blew his shrill blast o’er perennial snows<br /> +Ere the rapt youth, recoiling from the roar,<br /> +Gaz’d on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar;<br /> +And thro’ the rifted cliffs, that scal’d the sky,<br /> +Derwent’s clear mirror charm’d his dazzled eye.<a href="#fn27" name="fnref27" id="fnref27"><sup>[27]</sup></a><br /> +Each osier isle, inverted on the wave,<br /> +Thro’ morn’s gray mist its melting colours gave;<br /> +And, o’er the cygnet’s haunt, the mantling grove<br /> +Its emerald arch with wild luxuriance wove.<br /> + Light as the breeze that brush’d the orient dew:<br /> +From rock to rock the young adventurer flew;<br /> +And day’s last sunshine slept along the shore,<br /> +When lo, a path the smile of welcome wore.<br /> +Imbowering shrubs with verdure veil’d the sky,<br /> +And on the musk-rose shed a deeper dye;<br /> +Save when a bright and momentary gleam<br /> +Glanc’d from the white foam of some shelter’d stream.<br /> + O’er the still lake the bell of evening toll’d,<br /> +And on the moor the shepherd penn’d his fold;<br /> +And on the green hill’s side the meteor play’d;<br /> +When, hark! a voice sung sweetly thro’ the shade.<br /> +It ceas’d—yet still in F<small>LORIO’S</small> fancy sung,<br /> +Still on each note his captive spirit hung;<br /> +Till o’er the mead a cool, sequester’d grot<br /> +From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot.<br /> +A crystal water cross’d the pebbled floor,<br /> +And on the front these simple lines it bore: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hence away, nor dare intrude!<br /> +In this secret, shadowy cell<br /> +Musing M<small>EMORY</small> loves to dwell,<br /> +With her sister Solitude.<br /> +<br /> +Far from the busy world she flies,<br /> +To taste that peace the world denies.<br /> +Entranc’d she sits; from youth to age,<br /> +Reviewing Life’s eventful page;<br /> +And noting, ere they fade away,<br /> +The little lines of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +F<small>LORIO</small> had gain’d a rude and rocky seat,<br /> +When lo, the Genius of this still retreat!<br /> +Fair was her form—but who can hope to trace<br /> +The pensive softness of her angel-face?<br /> +Can V<small>IRGIL’S</small> verse, can R<small>APHAEL’S</small> touch impart<br /> +Those finer features of the feeling heart,<br /> +Those tend’rer tints that shun the careless eye,<br /> +And in the world’s contagious climate die?<br /> + She left the cave, nor mark’d the stranger there;<br /> +Her pastoral beauty, and her artless air<br /> +Had breath’d a soft enchantment o’er his soul!<br /> +In every nerve he felt her blest controul!<br /> +What pure and white-wing’d agents of the sky,<br /> +Who rule the springs of sacred sympathy,<br /> +Inform congenial spirits when they meet?<br /> +Sweet is their office, as their natures sweet!<br /> + F<small>LORIO</small>, with fearful joy, pursued the maid,<br /> +Till thro’ a vista’s moonlight-checquer’d shade,<br /> +Where the bat circled, and the rooks repos’d,<br /> +(Their wars suspended, and their councils clos’d)<br /> +An antique mansion burst in awful state,<br /> +A rich vine clustering round the Gothic gate.<br /> +Nor paus’d he there. The master of the scene<br /> +Saw his light step imprint the dewy green;<br /> +And, slow-advancing, hail’d him as his guest,<br /> +Won by the honest warmth his looks express’d,<br /> +He wore the rustic manners of a ’Squire;<br /> +Age had not quench’d one spark of manly fire;<br /> +But giant Gout had bound him in her chain,<br /> +And his heart panted for the chase in vain.<br /> +Yet here Remembrance, sweetly-soothing power!<br /> +Wing’d with delight Confinement’s lingering hour.<br /> +The fox’s brush still emulous to wear,<br /> +He scour’d the county in his elbow-chair;<br /> +And, with view-halloo, rous’d the dreaming hound,<br /> +That rung, by starts, his deep-ton’d music round.<br /> + Long by the paddock’s humble pale confin’d,<br /> +His aged hunters cours’d the viewless wind:<br /> +And each, with glowing energy pourtray’d,<br /> +The far-fam’d triumphs of the field display’d:<br /> +Usurp’d the canvas of the crowded hall,<br /> +And chas’d a line of heroes from the wall.<br /> +There slept the horn each jocund echo knew.<br /> +And many a smile and many a story drew!<br /> +High o’er the hearth his forest-trophies hung,<br /> +And their fantastic branches wildly flung.<br /> +How would he dwell on the vast antlers there!<br /> +These dash’d the wave, those fann’d the mountain-air.<br /> +All, as they frown’d, unwritten records bore,<br /> +Of gallant feats and festivals of yore. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +But why the tale prolong?—His only child,<br /> +His darling J<small>ULIA</small> on the stranger smil’d.<br /> +Her little arts a fretful sire to please,<br /> +Her gentle gaiety, and native ease<br /> +Had won his soul; and rapturous Fancy shed<br /> +Her golden lights, and tints of rosy red.<br /> +But ah! few days had pass’d, ere the bright vision fled!<br /> + When evening ting’d the lake’s ethereal blue,<br /> +And her deep shades irregularly threw;<br /> +Their shifting sail dropt gently from the cove,<br /> +Down by St. Herbert’s consecrated grove;<a href="#fn28" name="fnref28" id="fnref28"><sup>[28]</sup></a><br /> +Whence erst the chanted hymn, the taper’d rite<br /> +Amus’d the fisher’s solitary night:<br /> +And still the mitred window, richly wreath’d,<br /> +A sacred calm thro’ the brown foliage breath’d.<br /> +The wild deer, starting thro’ the silent glade,<br /> +With fearful gaze their various course survey’d.<br /> +High hung in air the hoary goat reclin’d,<br /> +His streaming beard the sport of every wind;<br /> +And, while the coot her jet-wing lov’d to lave,<br /> +Rock’d on the bosom of the sleepless wave;<br /> +The eagle rush’d from Skiddaw’s purple crest,<br /> +A cloud still brooding o’er her giant-nest.<br /> + And now the moon had dimm’d, with dewy ray.<br /> +The few fine flushes of departing day;<br /> +O’er the wide water’s deep serene she hung,<br /> +And her broad lights on every mountain flung;<br /> +When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew,<a href="#fn29" name="fnref29" id="fnref29"><sup>[29]</sup></a><br /> +And to the surge consign’d the little crew.<br /> +All, all escap’d—but ere the lover bore<br /> +His faint and faded J<small>ULIA</small>, to the shore,<br /> +Her sense had fled!—Exhausted by the storm,<br /> +A fatal trance hang o’er her pallid form;<br /> +Her closing eye a trembling lustre fir’d;<br /> +’Twas life’s last spark—it flutter’d and expir’d!<br /> + The father strew’d his white hairs in the wind,<br /> +Call’d on his child—nor linger’d long behind:<br /> +And F<small>LORIO</small> liv’d to see the willow wave,<br /> +With many an evening-whisper, o’er their grave.<br /> +Yes, F<small>LORIO</small> liv’d—and, still of each possest,<br /> +The father cherish’d, and the maid caress’d!<br /> + For ever would the fond enthusiast rove,<br /> +With J<small>ULIA’S</small> spirit, thro’ the shadowy grove;<br /> +Gaze with delight on every scene she plann’d,<br /> +Kiss every flowret planted by her hand.<br /> +Ah! still he trac’d her steps along the glade,<br /> +When hazy hues and glimmering lights betray’d<br /> +Half-viewless forms; still listen’d as the breeze<br /> +Heav’d its deep sobs among the aged trees;<br /> +And at each pause her melting accents caught,<br /> +In sweet delirium of romantic thought!<br /> +Dear was the grot that shunn’d the blaze of day;<br /> +She gave its spars to shoot a trembling ray.<br /> +The spring, that bubbled from its inmost cell,<br /> +Murmur’d of J<small>ULIA’S</small> virtues as it fell;<br /> +And o’er the dripping moss, the fretted stone,<br /> +In F<small>LORIO’S</small> ear breath’d language not its own.<br /> +Her charm around the enchantress M<small>EMORY</small> threw,<br /> +A charm that sooths the mind, and sweetens too!<br /> + But is Her magic only felt below?<br /> +Say, thro’ what brighter realms she bids it flow;<br /> +To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere,<a href="#fn30" name="fnref30" id="fnref30"><sup>[30]</sup></a><br /> +She yields delight but faintly imag’d here:<br /> +All that till now their rapt researches knew,<br /> +Not call’d in slow succession to review;<br /> +But, as a landscape meets the eye of day,<br /> +At once presented to their glad survey!<br /> + Each scene of bliss reveal’d, since chaos fled,<br /> +And dawning light its dazzling glories spread;<br /> +Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow’d,<br /> +Since first Creation’s choral anthem flow’d;<br /> +Each ready flight, at Mercy’s smile divine,<br /> +To distant worlds that undiscover’d shine;<br /> +Full on her tablet flings its living rays,<br /> +And all, combin’d, with blest effulgence blaze.<br /> + There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar;<br /> +No more to part, to mingle tears no more!<br /> +And, as the softening hand of Time endears<br /> +The joys and sorrows of our infant-years,<br /> +So there the soul, releas’d from human strife,<br /> +Smiles at the little cares and ills of life;<br /> +Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers;<br /> +As at a dream that charm’d her vacant hours!<br /> + Oft may the spirits of the dead descend<br /> +To watch the silent slumbers of a friend;<br /> +To hover round his evening-walk unseen,<br /> +And hold sweet converse on the dusky green;<br /> +To hail the spot where first their friendship grew,<br /> +And heav’n and nature open’d to their view!<br /> +Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees<br /> +A smiling circle emulous to please;<br /> +There may these gentle guests delight to dwell,<br /> +And bless the scene they lov’d in life so well!<br /> + Oh thou! with whom my heart was wont to share<br /> +From Reason’s dawn each pleasure and each care;<br /> +With whom, alas! I fondly hop’d to know<br /> +The humble walks of happiness below;<br /> +If thy blest nature now unites above<br /> +An angel’s pity with a brother’s love,<br /> +Still o’er my life preserve thy mild controul,<br /> +Correct my views, and elevate my soul;<br /> +Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,<br /> +Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign’d;<br /> +Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise,<br /> +Whose blameless wishes never aim’d to rise,<br /> +To meet the changes Time and Chance present,<br /> +With modest dignity and calm content.<br /> +When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest,<br /> +Thy meek submission to thy God express’d;<br /> +When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,<br /> +A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;<br /> +What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,<br /> +Its hope in death, its triumph o’er the grave?<br /> +The sweet Remembrance of unblemish’d youth,<br /> +The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth!<br /> + Hail, M<small>EMORY</small>, hail! in thy exhaustless mine<br /> +From age to age unnumber’d treasures shine!<br /> +Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey,<br /> +And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!<br /> +Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone;<br /> +The only pleasures we can call our own.<br /> +Lighter than air, Hope’s summer-visions die,<br /> +If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;<br /> +If but a beam of sober Reason play,<br /> +Lo, Fancy’s fairy frost-work melts away!<br /> +But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,<br /> +Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?<br /> +These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,<br /> +Pour round her path a stream of living light;<br /> +And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,<br /> +Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest! +</p> + +<h4>NOTES ON THE FIRST PART.</h4> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1" id="fn1"></a> <a href="#fnref1">[1]</a> +<i>Up springs at every step to claim a tear</i>,<br /> +<br /> +I came to the place of my birth, and cried, “The friends of my Youth, +where are they?”—And an echo answered, “Where are they?” From an +Arabic MS. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2" id="fn2"></a> <a href="#fnref2">[2]</a> +<i>Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise!</i><br /> +<br /> +When a traveller, who was surveying the ruins of Rome, expressed a +desire to possess some relic of its antient grandeur, Poussin, who +attended him, stooped down, and, gathering up a handful of earth +shining with small grains of porphyry, “Take this home,” said he, +“for your cabinet; and say boldly, <i>Questa è Roma Antica</i>.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3" id="fn3"></a> <a href="#fnref3">[3]</a> +<i>The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep</i>;<br /> +<br /> +Every man, like Gulliver in Lilliput, is fastened to some spot of +earth, by the thousand small threads which habit and association are +continually stealing over him. Of these, perhaps, one of the +strongest is here alluded to.<br /> + When the Canadian Indians were once solicited to emigrate, “What!” +they replied, “shall we say to the bones of our fathers, Arise, and +go with us into a foreign land?”—Hist. des Indes, par Raynal, +vi. 21. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn4" id="fn4"></a> <a href="#fnref4">[4]</a> +<i>So, when he breath’d his firm yet fond adieu</i>,<br /> +<br /> +See COOK’S first voyage, book i. chap. 16.<br /> + Another very affecting instance of local attachment is related of his +fellow-countryman Potaveri, who came to Europe with M. de +Bougainville.—See LES JARDINS, chant, ii. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn5" id="fn5"></a> <a href="#fnref5">[5]</a> +<i>So Scotia’s Queen, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Elle se leve sur son lict, et se met a contempler la France encore, +et tant qu’elle peut. BRANTÔME, i. 140. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn6" id="fn6"></a> <a href="#fnref6">[6]</a> +<i>Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire</i>.<br /> +<br /> +To an accidental association may be ascribed some of the noblest +efforts of human genius. The Historian of the Decline and Fall of the +Roman Empire first conceived his design among the ruins of the +Capitol; and to the tones of a Welsh harp are we indebted for the +Bard of Gray.—GIBBON’S Hist. xii. 432.—Mem. of Gray, sect. iv. +let. 25. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn7" id="fn7"></a> <a href="#fnref7">[7]</a> +<i>Hence home-felt pleasure, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate attachment of Plutarch, +who thus concludes his enumeration of the advantages of a great city +to men of letters; “As to myself, I live in a little town; and I +choose to live there, lest it should become still less,”—Vit. Demosth. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn8" id="fn8"></a> <a href="#fnref8">[8]</a> +<i>For this young FOSCARI, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +He was suspected of murder, and at Venice suspicion is good evidence. +Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of +conscious innocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on the +rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banished to the island of +Candia for life.<br /> + But here his resolution failed him. At such a distance from home he +could not live; and, as it was a criminal offence to solicit the +intercession of any foreign prince, in a fit of despair he addressed +a letter to the Duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose +perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded a prisoner to +Venice. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9" id="fn9"></a> <a href="#fnref9">[9]</a> +<i>And watch and weep in ELOISA’S cell</i>.<br /> +<br /> +The Paraclete, founded by Abelard, in Champagne. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn10" id="fn10"></a> <a href="#fnref10">[10]</a> +<i>’Twas ever thus. As now at VIRGIL’S tomb</i><br /> +<br /> +Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the religious enthusiast. +Silius Italicus performed annual ceremonies on the mountain of +Posilippo; and it was there that Boccaccio, quasi da un divino estro +inspirato, re-solved to dedicate his life to the muses. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn11" id="fn11"></a> <a href="#fnref11">[11]</a> +<i>So TULLY paus’d amid the wrecks of Time</i>.<br /> +<br /> +When Cicero was quæstor in Sicily, he discovered the tomb of +Archimedes by its mathematical inscription.<br /> + Tusc. Quæst. v. 3. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12" id="fn12"></a> <a href="#fnref12">[12]</a> +<i>Say why the pensive widow loves to weep</i>.<br /> +<br /> +The influence of the associating principle is finely exemplified in +the faithful Penelope, when she sheds tears over the bow of Ulysses. +Od. xxi. 55. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn13" id="fn13"></a> <a href="#fnref13">[13]</a> +<i>If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild</i><br /> +<br /> +The celebrated Ranz des Vaches; cet air si chéri des Suisses qu’il +fut défendu sous peine de mort de la jouer dans leurs troupes, parce +qu’il faisoit fondre en larmes, deserter Ou mourir ceux qui +l’entendoient, tant il excitoit en eux l’ardent désir de revoir leur +pays. ROUSSEAU.<br /> + The <i>maladie de pays</i> is as old as the human heart. JUVENAL’S little +cup-bearer, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem,<br /> + Et casulam, et notes tristis desiderat hædos. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +And the Argive, in the heat of battle, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14" id="fn14"></a> <a href="#fnref14">[14]</a> +<i>Say why VESPASIAN lov’d his Saline farm</i>.<br /> +<br /> +This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly passed the summer +in a small villa near Reate, where he was born, and to which he would +never add any embellishment; <i>ne quid scilicet oculorum consuetudini +deperiret</i>. SUET. in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii.<br /> + A similar instance occurs in the life of the venerable Pertinax, as +related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam in Liguriam venit, multis agris +coemptis, tabernam pater-nam, <i>manente formâ priore</i>, infinitis +ædificiis circun-dedit.—Hist. August. 54.<br /> + And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he built his magnificent +palace on the site of the old family chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed its +symmetry to preserve the room in which he was born.<br /> + Mém. de Mlle, de Montpensier, i. 27. An attachment of this nature is +generally the characteristic of a benevolent mind; and a long +acquaintance with the world cannot always extinguish it.<br /> + “To a friend,” says John Duke of Buckingham, “I will expose my +weakness: I am oftener missing a pretty gallery in the old house I +pulled down, than pleased with a saloon which I built in its stead, +though a thousand times better in all respects.” +See his Letter to the D. of Sh.<br /> + Such were Diderot’s <i>Regrets sur sa vieille Robe de Chambre</i>. +“Pourquoi ne avoir pas gardée? Elle étoit faite a moi; j’etois fait a +elle.—Mes amis, gardez vos vieux amis.”<br /> + This is the language of the heart; and will remind the reader of that +good-humoured remark in one of Pope’s letters—“I should hardly care +to have an old post pulled up, that I remembered ever since I was a +child.” +POPE’S Works, viii. 151.<br /> + Nor did the Poet feel the charm more forcibly than his Editor.<br /> +See HURD’S Life of Warburton, 51, 99.<br /> + The elegant author of Telemachus has illustrated this subject, with +equal fancy and feeling, in the story of Alibée, Persan. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn15" id="fn15"></a> <a href="#fnref15">[15]</a> +<i>Why great NAVARRE, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry the Fourth of France, +made an excursion from his camp, during the long siege of Laon, to +dine at a house in the forest of Folambray; where he had often been +regaled, when a boy, with fruit, milk, and new cheese; and in +revisiting which he promised himself great pleasure. +Mém. de SULLY, ii. 381. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn16" id="fn16"></a> <a href="#fnref16">[16]</a> +<i>When DIOCLETIAN’S self-corrected mind</i><br /> +<br /> +Diocletian retired into his native province, and there amused himself +with building, planting, and gardening. His answer to Maximian is +deservedly celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man to +re-assume the reins of government, and the Imperial purple. He +rejected the temptation with a smile of pity, calmly observing, “that +if he could shew Maximian the cabbages which he had planted with his +own hands at Salona, he should no longer be urged to relinquish the +enjoyment of happiness for the pursuit of power.” +GIBBON, ii. 175. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn17" id="fn17"></a> <a href="#fnref17">[17]</a> +<i>Say, when contentious CHARLES renounc’d a throne</i>,<br /> +<br /> +When the emperor Charles V. had executed his memorable resolution, +and had set out for the monastery of St. Justus, he stopped a few +days at Ghent, says his historian, to indulge that tender and +pleasant melancholy, which arises in the mind of every man in the +decline of life, on visiting the place of his nativity, and viewing +the scenes and objects familiar to him in his early youth. +ROBERTSON, iv. 256. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn18" id="fn18"></a> <a href="#fnref18">[18]</a> +<i>Then did his horse the homeward track descry</i>.<br /> +<br /> +The memory of the horse forms the ground-work of a pleasing little +romance of the twelfth century, entitled, “Lai du Palefroi vair.” +See Fabliaux du XII Siecle.<br /> + Ariosto likewise introduces it in a passage full of truth and nature.<br /> +When Bayardo meets Angelica in the forest,<br /> + ……..Va mansueto a la Donzella,<br /> + …………………………….<br /> + Ch’in Albracca il servìa già di sua mano.<br /> +ORLANDO FURIOSO, canto i. 75. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19" id="fn19"></a> <a href="#fnref19">[19]</a> +<i>Sweet bird! thy truth shall HARLEM’S walls attest</i>.<br /> +<br /> +During the siege of Harlem, when that city was reduced to the last +extremity, and on the point of opening its gates to a base and +barbarous enemy, a design was formed to relieve it; and the +intelligence was conveyed to the citizens by a letter which was tied +under the wing of a pigeon. +THUANUS, lib. lv, c. 5.<br /> + The same messenger was employed at the siege of Mutina, as we are +informed by the elder Pliny. +Hist. Nat. x. 37. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn20" id="fn20"></a> <a href="#fnref20">[20]</a> +<i>Hark! the bee, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +This little animal, from the extreme convexity of her eye, cannot see +many inches before her. +</p> + +<h4>NOTES ON THE SECOND PART.</h4> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn21" id="fn21"></a> <a href="#fnref21">[21]</a> +<i>These still exist, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +There is a future Existence even in this world; an Existence in the +hearts and minds of those who shall live after us. It is in reserve +for every man, however obscure; and his portion, if he be diligent, +must be equal to his desires. For in whose remembrance can we wish to +hold a place, but such as know, and are known by us? These are within +the sphere of our influence, and among these and their descendants we +may live evermore.<br /> + It is a state of rewards and punishments; and, like that revealed to +us in the Gospel, has the happiest influence on our lives. The latter +excites us to gain the favour of GOD; the former to gain the love and +esteem of wise and good men; and both lead to the same end; for, in +framing our conceptions of the DEITY, we only ascribe to Him exalted +degrees of Wisdom and Goodness. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn22" id="fn22"></a> <a href="#fnref22">[22]</a> +<i>Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art!</i><br /> +<br /> +The astronomer chalking his figures on the wall, in Hogarth’s view +of Bedlam, is an admirable exemplification of this idea. +See the RAKE’S PROGRESS, plate 8. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn23" id="fn23"></a> <a href="#fnref23">[23]</a> +<i>Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh!</i> The following stanzas +are said to have been written on a blank leaf of this Poem. They +present so affecting a reverse of the picture, that I cannot resist +the opportunity of introducing them here. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Pleasures of Memory!—oh supremely blest,<br /> + And justly proud beyond a Poet’s praise;<br /> + If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast<br /> + Contain, indeed, the subject of thy lays!<br /> + By me how envied!—for to me,<br /> + The herald still of misery,<br /> + Memory makes her influence known<br /> + By sighs, and tears, and grief alone:<br /> + I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong<br /> + The vulture’s ravening beak, the raven’s funeral song.<br /> +<br /> + She tells of time mispent, of comfort lost,<br /> + Of fair occasions gone for ever by;<br /> + Of hopes too fondly nurs’d, too rudely cross’d,<br /> + Of many a cause to wish, yet fear to die;<br /> + For what, except th’ instinctive fear<br /> + Lest she survive, detains me here,<br /> + When “all the life of life” is fled?