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+Project Gutenberg's The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by James Beattie
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius
+       with some other poems
+
+Author: James Beattie
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27221]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINSTREL; PROGRESS OF GENIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL,
+                                 WITH
+                           SOME OTHER POEMS.
+
+
+                            [Illustration]
+
+
+                             THE MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+                                 WITH
+                           SOME OTHER POEMS.
+
+
+                       By JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.
+
+
+                              EDINBURGH:
+                     PRINTED BY JAMES BALLANTYNE,
+                FOR WILLIAM CREECH, MANNERS AND MILLER,
+                       AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO.
+                                 1805.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+                          SIR WILLIAM FORBES,
+                         OF PITSLIGO, BARONET,
+                AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER,
+           AND AS AN APPROPRIATE TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE MOST
+                     VALUED FRIENDS OF THE AUTHOR,
+                             THIS EDITION
+                                OF THE
+                     POETICAL WORKS OF DR BEATTIE,
+                            _IS INSCRIBED_
+                                  BY
+                            THE PUBLISHERS.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                                   Page.
+The Minstrel, Book I.                                                 1
+              Book II.                                               35
+
+Retirement                                                           71
+
+Elegy                                                                76
+
+Ode to Hope                                                          81
+
+Pygmæo-gerano-machia: The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes           89
+
+Epistle to the Hon. C. B. 101
+
+The Hares: A Fable                                                  105
+
+Epitaph: being Part of an Inscription for a Monument,
+to be erected by a Gentleman to the Memory
+of his Lady                                                         118
+
+Ode on Lord H***'s Birth-Day                                        119
+
+To the Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in
+a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &c.                            125
+
+The Hermit                                                          127
+
+Ode to Peace                                                        130
+
+Triumph of Melancholy                                               139
+
+
+
+
+                       PREFACE TO THE MINSTREL.
+
+
+The design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a
+rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period
+at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a
+MINSTREL, that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;--a character,
+which, according to the notions of our fore-fathers, was not only
+respectable, but sacred.
+
+I have endeavoured to imitate SPENSER in the measure of his verse, and
+in the harmony, simplicity, and variety, of his composition. Antique
+expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where
+they seemed to suit the subject; but I hope none will be found that
+are now obsolete, or in any degree unintelligible to a reader of
+English poetry.
+
+To those, who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in
+so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and
+seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation
+to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both of simplicity
+and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza
+that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the
+couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What
+some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome
+to the ear, will be found to hold true, only when the poetry is faulty
+in other respects.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                             IN TWO BOOKS.
+
+
+    _Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ,
+     Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore,
+     Accipiant.----_
+
+                                         VIRGIL.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+
+
+
+                              BOOK FIRST.
+
+
+                          I.
+
+      Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
+      The steep, where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
+      Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
+      Has felt the influence of malignant star,
+      And waged with Fortune an eternal war!
+      Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
+      And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
+      In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
+    Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
+
+
+                         II.
+
+      And yet, the languor of inglorious days
+      Not equally oppressive is to all.
+      Him, who ne'er listened to the voice of praise,
+      The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
+      There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
+      Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame;
+      Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
+      Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
+    Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.
+
+
+                        III.
+
+      This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;
+      Else I should here, in cunning phrase, display,
+      How forth THE MINSTREL fared in days of yore,
+      Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
+      His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:
+      And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
+      His harp, the sole companion of his way,
+      Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
+    And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.
+
+
+                         IV.
+
+      Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,
+      That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.
+      The Muses fortune's fickle smile deride,
+      Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane;
+      For their delights are with the village-train,
+      Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms:
+      They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
+      The parasite their influence never warms,
+    Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.
+
+
+                          V.
+
+      Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
+      Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
+      Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
+      While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
+      Or seek, at noon, the woodland scene remote,
+      Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.
+      O let them ne'er, with artificial note,
+      To please a tyrant, strain the little bill!
+    But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will.
+
+
+                         VI.
+
+      Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand;
+      Nor was perfection made for man below.
+      Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned,
+      Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe.
+      With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,
+      If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise;
+      There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow;
+      Here, peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies,
+    And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.
+
+
+                        VII.
+
+      Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse
+      Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire;
+      Nor blame the partial fates, if they refuse
+      The imperial banquet, and the rich attire.
+      Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.
+      Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined?
+      No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,
+      To fancy, freedom, harmony, resigned;
+    Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind.
+
+
+                       VIII.
+
+      Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul
+      In each fine sense so exquisitely keen,
+      On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,
+      Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen;
+      Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen,
+      Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,
+      (The mansion, then, no more of joy serene)
+      Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
+    And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?
+
+
+                         IX.
+
+      O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store
+      Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
+      The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
+      The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
+      All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
+      And all that echoes to the song of even,
+      All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,
+      And all the dread magnificence of heaven,
+    O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!
+
+
+                          X.
+
+      These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health,
+      And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart.
+      But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth
+      E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart;
+      For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart;
+      Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,
+      The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart,
+      The troublous day, and long distressful dream.
+    Return, my roving Muse! resume thy purposed theme.
+
+
+                         XI.
+
+      There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell,
+      A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree;
+      Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,
+      Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;
+      But he, I ween, was of the North Countrie:
+      A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms;
+      Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
+      Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
+    Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.
+
+
+                        XII.
+
+      The shepherd-swain, of whom I mention made,
+      On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock;
+      The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never swayed;
+      An honest heart was almost all his stock;
+      His drink the living water from the rock:
+      The milky dams supplied his board, and lent
+      Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock;
+      And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,
+    Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went.
+
+
+                       XIII.
+
+      From labour health, from health contentment springs.
+      Contentment opes the source of every joy.
+      He envied not, he never thought of kings;
+      Nor from those appetites sustained annoy,
+      Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy:
+      Nor fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled;
+      He mourned no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,
+      For on his vows the blameless Phoebe smiled,
+    And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.
+
+
+                        XIV.
+
+      No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
+      Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
+      Each season looked delightful, as it past,
+      To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.
+      Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life
+      They never roamed; secure beneath the storm
+      Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,
+      Where peace and love are cankered by the worm
+    Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.
+
+
+                         XV.
+
+      The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,
+      Was all the offspring of this simple pair.
+      His birth no oracle or seer foretold:
+      No prodigy appeared in earth or air,
+      Nor aught that might a strange event declare.
+      You guess each circumstance of EDWIN'S birth;
+      The parent's transport, and the parent's care;
+      The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth;
+    And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.
+
+
+                        XVI.
+
+      And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy;
+      Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye.
+      Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
+      Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy.
+      Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy;
+      And now his look was most demurely sad,
+      And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why.
+      The neighbours stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad:
+    Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.
+
+
+                       XVII.
+
+      But why should I his childish feats display?
+      Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled;
+      Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
+      Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped,
+      Or roamed at large the lonely mountain's head;
+      Or, where the maze of some bewildered stream
+      To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,
+      There would he wander wild, 'till Phoebus' beam,
+    Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.
+
+
+                      XVIII.
+
+      The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
+      To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.
+      His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed
+      To work the woe of any living thing,
+      By trap, or net; by arrow, or by sling;
+      These he detested, those he scorned to wield:
+      He wished to be the guardian, not the king,
+      Tyrant, far less, or traitor, of the field.
+    And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.
+
+
+                        XIX.
+
+      Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
+      Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine;
+      And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves,
+      From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine:
+      While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join,
+      And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.
+      Would Edwin this majestic scene resign
+      For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies?
+    Ah! no: he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.
+
+
+                         XX.
+
+      And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,
+      When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn,
+      The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,
+      And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn;
+      Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn,
+      Where twilight loves to linger for a while;
+      And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
+      And villager abroad at early toil.
+    But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile.
+
+
+                        XXI.
+
+      And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,
+      When all in mist the world below was lost.
+      What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,
+      Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast,
+      And view the enormous waste of vapour, tost
+      In billows, lengthening to the horizon round,
+      Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed!
+      And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,
+    Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!
+
+
+                       XXII.
+
+      In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,
+      Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene.
+      In darkness, and in storm, he found delight:
+      Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene
+      The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.
+      Even sad vicissitude amused his soul:
+      And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,
+      And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
+    A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wished not to controul.
+
+
+                      XXIII.
+
+      'O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!'
+      (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)
+      'Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,
+      'Of late so grateful in the hour of drought!
+      'Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought
+      'To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake?
+      'Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought!
+      'For now the storm howls mournful through the brake,
+    'And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.
+
+
+                       XXIV.
+
+      'Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,
+      'And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty, crowned!
+      'Ah! see, the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool,
+      'Have all the solitary vale imbrowned;
+      'Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound.
+      'The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray:
+      'And, hark! the river, bursting every mound,
+      'Down the vale thunders; and, with wasteful sway,
+    'Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.
+
+
+                        XXV.
+
+      'Yet such the destiny of all on earth:
+      'So flourishes and fades majestic man.
+      'Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,
+      'And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan.
+      'O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan,
+      'Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime,
+      'Nor lessen of his life the little span.
+      'Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time,
+    'Old-age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
+
+
+                       XXVI.
+
+      'And be it so. Let those deplore their doom,
+      'Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn.
+      'But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
+      'Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
+      'Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return?
+      'Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed?
+      'Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,
+      'And spring shall soon her vital influence shed,
+    'Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.
+
+
+                      XXVII.
+
+      'Shall I be left abandoned in the dust,
+      'When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?
+      'Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust,
+      'Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live?
+      'Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive
+      'With disappointment, penury, and pain?
+      'No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive;
+      'And man's majestic beauty bloom again,
+    'Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign.'
+
+
+                     XXVIII.
+
+      This truth sublime his simple sire had taught.
+      In sooth, 'twas almost all the shepherd knew.
+      No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought,
+      Nor ever wished his Edwin to pursue.
+      'Let man's own sphere (quoth he) confine his view,
+      'Be man's peculiar work his sole delight.'
+      And much, and oft, he warned him, to eschew
+      Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,
+    By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might.
+
+
+                       XXIX.
+
+      'And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe,
+      'O never, never turn away thine ear.
+      'Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,
+      'Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear!
+      'To others do (the law is not severe)
+      'What to thyself thou wishest to be done.
+      'Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,
+      'And friends, and native land; nor those alone;
+    'All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own.'
+
+
+                        XXX.
+
+      See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower,
+      The visionary boy from shelter fly!
+      For now the storm of summer-rain is o'er,
+      And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky.
+      And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
+      The rainbow brightens to the setting sun!
+      Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh,
+      How vain the chace thine ardour has begun!
+    'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run.
+
+
+                       XXXI.
+
+      Yet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age,
+      When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm,
+      This baffled hope might tame thy manhood's rage,
+      And Disappointment of her sting disarm.----
+      But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm?
+      Perish the lore that deadens young desire!
+      Pursue, poor imp, the imaginary charm,
+      Indulge gay hope, and fancy's pleasing fire:
+    Fancy and Hope too soon shall of themselves expire.
+
+
+                      XXXII.
+
+      When the long-sounding curfew, from afar,
+      Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
+      Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
+      Lingering and listening, wandered down the vale.
+      There would he dream of graves, and corses pale;
+      And ghosts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng,
+      And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,
+      Till silenced by the owl's terrific song,
+    Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along.
+
+
+                     XXXIII.
+
+      Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed,
+      Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep,
+      To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied,
+      Where fays, of yore, their revels wont to keep;
+      And there let Fancy roam at large, till sleep
+      A vision brought to his entranced sight.
+      And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep
+      Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright,
+    With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night.
+
+
+                      XXXIV.
+
+      Anon in view a portal's blazoned arch
+      Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold;
+      And forth an host of little warriors march,
+      Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.
+      Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold,
+      And green their helms, and green their silk attire;
+      And here and there, right venerably old,
+      The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire,
+    And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.
+
+
+                       XXXV.
+
+      With merriment, and song, and timbrels clear,
+      A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance;
+      The little warriors doff the targe and spear,
+      And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance.
+      They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance;
+      To right, to left, they thrid the flying maze;
+      Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance
+      Rapid along: with many-coloured rays
+    Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze.
+
+
+                      XXXVI.
+
+      The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day,
+      Who scar'dst the vision with thy clarion shrill,
+      Fell chanticleer! who oft hast reft away
+      My fancied good, and brought substantial ill!