—<br /> + What, but the deep inherent dread,<br /> + Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign,<br /> + And realize the hell that priests and beldams feign? +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn24" id="fn24"></a> <a href="#fnref24">[24]</a> +<i>Hast thou thro’ Eden’s wild-wood vales pursued</i><br /> +<br /> +On the road-side between Penrith and Appelby there stands a small +pillar with this inscription:<br /> + “This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann Countess Dowager of +Pembroke, &c. for a memorial of her last parting, in this place, with +her good and pious mother, Margaret, Countess Dowager of Cumberland, +on the 2nd of April, 1616; in memory whereof she hath left an annuity +of 4£. to be distributed to the poor of the parish of Brougham, +every 2nd day of April for ever, upon the stone-table placed hard by. +Laus Deo!”<br /> + The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland, and rises in the +wildest part of Westmoreland. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn25" id="fn25"></a> <a href="#fnref25">[25]</a> +<i>O’er his dead son the gallant ORMOND sigh’d</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity: though he ever +retained a pleasing, however melancholy, sense of the signal merit of +Ossory. “I would not exchange my dead son,” said he, “for any living +son in Christendom.” HUME, vi. 340. The same sentiment is inscribed +on Miss Dolman’s urn at the Leasowes.<br /> + Heu, quanto minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn26" id="fn26"></a> <a href="#fnref26">[26]</a> +<i>High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose</i>.<br /> +<br /> +This bird is remarkable for his exultation during the spring.<br /> +Brit, Zoology, 266. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn27" id="fn27"></a> <a href="#fnref27">[27]</a> +<i>Derwent’s clear mirror</i><br /> +<br /> +Keswick Lake in Cumberland. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn28" id="fn28"></a> <a href="#fnref28">[28]</a> +<i>Down by St Herbert’s consecrated grove</i>.<br /> +<br /> +A small island covered with trees, among which were formerly the +ruins of a religious house. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29" id="fn29"></a> <a href="#fnref29">[29]</a> +<i>When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew</i>.<br /> +<br /> +In a lake surrounded with mountains, the agitations are often violent +and momentary. The winds blow in gusts and eddies; and the water no +sooner swells, than it subsides. +See BOURN’S Hist, of Westmorland. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn30" id="fn30"></a> <a href="#fnref30">[30]</a> +<i>To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere</i>,<br /> +<br /> +The several degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and +some of them he endowed with capacities able to retain together, and +constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past +knowledge at once. +LOCKE on Human Understanding, b. ii, c. x. g. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem02"></a>AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +Villula,……….et pauper agelle,<br /> +Me tibi, et hos unâ mecum, et quos semper amavi,<br /> +Commendo. +</p> + +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> + +<p> +Every reader turns with pleasure to those passages of Horace, and +Pope, and Boileau, which describe how they lived and where they +dwelt; and which, being interspersed among their satirical writings, +derive a secret and irresistible grace from the contrast, and are +admirable examples of what in Painting is termed repose. +</p> + +<p> +We have admittance to Horace at all hours. We enjoy the company and +conversation at his table; and his suppers, like Plato’s, ‘non solum +in præsentia, sed etiam postero die jucundæ sunt.’ But when we look +round as we sit there, we find ourselves in a Sabine farm, and not in +a Roman villa. His windows have every charm of prospect; but his +furniture might have descended from Cincin-natus; and gems, and +pictures, and old marbles, are mentioned by him more than once with a +seeming indifference. +</p> + +<p> +His English Imitator thought and felt, perhaps, more correctly on the +subject; and embellished his garden and grotto with great industry +and success. But to these alone he solicits our notice. On the +ornaments of his house he is silent; and he appears to have reserved +all the minuter touches of his pencil for the library, the chapel, +and the banquetting-room of Timon. ‘Le savoir de notre siècle,’ says +Rousseau, ‘tend beaucoup plus à détruire qu’à edifier. On censure +d’un ton de maitre; pour proposer, il en faut prendre un autre.’ +</p> + +<p> +It is the design of this Epistle to illustrate the virtue of True +Taste; and to shew how little she requires to secure, not only the +comforts, but even the elegancies of life. True Taste is an excellent +Economist. She confines her choice to few objects, and delights in +producing great effects by small means: while False Taste is for ever +sighing after the new and the rare; and reminds us, in her works, of +the Scholar of Apelles, who, not being able to paint his Helen +beautiful, determined to make her fine. +</p> + +<h3>ARGUMENT.</h3> + +<p> +An Invitation, v. 1. The approach to a Villa described, v. 5. Its +situation, v. 17. Its few apartments, v. 57. Furnished with casts +from the Antique, &c. v. 63. The dining-room, v. 83. The library, v. +89. A cold-bath, v. 101. A winter-walk, v. 151. A summer-walk, v. +l63. The invitation renewed, v. 197. Conclusion, v. 205. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When, with a REAUMUR’S skill, thy curious mind<br /> +Has class’d the insect-tribes of human-kind,<br /> +Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,<br /> +Its subtle, web-work, or its venom’d sting;<br /> +Let me, to claim a few unvalued hours,<br /> +Point the green lane that leads thro’ fern and flowers;<br /> +The shelter’d gate that opens to my field,<br /> +And the white front thro’ mingling elms reveal’d.<br /> + In vain, alas, a village-friend invites<br /> +To simple comforts, and domestic rites,<br /> +When the gay months of Carnival resume<br /> +Their annual round of glitter and perfume;<br /> +When London hails thee to its splendid mart,<br /> +Its hives of sweets, and cabinets of art;<br /> +And, lo, majestic as thy manly song,<br /> +Flows the full tide of human life along.<br /> + Still must my partial pencil love to dwell<br /> +On the home-prospects of my hermit cell;<br /> +The mossy pales that skirt the orchard-green,<br /> +Here hid by shrub-wood, there by glimpses seen;<br /> +And the brown pathway, that, with careless flow,<br /> +Sinks, and is lost among the trees below.<br /> +Still must it trace (the flattering tints forgive)<br /> +Each fleeting charm that bids the landscape live.<br /> +Oft o’er the mead, at pleasing distance, pass<a href="#fn2.8" name="fnref2.8" id="fnref2.8"><sup>[a]</sup></a><br /> +Browsing the hedge by fits the pannier’d ass;<br /> +The idling shepherd-boy, with rude delight,<br /> +Whistling his dog to mark the pebble’s flight;<br /> +And in her kerchief blue the cottage-maid,<br /> +With brimming pitcher from the shadowy glade.<br /> +Far to the south a mountain-vale retires,<br /> +Rich in its groves, and glens, and village-spires;<br /> +Its upland lawns, and cliffs with foliage hung,<br /> +Its wizard-stream, nor nameless nor unsung:<br /> +And thro’ the various year, the various day,<a href="#fn2.9" name="fnref2.9" id="fnref2.9"><sup>[b]</sup></a><br /> +What scenes of glory burst, and melt away!<br /> + When April-verdure springs in Grosvenor-square,<br /> +And the furr’d Beauty comes to winter there,<br /> +She bids old Nature mar the plan no more;<br /> +Yet still the seasons circle as before.<br /> +Ah, still as soon the young Aurora plays,<br /> +Tho’ moons and flambeaux trail their broadest blaze;<br /> +As soon the sky-lark pours his matin song,<br /> +Tho’ Evening lingers at the mask so long.<br /> + There let her strike with momentary ray,<br /> +As tapers shine their little lives away;<br /> +There let her practise from herself to steal,<br /> +And look the happiness she does not feel;<br /> +The ready smile and bidden blush employ<br /> +At Faro-routs that dazzle to destroy;<br /> +Fan with affected ease the essenc’d air,<br /> +And lisp of fashions with unmeaning stare.<br /> +Be thine to meditate an humbler flight,<br /> +When morning fills the fields with rosy light;<br /> +Be thine to blend, nor thine a vulgar aim,<br /> +Repose with dignity, with Quiet fame.<br /> + Here no state-chambers in long line unfold,<br /> +Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold;<br /> +Yet modest ornament, with use combin’d,<br /> +Attracts the eye to exercise the mind.<br /> +Small change of scene, small space his home requires,<a href="#fn2.10" name="fnref2.10" id="fnref2.10"><sup>[c]</sup></a><br /> +Who leads a life of satisfied desires.<br /> + What tho’ no marble breathes, no canvass glows,<br /> +From every point a ray of genius flows!<a href="#fn2.11" name="fnref2.11" id="fnref2.11"><sup>[d]</sup></a><br /> +Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill,<br /> +That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will;<br /> +And cheaply circulates, thro’ distant climes,<br /> +The fairest relics of the purest times.<br /> +Here from the mould to conscious being start<br /> +Those finer forms, the miracles of art;<br /> +Here chosen gems, imprest on sulphur, shine,<br /> +That slept for ages in a second mine;<br /> +And here the faithful graver dares to trace<br /> +A MICHAEL’S grandeur, and a RAPHAEL’S grace!<br /> +Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls,<br /> +And my low roof the Vatican recalls!<br /> + Soon as the morning-dream my pillow flies,<br /> +To waking sense what brighter visions rise!<br /> +O mark! again the coursers of the Sun,<br /> +At GUIDO’S call, their round of glory run!<a href="#fn2.12" name="fnref2.12" id="fnref2.12"><sup>[e]</sup></a><br /> +Again the rosy Hours resume their flight,<br /> +Obscur’d and lost in floods of golden light!<br /> + But could thine erring friend so long forget<br /> +(Sweet source of pensive joy and fond regret)<br /> +That here its warmest hues the pencil flings,<br /> +Lo! here the lost restores, the absent brings;<br /> +And still the Few best lov’d and most rever’d<a href="#fn2.13" name="fnref2.13" id="fnref2.13"><sup>[f]</sup></a><br /> +Rise round the board their social smile endear’d?<br /> + Selected shelves shall claim thy studious hours;<br /> +There shall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers!<a href="#fn2.1" name="fnref2.1" id="fnref2.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +There, while the shaded lamp’s mild lustre streams,<br /> +Read antient books, or woo inspiring dreams;<a href="#fn2.14" name="fnref2.14" id="fnref2.14"><sup>[g]</sup></a><br /> +And, when a sage’s bust arrests thee there,<a href="#fn2.15" name="fnref2.15" id="fnref2.15"><sup>[h]</sup></a><br /> +Pause, and his features with his thoughts compare.<br /> +—Ah, most that Art my grateful rapture calls,<br /> +Which breathes a soul into the silent walls;<a href="#fn2.2" name="fnref2.2" id="fnref2.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +Which gathers round the Wise of every Tongue,<a href="#fn2.16" name="fnref2.16" id="fnref2.16"><sup>[i]</sup></a><br /> +All on whose words departed nations hung;<br /> +Still prompt to charm with many a converse sweet;<br /> +Guides in the world, companions in retreat!<br /> + Tho’ my thatch’d bath no rich Mosaic knows,<br /> +A limpid spring with unfelt current flows.<br /> +Emblem of Life! which, still as we survey,<br /> +Seems motionless, yet ever glides away!<br /> +The shadowy walls record, with Attic art,<br /> +The strength and beauty that its waves impart.<br /> +Here THETIS, bending, with a mother’s fears<br /> +Dips her dear boy, whose pride restrains his tears.<br /> +There, VENUS, rising, shrinks with sweet surprize,<br /> +As her fair self reflected seems to rise!<br /> + Far from the joyless glare, the maddening strife,<br /> +And all ‘the dull impertinence of life,’<br /> +These eyelids open to the rising ray,<br /> +And close, when Nature bids, at close of day.<br /> +Here, at the dawn, the kindling landscape glows;<br /> +There noon-day levees call from faint repose.<br /> +Here the flush’d wave flings back the parting light;<br /> +There glimmering lamps anticipate the night.<br /> +When from his classic dreams the student steals,<a href="#fn2.3" name="fnref2.3" id="fnref2.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Amid the buzz of crowds, the whirl of wheels,<br /> +To muse unnotic’d—while around him press<br /> +The meteor-forms of equipage and dress;<br /> +Alone, in wonder lost, he seems to stand<br /> +A very stranger in his native land!<br /> +And (tho’ perchance of current coin possest,<br /> +And modern phrase by living lips exprest)<br /> +Like those blest Youths, forgive the fabling page,<a href="#fn2.17" name="fnref2.17" id="fnref2.17"><sup>[j]</sup></a><br /> +Whose blameless lives deceiv’d a twilight age,<br /> +Spent in sweet slumbers; till the miner’s spade<br /> +Unclos’d the cavern, and the morning play’d.<br /> +Ah, what their strange surprize, their wild delight!<br /> +New arts of life, new manners meet their sight!<br /> +In a new world they wake, as from the dead;<br /> +Yet doubt the trance dissolv’d, the vision fled!<br /> + O come, and, rich in intellectual wealth,<br /> +Blend thought with exercise, with knowledge health!<br /> +Long, in this shelter’d scene of letter’d talk,<br /> +With sober step repeat the pensive walk;<br /> +Nor scorn, when graver triflings fail to please,<br /> +The cheap amusements of a mind at ease;<br /> +Here every care in sweet oblivion cast,<br /> +And many an idle hour—not idly pass’d.<br /> + No tuneful echoes, ambush’d at my gate,<br /> +Catch the blest accents of the wise and great.<a href="#fn2.18" name="fnref2.18" id="fnref2.18"><sup>[k]</sup></a><br /> +Vain of its various page, no Album breathes<br /> +The sigh that Friendship or the Muse bequeaths.<br /> +Yet some good Genii o’er my hearth preside,<br /> +Oft the far friend, with secret spell, to guide;<br /> +And there I trace, when the grey evening lours,<br /> +A silent chronicle of happier hours!<br /> + When Christmas revels in a world of snow,<br /> +And bids her berries blush, her carols flow;<br /> +His spangling shower when Frost the wizard flings;<br /> +Or, borne in ether blue, on viewless wings,<br /> +O’er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves,<br /> +And gems with icicles the sheltering eaves;<br /> +—Thy muffled friend his nectarine-wall pursues,<br /> +What time the sun the yellow crocus wooes,<br /> +Screen’d from the arrowy North; and duly hies<a href="#fn2.4" name="fnref2.4" id="fnref2.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +To meet the morning-rumour as it flies;<br /> +To range the murmuring market-place, and view<br /> +The motley groups that faithful TENIERS drew.<br /> + When Spring bursts forth in blossoms thro’ the vale,<br /> +And her wild music triumphs on the gale,<br /> +Oft with my book I muse from stile to stile;<a href="#fn2.5" name="fnref2.5" id="fnref2.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Oft in my porch the listless noon beguile,<br /> +Framing loose numbers, till declining day<br /> +Thro’ the green trellis shoots a crimson ray;<br /> +Till the West-wind leads on the twilight hours,<br /> +And shakes the fragrant bells of closing flowers.<br /> + Nor boast, O Choisy! seat of soft delight,<br /> +The secret charm of thy voluptuous night.<br /> +Vain is the blaze of wealth, the pomp of power!<br /> +Lo, here, attendant on the shadowy hour,<br /> +Thy closet-supper, serv’d by hands unseen,<br /> +Sheds, like an evening-star, its ray serene,<a href="#fn2.19" name="fnref2.19" id="fnref2.19"><sup>[l]</sup></a><br /> +To hail our coming. Not a step prophane<br /> +Dares, with rude sound, the cheerful rite restrain;<br /> +And, while the frugal banquet glows reveal’d,<br /> +Pure and unbought<a href="#fn2.6" name="fnref2.6" id="fnref2.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a>—the natives of my field;<br /> +While blushing fruits thro’ scatter’d leaves invite,<br /> +Still clad in bloom, and veil’d in azure light;—<br /> +With wine, as rich in years as HORACE sings,<br /> +With water, clear as his own fountain flings,<br /> +The shifting side-board plays its humbler part,<br /> +Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot’s art.<a href="#fn2.20" name="fnref2.20" id="fnref2.20"><sup>[m]</sup></a><br /> + Thus, in this calm recess, so richly fraught<br /> +With mental light, and luxury of thought,<br /> +My life steals on; (O could it blend with thine!)<br /> +Careless my course, yet not without design.<br /> +So thro’ the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide,<a href="#fn2.21" name="fnref2.21" id="fnref2.21"><sup>[n]</sup></a><br /> +The light raft dropping with the silent tide;<br /> +So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night,<br /> +The busy people wing their various flight,<br /> +Culling unnumber’d sweets from nameless flowers,<br /> +That scent the vineyard in its purple hours.<br /> + Rise, ere the watch-relieving clarions play,<br /> +Caught thro’ St. James’s groves at blush of day;<br /> +Ere its full voice the choral anthem flings<br /> +Thro’ trophied tombs of heroes and of kings.<br /> +Haste to the tranquil shade of learned ease,<a href="#fn2.7" name="fnref2.7" id="fnref2.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a><br /> +Tho’ skill’d alike to dazzle and to please;<br /> +Tho’ each gay scene be search’d with anxious eye,<br /> +Nor thy shut door be pass’d without a sigh.<br /> + If, when this roof shall know thy friend no more,<br /> +Some, form’d like thee, should once, like thee, explore;<br /> +Invoke the lares of his lov’d retreat,<br /> +And his lone walks imprint with pilgrim-feet;<br /> +Then be it said, (as, vain of better days,<br /> +Some grey domestic prompts the partial praise)<br /> +“Unknown he liv’d, unenvied, not unblest;<br /> +Reason his guide, and Happiness his guest.<br /> +In the clear mirror of his moral page,<br /> +We trace the manners of a purer age.<br /> +His soul, with thirst of genuine glory fraught,<br /> +Scorn’d the false lustre of licentious thought.<br /> +—One fair asylum from the world he knew,<br /> +One chosen seat, that charms with various view!<br /> +Who boasts of more (believe the serious strain)<br /> +Sighs for a home, and sighs, alas! in vain.<br /> +Thro’ each he roves, the tenant of a day,<br /> +And, with the swallow, wings the year away!”<a href="#fn2.22" name="fnref2.22" id="fnref2.22"><sup>[o]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.1" id="fn2.1"></a> <a href="#fnref2.1">[1]</a> +—apis Matinæ<br /> + More modoque<br /> + Grata carpentis thyma. . .—H<small>OR</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.2" id="fn2.2"></a> <a href="#fnref2.2">[2]</a> +Postea verò quàm Tyrannio mihi libros disposuit, mens addita videtur meis +ædibus. C<small>IC</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.3" id="fn2.3"></a> <a href="#fnref2.3">[3]</a> +Ingenium, sibi quod vacuas desumsit Athenas, Et studiis +annos septem dedit, insenuitque Libris et curis, statuâ taciturnius +exit Plerumque. . .—H<small>OR</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.4" id="fn2.4"></a> <a href="#fnref2.4">[4]</a> +Fallacem circum, vespertinumque pererro<br /> +Sæpe forum.—H<small>OR</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.5" id="fn2.5"></a> <a href="#fnref2.5">[5]</a> +Tantôt, un livre en main, errantdans les préries—<br /> +B<small>OILEAU</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.6" id="fn2.6"></a> <a href="#fnref2.6">[6]</a> +Dapes inemtas. . .—H<small>OR</small>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.7" id="fn2.7"></a> <a href="#fnref2.7">[7]</a> +Innocuas amo delicias doctamque quietem. +</p> + +<h3>NOTES.</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.8" id="fn2.8"></a> <a href="#fnref2.8">[a]</a> +<i>Oft o’er the mead, at pleasing distance, pass</i><br /> +<br /> +Cosmo of Medicis took most pleasure in his Apennine villa, because +all that he commanded from its windows was exclusively his own. How +unlike the wise Athenian, who, when he had a farm to sell, directed +the cryer to proclaim, as its best recommendation, that it had a good +neighbourhood. PLUT. in Vit. Themist. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.9" id="fn2.9"></a> <a href="#fnref2.9">[b]</a> +<i>And, thro’ the various year, the various day,</i><br /> +<br /> +Horace commends the house, ‘longos quæ prospicit agros.’ Distant +views contain the greatest variety, both in themselves, and in their +accidental variations. GILPIN. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.10" id="fn2.10"></a> <a href="#fnref2.10">[c]</a> +<i>Small change of scene, small space his home requires,</i><br /> +<br /> +Many a great man, in passing through the apartments of his palace, +has made the melancholy reflection of the venerable Cosmo: “Questa è +troppo gran casa à si poco famiglia.” MACH. Ist. Fior. lib. vii.<br /> + “Parva, sed apta mihi,” was Ariosto’s inscription over his door in<br /> +Ferrara; and who can wish to say more?<br /> + “I confess,” says Cowley, “I love littleness almost in all things. A +little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, +and a very little feast.” Essay vi.<br /> + When Socrates was asked why he had built for himself so small a +house, “Small as it is,” he replied, “I wish I could fill it with +friends.” PHÆDRUS, 1. iii. 9.<br /> + These indeed are all that a wise man would desire to assemble; “for a +crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and +talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.” +BACON’S Essays, xxvii. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.11" id="fn2.11"></a> <a href="#fnref2.11">[d]</a> +<i>From every point a ray of genius flows!</i><br /> +<br /> +By this means, when all nature wears a lowering countenance, I +withdraw myself into the visionary worlds of art; where I meet with +shining landscapes, gilded triumphs, beautiful faces, and all those +other objects that fill the mind with gay ideas, &c. ADDISON.<br /> + It is remarkable that Antony, in his adversity, passed some time in a +small but splendid retreat, which he called his Timonium, and from +which might originate the idea of the Parisian Boudoir, that +favourite apartment, <i>ou I’on se retire pour étre seul, mais ou l’on +ne boude point</i>. STRABO, 1. xvii. PLUT, in Vit. Anton. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.12" id="fn2.12"></a> <a href="#fnref2.12">[e]</a> +<i>At GUIDO’S call, &c</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Alluding to his celebrated fresco in the Rospigliosi Palace at Rome. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.13" id="fn2.13"></a> <a href="#fnref2.13">[f]</a> +<i>And still the Few best lov’d and most rever’d</i><br /> +<br /> +The dining-room is dedicated to Conviviality; or, as Cicero somewhere +expresses it, “Communitati vitæ atque victûs.” There we wish most for +the society of our friends; and, perhaps, in their absence, most +require their portraits.<br /> + The moral advantages of this furniture may be illustrated by the +pretty story of an Athenian courtezan, “who, in the midst of a +riotous banquet with her lovers, accidentally cast her eye on the +portrait of a philosopher, that hung opposite to her seat: the happy +character of temperance and virtue struck her with so lively an image +of her own unworthiness, that she instantly quitted the room; and, +retiring home, became ever after an example of temperance, as she had +been before of debauchery.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.14" id="fn2.14"></a> <a href="#fnref2.14">[g]</a> +<i>Read antient looks, or woo inspiring dreams;</i><br /> + +The reader will here remember that passage of Horace, <i>Nunc +veterum libris, nunc somno, &c</i> which was inscribed by Lord +Chesterfield on the frieze of his library. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.15" id="fn2.15"></a> <a href="#fnref2.15">[h]</a> +<i>And, when a sage’s lust arrests then there</i>,<br /> +<br /> +Siquidem non solum ex auro argentove, aut certe ex ære in +bibliothecis dicantur illi, quorum immortales animæ in iisdem locis +ibi loquuntur: quinimo etiam quæ non sunt, finguntur, pariuntque +desideria non traditi vultus, sicut in Homero evenit. Quo majus (ut +equidem arbitror) nullum est felicitatis specimen, quam semper omnes +scire cupere, qualis fuerit aliquis. PLIN. Nat. Hist.<br /> + Cicero speaks with pleasure of a little seat under Aristotle in the +library of Atticus. “Literis sustentor et recreor; maloque in illa +tua sedecula, quam habes sub imagine Aristotelis, sedere, quàm in +istorum sella curuli!” Ep. ad Att. iv. 10.<br /> + Nor should we forget that Dryden drew inspiration from the “majestic +face” of Shakespeare; and that a portrait of Newton was the only +ornament of the closet of Buffon. Ep. to Kneller. Voyage à +Montbart.<br /> + In the chamber of a man of genius we +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Write all down:<br /> +Such and such pictures;—there the window;<br /> +…..the arras, figures,<br /> +Why, such and such. CYMBELINE. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.16" id="fn2.16"></a> <a href="#fnref2.16">[i]</a> +<i>Which gathers round the Wise of every Tongue</i>,<br /> +<br /> +Quis tantis non gaudeat et glorietur hospitibus, exclaims Petrarch. +—Spectare, etsi nihil aliud, certè juvat.—Homerus apud me mutus, +imò verò ego apud illum surdus sum. Gaudeo tamen vel aspectû solo, et +sæpe ilium amplexus ac suspirans dico: O magne vir, &c.<br /> + Epist. Var. Lib. 20. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.17" id="fn2.17"></a> <a href="#fnref2.17">[j]</a> +<i>Like those blest Youths</i>,<br /> +<br /> +See the Legend of the Seven Sleepers. GIBBON, c. 33. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.18" id="fn2.18"></a> <a href="#fnref2.18">[k]</a> +<i>Catch the blest accents of the wise and great</i>.<br /> +<br /> +Mr. Pope delights in enumerating his illustrious guests. Nor is this +an exclusive privilege of the poet. The Medici Palace at Florence +exhibits a long and imposing catalogue. “Semper hi parietes +columnæque eruditis vocibus resonuerunt.”