+      O to thy cursed scream, discordant still,
+      Let Harmony aye shut her gentle ear:
+      Thy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill,
+      Insult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear,
+    And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear.
+
+
+                     XXXVII.
+
+      Forbear, my Muse. Let love attune thy line.
+      Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so.
+      For how should he at wicked chance repine,
+      Who feels, from every change, amusement flow?
+      Even now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow,
+      As on he wanders through the scenes of morn,
+      Where the fresh flowers in living lustre blow,
+      Where thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn,
+    A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne.
+
+
+                    XXXVIII.
+
+      But who the melodies of morn can tell?
+      The wild brook babbling down the mountain side;
+      The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;
+      The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried
+      In the lone valley; echoing far and wide,
+      The clamorous horn, along the cliffs above;
+      The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
+      The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love,
+    And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
+
+
+                      XXXIX.
+
+      The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark;
+      Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings;
+      The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!
+      Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings;
+      Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs;
+      Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour;
+      The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
+      Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower,
+    And shrill lark carols clear from her aërial tour.
+
+
+                         XL.
+
+      O Nature, how in every charm supreme!
+      Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new!
+      O for the voice and fire of seraphim,
+      To sing thy glories with devotion due!
+      Blessed be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew,
+      From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty;
+      And held high converse with the godlike few,
+      Who to the enraptured heart, and ear, and eye,
+    Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody.
+
+
+                        XLI.
+
+      Hence! ye, who snare and stupify the mind,
+      Sophists, of beauty, virtue, joy, the bane!
+      Greedy and fell, though impotent and blind,
+      Who spread your filthy nets in Truth's fair fane,
+      And ever ply your venomed fangs amain!
+      Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling slime
+      First gave you form! hence! lest the Muse should deign,
+      (Though loath on theme so mean to waste a rhyme),
+    With vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime.
+
+
+                       XLII.
+
+      But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay,
+      Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth!
+      Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,
+      Amused my childhood, and informed my youth.
+      O let your spirit still my bosom sooth,
+      Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!
+      Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;
+      For well I know, wherever ye reside,
+    There harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide.
+
+
+                      XLIII.
+
+      Ah me! abandoned on the lonesome plain,
+      As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
+      Save when against the winter's drenching rain,
+      And driving snow, the cottage shut the door.
+      Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,
+      Her legends when the Beldam 'gan impart,
+      Or chant the old heroic ditty o'er,
+      Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;
+    Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.
+
+
+                       XLIV.
+
+      Various and strange was the long-winded tale;
+      And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed;
+      Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
+      And sing, enamoured of the nut-brown maid;
+      The moon-light revel of the fairy glade;
+      Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,
+      And ply in caves the unutterable trade,
+      'Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,
+    Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood.
+
+
+                        XLV.
+
+      But when to horror his amazement rose,
+      A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,
+      A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,
+      The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
+      O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce
+      That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone!
+      For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,
+      To latest times shall tender souls bemoan
+    Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.
+
+
+                       XLVI.
+
+      Behold, with berries smeared, with brambles torn,
+      The babes, now famished, lay them down to die;
+      'Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,
+      Folded in one another's arms they lie;
+      Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:
+      'For from the town the man returns no more.'
+      But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance darest defy,
+      This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,
+    When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.
+
+
+                      XLVII.
+
+      A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy
+      Brightened one moment Edwin's starting tear.--
+      'But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy,
+      'And innocence thus die by doom severe?'
+      O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
+      The assaults of discontent and doubt repel:
+      Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
+      But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel;
+    Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.
+
+
+                     XLVIII.
+
+      Nor be thy generous indignation checked,
+      Nor checked the tender tear to misery given;
+      From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect,
+      This soften and refine the soul for heaven.
+      But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt hath driven
+      To censure Fate, and pious hope forego;
+      Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,
+      Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,
+    But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe.
+
+
+                       XLIX.
+
+      Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age,
+      Scarce fill the circle of one summer-day,
+      Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage,
+      Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay,
+      If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,
+      If but a momentary shower descend!
+      Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay,
+      Which bade the series of events extend
+    Wide through unnumbered worlds, and ages without end!
+
+
+                          L.
+
+      One part, one little part, we dimly scan,
+      Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream;
+      Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,
+      If but that little part incongruous seem.
+      Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem;
+      Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.
+      O then, renounce that impious self-esteem,
+      That aims to trace the secrets of the skies:
+    For thou art but of dust; be humble, and be wise.
+
+
+                         LI.
+
+      Thus, Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years.
+      For Nature gave him strength, and fire, to soar,
+      On Fancy's wing above this vale of tears;
+      Where dark cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore
+      Through microscope of metaphysic lore:
+      And much they grope for truth, but never hit.
+      For why? their powers, inadequate before,
+      This art preposterous renders more unfit;
+    Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit.
+
+
+                        LII.
+
+      Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth.
+      Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device,
+      Oft cheered the shepherds round their social hearth;
+      Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice
+      To purchase chat or laughter at the price
+      Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed,
+      That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice.
+      Ah! had they been of court or city breed,
+    Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed.
+
+
+                       LIII.
+
+      Oft when the winter-storm had ceased to rave,
+      He roamed the snowy waste at even, to view
+      The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave
+      High-towering, sail along the horizon blue:
+      Where, 'midst the changeful scenery ever new,
+      Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,
+      More wildly great than ever pencil drew;
+      Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,
+    And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.
+
+
+                        LIV.
+
+      Thence, musing, onward to the sounding shore,
+      The lone enthusiast oft would take his way,
+      Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar
+      Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array
+      When sulphurous clouds rolled on the vernal day,
+      Even then he hastened from the haunt of man,
+      Along the darkening wilderness to stray,
+      What time the lightning's fierce career began,
+    And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran.
+
+
+                         LV.
+
+      Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all
+      In sprightly dance the village-youth were joined,
+      Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall,
+      From the rude gambol far remote reclined,
+      Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind.
+      Ah then, all jollity seemed noise and folly.
+      To the pure soul, by Fancy's fire refined,
+      Ah, what is mirth, but turbulence unholy,
+    When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy!
+
+
+                        LVI.
+
+      Is there a heart that music cannot melt?
+      Ah me! how is that rugged heart forlorn!
+      Is there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt,
+      Of solitude and melancholy born?
+      He needs not woo the Muse; he is her scorn.
+      The sophist's rope of cobweb he shall twine;
+      Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page; or mourn,
+      And delve for life, in Mammon's dirty mine;
+    Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine.
+
+
+                       LVII.
+
+      For Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had planned;
+      Song was his favourite and first pursuit.
+      The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand,
+      And languished to his breath the plaintive flute.
+      His infant muse, though artless, was not mute:
+      Of elegance, as yet, he took no care;
+      For this of time and culture is the fruit;
+      And Edwin gained, at last, this fruit so rare:
+    As in some future verse I purpose to declare.
+
+
+                      LVIII.
+
+      Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new,
+      Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky,
+      By chance, or search, was offered to his view,
+      He scanned with curious and romantic eye.
+      Whate'er of lore tradition could supply
+      From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old,
+      Roused him, still keen to listen and to pry.
+      At last, though long by penury controuled,
+    And solitude, his soul her graces 'gan unfold.
+
+
+                        LIX.
+
+      Thus, on the chill Lapponian's dreary land,
+      For many a long month lost in snow profound,
+      When Sol from Cancer sends the season bland,
+      And in their northern cave the storms hath bound;
+      From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound,
+      Torrents are hurled; green hills emerge; and lo,
+      The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crowned;
+      Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go;
+    And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow.
+
+
+                         LX.
+
+      Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while.
+      The leisure hour is all that thou can'st claim.
+      But on this verse if MONTAGU should smile,
+      New strains, ere long, shall animate thy frame:
+      And his applause to me is more than fame;
+      For still with truth accords his taste refined.
+      At lucre or renown let others aim,
+      I only wish to please the gentle mind,
+    Whom Nature's charms inspire, and love of humankind.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                             BOOK SECOND.
+
+
+    _Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,
+     Rectique cultus pectora roborant._
+
+                                HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+
+
+
+                             BOOK SECOND.
+
+
+                          I.
+
+      Of chance or change, O let not man complain,
+      Else shall he never never cease to wail:
+      For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
+      Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,
+      All feel the assault of fortune's fickle gale;
+      Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed;
+      Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale;
+      And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entombed;
+    And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloomed.
+
+
+                         II.
+
+      But sure to foreign climes we need not range,
+      Nor search the ancient records of our race,
+      To learn the dire effects of time and change,
+      Which in ourselves, alas! we daily trace.
+      Yet, at the darkened eye, the withered face,
+      Or hoary hair, I never will repine:
+      But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace,
+      Of candour, love, or sympathy divine,
+    Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame, is mine.
+
+
+                        III.
+
+      So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command,
+      Shall here, without reluctance, change my lay,
+      And smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand;
+      Now when I leave that flowery path, for aye,
+      Of childhood, where I sported many a day,
+      Warbling, and sauntering carelessly along;
+      Where every face was innocent and gay,
+      Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue,
+    Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin's infant song.
+
+
+                         IV.
+
+      'Perish the lore that deadens young desire,'
+      Is the soft tenor of my song no more.
+      Edwin, though loved of heaven, must not aspire
+      To bliss, which mortals never knew before.
+      On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar,
+      Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy,
+      But now and then the shades of life explore;
+      Though many a sound and sight of woe annoy,
+    And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy.
+
+
+                          V.
+
+      Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows.
+      The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,
+      Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;
+      But ah, it withers in the chilling hour.
+      Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power
+      Of all the warring winds of heaven, they rise,
+      And from the stormy promontory tower,
+      And toss their giant arms amid the skies,
+    While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies.
+
+
+                         VI.
+
+      And now the downy cheek and deepened voice
+      Gave dignity to Edwin's blooming prime;
+      And walks of wider circuit were his choice,
+      And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime.
+      One evening, as he framed the careless rhyme,
+      It was his chance to wander far abroad,
+      And o'er a lonely eminence to climb,
+      Which heretofore his foot had never trode;
+    A vale appeared below, a deep retired abode.
+
+
+                        VII.
+
+      Thither he hied, enamoured of the scene:
+      For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell,
+      Here scorched with lightning, there with ivy green,
+      Fenced from the north and east this savage dell;
+      Southward a mountain rose with easy swell,
+      Whose long long groves eternal murmur made;
+      And toward the western sun a streamlet fell,
+      Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, surveyed
+    Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold arrayed.
+
+
+                       VIII.
+
+      Along this narrow valley, you might see
+      The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground,
+      And, here and there, a solitary tree,
+      Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crowned.
+      Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound
+      Of parted fragments tumbling from on high;
+      And, from the summit of that craggy mound,
+      The perching eagle oft was heard to cry,
+    Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the sky.
+
+
+                         IX.
+
+      One cultivated spot there was, that spread
+      Its flowery bosom to the noon-day beam,
+      Where many a rose-bud rears its blushing head,
+      And herbs, for food, with future plenty teem.
+      Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream,
+      Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul:
+      He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam,
+      Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll,
+    When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole.
+
+
+                          X.
+
+      'Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,
+      'And woo the weary to profound repose;
+      'Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest,
+      'And whisper comfort to the man of woes!
+      'Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,
+      'And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.
+      'O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes,
+      'When lucre lures him, or ambition stings,
+    'Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.
+
+
+                         XI.
+
+      'Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire?
+      'Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid:
+      'To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire?
+      'It is thy weakness that requires their aid:
+      'To palaces, with gold and gems inlaid?
+      'They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm:
+      'To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade?
+      'Behold the victor vanquished by the worm!
+    'Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform!
+
+
+                        XII.
+
+      'True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind
+      'Virtue has raised above the things below;
+      'Who, every hope and fear to heaven resigned,
+      'Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow.'
+      This strain, from midst the rocks, was heard to flow
+      In solemn sounds. Now beamed the evening-star;
+      And from embattled clouds, emerging slow,
+      Cynthia came riding on her silver car;
+    And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.
+
+
+                       XIII.
+
+      Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew;
+      (While Edwin, wrapt in wonder, listening stood)
+      'Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu;
+      'Scorned by the wise, and hated by the good!
+      'Ye only can engage the servile brood
+      'Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days,
+      'Ashamed of truth and liberty, have wooed,
+      'And hugged the chain, that, glittering on their gaze,
+    'Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze.
+
+
+                        XIV.