<br /> + Another is also preserved at Chanteloup, the seat of the Duke of<br /> +Choiseul. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.19" id="fn2.19"></a> <a href="#fnref2.19">[l]</a> +<i>Sheds, like an evening-star, its ray serene</i>,<br /> +<br /> +At a Roman supper statues were sometimes employed to hold the lamps. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + —Aurea sunt juvenum simulacra per ædeis,<br /> + Lampadas igniferas manibus retinentia dextris.<br /> + LUCR. ii. 24. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A fashion as old as Homer! Odyss. vii. 100.<br /> + On the proper degree and distribution of light we may consult a great +master of effect. Il lume grande, ed alto, e non troppo potente, sarà +quello, che renderà le particole de’ corpi molto grate. +Tratt. della Pittura di LIONARDO DA VINCI, c. xli.<br /> + Hence every artist requires a broad and high light. Hence also, in a +banquet-scene, the most picturesque of all poets has thrown his light +from the ceiling. Æn. i. 726. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +And hence the “starry lamps” of Milton, that<br /> + ….from the arched roof<br /> + Pendent by subtle magic,….<br /> + ……yielded light<br /> +As from a sky. Paradise Lost, i. 726. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.20" id="fn2.20"></a> <a href="#fnref2.20">[m]</a> +<i>Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot’s art</i>.<br /> +<br /> +At the petits soupés of Choisy were first introduced those admirable +pieces of mechanism, afterwards carried to perfection by Loriot, the +Confidente and the Servante; a table and a side-board, which +descended, and rose again covered with viands and wines. And thus the +most luxurious Court in Europe, after all its boasted refinements, +was glad to return at last, by this singular contrivance, to the +quiet and privacy of humble life. +Vie privée de Louis XV. tom. ii. p. 43. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.21" id="fn2.21"></a> <a href="#fnref2.21">[n]</a> +<i>So thro’ the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide</i>,<br /> +<br /> +An allusion to the floating bee-house, or barge laden with bee-hives, +which is seen in some parts of France and Piedmont. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.22" id="fn2.22"></a> <a href="#fnref2.22">[o]</a> +<i>And, with the swallow, wings the year away!</i><br /> +<br /> +It was the boast of Lucullus that he changed his climate with the +birds of passage. PLUT. in Vit. Lucull.<br /> + How often must he have felt the truth here inculcated, that the +master of many houses has no home! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem03"></a>ODE TO SUPERSTITION.<a href="#fn3.1" name="fnref3.1" id="fnref3.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<h3>I. 1.</h3> + +<p> +Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence!<br /> + Thy chain of adamant can bind<br /> + That little world, the human mind,<br /> +And sink its noblest powers to impotence.<br /> + Wake the lion’s loudest roar,<br /> + Clot his shaggy mane with gore,<br /> + With flashing fury bid his eye-balls shine;<br /> + Meek is his savage, sullen soul, to thine!<br /> + Thy touch, thy deadening touch has steel’d the breast,<a href="#fn3.2" name="fnref3.2" id="fnref3.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> + Whence, thro’ her April-shower, soft Pity smil’d;<br /> + Has clos’d the heart each godlike virtue bless’d,<br /> + To all the silent pleadings of his child.<br /> + At thy command he plants the dagger deep,<br /> +At thy command exults, tho’ Nature bids him weep! +</p> + +<h3>I. 2.</h3> + +<p> +When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth,<a href="#fn3.3" name="fnref3.3" id="fnref3.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> + Thou dartedst thy huge head from high,<br /> + Night wav’d her banners o’er the sky,<br /> +And, brooding, gave her shapeless shadows birth.<br /> + Rocking on the billowy air,<br /> + Ha! what withering phantoms glare!<br /> +As blows the blast with many a sudden swell,<br /> +At each dead pause, what shrill-ton’d voices yell!<br /> + The sheeted spectre, rising from the tomb,<br /> + Points at the murderer’s stab, and shudders by;<br /> + In every grove is felt a heavier gloom,<br /> + That veils its genius from the vulgar eye:<br /> + The spirit of the water rides the storm,<br /> +And, thro’ the mist, reveals the terrors of his form. +</p> + +<h3>I. 3.</h3> + +<p> + O’er solid seas, where Winter reigns,<br /> + And holds each mountain-wave in chains,<br /> +The fur-clad savage, ere he guides his deer<a href="#fn3.4" name="fnref3.4" id="fnref3.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> + By glistering star-light thro’ the snow,<br /> + Breathes softly in her wondering ear<br /> + Each potent spell thou bad’st him know.<br /> + By thee inspir’d, on India’s sands,<a href="#fn3.5" name="fnref3.5" id="fnref3.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> + Full in the sun the Bramin stands;<br /> + And, while the panting tigress hies<br /> + To quench her fever in the stream,<br /> + His spirit laughs in agonies,<a href="#fn3.6" name="fnref3.6" id="fnref3.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +Smit by the scorchings of the noontide beam.<br /> + Mark who mounts the sacred pyre,<br /> + Blooming in her bridal vest:<br /> +She hurls the torch! she fans the fire!<br /> + To die is to be blest:<a href="#fn3.7" name="fnref3.7" id="fnref3.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a><br /> + She clasps her lord to part no more,<br /> + And, sighing, sinks! but sinks to soar.<br /> + O’ershadowing Scotia’s desert coast,<br /> + The Sisters sail in dusky state,<a href="#fn3.8" name="fnref3.8" id="fnref3.8"><sup>[8]</sup></a><br /> + And, wrapt in clouds, in tempests tost,<br /> + Weave the airy web of fate;<br /> + While the lone shepherd, near the shipless main,<a href="#fn3.9" name="fnref3.9" id="fnref3.9"><sup>[9]</sup></a><br /> +Sees o’er her hills advance the long-drawn funeral train. +</p> + +<h3>II. 1.</h3> + +<p> + Thou spak’st, and lo! a new creation glow’d.<br /> + Each unhewn mass of living stone<br /> + Was clad in horrors not its own,<br /> + And at its base the trembling nations bow’d.<br /> + Giant Error, darkly grand,<br /> + Grasp’d the globe with iron hand.<br /> + Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light<br /> + Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height.<br /> + The statue, waking with immortal powers,<a href="#fn3.10" name="fnref3.10" id="fnref3.10"><sup>[10]</sup></a><br /> + Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the spheres;<br /> + The indignant pyramid sublimely towers,<br /> + And braves the efforts of a host of years.<br /> + Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind;<br /> +And bright-ey’d Painting stamps the image of the mind. +</p> + +<h3>II. 2.</h3> + +<p> + Round their rude ark old Egypt’s sorcerers rise!<br /> + A timbrell’d anthem swells the gale,<br /> + And bids the God of Thunders hail;<a href="#fn3.11" name="fnref3.11" id="fnref3.11"><sup>[11]</sup></a><br /> + With lowings loud the captive God replies.<br /> + Clouds of incense woo thy smile,<br /> + Scaly monarch of the Nile!<a href="#fn3.12" name="fnref3.12" id="fnref3.12"><sup>[12]</sup></a><br /> + But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee?<a href="#fn3.13" name="fnref3.13" id="fnref3.13"><sup>[13]</sup></a><br /> + Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea.<br /> + Proud land! what eye can trace thy mystic lore,<br /> + Lock’d up in characters as dark as night?<a href="#fn3.14" name="fnref3.14" id="fnref3.14"><sup>[14]</sup></a><br /> + What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore,<a href="#fn3.15" name="fnref3.15" id="fnref3.15"><sup>[15]</sup></a><br /> + To which the parted soul oft wings her flight;<br /> + Again to visit her cold cell of clay,<br /> +Charm’d with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay? +</p> + +<h3>II. 3.</h3> + +<p> + On yon hoar summit, mildly bright<a href="#fn3.16" name="fnref3.16" id="fnref3.16"><sup>[16]</sup></a><br /> + With purple ether’s liquid light,<br /> +High o’er the world, the white-rob’d Magi gaze<br /> + On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire;<br /> + Start at each blue, portentous blaze,<br /> + Each flame that flits with adverse spire.<br /> + But say, what sounds my ear invade<a href="#fn3.17" name="fnref3.17" id="fnref3.17"><sup>[17]</sup></a><br /> + From Delphi’s venerable shade?<br /> + The temple rocks, the laurel waves!<br /> + “The God! the God!” the Sybil cries.<br /> + Her figure swells! she foams, she raves!<br /> +Her figure swells to more than mortal size!<br /> + Streams of rapture roll along,<br /> + Silver notes ascend the skies:<br /> +Wake, Echo, wake and catch the song,<br /> + Oh catch it, ere it dies!<br /> + The Sybil speaks, the dream is o’er,<br /> + The holy harpings charm no more.<br /> + In vain she checks the God’s controul;<br /> + His madding spirit fills her frame,<br /> + And moulds the features of her soul,<br /> + Breathing a prophetic flame.<br /> + The cavern frowns; its hundred mouths unclose!<br /> +And, in the thunder’s voice, the fate of empire flows. +</p> + +<h3>III. 1.</h3> + +<p> + Mona, thy Druid-rites awake the dead!<br /> + Rites thy brown oaks would never dare<br /> + Ev’n whisper to the idle air;<br /> + Rites that have chain’d old Ocean on his bed.<br /> + Shiver’d by thy piercing glance,<br /> + Pointless falls the hero’s lance.<br /> + Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly,<a href="#fn3.18" name="fnref3.18" id="fnref3.18"><sup>[18]</sup></a><br /> + And blasts the laureate wreath of victory.<br /> + Hark, the bard’s soul inspires the vocal string!<br /> + At every pause dread Silence hovers o’er:<br /> + While murky Night sails round on raven-wing,<br /> + Deepening the tempest’s howl, the torrent’s roar;<br /> + Chas’d by the morn from Snowdon’s awful brow,<br /> +Where late she sate and scowl’d on the black wave below. +</p> + +<h3>III. 2.</h3> + +<p> + Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears!<br /> + The red-cross squadrons madly rage,<a href="#fn3.19" name="fnref3.19" id="fnref3.19"><sup>[19]</sup></a><br /> + And mow thro’ infancy and age:<br /> + Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in tears.<br /> + Veiling from the eye of day,<br /> + Penance dreams her life away;<br /> + In cloister’d solitude she sits and sighs,<br /> + While from each shrine still, small responses rise.<br /> + Hear, with what heart-felt beat, the midnight bell<br /> + Swings its slow summons thro’ the hollow pile!<br /> + The weak, wan votarist leaves her twilight cell,<br /> + To walk, with taper dim, the winding isle;<br /> + With choral chantings vainly to aspire,<br /> +Beyond this nether sphere, on Rapture’s wing of fire. +</p> + +<h3>III. 3.</h3> + +<p> + Lord of each pang the nerves can feel,<br /> + Hence, with the rack and reeking wheel.<br /> +Faith lifts the soul above this little ball!<br /> + While gleams of glory open round,<br /> + And circling choirs of angels call,<br /> + Can’st thou, with all thy terrors crown’d,<br /> + Hope to obscure that latent spark,<br /> + Destin’d to shine when suns are dark?<br /> + Thy triumphs cease! thro’ every land,<br /> + Hark! Truth proclaims, thy triumphs cease:<br /> + Her heavenly form, with glowing hand,<br /> +Benignly points to piety and peace.<br /> + Flush’d with youth her looks impart<br /> + Each fine feeling as it flows;<br /> + Her voice the echo of her heart,<br /> + Pure as the mountain-snows:<br /> + Celestial transports round her play,<br /> + And softly, sweetly die away.<br /> + She smiles! and where is now the cloud<br /> + That blacken’d o’er thy baleful reign?<br /> + Grim darkness furls his leaden shroud,<br /> + Shrinking from her glance in vain.<br /> + Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above,<br /> +And lo! it visits man with beams of light and love. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.1" id="fn3.1"></a> <a href="#fnref3.1">[1]</a> +Written in the year 1784. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.2" id="fn3.2"></a> <a href="#fnref3.2">[2]</a> +An allusion to the sacrifice of Iphigenia. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.3" id="fn3.3"></a> <a href="#fnref3.3">[3]</a> +Lucretius, I. 63. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.4" id="fn3.4"></a> <a href="#fnref3.4">[4]</a> +When we were ready to set out, our host muttered some +words in the ears of our cattle. See a Voyage to the North of Europe +in 1653. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.5" id="fn3.5"></a> <a href="#fnref3.5">[5]</a> +The Bramins expose their bodies to the intense heat of +the sun. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.6" id="fn3.6"></a> <a href="#fnref3.6">[6]</a> +Ridens moriar. The conclusion of an old Runic ode. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.7" id="fn3.7"></a> <a href="#fnref3.7">[7]</a> +In the Bedas, or sacred writings of the Hindoos, it is +written: “She, who dies with her husband, shall live for ever with +him in heaven.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.8" id="fn3.8"></a> <a href="#fnref3.8">[8]</a> +The Fates of the Northern Mythology. See MALLET’S Antiquities. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.9" id="fn3.9"></a> <a href="#fnref3.9">[9]</a> +An allusion to the Second Sight. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.10" id="fn3.10"></a> <a href="#fnref3.10">[10]</a> +See that fine description of the sudden animation of +the Palladium in the second book of the Æneid. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.11" id="fn3.11"></a> <a href="#fnref3.11">[11]</a> +The bull, Apis. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.12" id="fn3.12"></a> <a href="#fnref3.12">[12]</a> +The Crocodile. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.13" id="fn3.13"></a> <a href="#fnref3.13">[13]</a> + So numerous were the Deities of Egypt, that, according +to an antient proverb, it was in that country less difficult to find +a god than a man. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.14" id="fn3.14"></a> <a href="#fnref3.14">[14]</a> +The Hieroglyphics. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.15" id="fn3.15"></a> <a href="#fnref3.15">[15]</a> +The Catacombs, in which the bodies of the earliest +generations yet remain without corruption, by virtue of the gums that +embalmed them. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.16" id="fn3.16"></a> <a href="#fnref3.16">[16]</a> +“The Persians,” says Herodotus, “reject the use of +temples, altars, and statues. The tops of the highest mountains are +the places chosen for sacrifices.” I. 131. The elements, and more +particularly Fire, were the objects of their religious reverence. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.17" id="fn3.17"></a> <a href="#fnref3.17">[17]</a> +An imitation of some wonderful lines in the sixth<br /> +Æneid. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.18" id="fn3.18"></a> <a href="#fnref3.18">[18]</a> +See Tacitus, 1. xiv. c. 29. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.19" id="fn3.19"></a> <a href="#fnref3.19">[19]</a> +This remarkable event happened at the siege and sack of<br /> +Jerusalem, in the last year of the eleventh century. Hume, I.221. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem04"></a> +VERSES<br /> +WRITTEN TO BE SPOKEN BY<br /> +MRS. SIDDONS.<a href="#fn4.1" name="fnref4.1" id="fnref4.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</h2> + +<p> +Yes, ’tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain!<br /> +I wake, I breathe, and am myself again.<br /> +Still in this nether world; no seraph yet!<br /> +Nor walks my spirit, when the sun is set,<br /> +With troubled step to haunt the fatal board,<br /> +Where I died last—by poison or the sword;<br /> +Blanching each honest cheek with deeds of night,<br /> +Done here so oft by dim and doubtful light.<br /> + To drop all metaphor, that little bell<br /> +Call’d back reality, and broke the spell.<br /> +No heroine claims your tears with tragic tone;<br /> +A very woman—scarce restrains her own!<br /> +Can she, with fiction, charm the cheated mind,<br /> +When to be grateful is the part assign’d?<br /> +Ah, No! she scorns the trappings of her Art;<br /> +No theme but truth, no prompter but the heart!<br /> + But, Ladies, say, must I alone unmask?<br /> +Is here no other actress? let me ask.<br /> +Believe me, those, who best the heart dissect,<br /> +Know every Woman studies stage-effect.<br /> +She moulds her manners to the part she fills,<br /> +As Instinct teaches, or as Humour wills;<br /> +And, as the grave or gay her talent calls,<br /> +Acts in the drama, till the curtain falls.<br /> + First, how her little breast with triumph swells,<br /> +When the red coral rings its golden bells!<br /> +To play in pantomime is then the <i>rage</i>,<br /> +Along the carpet’s many-colour’d stage;<br /> +Or lisp her merry thoughts with loud endeavour,<br /> +Now here, now there—in noise and mischief ever!<br /> + A school-girl next, she curls her hair in papers,<br /> +And mimics father’s gout, and mother’s vapours;<br /> +Discards her doll, bribes Betty for romances;<br /> +Playful at church, and serious when she dances;<br /> +Tramples alike on customs and on toes,<br /> +And whispers all she hears to all she knows;<br /> +Terror of caps, and wigs, and sober notions!<br /> +A romp! that <i>longest</i> of perpetual motions!<br /> +—Till tam’d and tortur’d into foreign graces,<br /> +She sports her lovely face at public places;<br /> +And with blue, laughing eyes, behind her fan,<br /> +First acts her part with that great actor, MAN.<br /> + Too soon a flirt, approach her and she flies!<br /> +Frowns when pursued, and, when entreated, sighs!<br /> +Plays with unhappy men as cats with mice;<br /> +Till fading beauty hints the late advice.<br /> +Her prudence dictates what her pride disdain’d,<br /> +And now she sues to slaves herself had chain’d!<br /> + Then comes that good old character, a Wife,<br /> +With all the dear, distracting cares of life;<br /> +A thousand cards a day at doors to leave,<br /> +And, in return, a thousand cards receive;<br /> +Rouge high, play deep, to lead the ton aspire,<br /> +With nightly blaze set PORTLAND-PLACE on fire;<br /> +Snatch half a glimpse at Concert, Opera, Ball,<br /> +A Meteor, trac’d by none, tho’ seen by all;<br /> +And, when her shatter’d nerves forbid to roam,<br /> +In very spleen—rehearse the girls at home.<br /> + Last the grey Dowager, in antient flounces,<br /> +With snuff and spectacles the age denounces;<br /> +Boasts how the Sires of this degenerate Isle<br /> +Knelt for a look, and duell’d for a smile.<br /> +The scourge and ridicule of Goth and Vandal,<br /> +Her tea she sweetens, as she sips, with scandal;<br /> +With modern Belles eternal warfare wages,<br /> +Like her own birds that clamour from their cages;<br /> +And shuffles round to bear her tale to all,<br /> +Like some old Ruin, ‘nodding to its fall!’<br /> + Thus WOMAN makes her entrance and her exit;<br /> +Not least an actress, when she least suspects it.<br /> +Yet Nature oft peeps out and mars the plot,<br /> +Each lesson lost, each poor pretence forgot;<br /> +Full oft, with energy that scorns controul,<br /> +At once lights up the features of the soul;<br /> +Unlocks each thought chain’d by coward Art,<br /> +And to full day the latent passions start!<br /> +—And she, whose first, best wish is your applause,<br /> +Herself exemplifies the truth she draws.<br /> +Born on the stage—thro’ every shifting scene,<br /> +Obscure or bright, tempestuous or serene,<br /> +Still has your smile her trembling spirit fir’d!<br /> +And can she act, with thoughts like these inspir’d?<br /> +<i>Thus</i> from her mind all artifice she flings,<br /> +All skill, all practice, now unmeaning things!<br /> +To you, uncheck’d, each genuine feeling flows;<br /> +For all that life endears—to you she owes. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn4.1" id="fn4.1"></a> <a href="#fnref4.1">[1]</a> +After a Tragedy, performed for her benefit, at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane, +April 27, 1795. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem05"></a>To - - - - -</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Go—you may call it madness, folly;<br /> +You shall not chase my gloom away.<br /> +There’s such a charm in melancholy,<br /> +I would not, if I could, be gay.<br /> +<br /> +Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure<br /> +That fills my bosom when I sigh,<br /> +You would not rob me of a treasure<br /> +Monarchs are too poor to buy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem06"></a>THE SAILOR.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +The Sailor sighs as sinks his native shore,<br /> +As all its lessening turrets bluely fade;<br /> +He climbs the mast to feast his eye once more,<br /> +And busy Fancy fondly lends her aid.<br /> +<br /> +Ah! now, each dear, domestic scene he knew,<br /> +Recall’d and cherish’d in a foreign clime,<br /> +Charms with the magic of a moonlight-view;<br /> +Its colours mellow’d, not impair’d, by time,<br /> +<br /> +True as the needle, homeward points his heart,<br /> +Thro’ all the horrors of the stormy main;<br /> +This, the last wish that would with life depart,<br /> +To meet the smile of her he loves again.<br /> +<br /> +When Morn first faintly draws her silver line,<br /> +Or Eve’s grey cloud descends to drink the wave;<br /> +When sea and sky in midnight darkness join,<br /> +Still, still he views the parting look she gave.<br /> +<br /> +Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o’er,<br /> +Attends his little bark from pole to pole;<br /> +And, when the beating billows round him roar,<br /> +Whispers sweet hope to sooth his troubled soul.<br /> +<br /> +Carv’d is her name in many a spicy grove,<br /> +In many a plaintain-forest, waving wide;<br /> +Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove,<br /> +And giant palms o’er-arch the golden tide.<br /> +<br /> +But lo, at last he comes with crowded sail!<br /> +Lo, o’er the cliff what eager figures bend!<br /> +And hark, what mingled murmurs swell the gale!<br /> +In each he hears the welcome of a friend.<br /> +<br /> +—’Tis she, ’tis she herself! she waves her hand!<br /> +Soon is the anchor cast, the canvass furl’d;<br /> +Soon thro’ the whitening surge he springs to land,<br /> +And clasps the maid he singled from the world. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem07"></a>TO AN OLD OAK.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> + Immota manet; multosque nepotes,<br /> + Multa virûm volvens durando sæcula, vincit. +</p> + +<p class="left"> +VIRG. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Round thee, alas, no shadows move!<br /> +From thee no sacred murmurs breathe!<br /> +Yet within thee, thyself a grove,<br /> +Once did the eagle scream above,<br /> + And the wolf howl beneath.<br /> +<br /> +There once the steel-clad knight reclin’d,<br /> +His sable plumage tempest-toss’d;<br /> +And, as the death-bell smote the wind,<br /> +From towers long fled by human kind,<br /> + His brow the hero cross’d!<br /> +<br /> +Then Culture came, and days serene,<br /> +And village-sports, and garlands gay.<br /> +Full many a pathway cross’d the green;<br /> +And maids and shepherd-youths were seen,<br /> + To celebrate the May.<br /> +<br /> +Father of many a forest deep,<br /> +(Whence many a navy thunder-fraught)<br /> +Erst in their acorn-cells asleep,<br /> +Soon destin’d o’er the world to sweep,<br /> + Opening new spheres of thought!<br /> +<br /> +Wont in the night of woods to dwell,<br /> +The holy druid saw thee rise;<br /> +And, planting there the guardian-spell,<br /> +Sung forth, the dreadful pomp to swell<br /> + Of human sacrifice!<br /> +<br /> +Thy singed top and branches bare<br /> +Now straggle in the evening sky;<br /> +And the wan moon wheels round to glare<br /> +On the long corse that shivers there<br /> + Of him who came to die! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem08"></a>FRAGMENTS FROM EURIPIDES.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;<br /> +And all, who know it, come and come again.<br /> +The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon,<br /> +Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,<br /> +As in the shining grass she sate conceal’d,<br /> +Sing to herself. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="noindent"> +There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.<br /> +The village-girls, singing wild madrigals,<br /> +Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,<br /> +And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her.<br /> +Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,<br /> +’Twas heav’n to look upon; and her sweet voice,<br /> +As tuneable as harp of many strings,<br /> +At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem09"></a>TWO SISTERS.<a href="#fn9.1" name="fnref9.1" id="fnref9.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Well may you sit within, and, fond of grief,<br /> +Look in each other’s face, and melt in tears.<br /> +Well may you shun all counsel, all relief.<br /> +Oh she was great in mind, tho’ young in years!<br /> +<br /> +Chang’d is that lovely countenance, which shed<br /> +Light when she spoke; and kindled sweet surprise,<br /> +As o’er her frame each warm emotion spread,<br /> +Play’d round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes.<br /> +<br /> +Those lips so pure, that mov’d but to persuade,<br /> +Still to the last enliven’d and endear’d.<br /> +Those eyes at once her secret soul convey’d,<br /> +And ever beam’d delight when you appear’d.<br /> +<br /> +Yet has she fled the life of bliss below,<br /> +That youthful Hope in bright perspective drew?<br /> +False were the tints! false as the feverish glow<br /> +That o’er her burning cheek Distemper threw!<br /> +<br /> +And now in joy she dwells, in glory moves!