+
+      'Like them, abandoned to Ambition's sway,
+      'I sought for glory in the paths of guile;
+      'And fawned and smiled, to plunder and betray,
+      'Myself betrayed and plundered all the while;
+      'So gnawed the viper the corroding file.
+      'But now, with pangs of keen remorse, I rue
+      'Those years of trouble and debasement vile.
+      'Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue?
+    'Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view!
+
+
+                         XV.
+
+      'The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care,
+      'And storms of disappointment, all o'erpast,
+      'Henceforth, no earthly hope with heaven shall share
+      'This heart, where peace serenely shines at last.
+      'And if for me no treasure be amassed,
+      'And if no future age shall hear my name,
+      'I lurk the more secure from fortune's blast,
+      'And with more leisure feed this pious flame,
+    'Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame.
+
+
+                        XVI.
+
+      'The end and the reward of toil is rest.
+      'Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace.
+      'Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possessed,
+      'Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease!
+      'Ah! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece,
+      'The lay, heaven-prompted, and harmonious string,
+      'The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece,
+      'All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring,
+    'If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring!
+
+
+                       XVII.
+
+      'Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb
+      'With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown,
+      'In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome,
+      'Where night and desolation ever frown.
+      'Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
+      'Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
+      'With here and there a violet bestrown,
+      'Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave;
+    'And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
+
+
+                      XVIII.
+
+      'And thither let the village swain repair;
+      'And, light of heart, the village maiden gay,
+      'To deck with flowers her half-dishevelled hair,
+      'And celebrate the merry morn of May.
+      'There let the shepherd's pipe, the live-long day,
+      'Fill all the grove with love's bewitching woe;
+      'And when mild Evening comes with mantle grey,
+      'Let not the blooming band make haste to go;
+    'No ghost, nor spell, my long and last abode shall know.
+
+
+                        XIX.
+
+      'For though I fly to 'scape from fortune's rage,
+      'And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn,
+      'Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage,
+      'Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn:
+      'For virtue lost, and ruined man, I mourn.
+      'O Man! creation's pride, heaven's darling child,
+      'Whom Nature's best, divinest, gifts adorn,
+      'Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled,
+    'And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears defiled!
+
+
+                         XX.
+
+      'Along yon glittering sky what glory streams!
+      'What majesty attends night's lovely queen!
+      'Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams;
+      'And mountains rise, and oceans roll between,
+      'And all conspire to beautify the scene.
+      'But, in the mental world, what chaos drear!
+      'What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien!
+      'O when shall that eternal morn appear,
+    'These dreadful forms to chace, this chaos dark to clear!
+
+
+                        XXI.
+
+      'O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven,
+      'In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light,
+      'Rose from the abyss; when dark Confusion, driven
+      'Down down the bottomless profound of night,
+      'Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight!
+      'O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray,
+      'To blast the fury of oppressive might,
+      'Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway,
+    'And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.'
+
+
+                       XXII.
+
+      Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes
+      In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.
+      'And is it thus in courtly life,' (he cries)
+      'That man to man acts a betrayer's part?
+      'And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert,
+      'Each social instinct, and sublime desire?
+      'Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,
+      'If what the great pursue, and learned admire,
+    'Thus dissipate and quench the soul's ethereal fire!'
+
+
+                      XXIII.
+
+      He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage
+      O'erhear, in silent orisons employed.
+      The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,
+      Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed:
+      For now no cloud obscures the starry void;
+      The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills;
+      Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed;
+      A soothing murmur the lone region fills,
+    Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.
+
+
+                       XXIV.
+
+      But he, from day to day, more anxious grew.
+      The voice still seemed to vibrate on his ear.
+      Nor durst he hope the Hermit's tale untrue;
+      For man he seemed to love, and heaven to fear;
+      And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.
+      'Yet, can man's gentle heart become so fell?
+      'No more in vain conjecture let me wear
+      'My hours away, but seek the Hermit's cell;
+    'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.'
+
+
+                        XXV.
+
+      At early dawn the youth his journey took,
+      And many a mountain passed, and valley wide,
+      Then reached the wild; where, in a flowery nook,
+      And seated on a mossy stone, he spied
+      An ancient man: his harp lay him beside.
+      A stag sprang from the pasture at his call,
+      And, kneeling, licked the withered hand, that tied
+      A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall,
+    And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small.
+
+
+                       XXVI.
+
+      And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw
+      The wanderer approaching: innocence
+      Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe
+      Depressed his eye, that feared to give offence.
+      'Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence?
+      'Why roam thy steps to this abandoned dale?'
+      'A shepherd-boy (the Youth replied), far hence
+      'My habitation; hear my artless tale;
+    'Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.
+
+
+                      XXVII.
+
+      'Late as I roamed, intent on Nature's charms,
+      'I reached, at eve, this wilderness profound;
+      'And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms,
+      'Heard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound,
+      '(For, in thy speech, I recognise the sound.)
+      'You mourned for ruined man, and virtue lost,
+      'And seemed to feel of keen remorse the wound,
+      'Pondering on former days, by guilt engrossed,
+    'Or in the giddy storm of dissipation tossed.
+
+
+                     XXVIII.
+
+      'But say, in courtly life can craft be learned,
+      'Where knowledge opens, and exalts the soul?
+      'Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearned,
+      'Can selfishness the liberal heart controul?
+      'Is glory there achieved by arts, as foul
+      'As those which felons, fiends, and furies plan?
+      'Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tygers prowl;
+      'Love is the godlike attribute of man.
+    'O teach a simple Youth this mystery to scan!
+
+
+                       XXIX.
+
+      'Or else the lamentable strain disclaim,
+      'And give me back the calm, contented mind;
+      'Which, late, exulting, viewed, in Nature's frame,
+      'Goodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,
+      'Grace, grandeur, and utility combined.
+      'Restore those tranquil days, that saw me still
+      'Well pleased with all, but most with humankind;
+      'When Fancy roamed through Nature's works at will,
+    'Unchecked by cold distrust, and uninformed of ill.'
+
+
+                        XXX.
+
+      'Wouldst thou (the Sage replied) in peace return
+      'To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,
+      'Leave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,
+      'From every gentle ear the dreadful truth:
+      'For if my desultory strain with ruth
+      'And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow,
+      'Alas! what comfort could thy anguish sooth,
+      'Shouldst thou the extent of human folly know?
+    'Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.
+
+
+                       XXXI.
+
+      'But let untender thoughts afar be driven;
+      'Nor venture to arraign the dread decree:
+      'For know, to man, as candidate for heaven,
+      'The voice of The Eternal said, Be free:
+      'And this divine prerogative to thee
+      'Does virtue, happiness, and heaven convey;
+      'For virtue is the child of liberty,
+      'And happiness of virtue; nor can they
+    'Be free to keep the path, who are not free to stray.
+
+
+                      XXXII.
+
+      'Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,
+      'Which else might thy young virtue overpower;
+      'And in thy converse I shall find relief,
+      'When the dark shades of melancholy lower:
+      'For solitude has many a dreary hour,
+      'Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain:
+      'Come often then; for, haply, in my bower,
+      'Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may'st gain:
+    'If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.'
+
+
+                     XXXIII.
+
+      And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze
+      The Muse of History unrolls her page.
+      But few, alas! the scenes her art displays,
+      To charm his fancy, or his heart engage.
+      Here, chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,
+      And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:
+      Here, smiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage,
+      But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,
+    And languish in the dust, and clasp the abandoned urn.
+
+
+                      XXXIV.
+
+      'Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs
+      'That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel!
+      'Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,
+      'Hands drenched in blood, and breasts begirt with steel!
+      'To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel,
+      'Heroes, alas! are things of small concern.
+      'Could History man's secret heart reveal,
+      'And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,
+    'Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not yearn!
+
+
+                       XXXV.
+
+      'This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine.
+      '(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!)
+      'All else from Nature's moral path decline,
+      'Lured by the toys that captivate the throng;
+      'To herd in cabinets and camps, among
+      'Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride;
+      'Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song,
+      'How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide,
+    'Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.
+
+
+                      XXXVI.
+
+      'O, who of man the story will unfold,
+      'Ere victory and empire wrought annoy,
+      'In that elysian age (misnamed of gold)
+      'The age of love, and innocence, and joy,
+      'When all were great and free! man's sole employ
+      'To deck the bosom of his parent earth;
+      'Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy,
+      'To aid the floweret's long-expected birth,
+    'And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth.
+
+
+                     XXXVII.
+
+      'Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves,
+      'Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent,
+      'Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves,
+      'His eye still smiling, and his heart content.
+      'Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went.
+      'Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.
+      'None prowled for prey, none watched to circumvent.
+      'To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave:
+    'No vassal feared his lord, no tyrant feared his slave.
+
+
+                    XXXVIII.
+
+      'But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared
+      'To pierce those hallowed bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam,
+      'Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard,
+      'That paints the charms of that delicious theme.
+      'Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream
+      'That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe!
+      'Careless what others of my choice may deem,
+      'I long where Love and Fancy lead to go,
+    'And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.'
+
+
+                      XXXIX.
+
+      'I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied),
+      'For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways.
+      'And yet, even there, if left without a guide,
+      'The young adventurer unsafely plays.
+      'Eyes, dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays,
+      'In modest Truth no light nor beauty find.
+      'And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze,
+      'That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind,
+    'More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined?
+
+
+                         XL.
+
+      'Fancy enervates, while it sooths, the heart,
+      'And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight:
+      'To joy each heightening charm it can impart,
+      'But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night.
+      'And often, where no real ills affright,
+      'Its visionary fiends, an endless train,
+      'Assail with equal or superior might,
+      'And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain,
+    'And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.
+
+
+                        XLI.
+
+      'And yet, alas! the real ills of life
+      'Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared;
+      'Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife,
+      'Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard.
+      'We fare on earth, as other men have fared:
+      'Were they successful? Let not us despair.
+      'Was disappointment oft their sole reward?
+      'Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare,
+    'How they have borne the load ourselves are doomed to bear.
+
+
+                       XLII.
+
+      'What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils,
+      'And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight,
+      'To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils
+      'Sacred to science, liberty, and right,
+      'And peace, through every age divinely bright,
+      'Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind!
+      'Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height,
+      'A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus inshrined
+    'In power, and man with man for mutual aid combine!
+
+
+                      XLIII.
+
+      'Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reared!
+      'Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restrained!
+      'Without you what were man? A grovelling herd,
+      'In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchained.
+      'Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reigned
+      'In arts unrivalled: O, to latest days,
+      'In Albion may your influence, unprofaned,
+      'To godlike worth the generous bosom raise,
+    'And prompt the Sage's lore, and fire the Poet's lays.
+
+
+                       XLIV.
+
+      'But now let other themes our care engage.
+      'For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace,
+      'To curb Imagination's lawless rage,
+      'And from within the cherished heart to brace,
+      'Philosophy appears. The gloomy race,
+      'By Indolence and moping Fancy bred,
+      'Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place,
+      'And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead,
+    'While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.
+
+
+                        XLV.
+
+      'Then waken from long lethargy to life
+      'The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought;
+      'Then jarring appetites forego their strife,
+      'A strife by ignorance to madness wrought.
+      'Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought
+      'With fell revenge, lust that defies controul,
+      'With gluttony and death. The mind untaught,
+      'Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl;
+    'As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.
+
+
+                       XLVI.
+
+      'And Reason, now, through Number, Time, and Space,
+      'Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye,
+      'And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace,
+      'Whose long progression leads to Deity.
+      'Can mortal strength presume to soar so high?
+      'Can mortal sight, so oft bedimmed with tears,
+      'Such glory bear?--for lo, the shadows fly
+      'From Nature's face; Confusion disappears,
+    'And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.
+
+
+                      XLVII.
+
+      'In the deep windings of the grove, no more
+      'The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell;
+      'Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar
+      'Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell;
+      'No wizard mutters the tremendous spell,
+      'Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon;
+      'Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell,
+      'To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon,
+    'Or chace the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.
+
+
+                     XLVIII.
+
+      'Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle,
+      'Stunned with the eternal turbulence of waves,
+      'Lo, with dim eyes, that never learned to smile,
+      'And trembling hands, the famished native craves
+      'Of Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves,
+      'Or scorched on rocks, he pines from day to day;
+      'But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves
+      'The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray,
+    'And to a happier land wafts merrily away.
+
+
+                       XLIX.
+
+      'And even where Nature loads the teeming plain
+      'With the full pomp of vegetable store,
+      'Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane:
+      'Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore,
+      'Stretch their enormous gloom; which, to explore,
+      'Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood;
+      'For there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore,
+      'Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood,
+    'Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood.
+
+
+                          L.
+
+      'Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame
+      'The soil, by plenty to intemperance fed.
+      'Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame,
+      'Poison, and plague, and yelling rage, are fled.
+      'The waters, bursting from their slimy bed,
+      'Bring health and melody to every vale:
+      'And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head,
+      'Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale,
+    'To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.
+
+
+                         LI.
+
+      'What dire necessities, on every hand,
+      'Our art, our strength, our fortitude, require!
+      'Of foes intestine, what a numerous band
+      'Against this little throb of life conspire!
+      'Yet Science can elude their fatal ire
+      'Awhile, and turn aside Death's levelled dart,
+      'Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire,
+      'And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart,
+    'And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.
+
+
+                        LII.
+
+      'Nor less to regulate man's moral frame
+      'Science exerts her all-composing sway.
+      'Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame,
+      'Or pines, to indolence and spleen a prey,
+      'Or avarice, a fiend more fierce than they?
+      'Flee to the shade of Academus' grove;
+      'Where cares molest not, discord melts away
+      'In harmony, and the pure passions prove,
+    'How sweet the words of truth, breathed from the lips of Love.
+
+
+                       LIII.
+
+      'What cannot Art and Industry perform,
+      'When Science plans the progress of their toil!
+      'They smile at penury, disease, and storm;
+      'And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil.
+      'When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil
+      'A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage
+      'Order transforms to anarchy and spoil,
+      'Deep-versed in man, the philosophic Sage
+    'Prepares, with lenient hand, their phrenzy to assuage.
+
+
+                        LIV.
+
+      ''Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind,
+      'From situation, temper, soil, and clime
+      'Explored, a nation's various powers can bind,
+      'And various orders, in one form sublime
+      'Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time,
+      'Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear
+      'The assault of foreign or domestic crime,
+      'While public Faith, and public Love sincere,
+    'And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.'
+
+
+                         LV.
+
+      Enraptured by the Hermit's strain, the Youth
+      Proceeds the path of science to explore.
+      And now, expanding to the beams of truth,
+      New energies, and charms unknown before,
+      His mind discloses: Fancy now no more
+      Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies;
+      But, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power,
+      Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise,
+    Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies.
+
+
+                        LVI.
+
+      Nor love of novelty alone inspires,
+      Their laws and nice dependencies to scan;
+      For, mindful of the aids that life requires,
+      And of the services man owes to man,
+      He meditates new arts on Nature's plan;
+      The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm,
+      The flame of Industry and Genius fan,
+      And Emulation's noble rage alarm,
+    And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.
+
+
+                       LVII.
+
+      But She, who set on fire his infant heart,
+      And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared
+      And blessed, the Muse, and her celestial art,
+      Still claim the Enthusiast's fond and first regard.
+      From Nature's beauties variously compared,
+      And variously combined, he learns to frame
+      Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard,
+      While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,
+    Enamoured consecrates to never-dying fame.
+
+
+                      LVIII.
+
+      Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show,
+      Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface,
+      Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now
+      To his experienced eye a modest grace
+      Presents, where Ornament the second place
+      Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design
+      Subservient still. Simplicity apace
+      Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine,
+    And clears the ambiguous phrase, and lops the unwieldy line.
+
+
+                        LIX.
+
+      Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains)
+      What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole,
+      When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains
+      His deep majestic melody 'gan roll:
+      Fain would I sing, what transport stormed his soul,
+      How the red current throbbed his veins along,
+      When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul,
+      Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong,
+    Homer raised high to heaven the loud, the impetuous song.
+
+
+                         LX.
+
+      And how his lyre, though rude her first essays,
+      Now skilled to sooth, to triumph, to complain,
+      Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,
+      Was taught to modulate the artful strain,
+      I fain would sing: but ah! I strive in vain.
+      Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.
+      With trembling step, to join yon weeping train,
+      I haste, where gleams funereal glare around,
+    And, mixed with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound.
+
+
+                        LXI.
+
+      Adieu, ye lays, that fancy's flowers adorn,
+      The soft amusement of the vacant mind!
+      He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,
+      He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined,
+      Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!
+      He sleeps in dust. Ah! how should I pursue
+      My theme! To heart-consuming grief resigned,
+      Here, on his recent grave I fix my view,
+    And pour my bitter tears.--Ye flowery lays, adieu!
+
+
+                       LXII.
+
+      Art thou, my GREGORY, for ever fled!
+      And am I left to unavailing woe!
+      When fortune's storms assail this weary head,
+      Where cares long since have shed untimely snow,
+      Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go!
+      No more thy soothing voice my anguish chears:
+      Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,
+      My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.
+    'Tis meet that I should mourn:--flow forth afresh my tears.
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+                                  ON
+                          SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+                                  ON
+                          SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
+
+
+                              RETIREMENT.
+
+                                 1758.
+
+    When, in the crimson cloud of Even,
+    The lingering light decays,
+    And Hesper, on the front of heaven,
+    His glittering gem displays;
+    Deep in the silent vale, unseen,
+    Beside a lulling stream,
+    A pensive Youth, of placid mien,
+    Indulged this tender theme.
+
+    Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled,
+    High o'er the glimmering dale;
+    Ye woods, along whose windings wild,
+    Murmurs the solemn gale;
+    Where Melancholy strays forlorn,
+    And Woe retires to weep,
+    What time the wan moon's yellow horn
+    Gleams on the western deep.
+
+    To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms
+    Ne'er drew Ambition's eye,
+    'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms,
+    To your retreats I fly.
+    Deep in your most sequestered bower,
+    Let me at last recline,
+    Where Solitude, mild, modest power,
+    Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
+
+    How shall I woo thee, matchless Fair!
+    Thy heavenly smile how win!
+    Thy smile, that smooths the brow of care,
+    And stills the storm within.
+    O wilt thou to thy favourite grove
+    Thine ardent votary bring,
+    And bless his hours, and bid them move,
+    Serene, on silent wing.
+
+    Oft let remembrance sooth his mind
+    With dreams of former days,
+    When, in the lap of peace reclined,
+    He framed his infant lays;
+    When Fancy roved at large, nor Care,
+    Nor cold Distrust alarmed,
+    Nor Envy, with malignant glare,
+    His simple youth had harmed.
+
+    'Twas then, O Solitude, to thee
+    His early vows were paid,
+    From heart sincere, and warm, and free,
+    Devoted to the shade.
+    Ah why did Fate his steps decoy
+    In stormy paths to roam,
+    Remote from all congenial joy?--
+    O take the Wanderer home!
+
+    Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine,
+    Thy charms my only theme;
+    My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine
+    Waves o'er the gloomy stream,
+    Whence the scared owl, on pinions grey,
+    Breaks from the rustling boughs,
+    And down the lone vale sails away
+    To more profound repose.
+
+    O! while to thee the woodland pours
+    Its wildly warbling song,
+    And balmy from the bank of flowers
+    The zephyr breathes along;
+    Let no rude sound invade from far,
+    No vagrant foot be nigh,
+    No ray from Grandeur's gilded car,
+    Flash on the startled eye.
+
+    But if some pilgrim through the glade,
+    Thy hallowed bowers explore,
+    O guard from harm his hoary head,
+    And listen to his lore;
+    For he of joys divine shall tell,
+    That wean from earthly woe,
+    And triumph o'er the mighty spell,
+    That chains this heart below.
+
+    For me, no more the path invites
+    Ambition loves to tread;
+    No more I climb those toilsome heights
+    By guileful Hope misled;
+    Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more
+    To Mirth's enlivening strain;
+    For present pleasure soon is o'er,
+    And all the past is vain.
+
+
+
+
+                                ELEGY.
+
+
+    Still shall unthinking man substantial deem
+    The forms, that fleet through life's deceitful dream?
+    On clouds, where Fancy's beam amusive plays,
+    Shall heedless Hope the towering fabric raise?
+    Till at Death's touch the fairy visions fly,
+    And real scenes rush dismal on the eye;
+    And, from Elysium's balmy slumber torn,
+    The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn.
+      O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance,
+    Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance,
+    Who flowery vales in endless view survey,
+    Glittering in beams of visionary day;
+    O, yet while Fate delays the impending woe,
+    Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow;
+    Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill
+    Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill;
+    Lest, thus encompassed with funereal gloom,
+    Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb,
+    Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear,
+    And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe.
+      Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combined,
+    That charms the eye, or captivates the mind!
+    Fair, as the floweret opening on the morn,
+    Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!
+    Sweet, as the downy-pinioned gale, that roves
+    To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!
+    Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day,
+    Warbling remote, along the vales decay!
+    Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine,
+    What sweetness, mildness, can be matched with thine?
+    Why roam abroad? Since still, to Fancy's eyes,
+    I see, I see thy lovely form arise.
+    Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,
+    Gaze on that cheek, where all the Graces smile;
+    That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright,
+    Where meekness beams ineffable delight;
+    That brow, where Wisdom sits enthroned serene,
+    Each feature forms, and dignifies the mein:
+    Still let me listen, while her words impart
+    The sweet effusions of the blameless heart,
+    Till all my soul, each tumult charmed away,
+    Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway.
+      By thee inspired, O Virtue! Age is young,
+    And music warbles from the faltering tongue:
+    Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow,
+    And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow,
+    Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies
+    Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes:
+    But when Youth's living bloom reflects thy beams,
+    Resistless on the view the glory streams;
+    Love, Wonder, Joy, alternately alarm,
+    And Beauty dazzles with angelic charm.
+    Ah! whither fled! ye dear illusions, stay!
+    Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay!
+    How are the roses on that cheek decay'd,
+    Which late the purple light of youth display'd!
+    Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow'd;
+    With life and thought each speaking feature glow'd.
+    Fair was the flower, and soft the vernal sky;
+    Elate with hope, we deemed no tempest nigh;
+    When lo! a whirlwind's instantaneous gust
+    Left all its beauties withering in the dust!
+      All cold the hand, that soothed Woe's weary head!
+    And quenched the eye, the pitying tear that shed!
+    And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole,
+    Infusing balm into the rankled soul!
+    O Death! why arm with cruelty thy power,
+    And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower?
+    Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven?
+    Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven?
+    But peace, bold thought! be still my bursting heart!
+    We, not ELIZA, felt the fatal dart.
+    Scaped the dark dungeon, does the slave complain,
+    Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain?
+    Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn,
+    On this dark wild condemned to roam forlorn?
+    Where Reason's meteor-rays, with sickly glow,
+    O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw?
+    Disclosing dubious to the affrighted eye
+    O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
+    Black billowy seas in storm perpetual toss'd,
+    And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost.
+    O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay,
+    Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day,
+    And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar,
+    Where dangers threat, and fear alarms no more!
+      Transporting thought! here let me wipe away
+    The tear of grief, and wake a bolder lay.
+    But ah! the swimming eye o'erflows anew,
+    Nor check the sacred drops to pity due;
+    Lo! where in speechless, hopeless anguish, bend
+    O'er her loved dust, the Parent, Brother, Friend!
+    How vain the hope of man!--But cease the strain,
+    Nor Sorrow's dread solemnity profane;
+    Mixed with yon drooping mourners, on her bier
+    In silence shed the sympathetic tear.
+
+
+
+
+                             ODE TO HOPE.
+
+
+                       I. 1.
+
+    O thou, who glad'st the pensive soul,
+    More than Aurora's smile the swain forlorn,
+    Left all night long to mourn
+    Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl;
+    And shrieks of woe, as intermits the storm,
+    Far o'er the monstrous wilderness resound,
+    And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form,
+    And many a fire-eyed visage glares around,
+    O come, and be once more my guest!
+    Come, for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard,
+    And oft with smiles indulgent cheer'd,
+    And soothed him into rest.
+
+
+                       I. 2.