<br /> +(Glory and joy reserv’d for you to share.)<br /> +Far, far more blest in blessing those she loves,<br /> +Than they, alas! unconscious of her care. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9.1" id="fn9.1"></a> <a href="#fnref9.1">[1]</a> +On the death of a younger sister. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem10"></a>WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT.</h2> + +<p class="center"> +1786. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +While thro’ the broken pane the tempest sighs,<br /> +And my step falters on the faithless floor,<br /> +Shades of departed joys around me rise,<br /> +With many a face that smiles on me no more;<br /> +With many a voice that thrills of transport gave,<br /> +Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem11"></a>ON A TEAR.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Oh! that the Chemist’s magic art<br /> +Could crystallize this sacred treasure!<br /> +Long should it glitter near my heart,<br /> +A secret source of pensive pleasure.<br /> +<br /> +The little brilliant, ere it fell,<br /> +Its lustre caught from CHLOE’S eye;<br /> +Then, trembling, left its coral cell—<br /> +The spring of Sensibility!<br /> +<br /> +Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!<br /> +In thee the rays of Virtue shine;<br /> +More calmly clear, more mildly bright,<br /> +Than any gem that gilds the mine.<br /> +<br /> +Benign restorer of the soul!<br /> +Who ever fly’st to bring relief,<br /> +When first we feel the rude controul<br /> +Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief.<br /> +<br /> +The sage’s and the poet’s theme,<br /> +In every clime, in every age;<br /> +Thou charm’st in Fancy’s idle dream,<br /> +In Reason’s philosophic page.<br /> +<br /> +That very law<a href="#fn11.1" name="fnref11.1" id="fnref11.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> which moulds a tear,<br /> +And bids it trickle from its source,<br /> +That law preserves the earth a sphere,<br /> +And guides the planets in their course. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn11.1" id="fn11.1"></a> <a href="#fnref11.1">[1]</a> +The law of Gravitation. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem12"></a>TO A VOICE THAT HAD BEEN LOST.<a href="#fn12.1" name="fnref12.1" id="fnref12.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor?<br /> +Aëris et lingua sum filia;<br /> +Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum.—A<small>USONIUS</small>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Once more, Enchantress of the soul,<br /> +Once more we hail thy soft controul.<br /> +—Yet whither, whither did’st thou fly?<br /> +To what bright region of the sky?<br /> +Say, in what distant star to dwell?<br /> +(Of other worlds thou seemst to tell)<br /> +Or trembling, fluttering here below,<br /> +Resolv’d and unresolv’d to go,<br /> +In secret didst thou still impart<br /> +Thy raptures to the Pure in heart?<br /> + Perhaps to many a desert shore,<br /> +Thee, in his rage, the Tempest bore;<br /> +Thy broken murmurs swept along,<br /> +Mid Echoes yet untun’d by song;<br /> +Arrested in the realms of Frost,<br /> +Or in the wilds of Ether lost.<br /> + Far happier thou! ’twas thine to soar,<br /> +Careering on the winged wind.<br /> +Thy triumphs who shall dare explore?<br /> +Suns and their systems left behind.<br /> +No tract of space, no distant star,<br /> +No shock of elements at war,<br /> +Did thee detain. Thy wing of fire<br /> +Bore thee amidst the Cherub-choir;<br /> +And there awhile to thee ’twas giv’n<br /> +Once more that Voice<a href="#fn12.2" name="fnref12.2" id="fnref12.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> belov’d to join,<br /> +Which taught thee first a flight divine,<br /> +And nurs’d thy infant years with many a strain from Heav’n! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.1" id="fn12.1"></a> <a href="#fnref12.1">[1]</a> +In the winter of 1805. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.2" id="fn12.2"></a> <a href="#fnref12.2">[2]</a> +The late Mrs. Sheridan’s. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem13"></a>FROM A GREEK EPIGRAM.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +While on the cliff with calm delight she kneels,<br /> +And the blue vales a thousand joys recall,<br /> +See, to the last, last verge her infant steals!<br /> +O fly—yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall.<br /> + Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare,<br /> +And the fond boy springs back to nestle there. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem14"></a>TO THE FRAGMENT OF A STATUE OF HERCULES,<br /> +<small>COMMONLY CALLED</small><br /> +<big>THE TORSO</big>.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,<br /> +(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl’d)<br /> +Still sit as on the fragment of a world;<br /> +Surviving all, majestic and alone?<br /> +What tho’ the Spirits of the North, that swept<br /> +Rome from the earth, when in her pomp she slept,<br /> +Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunk<br /> +Deep in the dust mid tower and temple sunk;<br /> +Soon to subdue mankind ’twas thine to rise.<br /> +Still, still unquell’d thy glorious energies!<br /> +Aspiring minds, with thee conversing, caught<a href="#fn14.1" name="fnref14.1" id="fnref14.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +Bright revelations of the Good they sought;<br /> +By thee that long-lost spell<a href="#fn14.2" name="fnref14.2" id="fnref14.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> in secret given,<br /> +To draw down Gods, and lift the soul to Heav’n! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14.1" id="fn14.1"></a> <a href="#fnref14.1">[1]</a> +In the gardens of the Vatican, where it was placed by Julius II, it was long +the favourite study of those great men, to whom we owe the revival of the arts, +Michael Angelo, Raphael, and the Caracci. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14.2" id="fn14.2"></a> <a href="#fnref14.2">[2]</a> +Once in the possession of Praxiteles, if we may believe an antient epigram on +the Gnidian Venus. Analecta Vet. Poetarum, III. 200. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem15"></a>TO ——<a href="#fn15.1" name="fnref15.1" id="fnref15.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Ah! little thought she, when, with wild delight,<br /> +By many a torrent’s shining track she flew,<br /> +When mountain-glens and caverns full of night<br /> +O’er her young mind divine enchantment threw,<br /> +<br /> +That in her veins a secret horror slept,<br /> +That her light footsteps should be heard no more,<br /> +That she should die—nor watch’d, alas, nor wept<br /> +By thee, unconscious of the pangs she bore.<br /> +<br /> +Yet round her couch indulgent Fancy drew<br /> +The kindred, forms her closing eye requir’d.<br /> +There didst thou stand—there, with the smile she knew.<br /> +She mov’d her lips to bless thee, and expir’d.<br /> +<br /> +And now to thee she comes; still, still the same<br /> +As in the hours gone unregarded by!<br /> +To thee, how chang’d, comes as she ever came;<br /> +Health on her cheek, and pleasure in her eye!<br /> +<br /> +Nor less, less oft, as on that day, appears,<br /> +When lingering, as prophetic of the truth,<br /> +By the way-side she shed her parting tears—<br /> +For ever lovely in the light of Youth? +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn15.1" id="fn15.1"></a> <a href="#fnref15.1">[1]</a> +On the death of her sister. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem16"></a>WRITTEN IN A SICK CHAMBER.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +There, in that bed so closely curtain’d round,<br /> +Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay,<br /> +A father sleeps! Oh hush’d be every sound!<br /> +Soft may we breathe the midnight hours away!<br /> +<br /> +He stirs—yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams<br /> +Long o’er his smooth and settled pillow rise;<br /> +Till thro’ the shutter’d pane the morning streams,<br /> +And on the hearth the glimmering rush-light dies. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem17"></a>TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +On thee, blest youth, a father’s hand confers<br /> +The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew.<br /> +Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers;<br /> +Thine be the joys to firm attachment due.<br /> +<br /> +As on she moves with hesitating grace,<br /> +She wins assurance from his soothing voice;<br /> +And, with a look the pencil could not trace,<br /> +Smiles thro’ her blushes, and confirms the choice.<br /> +<br /> +Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!<br /> +To thee she turns—forgive a virgin’s fears!<br /> +To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim;<br /> +Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!<br /> +<br /> +At each response the sacred rite requires,<br /> +From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh.<br /> +A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;<br /> +And on her lips the trembling accents die.<br /> +<br /> +O’er her fair face what wild emotions play!<br /> +What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!<br /> +Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,<br /> +And settled sunshine on her soul descend!<br /> +<br /> +Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought!<br /> +That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flowers;<br /> +And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught,<br /> +Gild the calm current of domestic hours! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem18"></a>THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +The sun-beams streak the azure skies,<br /> +And line with light the mountain’s brow:<br /> +With hounds and horns the hunters rise,<br /> +And chase the roebuck thro’ the snow.<br /> +<br /> +From rock to rock, with giant-bound,<br /> +High on their iron poles they pass;<br /> +Mute, lest the air, convuls’d by sound,<br /> +Rend from above a frozen mass.<a href="#fn18.1" name="fnref18.1" id="fnref18.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +<br /> +The goats wind slow their wonted way,<br /> +Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;<br /> +Mark’d by the wild wolf for his prey,<br /> +From desert cave or hanging wood.<br /> +<br /> +And while the torrent thunders loud,<br /> +And as the echoing cliffs reply,<br /> +The huts peep o’er the morning-cloud,<br /> +Perch’d, like an eagle’s nest, on high.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn18.1" id="fn18.1"></a> <a href="#fnref18.1">[1]</a> +There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to move on with speed, +and say nothing, lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above. +GRAY’S MEM. sect. v. lett.4. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem19"></a>IMITATION OF AN ITALIAN SONNET<a href="#fn19.1" name="fnref19.1" id="fnref19.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Love, under Friendship’s vesture white,<br /> +Laughs, his little limbs concealing;<br /> +And oft in sport, and oft in spite,<br /> +Like Pity meets the dazzled sight,<br /> +Smiles thro’ his tears revealing.<br /> + But now as Rage the God appears!<br /> +He frowns, and tempests shake his frame!—<br /> +Frowning, or smiling, or in tears,<br /> +’Tis Love; and Love is still the same. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.1" id="fn19.1"></a> <a href="#fnref19.1">[1]</a> +See Gray’s Mem. sect. II. lett. 30. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem20"></a>ON - - - - ASLEEP.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Sleep on, and dream of Heav’n awhile.<br /> +Tho’ shut so close thy laughing eyes,<br /> +Thy rosy lips still seem to smile,<br /> +And move, and breathe delicious sighs!—<br /> +<br /> +Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks,<br /> +And mantle o’er her neck of snow.<br /> +Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks<br /> +What most I wish—and fear to know.<br /> +<br /> +She starts, she trembles, and she weeps!<br /> +Her fair hands folded on her breast.<br /> +—And now, how like a saint she sleeps!<br /> +A seraph in the realms of rest!<br /> +<br /> +Sleep on secure! Above controul,<br /> +Thy thoughts belong to Heav’n and thee!<br /> +And may the secret of thy soul<br /> +Repose within its sanctuary! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem21"></a>TO THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF LADY **.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Ah! why with tell-tale tongue reveal<br /> +What most her blushes would conceal?<a href="#fn21.1" name="fnref21.1" id="fnref21.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +Why lift that modest veil to trace<br /> +The seraph-sweetness of her face?<br /> +Some fairer, better sport prefer;<br /> +And feel for us, if not for her.<br /> + For this presumption, soon or late,<br /> +Know thine shall be a kindred fate.<br /> +Another shall in vengeance rise—<br /> +Sing Harriet’s cheeks, and Harriet’s eyes;<br /> +And, echoing back her wood-notes wild,<br /> +—Trace all the mother in the child! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn21.1" id="fn21.1"></a> <a href="#fnref21.1">[1]</a> +Alluding to some verses which she had written on an elder sister. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem22"></a> +AN EPITAPH<a href="#fn22.1" name="fnref22.1" id="fnref22.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Tread lightly here, for here, ’tis said,<br /> +When piping winds are hush’d around,<br /> +A small note wakes from underground,<br /> +Where now his tiny bones are laid.<br /> +No more in lone and leafless groves,<br /> +With ruffled wing and faded breast,<br /> +His friendless, homeless spirit roves;<br /> +—Gone to the world where birds are blest!<br /> +Where never cat glides o’er the green,<br /> +Or school-boy’s giant form is seen;<br /> +But Love, and Joy, and smiling Spring<br /> +Inspire their little souls to sing! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn22.1" id="fn22.1"></a> <a href="#fnref22.1">[1]</a> +Inscribed on an urn in the flower-garden at Hafod. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem23"></a>A WISH.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Mine be a cot beside the hill,<br /> +A bee-hive’s hum shall sooth my ear;<br /> +A willowy brook, that turns a mill,<br /> +With many a fall shall linger near.<br /> +<br /> +The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,<br /> +Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;<br /> +Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,<br /> +And share my meal, a welcome guest.<br /> +<br /> +Around my ivy’d porch shall spring<br /> +Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;<br /> +And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing<br /> +In russet gown and apron blue.<br /> +<br /> +The village-church, among the trees,<br /> +Where first our marriage-vows were giv’n,<br /> +With merry peals shall swell the breeze,<br /> +And point with taper spire to heav’n. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem24"></a>AN ITALIAN SONG.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dear is my little native vale,<br /> +The ring-dove builds and murmurs there;<br /> +Close by my cot she tells her tale<br /> +To every passing villager.<br /> +The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,<br /> +And shells his nuts at liberty.<br /> +<br /> +In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,<br /> +That breathe a gale of fragrance round,<br /> +I charm the fairy-footed hours<br /> +With my lov’d lute’s romantic sound;<br /> +Or crowns of living laurel weave,<br /> +For those that win the race at eve.<br /> +<br /> +The shepherd’s horn at break of day,<br /> +The ballet danc’d in twilight glade,<br /> +The canzonet and roundelay<br /> +Sung in the silent green-wood shade;<br /> +These simple joys, that never fail,<br /> +Shall bind me to my native vale. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem25"></a>TO THE GNAT.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +When by the green-wood side, at summer eve,<br /> +Poetic visions charm my closing eye;<br /> +And fairy-scenes, that Fancy loves to weave,<br /> +Shift to wild notes of sweetest Minstrelsy;<br /> +’Tis thine to range in busy quest of prey,<br /> +Thy feathery antlers quivering with delight,<br /> +Brush from my lids the hues of heav’n away,<br /> +And all is Solitude, and all is Night!<br /> +—Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly,<br /> +Unsheaths its terrors in the sultry air!<br /> +No guardian sylph, in golden panoply,<br /> +Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear.<br /> +Now near and nearer rush thy whirring wings,<br /> +Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore.<br /> +Hark, thy shrill horn its fearful laram flings!<br /> +—I wake in horror, and ‘dare sleep no more!’ +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem26"></a>AN INSCRIPTION.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Shepherd, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner,<br /> +Whate’er thou art, who wouldst allay thy thirst,<br /> +Drink and be glad. This cistern of white stone,<br /> +Arch’d, and o’erwrought with many a sacred verse,<br /> +This iron cup chain’d for the general use,<br /> +And these rude seats of earth within the grove,<br /> +Were giv’n by FATIMA. Borne hence a bride,<br /> +’Twas here she turn’d from her beloved sire,<br /> +To see his face no more.<a href="#fn26.1" name="fnref26.1" id="fnref26.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> Oh, if thou canst,<br /> +(’Tis not far off) visit his tomb with flowers;<br /> +And may some pious hand with water fill<br /> +The two small cells scoop’d in the marble there,<br /> +That birds may come and drink upon his grave,<br /> +Making it holy!<a href="#fn26.2" name="fnref26.2" id="fnref26.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> ———— +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn26.1" id="fn26.1"></a> <a href="#fnref26.1">[1]</a> +See an anecdote related by Pausanias. iii. 20. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn26.2" id="fn26.2"></a> <a href="#fnref26.2">[2]</a> +A Turkish superstition. See Clarke’s Travels, I. 546. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem27"></a>CAPTIVITY.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Caged in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake<br /> +When the hern screams along the distant lake,<br /> +Her little heart oft flutters to be free,<br /> +Oft sighs to turn the unrelenting key.<br /> +In vain! the nurse that rusted relic wears,<br /> +Nor mov’d by gold—nor to be mov’d by tears;<br /> +And terraced walls their black reflection throw<br /> +On the green-mantled moat that sleeps below. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem28"></a>A CHARACTER.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +As thro’ the hedge-row shade the violet steals,<br /> +And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals;<br /> +Her softer charms, but by their influence known,<br /> +Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem29"></a>WRITTEN IN<br /> +THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND,</h2> + +<p class="center"> +SEPTEMBER 1, 1812. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Blue was the loch,<a href="#fn29.1" name="fnref29.1" id="fnref29.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> the clouds were gone,<br /> +Ben-Lomond in his glory shone,<br /> +When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze<br /> +Bore me from thy silver sands,<br /> +Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees,<br /> +Where, grey with age, the dial stands;<br /> +That dial so well-known to me!<br /> +—Tho’ many a shadow it had shed,<br /> +Beloved Sister, since with thee<br /> +The legend on the stone was read.<br /> + The fairy-isles fled far away;<br /> +That with its woods and uplands green,<br /> +Where shepherd-huts are dimly seen,<br /> +And songs are heard at close of day;<br /> +That too, the deer’s wild covert, fled,<br /> +And that, the Asylum of the Dead:<br /> +While, as the boat went merrily,<br /> +Much of ROB ROY<a href="#fn29.2" name="fnref29.2" id="fnref29.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> the boat-man told;<br /> +His arm that fell below his knee,<br /> +His cattle-ford and mountain-hold.<br /> + Tarbat,<a href="#fn29.3" name="fnref29.3" id="fnref29.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> thy shore I climb’d at last,<br /> +And, thy shady region pass’d,<br /> +Upon another shore I stood,<br /> +And look’d upon another flood;<a href="#fn29.4" name="fnref29.4" id="fnref29.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +Great Ocean’s self! (’Tis He, who fills<br /> +That vast and awful depth of hills;)<br /> +Where many an elf was playing round,<br /> +Who treads unshod his classic ground;<br /> +And speaks, his native rocks among,<br /> +As FINGAL spoke, and OSSIAN sung.<br /> + Night fell; and dark and darker grew<br /> +That narrow sea, that narrow sky,<br /> +As o’er the glimmering waves we flew.<br /> +The sea-bird rustling, wailing by.<br /> +And now the grampus, half descried,<br /> +Black and huge above the tide;<br /> +The cliffs and promontories there,<br /> +Front to front, and broad and bare,<br /> +Each beyond each, with giant-feet<br /> +Advancing as in haste to meet;<br /> +The shatter’d fortress, whence the Dane<br /> +Blew his shrill blast, nor rush’d in vain,<br /> +Tyrant of the drear domain;<br /> +All into midnight-shadow sweep—<br /> +When day springs upward from the deep!<a href="#fn29.5" name="fnref29.5" id="fnref29.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Kindling the waters in its flight,<br /> +The prow wakes splendour; and the oar,<br /> +That rose and fell unseen before,<br /> +Flashes in a sea of light!<br /> +Glad sign, and sure! for now we hail<br /> +Thy flowers, Glenfinart, in the gale;<br /> +And bright indeed the path should be,<br /> +That leads to Friendship and to Thee!<br /> + Oh blest retreat, and sacred too!<br /> +Sacred as when the bell of prayer<br /> +Toll’d duly on the desert air,<br /> +And crosses deck’d thy summits blue.<br /> +Oft, like some lov’d romantic tale,<br /> +Oft shall my weary mind recall,<br /> +Amid the hum and stir of men,<br /> +Thy beechen grove and waterfall,<br /> +Thy ferry with its gliding sail,<br /> +And Her—the Lady of the Glen! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29.1" id="fn29.1"></a> <a href="#fnref29.1">[1]</a> +Loch-Lomond. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29.2" id="fn29.2"></a> <a href="#fnref29.2">[2]</a> +A famous out-law. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29.3" id="fn29.3"></a> <a href="#fnref29.3">[3]</a> +Signifying in the Erse language an Isthmus. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29.4" id="fn29.4"></a> <a href="#fnref29.4">[4]</a> +Loch-Long. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn29.5" id="fn29.5"></a> <a href="#fnref29.5">[5]</a> +A phenomenon described by many navigators. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem30"></a>A FAREWELL.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Once more, enchanting girl, adieu!<br /> +I must be gone while yet I may,<br /> +Oft shall I weep to think of you;<br /> +But here I will not, cannot stay.<br /> +<br /> +The sweet expression of that face.<br /> +For ever changing, yet the same,<br /> +Ah no, I dare not turn to trace.<br /> +It melts my soul, it fires my frame!<br /> +<br /> +Yet give me, give me, ere I go,<br /> +One little lock of those so blest,<br /> +That lend your cheek a warmer glow,<br /> +And on your white neck love to rest.<br /> +<br /> +—Say, when to kindle soft delight,<br /> +That hand has chanc’d with mine to meet,<br /> +How could its thrilling touch excite<br /> +A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?<br /> +<br /> +O say—but no, it must not be.<br /> +Adieu! A long, a long adieu!<br /> +—Yet still, methinks, you frown on me;<br /> +Or never could I fly from you. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem31"></a>TO THE BUTTERFLY.</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,<br /> +Mingling with her thou lov’st in fields of light;<br /> +And, where the flowers of paradise unfold,<br /> +Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold.<br /> +There shall thy wings, rich as an evening-sky,<br /> +Expand and shut with silent ecstasy!<br /> +—Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept<br /> +On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept!<br /> +And such is man; soon from his cell of clay<br /> +To burst a seraph in the blaze of day! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem32"></a> +VERSES WRITTEN IN<br /> +WESTMINSTER ABBEY.<a href="#fn32.1" name="fnref32.1" id="fnref32.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + +<p> +Whoe’er thou art, approach, and, with a sigh,<br /> +Mark where the small remains of Greatness lie.<a href="#fn32.2" name="fnref32.2" id="fnref32.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +There sleeps the dust of Him for ever gone;<br /> +How near the Scene where once his Glory shone!<br /> +And, tho’ no more ascends the voice of Prayer,<br /> +Tho’ the last footsteps cease to linger there,<br /> +Still, like an awful Dream that comes again,<br /> +Alas, at best, as transient and as vain,<br /> +Still do I see (while thro’ the vaults of night<br /> +The funeral-song once more proclaims the rite)<br /> +The moving Pomp along the shadowy Isle,<br /> +That, like a Darkness, fill’d the solemn Pile;<br /> +The illustrious line, that in long order led,<br /> +Of those that lov’d Him living, mourn’d Him dead;<br /> +Of those, the Few, that for their Country stood<br /> +Round Him who dar’d be singularly good;<br /> +All, of all ranks, that claim’d Him for their own;<br /> +And nothing wanting—but Himself alone!<a href="#fn32.3" name="fnref32.3" id="fnref32.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> + Oh say, of Him now rests there but a name;<br /> +Wont, as He was, to breathe ethereal flame?<br /> +Friend of the Absent! Guardian of the Dead!<a href="#fn32.4" name="fnref32.4" id="fnref32.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +Who but would here their sacred sorrows shed?<br /> +(Such as He shed on NELSON’S closing grave;<br /> +How soon to claim the sympathy He gave!)<br /> +In Him, resentful of another’s wrong,<br /> +The dumb were eloquent, the feeble strong.<br /> +Truth from his lips a charm celestial drew—<br /> +Ah, who so mighty and so gentle too?<br /> + What tho’ with War the madding Nations rung,<br /> +‘Peace,’ when He spoke, dwelt ever on his tongue!<br /> +Amidst the frowns of Power, the tricks of State,<br /> +Fearless, resolv’d, and negligently great!<br /> +In vain malignant vapours gather’d round;<br /> +He walk’d, erect, on consecrated ground.<br /> +The clouds, that rise to quench the Orb of day,<br /> +Reflect its splendour, and dissolve away!<br /> + When in retreat He laid his thunder by,<br /> +For letter’d ease and calm Philosophy,<br /> +Blest were his hours within the silent grove,<br /> +Where still his god-like Spirit deigns to rove;<br /> +Blest by the orphan’s smile, the widow’s prayer,<br /> +For many a deed, long done in secret there.<br /> +There shone his lamp on Homer’s hallow’d page.<br /> +There, listening, sate the hero and the sage;<br /> +And they, by virtue and by blood allied,<br /> +Whom most He lov’d, and in whose arms He died.<br /> + Friend of all Human-kind! not here alone<br /> +(The voice, that speaks, was not to Thee unknown)<br /> +Wilt Thou be miss’d,—O’er every land and sea<br /> +Long, long shall England be rever’d in Thee!<br /> +And, when the Storm is hush’d—in distant years—<br /> +Foes on thy grave shall meet, and mingle tears! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn32.1" id="fn32.1"></a> <a href="#fnref32.1">[1]</a> +After the Funeral of the Right Hon. CHARLES JAMES FOX on Friday, October 10, +1806. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn32.2" id="fn32.2"></a> <a href="#fnref32.2">[2]</a> +Venez voir le peu qui nous reste de tant de grandeur, +&c. Bossuet. Oraison funébre de Louis de Bourbon. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn32.3" id="fn32.3"></a> <a href="#fnref32.3">[3]</a> +Et rien enfin ne manque dans tons ces honneurs, que celui à qui on les +rend.—Ibid. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn32.4" id="fn32.4"></a> <a href="#fnref32.4">[4]</a> +Alluding particularly to his speech on moving a new writ for the borough of +Tavistock, March 16, 1802. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem33"></a>THE VOYAGE OF COLUMBUS.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +CHI SE’ TU, CHE VIENI——?<br /> +DA ME STESSO NON VEGNO. +</p> + +<p class="left"> +DANTE. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + I have seen the day,<br /> +That I have worn a visor, and could tell<br /> +A tale———— +</p> + +<p class="left"> +SHAKSP. +</p> + +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> + +<p> +The following Poem (or, to speak more properly, what remains of it<a href="#fn33.1" name="fnref33.1" id="fnref33.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>) +has here and there a lyrical turn of thought and expression. It is sudden in +its transitions, and full of historical allusions; leaving much to be imagined +by the reader. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1" id="fn33.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1">[1]</a> +The Original in the Castilian language, according to the Inscription that +fellows, was found among other MSS. in an old religious house near Palos, +situated on an island formed by the river Tinto, and dedicated to our Lady of +Rábida. The Writer describes himself as having sailed with Columbus; but his +style and manner are evidently of an after-time. +</p> + +<p> +The subject is a voyage the most memorable in the annals of mankind. +Columbus was a person of extraordinary virtue and piety, acting under +the sense of a divine impulse; and his achievement the discovery of a +New World, the inhabitants of which were shut out from the light of +Revelation, and given up, as they believed, to the dominion of +malignant spirits. +</p> + +<p> +Many of the incidents will now be thought extravagant; yet they were +once perhaps received with something more than indulgence. It was an +age of miracles; and who can say that among the venerable legends in +the library of the Escurial, or the more authentic records which +fill the great chamber in the <i>Archivo</i> of Simancas, and which relate +entirely to the deep tragedy of America, there are no volumes that +mention the marvellous things here described? Indeed the story, as +already told throughout Europe, admits of no heightening. Such was +the religious enthusiasm of the early writers, that the Author had +only to transfuse it into his verse; and he appears to have done +little more; though some of the circumstances, which he alludes to as +well-known, have long ceased to be so. By using the language of that +day, he has called up Columbus ‘in his habit as he lived;’ and the +authorities, such as exist, are carefully given by the translator. +</p> + +<h3>INSCRIBED ON THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT.</h3> + +<p> +Unclasp me, Stranger; and unfold,<br /> +With trembling care, my leaves of gold<br /> +Rich in gothic portraiture—<br /> +If yet, alas, a leaf endure.<br /> +<br /> + In RABIDA’S monastic fane<br /> +I cannot ask, and ask in vain.<br /> +The language of CASTILE I speak;<br /> +Mid many an Arab, many a Greek,<br /> +Old in the days of CHARLEMAIN;<br /> +When minstrel-music wander’ round,<br /> +And Science, waking, bless’ the sound.<br /> +<br /> + No earthly thought has here a place;<br /> +The cowl let down on every face.<br /> +Yet here, in consecrated dust,<br /> +Here would I sleep, if sleep I must.<br /> +From GENOA when COLUMBUS came,<br /> +(At once her glory and her shame)<br /> +’Twas here he caught the holy flame.<br /> +’Twas here the generous vow he made;<br /> +His banners on the altar laid.—<br /> +<br /> + One hallow’d morn, methought,<br /> +I felt As if a soul within me dwelt!<br /> +But who arose and gave to me<br /> +The sacred trust I keep for thee,<br /> +And in his cell at even-tide<br /> +Knelt before the cross and died—<br /> +Inquire not now. His name no more<br /> +Glimmers on the chancel-floor,<br /> +Near the lights that ever shine<br /> +Before ST. MARY’S blessed shrine.<br /> +<br /> + To me one little hour devote,<br /> +And lay thy staff and scrip beside thee;<br /> +Read in the temper that he wrote,<br /> +And may his gentle spirit guide thee!<br /> +My leaves forsake me, one by one;<br /> +The book-worm thro’ and thro’ has gone.<br /> +Oh haste—unclasp me, and unfold;<br /> +The tale within was never told! +</p> + +<h3>THE ARGUMENT.</h3> + +<p> +Columbus, having wandered from kingdom to kingdom, at length obtains +three ships and sets sail on the Atlantic. The compass alters from +its antient direction; the wind becomes constant and unremitting; +night and day he advances, till he is suddenly stopped in his course +by a mass of vegetation, extending as far as the eye can reach, and +assuming the appearance of a country overwhelmed by the sea. Alarm +and despondence on board. He resigns himself to the care of Heaven, +and proceeds on his voyage; while columns of water move along in his +path before him. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the deities of America assemble in council; and one of the +Zemi, the gods of the islanders, announces his approach. “In vain,” +says he, “have we guarded the Atlantic for ages. A mortal has baffled +our power; nor will our votaries arm against him. Yours are a sterner +race. Hence; and, while we have recourse to stratagem, do you array +the nations round your altars, and prepare for an exterminating war.” +They disperse while he is yet speaking; and, in the shape of a +condor, he directs his flight to the fleet. His journey described. He +arrives there. A panic. A mutiny. Columbus restores order; continues +on his voyage; and lands in a New World. Ceremonies of the first +interview. Rites of hospitality. The ghost of Cazziva. +</p> + +<p> +Two months pass away, and an Angel, appearing in a dream to Columbus, +thus addresses him: “Return to Europe; though your Adversaries, such +is the will of Heaven, shall let loose the hurricane against you. A +little while shall they triumph; insinuating themselves into the +hearts of your followers, and making the World, which you came to +bless, a scene of blood and slaughter. Yet is there cause for +rejoicing. Your work is done. The cross of Christ is planted here; +and, in due time, all things shall be made perfect!” +</p> + +<h3>THE VOYAGE OF COLUMBUS</h3> + +<h4>CANTO I.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +Night—Columbus on the Atlantic—the variation of the compass, &c. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Say who first pass’d the portals of the West,<br /> +And the great Secret of the Deep possess’d;<br /> +Who first the standard of his Faith unfurl’d<br /> +On the dread confines of an unknown World;<br /> +Sung ere his coming<a href="#fn33.1.4" name="fnref33.1.4" id="fnref33.1.4"><sup>[a]</sup></a>—and by Heav’n design’d<br /> +To lift the veil that cover’d half mankind!<a href="#fn33.1.5" name="fnref33.1.5" id="fnref33.1.5"><sup>[b]</sup></a>—<br /> +’Twas night. The Moon, o’er the wide wave, disclos’d<br /> +Her awful face; and Nature’s self repos’d;<br /> +When, slowly rising in the azure sky,<br /> +Three white sails shone—but to no mortal eye.<br /> +Entering a boundless sea. In slumber cast,<br /> +The very ship-boy, on the dizzy mast,<br /> +Half breath’d his orisons! Alone unchang’d,<br /> +Calmly, beneath, the great Commander rang’d,<a href="#fn33.1.6" name="fnref33.1.6" id="fnref33.1.6"><sup>[c]</sup></a><br /> +Thoughtful not sad; and, as the planet grew,<br /> +His noble form, wrapt in his mantle blue,<br /> +Athwart the deck a solemn shadow threw.<br /> +“Thee hath it pleas’d—Thy will be done!” he said,<a href="#fn33.1.7" name="fnref33.1.7" id="fnref33.1.7"><sup>[d]</sup></a><br /> +Then sought his cabin; and, their capas<a href="#fn33.1.1" name="fnref33.1.1" id="fnref33.1.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> spread,<br /> +Around him lay the sleeping as the dead,<br /> +When, by his lamp, to that mysterious Guide,<br /> +On whose still counsels all his hopes relied,<br /> +That Oracle to man in mercy giv’n,<br /> +Whose voice is truth, whose wisdom is from heav’n,<a href="#fn33.1.8" name="fnref33.1.8" id="fnref33.1.8"><sup>[e]</sup></a><br /> +Who over sands and seas directs the stray,<br /> +And, as with God’s own finger, points the way,<br /> +He turn’d; but what strange thoughts perplex’d his soul,<br /> +When, lo, no more attracted to the Pole,<br /> +The Compass, faithless as the circling vane,<br /> +Flutter’d and fix’d, flutter’d and fix’d again;<br /> +And still, as by some unseen Hand imprest,<br /> +Explor’d, with trembling energy, the West!<a href="#fn33.1.2" name="fnref33.1.2" id="fnref33.1.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +“Ah no!” he cried, and calm’d his anxious brow.<br /> +“Ill, nor the signs of ill, ’tis thine to show.<br /> +Thine but to lead me where I wish’d to go!”<br /> + COLUMBUS err’d not.<a href="#fn33.1.9" name="fnref33.1.9" id="fnref33.1.9"><sup>[f]</sup></a> In that awful hour,<br /> +Sent forth to save, and girt with God-like power,<br /> +And glorious as the regent of the sun,<a href="#fn33.1.3" name="fnref33.1.3" id="fnref33.1.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +An Angel came! He spoke, and it was done!<br /> +He spoke, and, at his call, a mighty Wind,<a href="#fn33.1.10" name="fnref33.1.10" id="fnref33.1.10"><sup>[g]</sup></a><br /> +Not like the fitful blast, with fury blind,<br /> +But deep, majestic, in its destin’d course,<br /> +Rush’d with unerring, unrelenting force,<br /> +From the bright East. Tides duly ebb’d and flow’d;<br /> +Stars rose and set; and new horizons glow’d;<br /> +Yet still it blew! As with primeval sway,<br /> +Still did its ample spirit, night and day,<br /> +Move on the waters!—All, resign’d to Fate,<br /> +Folded their arms and sat; and seem’d to wait<a href="#fn33.1.11" name="fnref33.1.11" id="fnref33.1.11"><sup>[h]</sup></a><br /> +Some sudden change; and sought, in chill suspense,<br /> +New spheres of being, and new modes of sense;<br /> +As men departing, tho’ not doom’d to die,<br /> +And midway on their passage to eternity. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.1" id="fn33.1.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.1">[1]</a> +The capa is the Spanish cloak. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.2" id="fn33.1.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.2">[2]</a> +Herrera, dec. I. lib. i. c. 9. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.3" id="fn33.1.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.3">[3]</a> +Rev. xix. 17. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO II.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +The Voyage continued. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“What vast foundations in the Abyss are there,<a href="#fn33.2.8" name="fnref33.2.8" id="fnref33.2.8"><sup>[i]</sup></a><br /> +As of a former world?<a href="#fn33.2.1" name="fnref33.2.1" id="fnref33.2.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> Is it not where<br /> +ATLANTIC kings their barbarous pomp display’d;<a href="#fn33.2.9" name="fnref33.2.9" id="fnref33.2.9"><sup>[j]</sup></a><br /> +Sunk into darkness with the realms they sway’d,<br /> +When towers and temples, thro’ the closing wave,<a href="#fn33.2.10" name="fnref33.2.10" id="fnref33.2.10"><sup>[k]</sup></a><br /> +A glimmering ray of antient splendour gave—<br /> +And we shall rest with them. Arise, behold,<br /> +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -<br /> +We stop to stir no more…nor will the tale be told.”<br /> +The pilot smote his breast; the watch-man cried<br /> +“Land!” and his voice in faltering accents died.<a href="#fn33.2.11" name="fnref33.2.11" id="fnref33.2.11"><sup>[l]</sup></a><br /> +At once the fury of the prow was quell’d;<br /> +And (whence or why from many an age withheld)<a href="#fn33.2.2" name="fnref33.2.2" id="fnref33.2.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +Shrieks, not of men, were mingling in the blast;<br /> +And armed shapes of god-like stature pass’d!<br /> +Slowly along the evening sky they went,<br /> +As on the edge of some vast battlement;<br /> +Helmet and shield, and spear and gonfalon<br /> +Streaming a baleful light that was not of the sun! +</p> + +<p> +Long from the stern the great Adventurer gaz’d<br /> +With awe not fear; then high his hands he rais’d.<br /> +“Thou All-supreme—-in goodness as in power,<br /> +Who, from his birth to this eventful hour,<br /> +Hast led thy servant<a href="#fn33.2.3" name="fnref33.2.3" id="fnref33.2.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> over land and sea,<br /> +Confessing Thee in all, and all in Thee,<br /> +Oh still”—He spoke, and lo, the charm accurst<br /> +Fled whence it came, and the broad barrier burst!<br /> +A vain illusion! (such as mocks the eyes<br /> +Of fearful men, when mountains round them rise<br /> +From less than nothing<a href="#fn33.2.4" name="fnref33.2.4" id="fnref33.2.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a>) nothing now beheld,<br /> +But scatter’d sedge—repelling, and repell’d!<br /> + And once again that valiant company<br /> +Right onward came, ploughing the Unknown Sea.<br /> +Already borne beyond the range of thought,<br /> +With Light divine, with Truth immortal fraught,<br /> +From world to world their steady course they keep,<a href="#fn33.2.5" name="fnref33.2.5" id="fnref33.2.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Swift as the winds along the waters sweep,<br /> +Mid the mute nations of the purple deep.<br /> +—And now the sound of harpy-wings they hear;<br /> +Now less and less, as vanishing in fear!<br /> +And, see, the heav’ns bow down, the waters rise.<br /> +And, rising, shoot in columns to the skies,<a href="#fn33.2.6" name="fnref33.2.6" id="fnref33.2.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +That stand—and still, when they proceed, retire,<br /> +As in the Desert burn’d the sacred fire;<a href="#fn33.2.7" name="fnref33.2.7" id="fnref33.2.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a><br /> +Moving in silent majesty, till Night<br /> +Descends, and shuts the vision from their sight. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.1" id="fn33.2.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.1">[1]</a> +In like manner the companions of Ulysses utter their thoughts without +reserve. Od. X. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.2" id="fn33.2.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.2">[2]</a> +The author seems to have anticipated his long slumber in the library of the +Fathers. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.3" id="fn33.2.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.3">[3]</a> +‘They may give me what name they please. I am servant of Him, +&c.’ F. Columbus, c 2. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.4" id="fn33.2.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.4">[4]</a> +Isaiah xl. 17. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.5" id="fn33.2.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.5">[5]</a> +As St. Christopher carried Christ over the deep waters, so Columbus went over +safe, himself and his company.—F. Col. c. 1. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.6" id="fn33.2.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.6">[6]</a> +Water-spouts. See Edwards’s Hist. of the West Indies. I. 12. Note. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.7" id="fn33.2.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.7">[7]</a> +Exod. xiii. 21. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO III.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +An Assembly of Evil Spirits. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Tho’ chang’d my cloth of gold for amice grey—<a href="#fn33.3.4" name="fnref33.3.4" id="fnref33.3.4"><sup>[m]</sup></a><br /> +In my spring-time, when every month was May,<br /> +With hawk and hound I cours’d away the hour,<br /> +Or sung my roundelay in lady’s bower.<br /> +And tho’ my world be now a narrow cell,<br /> +(Renounc’d for ever all I lov’d so well)<br /> +Tho’ now my head be bald, my feet be bare,<br /> +And scarce my knees sustain my book of prayer,<br /> +Oh I was there, one of that gallant crew,<br /> +And saw—and wonder’d whence his Power He drew,<br /> +Yet little thought, tho’ by his side I stood,<br /> +Of his great Foes in earth and air and flood,<br /> +Then uninstructed.—But my sand is run,<br /> +And the Night coming—-and my Task not done!—<br /> +’Twas in the deep, immeasurable cave<br /> +Of ANDES, echoing to the Southern wave,<a href="#fn33.3.5" name="fnref33.3.5" id="fnref33.3.5"><sup>[n]</sup></a><br /> +Mid pillars of Basalt, the work of fire,<br /> +That, giant-like, to upper day aspire,<br /> +’Twas there that now, as wont in heav’n to shine,<br /> +Forms of angelic mould, and grace divine,<br /> +Assembled. All, exil’d the realms of rest,<br /> +In vain the sadness of their souls suppress’d;<br /> +Yet of their glory many a scatter’d ray<br /> +Shot thro’ the gathering shadows of decay.<br /> +Each mov’d a God; and all, as Gods, possess’d<br /> +One half the globe; from pole to pole confess’d!<a href="#fn33.3.1" name="fnref33.3.1" id="fnref33.3.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +These in dim shrines and barbarous symbols reign,<br /> +Where PLATA and MARAGNON meet the Main.<a href="#fn33.3.6" name="fnref33.3.6" id="fnref33.3.6"><sup>[o]</sup></a><br /> +Those the wild hunter worships as he roves,<br /> +In the green shade of CHILI’S fragrant groves;<br /> +Or warrior-tribes with rites of blood implore,<br /> +Whose night-fires gleam along the sullen shore<br /> +Of HURON or ONTARIO, inland seas,<a href="#fn33.3.7" name="fnref33.3.7" id="fnref33.3.7"><sup>[p]</sup></a><br /> +What time the song of death is in the breeze!<br /> + ’Twas now in dismal pomp and order due,<br /> +While the vast concave flash’d with lightnings blue,<br /> +On shining pavements of metallic ore,<br /> +That many an age the fusing sulphur bore,<br /> +They held high council. All was silence round,<br /> +When, with a voice most sweet yet most profound,<br /> +A sovereign Spirit burst the gates of night,<br /> +And from his wings of gold shook drops of liquid light!<br /> +MERION, commission’d with his host to sweep<br /> +From age to age the melancholy deep!<br /> +Chief of the ZEMI, whom the Isles obey’d,<br /> +By Ocean sever’d from a world of shade.<a href="#fn33.3.2" name="fnref33.3.2" id="fnref33.3.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<p> + “Prepare, again prepare,”<br /> +Thus o’er the soul the thrilling accents’ came,<br /> +“Thrones to resign for lakes of living flame,<br /> + And triumph for despair.<br /> +He, on whose call afflicting thunders wait,<br /> + Has will’d it; and his will is fate!<br /> +In vain the legions, emulous to save,<br /> + Hung in the tempest o’er the troubled main;<a href="#fn33.3.8" name="fnref33.3.8" id="fnref33.3.8"><sup>[q]</sup></a><br /> +Turn’d each presumptuous prow that broke the wave,<br /> + And dash’d it on its shores again.<br /> +All is fulfill’d! Behold, in close array,<br /> +What mighty banners stream in the bright track of day!” +</p> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<p> +“No voice, as erst, shall in the desert rise;<a href="#fn33.3.3" name="fnref33.3.3" id="fnref33.3.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Nor antient, dread solemnities<br /> +With scorn of death the trembling tribes inspire.<br /> +Wreaths for the Conqueror’s brow the victims bind!<br /> +Yet, tho’ we fled yon firmament of fire,<br /> +Still shall we fly, all hope of rule resign’d?”<br /> +* * * * *<br /> +* * * * *<br /> +He spoke; and all was silence, all was night!<a href="#fn33.3.9" name="fnref33.3.9" id="fnref33.3.9"><sup>[r]</sup></a><br /> +Each had already wing’d his formidable flight. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.1" id="fn33.3.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.1">[1]</a> +Gods, yet confess’d later.—Milton.——Ils ne laissent +pas d’en être les esclaves, & de les honorer plus que le grand +Esprit, qui de sa nature est bon.—Lafitau. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.2" id="fn33.3.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.2">[2]</a> +La plûpart de ces îsles ne sont en effet que des pointes +de montagnes; et la mer, qui est au-delà, est une vraie mer +Méditerranée. Buffon. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.3" id="fn33.3.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.3">[3]</a> +Alluding to the oracles of the Islanders, so soon to +become silent: and particularly to a prophecy, delivered down from +their ancestors, and sung with loud lamentations (Petr. Martyr, dec. +3. lib. 7) at their solemn festivals (Herrera. I. iii. 4) that the +country would be laid waste on the arrival of strangers, completely +clad, from a region near the rising of the sun. Ibid. II. S. 2. It is +said that Cazziva, a great Cacique, after long fasting and many +ablutions, had an interview with one of the Zemi, who announced to +him this terrible event (F. Columbus, c. 62), as the oracle of +Latona, according to Herodotus (II. 152) predicted the overthrow of +eleven kings in Egypt, on the appearance of men of brass, risen out +of the sea. +Nor did this prophecy exist among the Islanders alone. It influenced +the councils of Montezuma, and extended almost universally over the +forests of America. Cortes. Herrera. Gomara. ‘The demons, whom they +worshipped,’ says Acosta, ‘in this instance told them the truth.’ +</p> + +<h4>CANTO IV.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +The Voyage continued. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Ah, why look back, tho’ all is left behind?<br /> +No sounds of life are stirring in the wind.—<br /> +And you, ye birds, winging your passage home,<br /> +How blest ye are!—We know not where we roam,<br /> +We go,” they cried, “go to return no more;<br /> +Nor ours, alas, the transport to explore<br /> +A human footstep on a desert shore!” +</p> + +<p> +Still, as beyond this mortal life impell’d<br /> +By some mysterious energy, He held<br /> +His everlasting course. Still self-possess’d,<br /> +High on the deck He stood, disdaining rest;<br /> +(His amber chain the only badge he bore,<a href="#fn33.4.1" name="fnref33.4.1" id="fnref33.4.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +His mantle blue such as his fathers wore)<br /> +Fathom’d, with searching hand, the dark profound,<br /> +And scatter’d hope and glad assurance round.<br /> + At day-break might the Caravels<a href="#fn33.4.2" name="fnref33.4.2" id="fnref33.4.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> be seen,<br /> +Chasing their shadows o’er the deep serene;<br /> +Their burnish’d prows lash’d by the sparkling tide.<br /> +Their green-cross standards<a href="#fn33.4.3" name="fnref33.4.3" id="fnref33.4.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> waving far and wide.<br /> +And now once more to better thoughts inclin’d,<br /> +The sea-man, mounting, clamour’d in the wind.<br /> +The soldier told his tales of love and war;<a href="#fn33.4.5" name="fnref33.4.5" id="fnref33.4.5"><sup>[s]</sup></a><br /> +The courtier sung—sung to his gay guitar.<br /> +Round, at Primero, sate a whisker’d band;<br /> +So Fortune smil’d, careless of sea or land!