+
+    Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye,
+    Deep flashing through the midnight of their mind,
+    The sable bands combined,
+    Where Fear's black banner bloats the troubled sky,
+    Appalled retire. Suspicion hides her head,
+    Nor dares th' obliquely gleaming eye-ball raise;
+    Despair, with gorgon-figured veil o'erspread,
+    Speeds to dark Phlegethon's detested maze.
+    Lo, startled at the heavenly ray,
+    With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings,
+    And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings,
+    And sullen glides away.
+
+
+                       I. 3.
+
+    Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd,
+    Dissolve. Above the sparkling flood
+    When Phoebus rears his awful brow,
+    From lengthening lawn and valley low
+    The troops of fen-born mists retire.
+    Along the plain
+    The joyous swain
+    Eyes the gay villages again,
+    And gold-illumined spire;
+    While, on the billowy ether borne,
+    Floats the loose lay's jovial measure;
+    And light along the fairy Pleasure,
+    Her green robes glittering to the morn,
+    Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all
+    To the damp dungeon shrink, or hoary hall,
+    Or westward, with impetuous flight,
+    Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night.
+
+
+                      II. 1.
+
+    When first on Childhood's eager gaze
+    Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around,
+    Starts out of night profound,
+    Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze.
+    Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face,
+    His bashful eye still kindling as he views,
+    And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace,
+    With beating heart the upland path pursues:
+    The path that leads, where, hung sublime,
+    And seen afar, youth's gallant trophies, bright
+    In Fancy's rainbow ray, invite
+    His wingy nerves to climb.
+
+
+                      II. 2.
+
+    Pursue thy pleasurable way,
+    Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard,
+    While melting airs are heard,
+    And soft-eyed cherub forms around thee play:
+    Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd,
+    Prattling amusive in his accent meek;
+    And Modesty, half turning as afraid,
+    The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek;
+    Content and Leisure, hand in hand
+    With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing;
+    And Mirth, in many a mazy ring,
+    Frisks o'er the flowery land.
+
+
+                      II. 3.
+
+    Frail man, how various is thy lot below!
+    To-day though gales propitious blow,
+    And Peace, soft gliding down the sky,
+    Lead Love along and Harmony,
+    To-morrow the gay scene deforms;
+    Then all around
+    The thunder's sound
+    Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound,
+    And down rush all the storms.
+    Ye days, that balmy influence shed,
+    When sweet Childhood, ever sprightly,
+    In paths of pleasure sported lightly,
+    Whither, ah, whither are ye fled!
+    Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way,
+    O leave him not midst tumult and dismay;
+    For now youth's eminence he gains:
+    But what a weary length of lingering toil remains!
+
+
+                     III. 1.
+
+    They shrink, they vanish into air.
+    Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale;
+    And mingling cries assail,
+    The wail of Woe, and groans of grim Despair.
+    Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye
+    Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance;
+    Pride, smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy,
+    Frowning Disdain, and hagard Hate advance;
+    Behold, amidst the dire array,
+    Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears,
+    And lo, his iron hand prepares
+    To grasp its feeble prey.
+
+
+                     III. 2.
+
+    Who now will guard bewildered youth
+    Safe from the fierce assaults of hostile rage?
+    Such war can Virtue wage,
+    Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth!
+    Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car
+    The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne;
+    While the fair captive, marked with many a scar,
+    In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn,
+    Resigns to tears her angel form.
+    Ill-fated youth, then, whither wilt thou fly?
+    No friend, no shelter now is nigh,
+    And onward rolls the storm.
+
+
+                     III. 3.
+
+    But whence the sudden beam that shoots along?
+    Why shrink aghast the hostile throng?
+    Lo, from amidst Affliction's night,
+    Hope bursts, all radiant, on the sight:
+    Her words the troubled bosom sooth.
+    "Why thus dismayed?
+    "Though foes invade,
+    "Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid,
+    "Who tread the path of truth.
+    "'Tis I, who smooth the rugged way,
+    "I, who close the eyes of Sorrow,
+    "And with glad visions of to-morrow
+    "Repair the weary soul's decay.
+    "When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart,
+    "Dreams of heaven's opening glories I impart,
+    "Till the freed spirit springs on high,
+    "In rapture too severe for weak Mortality."
+
+
+
+
+                        _PYGMÆO-GERANO-MACHIA_,
+                             THE BATTLE OF
+                        THE PIGMIES AND CRANES.
+
+                      FROM THE LATIN OF ADDISON.
+
+
+    The pygmy-people, and the feathered train,
+    Mingling in mortal combat on the plain,
+    I sing. Ye Muses, favour my designs,
+    Lead on my squadrons, and arrange the lines;
+    The flashing swords and fluttering wings display,
+    And long bills nibbling in the bloody fray;
+    Cranes darting with disdain on tiny foes,
+    Conflicting birds and men, and war's unnumbered woes!
+      The wars and woes of heroes six feet long
+    Have oft resounded in Pierian song.
+    Who has not heard of Colchos' golden fleece,
+    And Argo, manned with all the flower of Greece?
+    Of Thebes' fell brethren, Theseus, stern of face,
+    And Peleus' son, unrivalled in the race,
+    Æneas, founder of the Roman line,
+    And William, glorious on the banks of Boyne?
+    Who has not learned to weep at Pompey's woes,
+    And over Blackmore's epic page to doze?
+    'Tis I, who dare attempt unusual strains,
+    Of hosts unsung, and unfrequented plains;
+    The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little size,
+    And armies rushing down the darkened skies.
+      Where India reddens to the early dawn,
+    Winds a deep vale from vulgar eyes withdrawn:
+    Bosomed in groves the lowly region lies,
+    And rocky mountains round the border rise.
+    Here, till the doom of Fate its fall decreed,
+    The empire flourished of the pygmy-breed;
+    Here Industry performed, and Genius planned,
+    And busy multitudes o'erspread the land.
+    But now to these lone bounds if pilgrim stray,
+    Tempting through craggy cliffs the desperate way,
+    He finds the puny mansion fallen to earth,
+    Its godlings mouldering on th' abandoned hearth;
+    And starts, where small white bones are spread around,
+    "Or little footsteps lightly print the ground;"
+    While the proud crane her nest securely builds,
+    Chattering amid the desolated fields.
+      But different fates befel her hostile rage,
+    While reigned, invincible through many an age,
+    The dreaded Pygmy: roused by war's alarms,
+    Forth rushed the madding Mannikin to arms.
+    Fierce to the field of death the hero flies;
+    The faint crane, fluttering, flaps the ground, and dies;
+    And by the victor borne (o'erwhelming load!)
+    With bloody bill loose-dangling marks the road.
+    And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay,
+    And often made the callow young his prey;
+    With slaughtered victims heaped his board, and smiled,
+    To visit the sire's trespass on the child.
+    Oft, where his feathered foe had reared her nest,
+    And laid her eggs and household gods to rest,
+    Burning for blood, in terrible array,
+    The eighteen-inch militia burst their way:
+    All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell,
+    When scarce his chirping bill had broke the shell.
+      Loud uproar hence, and rage of arms arose,
+    And the fell rancour of encountering foes;
+    Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms,
+    And Death's grim visage scares the pygmy realms.
+    Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire
+    Of Mice, high theme of the Meonian lyre;
+    When bold to battle marched the accoutered Frogs,
+    And the deep tumult thundered through the bogs.
+    Pierced by the javelin-bulrush on the shore,
+    Here, agonizing, rolled the mouse in gore;
+    And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!)
+    Shorn of one leg, slow sprawled along on three:
+    He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high,
+    But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny.
+      And now the day of woe drew on apace,
+    A day of woe to all the pygmy-race,
+    When dwarfs were doomed (but penitence was vain)
+    To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain.
+    For roused to vengeance by repeated wrong,
+    From distant climes the long-billed legions throng:
+    From Strymon's lake, Cayster's plashy meads,
+    And fens of Scythia green with rustling reeds;
+    From where the Danube winds through many a land,
+    And Mareotis laves the Egyptian strand,
+    To rendezvous they waft on eager wing,
+    And wait assembled the returning spring.
+    Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight,
+    Whet their keen beaks, and twisting claws, for fight;
+    Each crane the pygmy power in thought o'erturns,
+    And every bosom for the battle burns.
+      When genial gales the frozen air unbind,
+    The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind.
+    Far in the sky they form their long array,
+    And land and ocean stretch'd immense survey,
+    Deep, deep beneath; and triumphing in pride,
+    With clouds and winds commixed, innumerous ride;
+    'Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven
+    Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.
+      Nor less the alarm that shook the world below,
+    Where marched in pomp of war the embattled foe;
+    Where mannikins with haughty step advance,
+    And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
+    To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
+    And ranked in deep array await the storm.
+      High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen,
+    Of giant stature, and imperial mien.
+    Full twenty inches tall, he strode along,
+    And viewed with lofty eye the wondering throng;
+    And, while with many a scar his visage frowned,
+    Bared his broad bosom, rough with many a wound
+    Of beaks and claws, disclosing to their sight
+    The glorious meed of high heroic might.
+    For with insatiate vengeance, he pursued,
+    And never-ending hate, the feathery brood.
+    Unhappy they, confiding in the length
+    Of horny beak, or talon's crooked strength,
+    Who durst abide his rage; the blade descends,
+    And from the panting trunk the pinion rends.
+    Laid low in dust the pinion waves no more,
+    The trunk, disfigured, stiffens in its gore.
+    What hosts of heroes fell beneath his force!
+    What heaps of chicken-carnage marked his course!
+    How oft, O Strymon, thy lone banks along,
+    Did wailing Echo waft the funeral song!
+      And now from far the mingling clamours rise,
+    Loud and more loud rebounding through the skies.
+    From skirt to skirt of heaven, with stormy sway,
+    A cloud rolls on, and darkens all the day.
+    Near and more near descends the dreadful shade,
+    And now in battleous array displayed,
+    On sounding wings, and screaming in their ire,
+    The cranes rush onward, and the fight require.
+      The pygmy warriors eye, with fearless glare,
+    The host thick swarming o'er the burthened air:
+    Thick swarming now, but to their native land
+    Doomed to return a scanty, straggling band.--
+    When sudden, darting down the depth of heaven,
+    Fierce on the expecting foe the cranes are driven.
+    The kindling phrensy every bosom warms,
+    The region echoes to the crash of arms:
+    Loose feathers from the encountering armies fly,
+    And in careering whirlwinds mount the sky.
+    To breathe from toil upsprings the panting crane,
+    Then with fresh vigour downward darts again.
+    Success in equal balance hovering hangs.
+    Here, on the sharp spear, mad with mortal pangs,
+    The bird transfixed in bloody vortex whirls,
+    Yet fierce in death the threatening talon curls;
+    There, while the life-blood bubbles from his wound,
+    With little feet the pygmy beats the ground;
+    Deep from his breast the short, short sob he draws,
+    And, dying, curses the keen-pointed claws.
+    Trembles the thundering field, thick covered o'er
+    With falchions, mangled wings, and streaming gore,
+    And pygmy arms, and beaks of ample size;
+    And here a claw, and there a finger lies.
+      Encompassed round with heaps of slaughtered foes,
+    All grim in blood the pygmy champion glows;
+    And on the assailing host impetuous springs,
+    Careless of nibbling bills, and flapping wings;
+    And midst the tumult wheresoe'er he turns,
+    The battle with redoubled fury burns.
+    From every side the avenging cranes, amain,
+    Throng, to o'erwhelm this terror of the plain.
+    When suddenly (for such the will of Jove)
+    A fowl enormous, sousing from above,
+    The gallant chieftain clutched, and, soaring high,
+    (Sad chance of battle!) bore him up the sky.
+    The cranes pursue, and, clustering in a ring,
+    Chatter triumphant round the captive king.
+    But, ah! what pangs each pygmy bosom wrung,
+    When, now to cranes a prey, on talons hung,
+    High in the clouds they saw their helpless lord,
+    His wriggling form still lessening as he soared!
+      Lo! yet again, with unabated rage,
+    In mortal strife the mingling hosts engage.
+    The crane with darted bill assaults the foe,
+    Hovering; then wheels aloft to scape the blow:
+    The dwarf in anguish aims the vengeful wound;
+    But whirls in empty air the falchion round.
+      Such was the scene, when midst the loud alarms
+    Sublime the eternal Thunderer rose in arms;
+    When Briareus, by mad ambition driven,
+    Heaved Pelion huge, and hurled it high at heaven.