<a href="#fn33.4.6" name="fnref33.4.6" id="fnref33.4.6"><sup>[t]</sup></a><br /> +LEON, MONTALVAN, (serving side by side;<br /> +Two with one soul—and, as they liv’d, they died)<br /> +VASCO the brave, thrice found among the slain,<br /> +Thrice, and how soon, up and in arms again,<br /> +As soon to wish he had been sought in vain,<br /> +Chain’d down in Fez, beneath the bitter thong,<br /> +To the hard bench and heavy oar so long!<br /> +ALBERT of FLORENCE, who, at twilight-time,<br /> +In my young ear pour’d DANTE’S tragic rhyme,<br /> +Screen’d by the sail as near the mast we lay,<br /> +Our night illumin’d by the ocean-spray;<br /> +LERMA “the generous”, AVILA “the proud;”<a href="#fn33.4.4" name="fnref33.4.4" id="fnref33.4.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +VELASQUEZ, GARCIA, thro’ the echoing croud<br /> +Trac’d by their mirth—from EBRO’S classic shore,<br /> +From golden TAJO—to return no more! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.1" id="fn33.4.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.1">[1]</a> +It was afterwards given to Guacanahari. See F. Col. c. 32. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.2" id="fn33.4.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.2">[2]</a> +Light vessels, formerly used by the Spaniards and Portuguese. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.3" id="fn33.4.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.3">[3]</a> +F. Columbus, c. 23. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.4" id="fn33.4.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.4">[4]</a> +Many such appellations occur in Bernal Diaz. c. 204. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO V.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +The Voyage continued. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Yet who but He undaunted could explore<a href="#fn33.5.5" name="fnref33.5.5" id="fnref33.5.5"><sup>[u]</sup></a><br /> +A world of waves—a sea without a shore,<br /> +Trackless and vast and wild as that reveal’d<br /> +When round the Ark the birds of tempest wheel’d;<br /> +When all was still in the destroying hour—<br /> +No sign of man! no vestige of his power!<br /> +One at the stern before the hour-glass stood,<br /> +As ’twere to count the sands; one o’er the flood<br /> +Gaz’d for St. Elmo;<a href="#fn33.5.1" name="fnref33.5.1" id="fnref33.5.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> while another cried<br /> +“Once more good morrow!” and sate down and sigh’d.<br /> +Day, when it came, came only with its light.<br /> +Tho’ long invok’d, ’twas sadder than the night!<br /> +Look where He would, for ever as He turn’d,<br /> +He met the eye of one that inly mourn’d.<br /> + Then sunk his generous spirit, and He wept.<br /> +The friend, the father rose; the hero slept.<br /> +PALOS, thy port, with many a pang resign’ d,<br /> +Fill’d with its busy scenes his lonely mind;<br /> +The solemn march, the vows in concert giv’n,<a href="#fn33.5.2" name="fnref33.5.2" id="fnref33.5.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +The bended knees and lifted hands to heav’n,<br /> +The incens’d rites, and choral harmonies,<br /> +The Guardian’s blessings mingling with his sighs;<br /> +While his dear boys—ah, on his neck they hung,<a href="#fn33.5.7" name="fnref33.5.7" id="fnref33.5.7"><sup>[v]</sup></a><br /> +And long at parting to his garments clung.<br /> + Oft in the silent night-watch doubt and fear<br /> +Broke in uncertain murmurs on his ear.<br /> +Oft the stern Catalan, at noon of day,<br /> +Mutter’d dark threats, and linger’d to obey;<br /> +Tho’ that brave Youth—he, whom his courser bore<br /> +Right thro’ the midst, when, fetlock deep in gore,<br /> +The great GONZALO<a href="#fn33.5.3" name="fnref33.5.3" id="fnref33.5.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> battled with the Moor,<br /> +(What time the ALHAMBRA shook—soon to unfold<br /> +Its sacred courts, and fountains yet untold,<br /> +Its holy texts and arabesques of gold)<br /> +Tho’ ROLDAN,<a href="#fn33.5.4" name="fnref33.5.4" id="fnref33.5.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> sleep and death to him alike,<br /> +Grasp’d his good sword and half unsheath’d to strike.<br /> +“Oh born to wander with your flocks,” he cried,<br /> +“And bask and dream along the mountain-side;<br /> +To urge your mules, tinkling from hill to hill;<br /> +Or at the vintage-feast to drink your fill,<br /> +And strike your castanets, with gipsy-maid<br /> +Dancing Fandangos in the chesnut shade—<br /> +Come on,” he cried, and threw his glove in scorn,<br /> +“Not this your wonted pledge, the brimming horn.<br /> +Valiant in peace! Adventurous at home!<br /> +Oh, had ye vow’d with pilgrim-staff to roam;<br /> +Or with banditti sought the sheltering wood,<br /> +Where mouldering crosses mark the scene of blood!—”<br /> +He said, he drew; then, at his Master’s frown,<br /> +Sullenly sheath’d, plunging the weapon down. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.1" id="fn33.5.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.1">[1]</a> +A luminous appearance of good omen. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.2" id="fn33.5.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.2">[2]</a> +His public procession to the Convent of Rábida on the day before he set sail. +It was there that his sons had received their education; and he himself appears +to have passed some time there, the venerable Guardian, Juan Perez de Marchena, +being his zealous and affectionate friend.—The ceremonies of his +departure and return are represented in many of the fresco-paintings in the +palaces of Genoa. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.3" id="fn33.5.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.3">[3]</a> +Gonzalo Fernandez, already known by the name of The great Captain. Granada +surrendered on the 2nd of January, 1492. Columbus set sail on the, 3rd of +August following. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.4" id="fn33.5.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.4">[4]</a> +Probably a soldier of fortune. There were more than one of the name on board. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO VI.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +The flight of an Angel of Darkness. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +War and the Great in War let others sing.<br /> +Havoc and spoil, and tears and triumphing;<br /> +The morning-march that flashes to the sun,<br /> +The feast of vultures when the day is done;<br /> +And the strange tale of many slain for one!<br /> +I sing a Man, amidst his sufferings here,<br /> +Who watch’d and serv’d in humbleness and fear;<br /> +Gentle to others, to himself severe.<br /> + Still unsubdued by Danger’s varying form,<br /> +Still, as unconscious of the coming storm,<br /> +He look’d elate! His beard, his mien sublime,<br /> +Shadow’d by Age;—by Age before the time,<a href="#fn33.6.1" name="fnref33.6.1" id="fnref33.6.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +From many a sorrow borne in many a clime,<br /> +Mov’d every heart. And now in opener skies<br /> +Stars yet unnam’d of purer radiance rise!<br /> +Stars, milder suns, that love a shade to cast,<br /> +And on the bright wave fling the trembling mast.<a href="#fn33.6.2" name="fnref33.6.2" id="fnref33.6.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +’Twas the mid hour, when He, whose accents dread<br /> +Still wander’d thro’ the regions of the dead,<br /> +(MERION, commission’d with his host to sweep<br /> +From age to age the melancholy deep)<br /> +To elude the seraph-guard that watch’d for man,<br /> +And mar, as erst, the Eternal’s perfect plan,<br /> +Rose like the Condor, and, at towering height,<br /> +In pomp of plumage sail’d, deepening the shades of night.<br /> +Roc of the West! to him all empire giv’n!<a href="#fn33.6.8" name="fnref33.6.8" id="fnref33.6.8"><sup>[w]</sup></a><br /> +Who bears<a href="#fn33.6.3" name="fnref33.6.3" id="fnref33.6.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +Axalhua’s dragon-folds to heav’n;<a href="#fn33.6.4" name="fnref33.6.4" id="fnref33.6.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +His flight a whirlwind, and, when heard afar,<br /> +Like thunder, or the distant din of war!<br /> + Mountains and seas fled backward as he pass’d<br /> +O’er the great globe, by not a cloud o’ercast<br /> +From the ANTARCTICK, from the Land of Fire<a href="#fn33.6.5" name="fnref33.6.5" id="fnref33.6.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +To where ALASKA’S<a href="#fn33.6.6" name="fnref33.6.6" id="fnref33.6.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> wintry wilds retire;<br /> +From mines<a href="#fn33.6.7" name="fnref33.6.7" id="fnref33.6.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> of gold, and giant-sons of earth,<br /> +To grotts of ice, and tribes of pigmy birth<br /> +Who freeze alive, nor, dead, in dust repose,<br /> +High-hung in forests to the casing snows.<a href="#fn33.6.9" name="fnref33.6.9" id="fnref33.6.9"><sup>[x]</sup></a><br /> + Now mid angelic multitudes he flies,<br /> +That hourly come with blessings from the skies;<br /> +Wings the blue element, and, borne sublime,<br /> +Eyes the set sun, gilding each distant clime;<br /> +Then, like a meteor, shooting to the main,<br /> +Melts into pure intelligence again. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.1" id="fn33.6.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.1">[1]</a> +F. Col. c.3. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.2" id="fn33.6.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.2">[2]</a> +Splendour of the nights in a tropical climate. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.3" id="fn33.6.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.3">[3]</a> +Axalhua, or the Emperor. The name in the Mexican +language for the great serpent of America. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.4" id="fn33.6.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.4">[4]</a> +As the Roc of the East is said to have carried off the Elephant. See Marco +Polo. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.5" id="fn33.6.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.5">[5]</a> +Tierra del Fuego. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.6" id="fn33.6.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.6">[6]</a> +Northern extremity of the New World. See Cook’s last Voyage. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.7" id="fn33.6.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.7">[7]</a> +Mines of Chili; which extend, says Ovalle, to the Strait of Magellan. I. 4. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO VII.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +A mutiny excited. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +What tho’ Despondence reign’d, and wild Affright;<br /> +Stretch’d in the midst, and, thro’ that dismal night,<a href="#fn33.7.8" name="fnref33.7.8" id="fnref33.7.8"><sup>[y]</sup></a><br /> +By his white plume reveal’d and buskins white,<a href="#fn33.7.9" name="fnref33.7.9" id="fnref33.7.9"><sup>[z]</sup></a><br /> +Slept ROLDAN. When he clos’d his gay career,<br /> +Hope fled for ever, and with Hope fled Fear,<br /> +Blest with each gift indulgent Fortune sends,<br /> +Birth and its rights, wealth and its train of friends,<br /> +Star-like he shone! Now beggar’d, and alone,<br /> +Danger he woo’d, and claim’d her for his own.<br /> + O’er him a Vampire<a href="#fn33.7.1" name="fnref33.7.1" id="fnref33.7.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> his dark wings display’d.<br /> +’Twas MERION’S self, covering with dreadful shade.<a href="#fn33.7.10" name="fnref33.7.10" id="fnref33.7.10"><sup>[a]</sup></a><br /> +He came, and, couch’d on ROLDAN’S ample breast,<br /> +Each secret pore of breathing life possess’d,<br /> +Fanning the sleep that seem’d his final rest;<br /> +Then, inly gliding like a subtle flame,<a href="#fn33.7.11" name="fnref33.7.11" id="fnref33.7.11"><sup>[b]</sup></a><br /> +Subdued the man, and from his thrilling frame<br /> +Sent forth the voice! “We live, we breathe no more!<br /> +The fatal wind blows on the dreary shore!<br /> +On yonder cliffs, beckoning their fellow-prey,<br /> +The spectres stalk, and murmur at delay!<a href="#fn33.7.2" name="fnref33.7.2" id="fnref33.7.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +—Yet if thou canst (not for myself I plead,<br /> +Mine but to follow where ’tis thine to lead)<br /> +Oh turn and save! To thee, with streaming eyes,<br /> +To thee each widow kneels, each orphan cries!<br /> +Who now, condemn’d the lingering hours to tell,<br /> +Think and but think of those they lov’d so well!”<br /> + All melt in tears! but what can tears avail?<br /> +These climb the mast, and shift the swelling sail.<br /> +These snatch the helm; and round me now I hear<br /> +Smiting of hands, out-cries of grief and fear,<br /> +(That In the aisles at midnight haunt me still,<br /> +Turning my lonely thoughts from good to ill)<br /> +“Were there no graves—none in our land,” they cry,<br /> +“That thou hast brought us on the deep to die?”<br /> + Silent with sorrow, long within his cloak<br /> +His face He muffled—then the Hero spoke.<br /> +“Generous and brave! when God himself is’ here,<br /> +Why shake at shadows in your mid career?<br /> +He can suspend the Jaws himself design’d,<br /> +He walks the waters, and the winged wind;<a href="#fn33.7.3" name="fnref33.7.3" id="fnref33.7.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Himself your guide! and yours the high behest<br /> +To lift your voice, and bid a world be blest!<br /> +And can you shrink?<a href="#fn33.7.4" name="fnref33.7.4" id="fnref33.7.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> to you, to you consign’d<br /> +The glorious privilege to serve mankind!<br /> +Oh had I perish’d, when my failing frame<a href="#fn33.7.5" name="fnref33.7.5" id="fnref33.7.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Clung to the shatter’d oar mid wrecks of flame!<br /> +—Was it for this I linger’d life away,<br /> +The scorn of Folly, and of Fraud the prey;<a href="#fn33.7.12" name="fnref33.7.12" id="fnref33.7.12"><sup>[c]</sup></a><br /> +Bow’d down my mind, the gift His bounty gave,<br /> +At courts a suitor, and to slaves a slave?<br /> +—Yet in His name whom only we should fear,<br /> +(’Tis all, all I shall ask, or you shall hear)<br /> +Grant but three days”—He spoke not uninspir’d;<a href="#fn33.7.6" name="fnref33.7.6" id="fnref33.7.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +And each in silence to his watch retir’d.<br /> + At length among us came an unknown Voice!<br /> +“Go, if ye will; and, if ye can, rejoice.<br /> +Go, with unbidden guests the banquet share.<br /> +In his own shape shall Death receive you there.”<a href="#fn33.7.7" name="fnref33.7.7" id="fnref33.7.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.1" id="fn33.7.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.1">[1]</a> +A species of bat in S. America; which refreshes by the +gentle agitation of its wings, while it sucks the blood of the +sleeper, turning his sleep into death. Ulloa. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.2" id="fn33.7.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.2">[2]</a> +Euripides in Alcest. v. 255. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.3" id="fn33.7.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.3">[3]</a> +Ps. civ. 3. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.4" id="fn33.7.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.4">[4]</a> +The same language had been addressed to Isabella. F..Cpl. c 15. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.5" id="fn33.7.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.5">[5]</a> +His miraculous escape, in early life, during a sea-fight off the coast of +Portugal. Ibid. c. 5. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.6" id="fn33.7.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.6">[6]</a> +He used to affirm, that he stood in need of God’s particular assistance; +like Moses, when he led forth the people of Israel, who forbore to lay violent +hands upon him, because of the miracles which God wrought by his means. +‘So,’ said the Admiral, ‘did it happen to me on that +voyage.’ F. Columbus, c. 19.——’ And so easily,’ +says a Commentator, ‘are the workings of the Evil one overcome by the +power of God!’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.7" id="fn33.7.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.7">[7]</a> +This denunciation, fulfilled as it appears to be in the eleventh canto, may +remind the reader of the Harpy’s in Virgil. Æn. III v. 247. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO VIII.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +Land discovered. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Twice in the zenith blaz’d the orb of light;<br /> +No shade, all sun, insufferably bright!<br /> +Then the long line found rest<a href="#fn33.8.1" name="fnref33.8.1" id="fnref33.8.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>—in coral groves<br /> +Silent and dark, where the sea-lion roves:—<br /> +And all on deck, kindling to life again,<br /> +Sent forth their anxious spirits o’er the main.<br /> +“Oh whence, as wafted from Elysium, whence<br /> +These perfumes, strangers to the raptur’d sense?<br /> +These boughs of gold, and fruits of heav’nly hue,<br /> +Tinging with vermeil light the billows blue?<br /> +And (thrice, thrice blessed is the eye that spied,<br /> +The hand that snatch’d it sparkling in the tide)<a href="#fn33.8.5" name="fnref33.8.5" id="fnref33.8.5"><sup>[d]</sup></a><br /> +Whose cunning carv’d this vegetable bowl,<br /> +Symbol of social rites, and intercourse of soul?”<br /> +Such to their grateful ear the gush of springs,<br /> +Who course the ostrich, as away she wings;<br /> +Sons of the desert! who delight to dwell<br /> +Mid kneeling camels round the sacred well.<br /> +The sails were furl’d:<a href="#fn33.8.2" name="fnref33.8.2" id="fnref33.8.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> with many a melting close,<br /> +Solemn and slow the evening anthem rose,<br /> +Rose to the Virgin.<a href="#fn33.8.6" name="fnref33.8.6" id="fnref33.8.6"><sup>[e]</sup></a> ’Twas the hour of day,<br /> +When setting suns o’er summer-seas display<br /> +A path of glory, opening in the west<br /> +To golden climes, and islands of the blest;<br /> +And human voices, on the silent air,<br /> +Went o’er the waves in songs of gladness there!<br /> + Chosen of Men!<a href="#fn33.8.7" name="fnref33.8.7" id="fnref33.8.7"><sup>[f]</sup></a> ’twas thine, at noon of night,<br /> +First from the prow to hail the glimmering light;<a href="#fn33.8.3" name="fnref33.8.3" id="fnref33.8.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +(Emblem of Truth divine, whose secret ray<br /> +Enters the soul, and makes the darkness day!)<br /> +“PEDRO! RODRIGO!<a href="#fn33.8.4" name="fnref33.8.4" id="fnref33.8.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> there, methought, it shone!<br /> +There—in the west! and now, alas, ’tis gone!—<br /> +’Twas all a dream! we gaze and gaze in vain!<br /> +—But mark and speak not, there it comes again!<br /> +It moves!—what form unseen, what being there<br /> +With torch-like lustre fires the murky air?<br /> +His instincts, passions, say, how like our own?<br /> +Oh! when will day reveal a world unknown?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.1" id="fn33.8.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.1">[1]</a> +For thirty-five days they were advancing ‘where +fathom-line could never touch the ground.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.2" id="fn33.8.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.2">[2]</a> +On Thursday, the 11th of October, 1492. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.3" id="fn33.8.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.3">[3]</a> +A light in the midst of darkness, signifying the spiritual light that he came +to spread there. F. Col. c. 22. Herrera, I i 12. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.4" id="fn33.8.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.4">[4]</a> +Pedro Gutierrez, a Page of the King’s Chamber. Rodrigo Sanchez of +Segovia, Comptroller of the Fleet. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO IX.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +The New World. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Long on the wave the morning mists repos’d,<br /> +Then broke—and, melting into light, disclos’d<br /> +Half-circling hills, whose everlasting woods<br /> +Sweep with their sable skirts the shadowy floods.<br /> +—And say, when all, to holy transport giv’n,<br /> +Embraced and wept as at the gates of Heaven,<br /> +When one and all of us, repentant, ran,<br /> +And, on our faces, bless’ the wondrous Man;<br /> +Say, was I then deceiv’d, or from the skies<br /> +Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies?<br /> +“Glory to God!” unnumber’d voices sung,<br /> +“Glory to God!” the vales and mountains rung,<br /> +Voices that hail’ Creation’s primal morn,<br /> +And to the shepherds sung a Saviour born.<br /> + Slowly to land the sacred cross we bore,<a href="#fn33.9.4" name="fnref33.9.4" id="fnref33.9.4"><sup>[g]</sup></a><br /> +And, kneeling, kiss’d with pious lips the shore.<br /> +But how the scene pourtray?<a href="#fn33.9.5" name="fnref33.9.5" id="fnref33.9.5"><sup>[h]</sup></a> Nymphs of romance,<a href="#fn33.9.6" name="fnref33.9.6" id="fnref33.9.6"><sup>[i]</sup></a><br /> +Youths graceful as the Faun,<a href="#fn33.9.7" name="fnref33.9.7" id="fnref33.9.7"><sup>[j]</sup></a> with rapturous glance,<br /> +Spring from the glades, and down the green steeps run,<br /> +To greet their mighty guests, “The children of the Sun!”<br /> + Features so fair, in garments richly wrought,<br /> +From citadels, with Heav’n’s own thunder fraught,<br /> +Check’d their light footsteps—statue-like they stood,<br /> +As worshipp’d forms, the Genii of the Wood!<br /> + But see, the regal plumes, the couch of state!<a href="#fn33.9.8" name="fnref33.9.8" id="fnref33.9.8"><sup>[k]</sup></a><br /> +Still, where it moves, the wise in council wait!<br /> +See now borne forth the monstrous mask of gold,<a href="#fn33.9.1" name="fnref33.9.1" id="fnref33.9.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +And ebon chair [also Footnote 1] of many a serpent-fold;<br /> +These now exchang’d for gifts that thrice surpass<br /> +The wondrous ring, and lamp, and horse of brass.<a href="#fn33.9.9" name="fnref33.9.9" id="fnref33.9.9"><sup>[l]</sup></a><br /> +What long-drawn tube transports the gazer home,<a href="#fn33.9.2" name="fnref33.9.2" id="fnref33.9.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +Kindling with stars at noon the ethereal dome?<br /> +’Tis here: and here circles of solid light<a href="#fn33.9.3" name="fnref33.9.3" id="fnref33.9.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Charm with another self the cheated sight;<br /> +As man to man another self disclose,<br /> +That now with terror starts, with triumph glows! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.1" id="fn33.9.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.1">[1]</a> +F. Columbus, c. 28 34. & 69. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.2" id="fn33.9.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.2">[2]</a> +For the effects of the telescope, and the mirror, on an +uncultivated mind, see Wallis’s Voyage round the World, c. 2 & 6. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.3" id="fn33.9.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.3">[3]</a> +F. Columbus, c. 28 34. & 69. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO X.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +Cora—luxuriant vegetation—the Humming-bird—the Fountain of Youth. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +—Then CORA came, the youngest of her race,<br /> +And in her hands she hid her lovely face;<br /> +Yet oft by stealth a timid glance she cast,<br /> +And now with playful step the Mirror pass’d,<br /> +Each bright reflection brighter than the last!<br /> +And oft behind it flew, and oft before;<br /> +The more she search’d, pleas’d and perplex’d the more!<br /> +And look’d and laugh’d, and blush’d with quick surprize;<br /> +Her lips all mirth, all ecstasy her eyes!<br /> +But soon the telescope attracts her view;<br /> +And lo, her lover in his light canoe<br /> +Rocking, at noon-tide, on the silent sea,<br /> +Before her lies! It cannot, cannot be.<br /> +Late as he left the shore, she linger’d there,<br /> +Till, less and less, he melted into air!—<br /> +Sigh after sigh steals from her gentle frame,<br /> +And say—that murmur—was it not his name?<br /> +She turns, and thinks; and, lost in wild amaze,<br /> +Gazes again, and could for ever gaze!<br /> + Nor can thy flute, ALONSO, now excite,<br /> +As in VALENCIA, when, with fond delight,<br /> +FRANCISCA, waking, to the lattice flew,<br /> +So soon to love and to be wretched too!<br /> +Hers thro’ a convent-grate to send her last adieu.<br /> +—Yet who now comes uncall’d; and round and round,<br /> +And near and nearer flutters to its sound;<br /> +Then stirs not, breathes not—on enchanted ground?<br /> +Who now lets fall the flowers she cull’d to wear<br /> +When he, who promis’d, should at eve be there;<br /> +And faintly smiles, and hangs her head aside<br /> +The tear that glistens on her cheek to hide?<br /> +Ah, who but CORA?—till inspir’d, possess’d,<br /> +At once she springs, and clasps it to her breast! +</p> + +<p> +Soon from the bay the mingling croud ascends,<br /> +Kindred first met! by sacred instinct Friends!<br /> +Thro’ citron groves, and fields of yellow maize,<a href="#fn33.10.1" name="fnref33.10.1" id="fnref33.10.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +Thro’ plantain-walks where not a sun-beam plays.<br /> +Here blue savannas fade into the sky.<br /> +There forests frown in midnight majesty;<br /> +Ceiba,<a href="#fn33.10.6" name="fnref33.10.6" id="fnref33.10.6"><sup>[m]</sup></a> and Indian fig, and plane sublime,<br /> +Nature’s first-born, and reverenc’d by Time!<br /> +There sits the bird that speaks!