+    Jove rolled redoubling thunders from on high,
+    Mountains and bolts encountered in the sky;
+    Till one stupendous ruin whelmed the crew,
+    Their vast limbs weltering wide in brimstone blue.
+      But now at length the pygmy legions yield,
+    And, winged with terror, fly the fatal field.
+    They raise a weak and melancholy wail,
+    All in distraction scattering o'er the vale.
+    Prone on their routed rear the cranes descend;
+    Their bills bite furious, and their talons rend:
+    With unrelenting ire they urge the chace,
+    Sworn to exterminate the hated race.
+      'Twas thus the Pygmy Name, once great in war,
+    For spoils of conquered cranes renown'd afar,
+    Perished. For, by the dread decree of Heaven,
+    Short is the date to earthly grandeur given,
+    And vain are all attempts to roam beyond
+    Where Fate has fixed the everlasting bound.
+    Fallen are the trophies of Assyrian power,
+    And Persia's proud dominion is no more;
+    Yea, though to both superior far in fame,
+    Thine empire, Latium! is an empty name.
+      And now, with lofty chiefs of antient time,
+    The pygmy heroes roam the Elysian clime.
+    Or, if belief to matron-tales be due,
+    Full oft, in the belated shepherd's view,
+    Their frisking forms, in gentle green arrayed,
+    Gambol secure along the moonlight glade.
+    Secure, for no alarming cranes molest,
+    And all their woes in long oblivion rest;
+    Down the deep dale, and narrow winding way,
+    They foot it featly, ranged in ringlets gay:
+    'Tis joy and frolic all, where'er they rove,
+    And Fairy-people is the name they love.
+
+
+
+
+                                EPISTLE
+                                  TO
+                         THE HONOURABLE C. B.
+
+
+                                    PETERHEAD, 1766.
+
+    When B*** invites me, and inviting sings,
+    Instant I'd fly, (had heaven vouchsafed me wings)
+    To hail him in that calm sequestered seat,
+    Whence he looks down with pity on the great;
+    And, midst the groves retired, at leisure wooes
+    Domestic love, contentment, and the Muse.
+    I wish for wings and winds to speed my course;
+    Since B----t and the fates refuse a horse.
+      Where now the Pegasus of antient time,
+    And Ippogrifo famed in modern rhime?
+    O, where that wooden steed, whose every leg
+    Like lightning flew, obsequious to the peg;
+    The waxen wings by Dædalus designed,
+    And China waggons wafted by the wind?
+    A Spaniard reached the moon, upborn by geese;
+    (Then first 'twas known that she was made of cheese.)
+    A fidler on a fish through waves advanced,
+    He twanged his catgut, and the Dolphin danced.
+    Hags rode on broom-sticks, heathen-gods on clouds;
+    Ladies, on rams and bulls, have dared the floods.
+    Much famed the shoes Jack Giant-killer wore,
+    And Fortunatus' hat is famed much more.
+    Such vehicles were common once, no doubt;
+    But modern versemen must even trudge on foot,
+    Or doze at home, expectants of the gout.
+      Hard is the task, indeed 'tis wondrous hard,
+    To act the Hirer, yet preserve the Bard.
+    "Next week, by----, (but 'tis a sin to swear)
+    "I give my word, sir, you shall have my mare;
+    "Sound wind and limb, as any ever was,
+    "And rising only seven years old next grass.
+    "Four miles an hour she goes, nor needs a spur;
+    "A pretty piece of flesh, upon my conscience, sir."
+      This speech was B----t's; and, tho' mean in phrase,
+    The nearest thing to prose, as Horace says,
+    (Satire the fourth, and forty-second line)
+    'Twill intimate that I propose to dine
+    Next week with B***. Muse, lend thine aid a while;
+    For this great purpose claims a lofty style.
+      Ere yonder sun, now glorious in the west,
+    Has thrice three times reclined on Thetis' breast;
+    Ere thrice three times, from old Tithonus' bed,
+    Her charms all glowing with celestial red,
+    The balmy morn shall rise to mortal view,
+    And from her bright locks shake the pearls of dew,
+    These eyes, O B***, shall hail thy opening glades,
+    These ears shall catch the music of thy shades;
+    This cherished frame shall drink the gladsome gales,
+    And the fresh fragrance of thy flowery vales.
+    And (for I know the Muse will come along)
+    To B*** I mean to meditate a song:
+    A song, adorned with every rural charm,
+    Trim as thy garden, ample as thy farm,
+    Sweet as thy milk, and brisk as bottled beer,
+    Wholesome as mutton, and as water clear,
+    In wildflowers fertile, as thy fields of corn,
+    And frolicksome as lambs, or sheep new shorn.
+      I ask not ortolans, or Chian wine,
+    The fat of rams, or quintessence of swine.
+    Her spicy stores let either India keep,
+    Nor El Dorado vend her golden sheep.
+    And to the mansion house, or council hall,
+    Still on her black splay feet may the huge tortoise crawl.
+    Not Parson's butt my appetite can move,
+    Nor, Bell, thy beer; nor even thy nectar, Jove.
+    If B*** be happy, and in health, his guest,
+    Whom wit and learning charm, can wish no better feast.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+                                HARES,
+                               A FABLE.
+
+
+    Yes, yes, I grant the sons of earth
+    Are doomed to trouble from their birth:
+    We all of sorrow have our share;
+    But say, Is your's without compare?
+    Look round the world; perhaps you'll find
+    Each individual of our kind
+    Pressed with an equal load of ill,
+    Equal at least. Look further still,
+    And own your lamentable case
+    Is little short of happiness.
+    In yonder hut, that stands alone,
+    Attend to Famine's feeble moan;
+    Or view the couch where Sickness lies;
+    Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,
+    His frame by strong convulsion torn,
+    His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.
+    Or see, transfixed with keener pangs,
+    Where o'er his hoard the miser hangs;
+    Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares,
+    Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares;
+    Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll
+    Their tempests on his harassed soul.
+      But here, perhaps, it may avail
+    To enforce our reasoning with a tale.
+      Mild was the morn, the sky serene,
+    The jolly hunting band convene;
+    The beagle's breast with ardour burns;
+    The bounding steed the champaign spurns;
+    And fancy oft the game descries
+    Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
+      Just then, a council of the hares
+    Had met, on national affairs.
+    The chiefs were set; while o'er their head
+    The furze its frizzled covering spread.
+    Long lists of grievances were heard,
+    And general discontent appeared.
+    "Our harmless race shall every savage,
+    "Both quadruped and biped, ravage?
+    "Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still
+    "Unite their wits to work us ill?
+    "The youth, his parent's sole delight,
+    "Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite,
+    "Whose pulse in every vein beats strong,
+    "Whose limbs leap light the vales along,
+    "May yet e'er noontide meet his death,
+    "And lie dismembered on the heath:
+    "For youth, alas! nor cautious age,
+    "Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage.
+    "In every field we meet the foe,
+    "Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe:
+    "The morning but awakes our fears,
+    "The evening sees us bathed in tears.
+    "But must we ever idly grieve,
+    "Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?
+    "Small is each individual force,
+    "To stratagem be our recourse;
+    "And then, from all our tribes combined,
+    "The murderer to his cost may find,
+    "No foe is weak, whom Justice arms,
+    "Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms.
+    "Be roused; or liberty acquire,
+    "Or in the great attempt expire."--
+    He said no more, for in his breast
+    Conflicting thoughts the voice suppressed:
+    The fire of vengeance seemed to stream
+    From his swoln eyeball's yellow gleam.
+      And now the tumults of the war,
+    Mingling confusedly from afar,
+    Swell in the wind. Now louder cries,
+    Distinct, of hounds and men arise.
+    Forth from the brake, with beating heart,
+    Th' assembled hares tumultuous start,
+    And, every straining nerve on wing,
+    Away precipitately spring.
+    The hunting band, a signal given,
+    Thick thundering o'er the plain are driven;
+    O'er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound,
+    And river broad, impetuous bound;
+    Now plunge amid the forest shades,
+    Glance through the openings of the glades;
+    Now o'er the level valley sweep,
+    Now with short steps strain up the steep,
+    While backward from the hunter's eyes
+    The landscape like a torrent flies.
+    At last an ancient wood they gained,
+    By pruner's axe yet unprofaned.
+    High o'er the rest, by Nature reared,
+    The oak's majestic boughs appeared;
+    Beneath, a copse of various hue
+    In barbarous luxuriance grew;
+    No knife had curbed the rambling sprays,
+    No hand had wove th' implicit maze.
+    The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind,
+    The hazle's stubborn stem intwined,
+    And bramble twigs were wreathed around,
+    And rough furze crept along the ground.
+    Here sheltering, from the sons of murther,
+    The hares drag their tired limbs no further.
+      But, lo! the western wind erelong
+    Was loud, and roared the woods among:
+    From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs,
+    The sound of woe and war arose.
+    The hares, distracted, scour the grove,
+    As terror and amazement drove;
+    But danger, wheresoe'er they fled,
+    Still seemed impending o'er their head.
+    Now crowded in a grotto's gloom,
+    All hope extinct, they wait their doom:
+    Dire was the silence, till, at length,
+    Even from despair deriving strength,
+    With bloody eye, and furious look,
+    A daring youth arose, and spoke.
+      "O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,
+    "Whom ills of every sort await!
+    "O, cursed with keenest sense to feel
+    "The sharpest sting of every ill!
+    "Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,
+    "Of liberty and vengeance dream,
+    "What now remains? To what recess
+    "Shall we our weary steps address,
+    "Since Fate is evermore pursuing
+    "All ways and means to work our ruin?
+    "Are we alone, of all beneath,
+    "Condemned to misery worse than death!
+    "Must we, with fruitless labour, strive,
+    "In misery worse than death to live!
+    "No. Be the smaller ill our choice:
+    "So dictates Nature's powerful voice.
+    "Death's pang will in a moment cease;
+    "And then, All hail, eternal peace!"
+    Thus while he spoke, his words impart
+    The dire resolve to every heart.
+      A distant lake in prospect lay,
+    That, glittering in the solar ray,
+    Gleamed through the dusky trees, and shot
+    A trembling light along the grot.
+    Thither with one consent they bend,
+    Their sorrows with their lives to end;
+    While each, in thought, already hears
+    The water hissing in his ears,
+      Fast by the margin of the lake,
+    Concealed within a thorny brake,
+    A linnet sate, whose careless lay
+    Amused the solitary day.
+    Careless he sung, for on his breast
+    Sorrow no lasting trace impressed;
+    When suddenly he heard a sound
+    Of swift feet traversing the ground.
+    Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,
+    Thence, trembling, casts around his eyes;
+    No foe appeared, his fears were vain;
+    Pleased, he renews the sprightly strain.
+      The hares, whose noise had caused his fright,
+    Saw, with surprise, the linnet's flight.
+    Is there on earth a wretch, they said,
+    Whom our approach can strike with dread?
+    An instantaneous change of thought
+    To tumult every bosom wrought.
+    So fares the system-building sage,
+    Who, plodding on from youth to age,
+    At last, on some foundation-dream,
+    Has reared aloft his goodly scheme,
+    And proved his predecessors fools,
+    And bound all nature by his rules;
+    So fares he, in that dreadful hour,
+    When injured truth exerts her power,
+    Some new phenomenon to raise;
+    Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,
+    From its proud summit to the ground,
+    Proves the whole edifice unsound.
+      "Children," thus spake a hare sedate,
+    Who oft had known the extremes of Fate,
+    "In slight events the attentive mind
+    "May hints of good instruction find.
+    "That our condition is the worst,
+    "And we with such misfortunes cursed
+    "As all comparison defy,
+    "Was late the universal cry.
+    "When, lo! an accident so slight,
+    "As yonder little linnet's flight,
+    "Has made your stubborn hearts confess
+    "(So your amazement bids me guess)
+    "That all our load of woes and fears
+    "Is but a part of what he bears.
+    "Where can he rest secure from harms,
+    "Whom even a helpless hare alarms?
+    "Yet he repines not at his lot;
+    "When past, his dangers are forgot:
+    "On yonder bough he trims his wings,
+    "And with unusual rapture sings;
+    "While we, less wretched, sink beneath
+    "Our lighter ills, and rush to death.
+    "No more of this unmeaning rage,
+    "But hear, my friends, the word of age:
+      "When, by the winds of autumn driven,
+    "The scattered clouds fly cross the heaven,
+    "Oft have we, from some mountain's head,
+    "Beheld the alternate light and shade
+    "Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers
+    "The shadowy cloud; there, downward pours,
+    "Streaming direct, a flood of day,
+    "Which from the view flies swift away;
+    "It flies, while other shades advance,
+    "And other streaks of sunshine glance.
+    "Thus chequered is the life below
+    "With gleams of joy, and clouds of woe.
+    "Then hope not, while we journey on,
+    "Still to be basking in the sun;
+    "Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,
+    "That sunshine will no more return.
+    "If, by your terrors overcome,
+    "Ye fly before the approaching gloom,
+    "The rapid clouds your flight pursue,
+    "And darkness still o'ercasts your view.
+    "Who longs to reach the radiant plain,
+    "Must onward urge his course amain;
+    "For doubly swift the shadow flies,
+    "When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.
+    "At least be firm, and undismayed
+    "Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade,
+    "Erelong, spontaneous glides away,
+    "And gives you back the enlivening ray.
+    "Lo! while I speak, our danger past!
+    "No more the shrill horn's angry blast
+    "Howls in our ear; the savage roar
+    "Of war and murder is no more.
+    "Then snatch the hour that Fate allows,
+    "Nor think of past and future woes."
+    He spoke; and hope revives; the lake
+    That instant, one and all forsake,
+    In sweet amusement to employ
+    The present sprightly hour of joy.
+      Now, from the western mountain's brow,
+    Compassed with clouds of various glow,
+    The sun a broader orb displays,
+    And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.
+    The lawn assumes a fresher green,
+    And dew-drops spangle all the scene.
+    The balmy zephyr breathes along,
+    The shepherd sings his tender song.
+    With all their lays the groves resound,
+    And falling waters murmur round;
+    Discord and care were put to flight,
+    And all was peace, and calm delight.
+
+
+
+
+                               EPITAPH:
+           BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT TO BE
+           ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY.
+
+
+    Farewell, my best beloved! whose heavenly mind
+    Genius with virtue, strength with softness, joined;
+    Devotion, undebased by pride or art,
+    With meek simplicity, and joy of heart;
+    Though sprightly, gentle; though polite, sincere;
+    And only of thyself a judge severe;
+    Unblamed, unequalled, in each sphere of life,
+    The tenderest Daughter, Sister, Parent, Wife.
+    In thee their patroness the afflicted lost;
+    Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast;
+    And I----but, ah! can words my loss declare,
+    Or paint the extremes of transport and despair?
+    O Thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell,
+    My guide, my friend, my best-beloved, farewell!
+
+
+
+
+                                  ODE
+                                  ON
+                         LORD HAY'S BIRTH-DAY.
+
+                            13TH MAY, 1767.
+
+
+    A muse, unskilled in venal praise,
+    Unstained with flattery's art;
+    Who loves simplicity of lays
+    Breathed ardent from the heart;
+    While gratitude and joy inspire,
+    Resumes the long-unpractised lyre,
+    To hail, O HAY, thy natal Morn;
+    No gaudy wreath of flowers she weaves,
+    But twines with oak the laurel leaves,
+    Thy cradle to adorn.
+    For, not on beds of gaudy flowers
+    Thine ancestors reclined,
+    Where sloth dissolves, and spleen devours,
+    All energy of mind;
+    To hurl the dart, to ride the car,
+    To stem the deluges of war,
+    And snatch from Fate a sinking land;
+    Trample the invader's lofty crest,
+    And from his grasp the dagger wrest,
+    And desolating brand:
+
+    'Twas this that raised the illustrious line,
+    To match the first in fame;
+    A thousand years have seen it shine
+    With unabated flame:
+    Have seen thy mighty sires appear
+    Foremost in Glory's high career,
+    The pride and pattern of the brave.
+    Yet, pure from lust of blood their fire,
+    And from Ambition's wild desire,
+    They triumphed but to save.
+
+    The Muse with joy attends their way
+    The vales of peace along;
+    There, to its Lord the village gay
+    Renews the grateful song.
+    Yon castle's glittering towers contain
+    No pit of woe, nor clanking chain,
+    Nor to the suppliant's wail resound:
+    The open doors the needy bless.
+    The unfriended hail their calm recess,
+    And gladness smiles around.
+
+    There, to the sympathetic heart
+    Life's best delights belong,
+    To mitigate the mourner's smart,
+    To guard the weak from wrong.
+    Ye sons of luxury, be wise;
+    Know, happiness for ever flies
+    The cold and solitary breast;
+    Then let the social instinct glow,
+    And learn to feel another's woe,
+    And in his joy be blessed.
+
+    O yet, ere Pleasure plant her snare
+    For unsuspecting youth;
+    Ere Flattery her song prepare
+    To check the voice of Truth;
+    O may his country's guardian power
+    Attend the slumbering Infant's bower,
+    And bright, inspiring dreams impart;
+    To rouse the hereditary fire,
+    To kindle each sublime desire,
+    Exalt, and warm the heart.
+
+    Swift to reward a parent's fears,
+    A parent's hopes to crown,
+    Roll on in peace, ye blooming years,
+    That rear him to renown;
+    When, in his finished form and face,
+    Admiring multitudes shall trace
+    Each patrimonial charm combined;
+    The courteous yet majestic mien,
+    The liberal smile, the look serene,
+    The great and gentle mind.
+
+    Yet, though thou draw a nation's eyes,
+    And win a nation's love,
+    Let not thy towering mind despise
+    The village and the grove.
+    No slander there shall wound thy fame,
+    No ruffian take his deadly aim,
+    No rival weave the secret snare:
+    For Innocence, with angel smile,
+    Simplicity, that knows not guile,
+    And Love and Peace are there.
+
+    When winds the mountain oak assail,
+    And lay its glories waste,
+    Content may slumber in the vale,
+    Unconscious of the blast.
+    Through scenes of tumult while we roam,
+    The heart, alas! is ne'er at home;
+    It hopes in time to roam no more:
+    The mariner, not vainly brave,
+    Combats the storm, and rides the wave,
+    To rest, at last, on shore.
+
+    Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,
+    How vain your mask of state!
+    The good alone have joy sincere,
+    The good alone are great:
+    Great, when, amid the vale of peace,
+    They bid the plaint of sorrow cease,
+    And hear the voice of artless praise;
+    As, when along the trophied plain,
+    Sublime they lead the victor train,
+    While shouting nations gaze.
+
+
+
+
+                        TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+                         LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON,
+                  DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET,
+                          WITH FEATHERS, &c.
+
+
+    Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow,
+    With the dread semblance of that warlike helm,
+    That nodding plume, and wreath of various glow,
+    That graced the chiefs of Scotia's antient realm?
+
+    Thou knowest that virtue is of power the source,
+    And all her magic to thy eyes is given;
+    We own their empire, while we feel their force,
+    Beaming with the benignity of heaven.
+
+    The plumy helmet, and the martial mien,
+    Might dignify Minerva's awful charms;
+    But more resistless far the Idalian queen--
+    Smiles, graces, gentleness, her only arms.
+
+
+
+
+                              THE HERMIT.
+
+
+    At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
+    And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
+    When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
+    And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove:
+    'Twas then, by the cave of the mountain afar,
+    A Hermit his song of the night thus began;
+    No more with himself, or with nature, at war,
+    He thought as a sage, while he felt as a man:
+
+    "Ah! why thus abandoned to darkness and woe?
+    "Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain?
+    "For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
+    "And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain.
+    "Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not thy lay,
+    "Mourn, sweetest complainer! man calls thee to mourn:
+    "O sooth him, whose pleasures like thine pass away--
+    "Full quickly they pass--but they never return.
+
+    "Now gliding remote on the verge of the sky,
+    "The moon, half-extinguished, her crescent displays:
+    "But lately I marked, when majestic on high,
+    "She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
+    "Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
+    "The path that conducts thee to splendour again:
+    "But man's faded glory no change shall renew--
+    "Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain!
+
+    "Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:
+    "I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;
+    "For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,
+    "Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.
+    "Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
+    "Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.--
+    "But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn?
+    "O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?"
+
+    'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,
+    That leads, to bewilder, and dazzles, to blind;
+    My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,
+    Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.
+    "O pity, great Father of light," then I cried,
+    "Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee!
+    "Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:
+    "From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free."
+
+    And darkness and doubt are now flying away:
+    No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.
+    So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,
+    The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
+    See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,
+    And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!
+    On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
+    And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb!
+
+
+
+
+                             ODE TO PEACE.
+
+                       WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1756.
+
+
+                       I. 1.
+
+    Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
+    From antient darkness called the morn;
+    And hushed of jarring elements the noise,
+    When Chaos, from his old dominion torn,
+    With all his bellowing throng,
+    Far, far was hurled the void abyss along;
+    And all the bright angelic choir,
+    Striking, through all their ranks, the eternal lyre,
+    Poured, in loud symphony, the impetuous strain;
+    And every fiery orb and planet sung,
+    And wide, through Night's dark solitary reign,
+    Rebounding long and deep, the lays triumphant rung!
+
+
+                       I. 2.
+
+    Oh, whither art thou fled, Saturnian Age!
+    Roll round again, majestic years!
+    To break the sceptre of tyrannic Rage;
+    From Woe's wan cheek to wipe the bitter tears;
+    Ye years, again roll round!
+    Hark! from afar what desolating sound,
+    While echoes load the sighing gales,
+    With dire presage the throbbing heart assails!
+    Murder, deep-roused, with all the whirlwind's haste,
+    And roar of tempest, from her cavern springs,
+    Her tangled serpents girds around her waist,
+    Smiles ghastly fierce, and shakes her gore-distilling wings.
+
+
+                       I. 3.
+
+    The shouts, redoubling, rise
+    In thunder to the skies;
+    The nymphs, disordered, dart along,
+    Sweet powers of solitude and song,
+    Stunned with the horrors of discordant sound;
+    And all is listening, trembling round.
+    Torrents, far heard amid the waste of night,
+    That oft have led the wanderer right,
+    Are silent at the noise.
+    The mighty Ocean's more majestic voice,
+    Drowned in superior din, is heard no more;
+    The surge in silence seems to sweep the foamy shore.
+
+
+                      II. 1.
+
+    The bloody banner, streaming in the air,
+    Seen on yon sky-mixt mountain's brow,
+    The mingling multitudes, the madding car,
+    Driven in confusion to the plain below,
+    War's dreadful Lord proclaim.
+    Bursts out, by frequent fits, the expansive flame;
+    Snatched in tempestuous eddies, flies
+    The surging smoke o'er all the darkened skies;
+    The chearful face of heaven no more is seen;
+    The bloom of morning fades to deadly pale;
+    The bat flies transient o'er the dusky green,
+    And Night's foul birds along the sullen twilight sail.
+
+
+                      II. 2.
+
+    Involved in fire-streaked gloom, the car comes on.
+    The rushing steeds grim Terror guides.
+    His forehead writhed to a relentless frown,
+    Aloft the angry Power of Battles rides.
+    Grasped in his mighty hand,
+    A mace, tremendous, desolates the land;
+    The tower rolls headlong down the steep,
+    The mountain shrinks before its wasteful sweep.
+    Chill horror the dissolving limbs invades,
+    Smit by the blasting lightning of his eyes;
+    A deeper gloom invests the howling shades;
+    Stripped is the shattered grove, and every verdure dies.
+
+
+                      II. 3.
+
+    How startled Phrenzy stares,
+    Bristling her ragged hairs!
+    Revenge the gory fragment gnaws;
+    See, with her griping vulture claws
+    Imprinted deep, she rends the mangled wound!
+    Hate whirls her torch sulphureous round.
+    The shrieks of agony, and clang of arms,
+    Re-echo to the hoarse alarms,
+    Her trump terrific blows.
+    Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose,
+    Of kingly gesture, a gigantic form,
+    That with his scourge sublime rules the careering storm.
+
+
+                     III. 1.
+
+    Ambition, outside fair! within as foul
+    As fiends of fiercest heart below,
+    Who ride the hurricanes of fire, that roll
+    Their thundering vortex o'er the realms of woe,
+    Yon naked waste survey;
+    Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay;
+    Where late the rosy-bosomed hours,
+    In loose array, danced lightly o'er the flowers;
+    Where late the shepherd told his tender tale;
+    And, wakened by the murmuring breeze of morn,
+    The voice of chearful Labour filled the dale;
+    And dove-eyed Plenty smiled, and waved her liberal horn.
+
+
+                     III. 2.
+
+    Yon ruins, sable from the wasting flame,
+    But mark the once resplendent dome;
+    The frequent corse obstructs the sullen stream,
+    And ghosts glare horrid from the sylvan gloom.
+    How sadly silent all!
+    Save where, outstretched beneath yon hanging wall,
+    Pale Famine moans with feeble breath,
+    And Anguish yells, and grinds his bloody teeth.
+    Though vain the Muse, and every melting lay,
+    To touch thy heart, unconscious of remorse!
+    Know, monster, know, thy hour is on the way;
+    I see, I see the years begin their mighty course.
+
+
+                     III. 3.
+
+    What scenes of glory rise
+    Before my dazzled eyes!
+    Young zephyrs wave their wanton wings,
+    And melody celestial rings.
+    All blooming on the lawn the nymphs advance,
+    And touch the lute, and range the dance:
+    And the blithe shepherds, on the mountain's side,
+    Arrayed in all their rural pride,
+    Exalt the festive note,
+    Inviting Echo from her inmost grot----
+    But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light;
+    It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight.
+
+
+                      IV. 1.
+
+    Illusions vain! Can sacred PEACE reside
+    Where sordid gold the breast alarms,
+    Where Cruelty inflames the eye of Pride,
+    And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms?
+    Ambition, these are thine!
+    These from the soul erase the form divine;
+    And quench the animating fire,
+    That warms the bosom with sublime desire.
+    Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel,
+    And Hatred triumphs on the o'erwhelming brow,
+    And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel;
+    Blaze the blue flames of death, and sound the shrieks of woe.
+
+
+                      IV. 2.
+
+    From Albion fled, thy once beloved retreat,
+    What regions brighten in thy smile,
+    Creative PEACE! and underneath thy feet
+    See sudden flowers adorn the rugged soil?
+    In bleak Siberia blows,
+    Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose?
+    Waved over by thy magic wand,
+    Does life inform fell Lybia's burning sand?
+    Or does some isle thy parting flight detain,
+    Where roves the Indian through primæval shades;
+    Haunts the pure pleasures of the sylvan reign,
+    And, led by Reason's light, the path of Nature treads?
+
+
+                      IV. 3.
+
+    On Cuba's utmost steep,
+    Far leaning o'er the deep,
+    The Goddess' pensive form was seen:
+    Her robe, of Nature's varied green,
+    Waved on the gale; grief dimmed her radiant eyes,
+    Her bosom heaved with boding sighs.
+    She eyed the main; where, gaining on the view,
+    Emerging from the ethereal blue,
+    Midst the dread pomp of war,
+    Blazed the Iberian streamer from afar:
+    She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne,
+    Slow winged her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                        TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.
+
+
+    Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought
+      These scenes so deeply stained with sorrow's dye?
+    Is there in all thy stores no cheerful draught,
+      To brighten yet once more in Fancy's eye?
+
+    Yes--from afar a landscape seems to rise,
+      Embellished by the lavish hand of spring;
+    Thin gilded clouds float lightly through the skies,
+      And laughing loves disport on fluttering wing.
+
+    How blest the youth in yonder valley laid!
+      What smiles in every conscious feature play!
+    While, to the murmurs of the breezy glade,
+      His merry pipe attunes the rural lay.
+
+    Hail, Innocence! whose bosom all serene,
+      Feels not, as yet, the internal tempest roll.
+    Oh, ne'er may care distract thy placid mein!
+      Ne'er may the shades of doubt o'erwhelm thy soul!
+
+    Vain wish! for lo, in gay attire concealed,
+      Yonder she comes! the heart-inflaming fiend!
+    (Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield!)
+      Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend!
+
+    O smile accurst, to hide the worst designs!
+      Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest;
+    While round her arm, unseen, a serpent twines----
+      And lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast!
+
+    And, instant, lo, his dizzy eyeball swims
+      Ghastly, and reddening darts a frantic glare;
+    Pain, with strong grasp, distorts his writhing limbs,
+      And Fear's cold hand erects his frozen hair.
+
+    Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime!
+      And does thy spring no happier prospect yield!
+    Why should the sunbeam paint thy glittering clime,
+      When the keen mildew desolates the field!
+
+    How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile
+      The musing mind, and sooth to soft delight.
+    Ye images of woe, no more recoil!
+      Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night.
+
+    Now when fierce Winter, armed with wasteful power,
+      Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar;
+    How sweet to sit in this sequestered bower,
+      To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!
+
+    Ambition here displays no gilded toy,
+      That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise;
+    Nor Pleasure's paths to wilds of woe decoy,
+      Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's proud disguise.
+
+    Oft has Contentment cheered this lone abode,
+      With the mild languish of her smiling eye;
+    Here Health in rosy bloom has often glowed,
+      While loose-robed Quiet stood enamoured by.
+
+    Even the storm lulls to more profound repose;
+      The storm these humble walls assails in vain.
+    The shrub is sheltered, when the whirlwind blows,
+      While the oak's mighty ruin strows the plain.
+
+    Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies;
+      And toss the infuriate surge, and vales lay waste.
+    Nature thy temporary rage defies;
+      To her relief the gentler Seasons haste.
+
+    Throned in her emerald car, see Spring appear!
+      (As Fancy wills, the landscape starts to view.)
+    Her emerald car the youthful Zephyrs bear,
+      Fanning her bosom with their pinions blue.
+
+    Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen,
+      And lo, her rod the rose-lip'd Power extends!
+    And lo, the lawns are decked in living green,
+      And Beauty's bright-eyed train from Heaven descends!
+
+    Haste, happy days, and make all Nature glad----
+      But will all Nature joy at your return?
+    O, can ye cheer pale Sickness' gloomy bed,
+      Or dry the tears that bathe the untimely urn?
+
+    Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart,
+      Where groans the dungeon to the captive's wail?
+    To ease tired Disappointment's bleeding heart,
+      Will all your stores of softening balm avail!
+
+    When stern Oppression, in his harpy fangs,
+      From Want's weak grasp the last sad morsel bears,
+    Can ye allay the dying parent's pangs,
+      Whose infant craves relief with fruitless tears?
+
+    For ah! thy reign, Oppression, is not past.
+      Who from the shivering limbs the vestment rends?
+    Who lays the once rejoicing village waste,
+      Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends!
+
+    But hope not, Muse, vain-glorious as thou art,
+      With the weak impulse of thy humble strain,
+    Hope not to soften Pride's obdurate heart,
+      When ERROL's bright example shines in vain.
+
+    Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye,
+      Thy weeping eye, nor further urge thy flight.
+    Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy supply,
+      Or transient gleams, that flash and sink in night.
+
+    Yet fain the mind its anguish would forego:
+      Spread, then, Historic Muse, thy pictured scroll;
+    Bid the great scenes in all their splendour glow,
+      And rouse to thought sublime the exulting soul.
+
+    What mingling pomps rush on the enraptured gaze!
+      Lo, where the gallant navy rides the deep!
+    Here, glittering towns their spiry turrets raise,
+      There, bulwarks overhang the shaggy steep.
+
+    Bristling with spears, and bright with burnished shields,
+      The embattled legions stretch their long array;
+    Discord's red torch, as fierce she scours the fields,
+      With bloody tincture stains the face of day.
+
+    And now the hosts in silence wait the sign.
+      Keen are their looks whom Liberty inspires!
+    Quick as the goddess darts along the line,
+      Each breast impatient burns with noble fires.
+
+    Her form how graceful! In her lofty mien
+      The smiles of love stern Wisdom's frown controul;
+    Her fearless eye, determined though serene,
+      Speaks the great purpose, and the unconquered soul.
+
+    Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band,
+      Each feature fierce and hagard, as with pain!
+    With menace loud he cries, while from his hand
+      He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain.
+
+    Lo, at his call, impetuous as the storms,
+      Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driven;
+    Hatred, to madness wrought, each face deforms,
+      Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heaven.
+
+    Now, Virtue, now thy powerful succour lend,
+      Shield them, for Liberty who dare to die----
+    Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend!
+      Are those thy sons, thy generous sons, that fly!
+
+    Not Virtue's self, when Heaven its aid denies,
+      Can brace the loosened nerves, or warm the heart;
+    Not Virtue's self can still the burst of sighs,
+      When festers in the soul misfortune's dart.
+
+    See, where by terror and despair dismayed,
+      The scattering legions pour along the plain!
+    Ambition's car, in bloody spoils arrayed,
+      Hews its broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein.
+
+    But who is He, that, by yon lonely brook,
+      With woods o'erhung, and precipices rude,
+    Lies all abandoned, yet, with dauntless look,
+      Sees streaming from his breast the purple flood?
+
+    Ah, BRUTUS! ever thine be Virtue's tear!
+      Lo, his dim eyes to Liberty he turns,
+    As, scarce supported on her broken spear,
+      O'er her expiring son the goddess mourns.
+
+    Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies;
+      From her dishevelled locks she rends the plume;
+    No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes,
+      And on her tear-stained cheek no roses bloom.
+
+    Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway;
+      Fame's loudest trumpet labours with thy name;
+    For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay,
+      And Flattery bids for thee her altars flame.
+
+    Nor in life's lofty bustling sphere alone,
+      The sphere where monarchs and where heroes toil,
+    Sink Virtue's sons beneath Misfortune's frown,
+      While Guilt's thrilled bosom leaps at Pleasure's smile:
+
+    Full oft, where Solitude and Silence dwell,
+      Far, far remote, amid the lowly plain,
+    Resounds the voice of Woe from Virtue's cell:
+      Such is man's doom; and Pity weeps in vain.
+
+    Still grief recoils--How vainly have I strove,
+      Thy power, O Melancholy, to withstand!
+    Tired I submit; but yet, O yet remove,
+      Or ease the pressure of thy heavy hand.
+
+    Yet, for a while, let the bewildered soul
+      Find in society relief from woe;
+    O yield, a while, to Friendship's soft controul;
+      Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow?
+
+    Come then, PHILANDER! whose exalted mind
+      Looks down from far on all that charms the great;
+    For thou canst bear, unshaken and resigned,
+      The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate!
+
+    Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere,
+      Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys;
+    Who lend'st to Misery's moan a pitying ear,
+      And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys:
+
+    Who know'st man's frailty, with a favouring eye
+      And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall;
+    Who, unenslaved by Fashion's narrow tye,
+      With manly freedom follow'st Nature's call.
+
+    And bring thy DELIA, sweetly-smiling fair,
+      Whose spotless soul no rankling thoughts deform;
+    Her gentle accents calm each throbbing care,
+      And harmonize the thunder of the storm.
+
+    Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined,
+      She courts no homage, nor desires to shine;
+    In her each sentiment sublime is joined
+      To female softness, and a form divine.
+
+    Come, and disperse the involving shadows drear;
+      Let chastened mirth the social hours employ.
+    O catch the swift-winged moment while 'tis near--
+      On swiftest wing the moment flies of joy.
+
+    Even while the careless disencumbered soul
+      Sinks, all dissolving, into pleasure's dream,
+    Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll,
+      With headlong haste, along life's surgey stream.
+
+    Can gaiety the vanished years restore,
+      Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed,
+    Or soothe the sad INEVITABLE HOUR,
+      Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?
+
+    Still sounds the solemn knell, in Fancy's ear,
+      That called ELIZA to the silent tomb;
+    With her how jocund rolled the sprightly year!
+      How shone the nymph in beauty's brightest bloom!
+
+    Ah! Beauty's bloom avails not in the grave!
+      Youth's lofty mien, nor Age's awful grace.
+    Moulder alike unknown the prince and slave,
+      Whelmed in the enormous wreck of human race.
+
+    The thought-fixed portraiture, the breathing bust,
+      The arch with proud memorials arrayed,
+    The long-lived pyramid shall sink in dust,
+      To dumb Oblivion's ever desert shade.
+
+    Fancy from joy still wanders far astray.
+      Ah Melancholy