<a href="#fn33.10.2" name="fnref33.10.2" id="fnref33.10.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> there, quivering, rise<br /> +Wings that reflect the glow of evening skies!<br /> +Half bird, half fly,<a href="#fn33.10.7" name="fnref33.10.7" id="fnref33.10.7"><sup>[n]</sup></a> the fairy king of flowers<a href="#fn33.10.3" name="fnref33.10.3" id="fnref33.10.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Reigns there, and revels thro’ the fragrant hours;<a href="#fn33.10.8" name="fnref33.10.8" id="fnref33.10.8"><sup>[o]</sup></a><br /> +Gem full of life, and joy, and song divine,<br /> +Soon in the virgin’s graceful ear to shine.<a href="#fn33.10.4" name="fnref33.10.4" id="fnref33.10.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> + ’Twas he that sung, if antient Fame speaks truth,<br /> +“Come! follow, follow to the Fount of Youth!<br /> +I quaff the ambrosial mists that round it rise,<br /> +Dissolv’d and lost in dreams of Paradise!”<br /> +For there call’d forth, to bless a happier hour,<br /> +It met the sun in many a rainbow-shower!<br /> +Murmuring delight, its living waters roll’d<br /> +’Mid branching palms and amaranths of gold!<a href="#fn33.10.5" name="fnref33.10.5" id="fnref33.10.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.1" id="fn33.10.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.1">[1]</a> +Ætas est illis aurea. Apertis vivunt hortis. P. Martyr, dec. I. 3. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.2" id="fn33.10.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.2">[2]</a> +The Parrot, as described by Aristotle. Hist. Animal, viii. 12. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.3" id="fn33.10.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.3">[3]</a> +The Humming-bird. Kakopit (florum regulus) is the name of an Indian bird, +referred to this class by Seba. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.4" id="fn33.10.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.4">[4]</a> +Il sert après sa mort àparer les jeunes Indiennes, qui +portent en pendans d’oreilles deux de ces charmans oiseaux. Buffon. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.5" id="fn33.10.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.5">[5]</a> +According to an antient tradition. See Oviedo, Vega, +Herrera, &c. Not many years afterwards a Spaniard of distinction +wandered every where in search of it; and no wonder, as Robertson +observes, when Columbus himself could imagine that he had found the +seat of Paradise, +</p> + +<h4>CANTO XI.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +Evening—a banquet—the ghost of Cazziva. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Her leaves at length the conscious tamarind clos’d,<br /> +And from wild sport the marmoset repos’d;<br /> +Fresh from the lake the breeze of twilight blew,<br /> +And vast and deep the mountain-shadows grew;<br /> +When many a fire-fly, shooting thro’ the glade,<br /> +Spangled the locks of many a lovely maid,<br /> +Who now danc’d forth to strew His path with flowers.<a href="#fn33.11.10" name="fnref33.11.10" id="fnref33.11.10"><sup>[p]</sup></a><br /> +And hymn His welcome to celestial bowers.<a href="#fn33.11.1" name="fnref33.11.1" id="fnref33.11.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> + There od’rous lamps adorn’d the festal rite,<br /> +And guavas blush’d as in the vales of light,<a href="#fn33.11.2" name="fnref33.11.2" id="fnref33.11.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> +—There silent sat many an unbidden Guest,<a href="#fn33.11.3" name="fnref33.11.3" id="fnref33.11.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Whose stedfast looks a secret dread impress’d;<br /> +Not there forgot the sacred fruit that fed<br /> +At nightly feasts the Spirits of the Dead,<br /> +Mingling in scenes that mirth to mortals give,<br /> +Tho’ by their sadness known from those that live.<br /> +There met, as erst, within the wonted grove,<br /> +Unmarried girls and youths that died for love!<br /> +Sons now beheld their antient sires again;<br /> +And sires, alas, their sons in battle slain!<br /> + But whence that sigh? ’Twas from a heart that broke!<br /> +And whence that voice? As from the grave it spoke!<br /> +And who, as unresolv’d the feast to share,<br /> +Sits half-withdrawn in faded splendour there?<br /> +’Tis he of yore, the warrior and the sage,<br /> +Whose lips have mov’d in prayer from age to age;<br /> +Whose eyes, that wander’d as in search before,<br /> +Now on COLUMBUS fix’d—to search no more!<br /> +CAZZIVA,<a href="#fn33.11.4" name="fnref33.11.4" id="fnref33.11.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> gifted in his day to know<br /> +The gathering signs of a long night of woe;<br /> +Gifted by Those who give but to enslave;<br /> +No rest in death! no refuge in the grave!<br /> +—With sudden spring as at the shout of war,<br /> +He flies! and, turning in his flight, from far<br /> +Glares thro’ the gloom like some portentous star!<br /> +Unseen, unheard!—Hence, Minister of Ill!<a href="#fn33.11.5" name="fnref33.11.5" id="fnref33.11.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> +Hence, ’tis not yet the hour; tho’ come it will!<br /> +They that foretold—too soon shall they fulfil;<a href="#fn33.11.6" name="fnref33.11.6" id="fnref33.11.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +When forth they rush as with the torrent’s sweep,<a href="#fn33.11.7" name="fnref33.11.7" id="fnref33.11.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a><br /> +And deeds are done that make the Angels weep!— +</p> + +<p> +Hark, o’er the busy mead the shell<a href="#fn33.11.8" name="fnref33.11.8" id="fnref33.11.8"><sup>[8]</sup></a> proclaim<br /> +Triumphs, and masques, and high heroic games.<br /> +And now the old sit round; and now the young<br /> +Climb the green boughs, the murmuring doves among.<br /> +Who claims the prize, when winged feet contend;<br /> +When twanging bows the flaming arrows<a href="#fn33.11.9" name="fnref33.11.9" id="fnref33.11.9"><sup>[9]</sup></a> send?<br /> +Who stands self-centred in the field of fame,<br /> +And, grappling, flings to earth a giant’s frame?<br /> +Whilst all, with anxious hearts and eager eyes,<br /> +Bend as he bends, and, as he rises, rise!<br /> +And CORA’S self, in pride of beauty here,<br /> +Trembles with grief and joy, and hope and fear!<br /> +(She who, the fairest, ever flew the first,<br /> +With cup of balm to quench his burning thirst;<br /> +Knelt at his head, her fan-leaf in her hand,<br /> +And humm’d the air that pleas’d him, while she fann’d)<br /> +How blest his lot!—tho’, by the Muse unsung,<br /> +His name shall perish, when his knell is rung. +</p> + +<p> +That night, transported, with a sigh I said<br /> +“’Tis all a dream!”—Now, like a dream, ’tis fled;<br /> +And many and many a year has pass’d away,<br /> +And I alone remain to watch and pray!<br /> +Yet oft in darkness, on my bed of straw,<br /> +Oft I awake and think on what I saw!<br /> +The groves, the birds, the youths, the nymphs recall,<br /> +And CORA, loveliest, sweetest of them all! +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.1" id="fn33.11.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.1">[1]</a> +P. Martyr, dec. i. 5. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.2" id="fn33.11.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.2">[2]</a> +They believed that the souls of good men were conveyed +to a pleasant valley, abounding in guavas and other delicious fruits. +Herrera, I. iii. 3. F Columbus, c. 62. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.3" id="fn33.11.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.3">[3]</a> +“The dead walk abroad in the night, and feast with the +living;” (F. Columbus, c. 62) and “eat of the fruit called Guannàba.” +P. Martyr, dec. I. 9. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.4" id="fn33.11.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.4">[4]</a> +An antient Cacique, in his life-time and after his +death, employed by the Zemi to alarm his people. +See F. Columbus, c. 62. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.5" id="fn33.11.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.5">[5]</a> +The Author is speaking in his inspired character. Hidden +things are revealed to him, and placed before his mind as if they +were present. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.6" id="fn33.11.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.6">[6]</a> +Nor could they (the Powers of Darkness) have more +effectually prevented the progress of the Faith, than by desolating +the New World; by burying nations alive in mines, or consigning them +in all their errors to the sword. Relacion de B. de las Casas. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.7" id="fn33.11.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.7">[7]</a> +Not man alone, but many other animals became extinct there. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.8" id="fn33.11.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.8">[8]</a> +P. Martyr, dec. iii. c. 7. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.9" id="fn33.11.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.9">[9]</a> +Rochefort. c. xx. p. 559. +</p> + +<h4>CANTO XII.</h4> + +<p class="center"> +A Vision. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Still would I speak of Him before I went,<br /> +Who among us a life of sorrow spent,<a href="#fn33.12.15" name="fnref33.12.15" id="fnref33.12.15"><sup>[q]</sup></a><br /> +And, dying, left a world his monument;<br /> +Still, if the time allow’d! My Hour draws near;<br /> +But He will prompt me when I faint with fear.<br /> +—-Alas, He hears me not! He cannot hear! +</p> + +<p> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Twice the Moon fill’d her silver urn with light.<br /> +Then from the Throne an Angel wing’d his flight;<br /> +He, who unfix’d the compass, and assign’d<br /> +O’er the wild waves a pathway to the wind;<br /> +Who, while approach’d by none but Spirits pure,<br /> +Wrought, in his progress thro’ the dread obscure,<br /> +Signs like the ethereal bow—that shall endure!<a href="#fn33.12.1" name="fnref33.12.1" id="fnref33.12.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +Before the great Discoverer, laid to rest,<br /> +He stood, and thus his secret soul address’d.<a href="#fn33.12.2" name="fnref33.12.2" id="fnref33.12.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br /> + “The wind recalls thee; its still voice obey.<br /> +Millions await thy coming; hence, away.<br /> +To thee blest tidings of great joy consign’d,<br /> +Another Nature, and a new Mankind!<br /> +The vain to dream, the wise to doubt shall cense;<br /> +Young men be glad, and old depart in peace!<a href="#fn33.12.3" name="fnref33.12.3" id="fnref33.12.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a><br /> +Hence! tho’ assembling in the fields of air,<br /> +Now, in a night of clouds, thy Foes prepare<br /> +To rock the globe with elemental wars,<br /> +And dash the floods of ocean to the stars;<a href="#fn33.12.4" name="fnref33.12.4" id="fnref33.12.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br /> +To bid the meek repine, the valiant weep,<br /> +And Thee restore thy Secret to the Deep!<a href="#fn33.12.5" name="fnref33.12.5" id="fnref33.12.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a><br /> + Not then to leave Thee! to their vengeance cast,<br /> +Thy heart their aliment, their dire repast!<a href="#fn33.12.6" name="fnref33.12.6" id="fnref33.12.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +To other eyes shall MEXICO unfold<br /> +Her feather’d tapestries,<a href="#fn33.12.7" name="fnref33.12.7" id="fnref33.12.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> and roofs of gold.<br /> +To other eyes, from distant cliff descried,<a href="#fn33.12.16" name="fnref33.12.16" id="fnref33.12.16"><sup>[r]</sup></a><br /> +Shall the PACIFIC roll his ample tide.<br /> +Chains thy reward! beyond the ATLANTIC wave<br /> +Hung in thy chamber, buried in thy grave!<a href="#fn33.12.17" name="fnref33.12.17" id="fnref33.12.17"><sup>[s]</sup></a><br /> +Thy reverend form<a href="#fn33.12.18" name="fnref33.12.18" id="fnref33.12.18"><sup>[t]</sup></a> to time and grief a prey,<br /> +A phantom wandering in the light of day!<br /> + What tho’ thy grey hairs to the dust descend,<br /> +Their scent shall track thee, track thee to the end;<a href="#fn33.12.8" name="fnref33.12.8" id="fnref33.12.8"><sup>[8]</sup></a><br /> +Thy sons reproach’d with their great father’s fame,<br /> +And on his world inscrib’d another’s name!<br /> +That world a prison-house, full of sights of woe,<br /> +Where groans burst forth, and tears in torrents flow!<br /> +These gardens of the sun, sacred to song,<br /> +By dogs of carnage, howling loud and long,<a href="#fn33.12.9" name="fnref33.12.9" id="fnref33.12.9"><sup>[9]</sup></a><br /> +Swept—till the voyager, in the desert air,<a href="#fn33.12.19" name="fnref33.12.19" id="fnref33.12.19"><sup>[u]</sup></a><br /> +Starts back to hear his alter’d accents there!<a href="#fn33.12.10" name="fnref33.12.10" id="fnref33.12.10"><sup>[10]</sup></a><br /> + Not thine the olive, but the sword to bring,<br /> +Not peace, but war! Yet from these shores shall spring<br /> +Peace without end;<a href="#fn33.12.11" name="fnref33.12.11" id="fnref33.12.11"><sup>[11]</sup></a> from these, with blood defil’d,<br /> +Spread the pure spirit of thy Master mild!<br /> +Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend,<a href="#fn33.12.20" name="fnref33.12.20" id="fnref33.12.20"><sup>[v]</sup></a><br /> +Arts to adorn, and arms but to defend.<br /> +Assembling here, all nations shall be blest;<a href="#fn33.12.21" name="fnref33.12.21" id="fnref33.12.21"><sup>[w]</sup></a><br /> +The sad be comforted; the weary rest:<br /> +Untouch’d shall drop the fetters from the slave;<a href="#fn33.12.22" name="fnref33.12.22" id="fnref33.12.22"><sup>[x]</sup></a><br /> +And He shall rule the world he died to save!<br /> + Hence, and rejoice. The glorious work is done.<br /> +A spark is thrown that shall eclipse the sun!<br /> +And, tho’ bad men shall long thy course pursue,<br /> +As erst the ravening brood o’er chaos flew,<a href="#fn33.12.12" name="fnref33.12.12" id="fnref33.12.12"><sup>[12]</sup></a><br /> +He, whom I serve, shall vindicate his reign;<br /> +The spoiler spoil’d of all;<a href="#fn33.12.23" name="fnref33.12.23" id="fnref33.12.23"><sup>[y]</sup></a> the slayer slain;<a href="#fn33.12.13" name="fnref33.12.13" id="fnref33.12.13"><sup>[13]</sup></a><br /> +The tyrant’s self, oppressing and opprest,<br /> +Mid gems and gold unenvied and unblest:<a href="#fn33.12.14" name="fnref33.12.14" id="fnref33.12.14"><sup>[14]</sup></a><br /> +While to the starry sphere thy name shall rise,<br /> +(Not there unsung thy generous enterprise!)<br /> +Thine in all hearts to dwell—by Fame enshrin’d,<br /> +With those, the Few, that live but for Mankind.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.1" id="fn33.12.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.1">[1]</a> +It is remarkable that these phenomena still remain among +the mysteries of nature. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.2" id="fn33.12.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.2">[2]</a> +Te tua fata docebo. Virg.——Saprai di tua vita il +viaggio. Dante. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.3" id="fn33.12.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.3">[3]</a> +P. Martyr. Epist, 133. 152. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.4" id="fn33.12.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.4">[4]</a> +When he entered the Tagus, all the seamen ran from all +parts to behold, as it were some wonder, a ship that had escaped so +terrible a storm. F. Columbus, c. 40. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.5" id="fn33.12.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.5">[5]</a> +I wrote on a parchment that I had discovered what I had +promised! —and, having put it into a cask, I threw it into the sea. +Ibid. c. 37. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.6" id="fn33.12.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.6">[6]</a> +See the Eumenides of Æschylus, v. 305, &c. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.7" id="fn33.12.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.7">[7]</a> +Clavigero. VII. 52. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.8" id="fn33.12.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.8">[8]</a> +See the Eumenides. v. 246. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.9" id="fn33.12.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.9">[9]</a> +One of these, on account of his extraordinary sagacity +and fierceness, received the full allowance of a soldier. His name +was Bezerillo. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.10" id="fn33.12.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.10">[10]</a> +No unusual effect of an exuberant vegetation. ‘The air +was so vitiated,’ says an African traveller, ‘that our torches burnt +dim, and seemed ready to be extinguished; and even the human voice +lost its natural tone.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.11" id="fn33.12.11"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.11">[11]</a> +See Washington’s farewell address to his fellow-citizens. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.12" id="fn33.12.12"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.12">[12]</a> +See Paradise Lost. X. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.13" id="fn33.12.13"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.13">[13]</a> +Cortes, Pizarro.—‘Almost all,’ says Las Casas, ‘have +perished. The innocent blood, which they had shed, cried aloud for +vengeance; the sighs, the tears of so many victims went up before +God.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.14" id="fn33.12.14"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.14">[14]</a> +L’Espagne a fâit comme ce roi insensé qui demanda que +tout ce qu’il toucheroit se convertit en or, et qui fut obligé de +revenir aux dieux pour les prier de finir sa misère. Montesquieu. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the two last leaves, and written in another hand, are some stanzas +in the romance or ballad measure of the Spaniards. The subject is an +adventure soon related.<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Thy lonely watch-tower, Larenille,<br /> +Had lost the western sun;<br /> +And loud and long from hill to hill<br /> +Echoed the evening-gun,<br /> +When Hernan, rising on his oar,<br /> +Shot like an arrow from the shore.<br /> +—“Those lights are on St. Mary’s Isle;<br /> +They glimmer from the sacred pile.”<a href="#fn33.13.1" name="fnref33.13.1" id="fnref33.13.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> +The waves were rough; the hour was late.<br /> +But soon across the Tinto borne,<br /> +Thrice he blew the signal-horn,<br /> +He blew and would not wait.<br /> +Home by his dangerous path he went;<br /> +Leaving, in rich habiliment,<br /> +Two Strangers at the Convent-gate. +</p> + +<p> +They ascended by steps hewn out in the rock; and, having asked for +admittance, were lodged there, +</p> + +<p> +Brothers in arms the Guests appear’d;<br /> +The Youngest with a Princely grace!<br /> +Short and sable was his beard,<br /> +Thoughtful and wan his face.<br /> +His velvet cap a medal bore,<br /> +And ermine fring’d his broider’d vest;<br /> +And, ever sparkling on his breast,<br /> +An image of St. John he wore.<a href="#fn33.13.2" name="fnref33.13.2" id="fnref33.13.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +The Eldest had a rougher aspect, and there was craft in his eye. He +stood a little behind in a long black mantle, his hand resting upon +the hilt of his sword; and his white hat and white shoes glittered in +the moon-shine.<a href="#fn33.13.3" name="fnref33.13.3" id="fnref33.13.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“Not here unwelcome, tho’ unknown.<br /> +Enter and rest!” the Friar said.<br /> +The moon, that thro’ the portal shone,<br /> +Shone on his reverend head.<br /> +Thro’ many a court and gallery dim<br /> +Slowly he led, the burial-hymn<br /> +Swelling from the distant choir.<br /> +But now the holy men retire;<br /> +The arched cloisters issuing thro’<br /> + In long long order, two and two.<br /> +* * * * *<br /> +When other sounds had died away,<br /> +And the waves were heard alone,<br /> +They enter’d, tho’ unus’d to pray,<br /> +Where God was worshipp’d, night and day,<br /> +And the dead knelt round in stone;<br /> +They enter’d, and from aisle to aisle<br /> +Wander’d with folded arms awhile,<br /> +Where on his altar-tomb reclin’d<a href="#fn33.13.12" name="fnref33.13.12" id="fnref33.13.12"><sup>[z]</sup></a><br /> +The crosier’d Abbot; and the Knight<br /> +In harness for the Christian fight,<br /> +His hands in supplication join’d;—<br /> +Then said as in a solemn mood,<br /> +“Now stand we where COLUMBUS stood!”<br /> +* * * * *<br /> +“PEREZ,<a href="#fn33.13.4" name="fnref33.13.4" id="fnref33.13.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> thou good old man,” they cried,<br /> +“And art thou in thy place of rest?—<br /> +Tho’ in the western world His grave,<a href="#fn33.13.5" name="fnref33.13.5" id="fnref33.13.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> <a href="#fn33.13.13" name="fnref33.13.13" id="fnref33.13.13"><sup>[a]</sup></a><br /> +That other world, the gift He gave,<a href="#fn33.13.6" name="fnref33.13.6" id="fnref33.13.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a><br /> +Would ye were sleeping side by side!<br /> +Of all his friends He lov’d thee best.”<br /> +* * * * *<br /> +The supper in the chamber done,<br /> +Much of a Southern Sea they spake,<br /> +And of that glorious City<a href="#fn33.13.7" name="fnref33.13.7" id="fnref33.13.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> won<br /> +Near the setting of the Sun,<br /> +Thron’d in a silver lake;<br /> +Of seven kings in chains of gold<a href="#fn33.13.8" name="fnref33.13.8" id="fnref33.13.8"><sup>[8]</sup></a>—<br /> +And deeds of death by tongue untold,<br /> +Deeds such as breath’d in secret there<br /> +Had shaken the Confession-chair! +</p> + +<p> +The Eldest swore by our Lady,<a href="#fn33.13.9" name="fnref33.13.9" id="fnref33.13.9"><sup>[9]</sup></a> the Youngest by his +conscience;<a href="#fn33.13.10" name="fnref33.13.10" id="fnref33.13.10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> while the Franciscan, sitting by in his +grey habit, turned away and crossed himself again and again. “Here +is a little book,” said he at last, “the work of one in his shroud +below. It tells of things you have mentioned; and, were Cortes and +Pizarro here, it might perhaps make them reflect for a moment.” The +Youngest smiled as he took it into his hand. He read it aloud to his +companion with an unfaltering voice; but, when he laid it down, a +silence ensued; nor was he seen to smile again that night.<a href="#fn33.13.11" name="fnref33.13.11" id="fnref33.13.11"><sup>[11]</sup></a> +“The curse is heavy,” said he at parting, “but Cortes +may live to disappoint it.”—“Aye, and Pizarro too!” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.1" id="fn33.13.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.1">[1]</a> +The Convent of Rábida. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.2" id="fn33.13.2"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.2">[2]</a> +See Bernal Diaz, c. 203; and also a well-known portrait +of Cortes, ascribed to Titian. Cortes was now in the 43d, Pizarro in +the 60th year of his age. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.3" id="fn33.13.3"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.3">[3]</a> +Augustin Zaratè, lib. iv. c. 9. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.4" id="fn33.13.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.4">[4]</a> +Late Superior of the House. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.5" id="fn33.13.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.5">[5]</a> +In the chancel of the cathedral of St. Domingo. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.6" id="fn33.13.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.6">[6]</a> +The words of the epitaph. “A Castilia y a Leon nuevo Mundo dio +Colon.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.7" id="fn33.13.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.7">[7]</a> +Mexico. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.8" id="fn33.13.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.8">[8]</a> +Afterwards the arms of Cortes and his descendants. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.9" id="fn33.13.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.9">[9]</a> +Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 63. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.10" id="fn33.13.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.10">[10]</a> +B. Diaz, c. 203. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.11" id="fn33.13.11"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.11">[11]</a> +‘After the death of Guatimotzin,’ says B. Diaz, ‘he +became gloomy and restless; rising continually from his bed, and +wandering about in the dark.’.—‘Nothing prospered with him; and it +was ascribed to the curses he was loaded with.’ +</p> + +<p> +A circumstance, recorded by Herrera, renders this visit not +improbable. ‘In May, 1528, Cortes arrived unexpectedly at Palos; and, +soon after he had landed, he and Pizarro met and rejoiced; and it was +remarkable that they should meet, as they were two of the most +renowned men in the world.’ B. Diaz makes no mention of the +interview; but, relating an occurrence that took place at this time +in Palos, says, ‘that Cortes was now absent at Nuestra Senora de la +Rábida.’ The Convent is within half a league of the town. +</p> + +<h3>ADDITIONAL NOTES.</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.4" id="fn33.1.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.4">[a]</a> +<i>Sung ere his coming—</i><br /> +<br /> +In him was fulfilled the antient prophecy, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +- - - - - venient annis<br /> +Secula seris, quibus Oceanus<br /> +Vincula rerum laxet, &c.<br /> +SENECA in Medea, v. 374. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Which Tasso has imitated in his Giemsalemme Liberata. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Tempo verrà, chie fian d’Ercole i segui +Favola vile, &c. +c. xv. 30. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.5" id="fn33.1.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.5">[b]</a> +<i>To lift the veil that cover’d half mankind!</i><br /> +<br /> +An introductory couplet is here omitted. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Dying, to-night I would fulfill my vow.<br /> +Praise cannot wound his generous spirit now. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The Poem opens on Friday, the 14th of September, 1402. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.6" id="fn33.1.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.6">[c]</a> +<i>——the great Commander</i><br /> +<br /> +In the original,’ El Almirante.’ In Spanish America, says M. de +Humboldt, when <i>El Almirante</i> is pronounced without the addition of a +name, that of Columbus is understood; as, from the lips of a Mexican, +<i>El Marchese</i> signifies Cortes. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.7" id="fn33.1.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.7">[d]</a> +<i>“Thee hath it pleas’d—Thy will be done!” he said,</i><br /> +<br /> +‘It has pleased our Lord to grant me faith and assurance for this +enterprize—He has opened my understanding, and made me most willing +to go.’ See his Life by his son, Ferd. Columbus, entitled, Hist. del +Almirante Don Christoval. Colon, c. 4 & 37. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.8" id="fn33.1.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.8">[e]</a> +<i>Whose voice is truth, whose wisdom is from heav’n,</i><br /> +<br /> +The compass might well be an object of superstition. A belief is said +to prevail even at this day, that it will refuse to traverse when +there is a dead body on board. +Hist. des Navig. aux Terres Australes. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.9" id="fn33.1.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.9">[f]</a> +<i>COLUMBUS err’d not.</i><br /> +<br /> +When these regions were to be illuminated, says Acosta, cùm divino +consilio decretum esset, prospectum etiam divinitus est, ut tarn +longi itineris dux certus hominibus præberetur. +De Natura Novi Orbis.<br /> + A romantic circumstance is related of some early navigator in the +Histoire Gen. des Voyages, I. i. 2. “On trouva dans l’isle de Cuervo +une statue équestre, couverte d’un manteau, mais la tête nue, qui +tenoit de la main gauche la bride du cheval, et qui montroit +l’occident de la main droite. Il y avoit sur le bas d’un roc quelques +lettres gravées, qui ne furent point entendues; mais il parut +clairement que le signe de la main regardoit l’Amérique.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.10" id="fn33.1.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.10">[g]</a> +<i>He spoke, and, at his call, a mighty Wind,</i><br /> +<br /> +The more Christian opinion is, that God, at the length, with eyes of +compassion as it were looking downe from heaven, intended even then +to rayse those <i>windes of mercy</i>, whereby…….this newe worlde +receyved the hope of salvation.—Certaine Preambles to the Decades of +the Ocean. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.1.11" id="fn33.1.11"></a> <a href="#fnref33.1.11">[h]</a> +<i>Folded their arms and sat;</i><br /> +<br /> +To return was deemed impossible, as it blew always from home. +F. Columbus, c. 19. Nos pavidi—at pater Anchises—lætus. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.8" id="fn33.2.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.8">[i]</a> +<i>What vast foundations in the Abyss are there,</i><br /> +<br /> +Tasso employs preternatural agents on a similar occasion, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Trappassa, et ecco in quel silvestre loco<br /> +Sorge improvisa la città del foco.<br /> + Gier. Lib, c. xiii. 33. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Gli incanti d’Ismeno, che ingannano con delusioni, altro non +significano, che la falsità delle ragioni, et delle persuasioni, +la qual si genera nella moltitudine, et varietà de’ pareri, et de’ +discorsi humani. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.9" id="fn33.2.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.9">[j]</a> +<i>ATLANTIC kings their barbarous pomp display’d;</i><br /> +<br /> +See Plato’s Timæus; where mention is made of mighty kingdoms, which, +in a day and a night, had disappeared in the Atlantic, rendering its +waters unnavigable. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.10" id="fn33.2.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.10">[k]</a> +<i>When towers and temples, thro’ the closing wave,</i><br /> +<br /> +Si quæras Helicen et Burin, Achaïdas urbes,<br /> +Invenies sub aquis. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +At the destruction of Callao, in 1747, no more than one of all the +inhabitants escaped; and he, by a providence the most extraordinary. +This man was on the fort that overlooked the harbour, going to strike +the flag, when he perceived the sea to retire to a considerable +distance; and then, swelling mountain high, it returned with great +violence. The people ran from their houses in terror and confusion; +he heard a cry of <i>Miserere</i> rise from all parts of the city; and +immediately all was silent; the sea had entirely overwhelmed it, and +buried it for ever in its bosom: but the same wave that destroyed it, +drove a little boat by the place where he stood, into which he threw +himself and was saved. Europ. Settlements. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.2.11" id="fn33.2.11"></a> <a href="#fnref33.2.11">[l]</a> +<i>“Land!” and his voice in faltering accents died.</i><br /> +<br /> +Historians are not silent on the subject. The sailors, according to +Herrera, saw the signs of an inundated country (tierras anegadas); +and it was the general expectation that they should end their lives +there, as others had done in the frozen sea, ‘where St. Amaro suffers +no ship to stir backwards or forwards.’ F. Columbus, c. 19. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.4" id="fn33.3.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.4">[m]</a> +<i>Tho’ chang’d my cloth of gold for amice grey—</i><br /> +<br /> +Many of the first discoverers, if we may believe B. Diaz and other +contemporary writers, ended their days in a hermitage, or a cloister. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.5" id="fn33.3.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.5">[n]</a> +<i>’Twas in the deep, immeasurable cave Of ANDES,</i><br /> +<br /> +Vast indeed must be those dismal regions, if it be true, as +conjectured (Kircher. Mund. Subt. I. 202), that Etna, in her +eruptions, has discharged twenty times her original bulk. Well might +she be called by Euripides (Troades, v. 222) the <i>Mother of +Mountains;</i> yet Etna herself is but ‘a mere firework, when compared +to the burning summits of the Andes.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.6" id="fn33.3.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.6">[o]</a> +<i>Where PLATA and MARAGNON meet the Main.</i><br /> +<br /> +Rivers of South America. Their collision with the tide has the effect +of a tempest. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.7" id="fn33.3.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.7">[p]</a> +<i>Of HURON or ONTARIO, inland seas,</i><br /> +<br /> +Lakes of North America. Huron is above a thousand miles in +circumference. Ontario receives the waters of the Niagara, so famous +for its falls; and discharges itself into the Atlantic by the river +St. Lawrence. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.8" id="fn33.3.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.8">[q]</a> +<i>Hung in the tempest o’er the troubled main;</i><br /> +<br /> +The dominion of a bad angel over an unknown sea, <i>infestandole con +sus torbellinos y tempestades</i>, and his flight before a Christian +hero, are described in glowing language by Ovalle. Hist, de Chile. +IV. 8. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.3.9" id="fn33.3.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.3.9">[r]</a> +<i>He spoke; and all was silence, all was night!</i><br /> +<br /> +These scattered fragments may be compared to shreds of old arras, or +reflections from a river broken and confused by the oar; and now and +then perhaps the imagination of the reader may supply more than is +lost. Si qua latent, meliora putat.<br /> + Illud vero perquam rarum ac memoria dignum, etiam suprema opera +artificum imperfectasque tabulas, sicut Irin Aristidis, Tyndaridas +Nicomachi, Medeam Timomachi, et quam diximus Venerem Apellis, in +majori admiratione esse, quam perfecta. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.5" id="fn33.4.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.5">[s]</a> +<i>The soldier, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +So Fortune smil +In the Lusiad, to beguile the heavy hours at sea, Veloso relates to +his companions of the second watch the story of the Twelve Knights. +L. vi. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.4.6" id="fn33.4.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.4.6">[t]</a> +<i>So Fortune smil’d, careless of sea or land!</i><br /> +<br /> +Among those, who went with Columbus, were many adventurers, and +gentlemen of the court. Primero was the game then in fashion. See +Vega, p. 2, lib. iii. c. 9. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.5" id="fn33.5.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.5">[u]</a> +<i>Yet who but He undaunted could explore</i><br /> +<br /> +Many sighed and wept; and every hour seemed a year, says Herrera.<br /> +I. i. 9 and 10. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.5.7" id="fn33.5.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.5.7">[v]</a> +<i>While his dear boys—ah, on his neck they hung,</i><br /> +<br /> +‘But I was most afflicted, when I thought of my two sons, whom I had +left behind me in a strange country….before I had done, or at least +could be known to have done, any thing which might incline your +highnesses to remember them. And though I comforted myself with the +reflection that our Lord would not suffer so earnest an endeavour for +the exaltation of his church to come to nothing, yet I considered +that, on account of my unworthiness,’ &c.—F. Columbus, c. 37. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.8" id="fn33.6.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.8">[w]</a> +<i>Roc of the West! to him all empire giv’n!</i><br /> +<br /> +Le Condor est le même oiseau que le Roc des Orientaux. Buffon. ‘By the +Peruvians,’ says Vega, ‘he was antiently worshipped; and there were +those who claimed their descent from him.’ In these degenerate days he +still ranks above the Eagle. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.6.9" id="fn33.6.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.6.9">[x]</a> +<i>High-hung in forests to the casing snows.</i><br /> +<br /> +A custom not peculiar to the Western Hemisphere. The Tunguses of +Siberia hang their dead on trees; ‘parceque la terre ne se laisse +point ouvrir.’ Recherches Philos. sur les Americ. I. 140. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.8" id="fn33.7.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.8">[y]</a> +<i>——and, thro’ that dismal night,</i><br /> +<br /> +‘Aquella noche triste.’ The night, on which Cortes made his famous +retreat from Mexico through the street of Tlacopan, still goes by the +name of LA NOCHE TRISTE.<br /> +HUMBOLDT. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.9" id="fn33.7.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.9">[z]</a> +<i>By his white plume reveal’d and buskins white,</i><br /> +<br /> +It is said that Pizarro used to dress in this fashion; after Gonzalo, +whom he had served under in Italy. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.10" id="fn33.7.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.10">[a]</a> +<i>’Twas MERION’S self, covering with dreadful shade.</i><br /> +<br /> + Now one,<br /> + Now other, as their shape serv’d best his end. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Undoubtedly, says Herrera, the Infernal Spirit assumed various shapes +in that region of the world. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.11" id="fn33.7.11"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.11">[b]</a> +<i>Then, inly gliding, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +The original passage is here translated at full length. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Then, inly gliding like a subtle flame,<br /> + Thrice, with a cry that thrill’d the mortal frame,<br /> + Call’d on the Spirit within. Disdaining flight,<br /> + Calmly she rose, collecting all her might.<a href="#fn33.14.1" name="fnref33.14.1" id="fnref33.14.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a><br /> + Dire was the dark encounter! Long unquell’d,<br /> + Her sacred seat, sovereign and pure, she held.<br /> + At length the great Foe binds her for his prize,<br /> + And awful, as in death, the body lies!<br /> + Not long to slumber! In an evil hour<br /> + Inform’d and lifted by the unknown Power,<br /> + It starts, it speaks’. “We live, we breathe no more!” &c. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Many a modern reader will exclaim in the language of Pococurantè, +‘Quelle triste extravagance!’ Let a great theologian of that day, a +monk of the Augustine order, be consulted on the subject. ‘Corpus +ille perimere vel jugulare potest; nec id modò, verùm et animam ita +urgere, et in angustum coarctare novit, ut in momento quoque illi +excedendum sit.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.14.1" id="fn33.14.1"></a> <a href="#fnref33.14.1">[1]</a>—magnum si pectore possit<br /> + Excussisse deum. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.7.12" id="fn33.7.12"></a> <a href="#fnref33.7.12">[c]</a> +<i>The scorn of Folly, and of Fraud the prey;</i><br /> +<br /> +Nudo nocchier, promettitor di regni!<br /> + By the Genoese and the Spaniards he was regarded as a man resolved on +‘a wild dedication of himself to unpath’d waters, undream’d +shores;’ and the court of Portugal endeavoured to rob him of the glory of +his enterprise, by secretly dispatching a vessel in the course which he had +pointed out. ‘Lorsqu’il avail promis un nouvel hémisphère,’ +says Voltaire, ‘on lui avait soutenu que cet hémisphère ne pouvait +exister; et quand il l’eut découvert, on prétendit qu’il avait été +connu depuis long-temps.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.5" id="fn33.8.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.5">[d]</a> +<i>The hand that snatch’d it sparkling in the tide,</i><br /> +<br /> +The drinking cups of the Islanders, if we may believe a contemporary of +Columbus, were <i>ex lignu…lucido confecta, el arte mirá lalorata.</i> P. +Martyr, dec. i. 5. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.6" id="fn33.8.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.6">[e]</a> +<i>Rose to the Virgin.</i><br /> +<br /> +Salve, regina. Herrera, I. i. 12.—It was the usual service, and +always sung with great solemnity. ‘I remember one evening,’ says +Oviedo, ‘when the ship was in full sail, and all the men were on +their knees, singing Salve, regina, &c. Relacion Sommaria.—The hymn, +O Sanctissima, is still to be heard after sunset along the shores of +Sicily, and its effect may be better conceived than described. See +Brydone, I. 330. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.8.7" id="fn33.8.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.8.7">[f]</a> +<i>Chosen of Men!</i><br /> +<br /> +I believe that he was <i>chosen</i> for this great service; and that, +because he was to be so truly an apostle, as in effect be proved to +be, therefore was his origin obscure; that therein he might resemble +those who were called to make known the name of the Lord from seas +and rivers, and not from courts and palaces. And I believe also, +that, as in most of his doings he was guarded by some special +providence, his very name was not without some mystery: for in it is +expressed the wonder he performed; inasmuch as he conveyed to a new +world the grace of the Holy Ghost, &c. F. COL. c. 1. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.4" id="fn33.9.4"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.4">[g]</a> +<i>Slowly to land the sacred cross we bore,</i><br /> +<br /> +Signifying to the Infernal Powers (all’ infierno todo) the will of +the Most High, that they should renounce a world over which they had +tyrannised for so many ages. OVALLE, iv. 5. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.5" id="fn33.9.5"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.5">[h]</a> +<i>But how the scene pourtray?</i><br /> +<br /> +‘This country excels all others, as far as the day surpasses the night in +splendour.—Nor is there a better people in the world. They love their +neighbour as themselves; their conversation is the sweetest imaginable, their +faces always smiling; and so gentle, so affectionate are they, that I swear to +your highnesses,’ &c. F. COL. c. 30, 33. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.6" id="fn33.9.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.6">[i]</a> +<i>Nymphs of romance,</i><br /> +<br /> +Dryades formosissimas, aut nativas fontium nymphas, de quibus +fabulatur antiquitas, se vidisse arbitrati sunt. P. MARTYR, dec. i. +lib. 5. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.7" id="fn33.9.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.7">[j]</a> +<i>Youths graceful as the Faun,</i><br /> +<br /> +An eminent Painter, when he first saw the Apollo of the Belvidere, +was struck with its resemblance to an American warrior. West’s +discourse in the Royal Academy, 1794. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.8" id="fn33.9.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.8">[k]</a> +<i>But see, the regal plumes, the couch of state!</i><br /> +<br /> +‘The Cacique came down to the shore in a sort of palanquin—attended +by his antient men.—The gifts, which he received from me, were +afterwards carried before him.’ F. COLUMBUS, c. 32. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.9.9" id="fn33.9.9"></a> <a href="#fnref33.9.9">[l]</a> +<i>The wondrous ring, and lamp, and horse of brass.</i><br /> +<br /> +The ring of Gyges, the lamp of Aladdin, and the horse of the Tartar king. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.6" id="fn33.10.6"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.6">[m]</a> +<i>Ceiba,</i><br /> +<br /> +The wild cotton tree, often mentioned in History. ‘Cortes,’ says<br /> +Bernal Diaz, ‘took possession of the Country in the following manner.<br /> +Drawing his sword, he gave three cuts with it into a great Ceiba<br /> +and said———’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.7" id="fn33.10.7"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.7">[n]</a> +<i>Half bird, half fly,</i><br /> +<br /> +Here are birds so small, says Herrera, that, though they are birds, +they are taken for bees or butterflies. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.10.8" id="fn33.10.8"></a> <a href="#fnref33.10.8">[o]</a> +<i>Reigns there, and revels, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +There also was heard the wild cry of the Flamingo. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + What clarion winds along the yellow sands?<br /> + Far in the deep the giant-fisher stand,<br /> + Folding his wings of flame. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.11.10" id="fn33.11.10"></a> <a href="#fnref33.11.10">[p]</a> +<i>Who now danc’d forth, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +Their dances, which continued from evening to the dawn, were accompanied with +singing. +P. MARTYR, dec. iii. 7. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.15" id="fn33.12.15"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.15">[q]</a> +<i>Who among us a life of sorrow spoil,</i><br /> +<br /> +For a summary of his life and character see ‘An Account of the<br /> +European Colonies.’ P. I. c. 8. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.16" id="fn33.12.16"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.16">[r]</a> +<i>To other eyes, from distant cliff descried,</i><br /> +<br /> +Balboa immediately concluded it to be the ocean for which Columbus +had searched in vain; and when, at length, after a toilsome march +among the mountains, his guides pointed out to him the summit from +which it might be seen, he commanded his men to halt, and <i>went up +alone</i>. HERRERA, I.x. 1. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.17" id="fn33.12.17"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.17">[s]</a> +<i>Hung in thy chamber, buried in thy grave!</i><br /> +<br /> +I always saw them in his room, and he ordered them to be buried with his body. +F. COL. c. 86. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.18" id="fn33.12.18"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.18">[t]</a> +<i>Thy reverend form</i><br /> +<br /> +His person, says Herrera, had an air of grandeur. His hair, from many +hardships, had long been grey. In him you saw a man of an unconquerable +courage, and high thoughts; patient of wrongs, calm in adversity, ever trusting +in God:—and, had he lived in antient times, statues and temples would +have been erected to him without number, and his name would have been placed +among the stars. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.19" id="fn33.12.19"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.19">[u]</a> +<i>Swept—till the voyager, in the desert air,</i><br /> +<br /> +With my own eyes I saw kingdoms as full of people, as hives are full +of bees; and now where are they? +LAS CASAS. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.20" id="fn33.12.20"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.20">[v]</a> +<i>Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend,</i><br /> +<br /> +‘There are those alive,’ said an illustrious orator, ‘whose +memory might touch the two extremities. Lord Bathurst, in 1704, was of an age +to comprehend such things—and, if his angel had then drawn up the +curtain, and, whilst he was gazing with admiration, had pointed out to him a +speck, and had told him, “Young man, there is America—which, at +this day, serves for little more than to amuse you with stories of savage men +and uncouth manners; yet shall, before you taste of death,”’ +&c. BURKE in 1775. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.21" id="fn33.12.21"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.21">[w]</a> +<i>Assembling here, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +How simple were the manners of the early colonists! The first +ripening of any European fruit was distinguished by a +family-festival. Garcilasso de la Vega relates how his dear father, +the valorous Andres, collected together in his chamber seven or eight +gentlemen to share with him three asparaguses, the first that ever +grew on the table-land of Cusco. When the operation of dressing them +was over (and it is minutely described) he distributed the two +largest among his friends; begging that the company would not take it +ill, if he reserved the third for himself, <i>as it was a thing from +Spain</i>.<br /> + North America became instantly an asylum for the oppressed; +huguenots, and catholics, and sects of every name and country. Such +were the first settlers in Carolina and Maryland, Pennsylvania and +New England. Nor is South America altogether without a claim to the +title. Even now, while I am writing, the antient house of Braganza is +on its passage across the Atlantic,<br /> + Cum sociis, natoque, Penatibus, et magnis dîs. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.22" id="fn33.12.22"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.22">[x]</a> +<i>Untouch’d shall drop the fetters from the slave ,</i><br /> +<br /> +Je me transporte quelquefois au delà d’un siècle. J’y vois le +bonheur à côté de l’industrie, la douce tolerance remplacant la farouche +inquisition; j’y vois un jour de fête; Péruvians, Mexicains, Américains +libres, François, s’embrassant comme des frères, et bénissant le règne de +la liberté, qui doit amener partout une harmonic universelle.—Mais les +mines, les esclaves, que deviendront-ils? Les mines se fermerout; les esclaves +seront les frères de leurs maitres. +Nouv. Voy. dans l’Amérique. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.12.23" id="fn33.12.23"></a> <a href="#fnref33.12.23">[y]</a> +<i>The spoiler spoil’d of all;</i><br /> +<br /> +Cortes. A peine put-il obtenir audience de Charles-Quint. un jour il fendit la +presse qui entourait le coche de l’empereur, et monta sur l’étrier +de la portière. Charles demanda quel était cet homme: +‘C’est,’ repondit Cortez, ‘celui qui vous a donné plus +d’etats que vos pères ne vous ont laissé de villes.’ VOLTAIRE. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.12" id="fn33.13.12"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.12">[z]</a> +<i>Where on his altar-tomb, &c.</i><br /> +<br /> +An Interpolation. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn33.13.13" id="fn33.13.13"></a> <a href="#fnref33.13.13">[a]</a> +<i>Tho’ in the western world His grave,</i><br /> +<br /> +An Anachronism. The body of Columbus was not yet removed from Seville.<br /> + It is almost unnecessary to point out another in the Ninth Canto. The +telescope was not then in use; though described long before with great accuracy +by Roger Bacon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13586 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + |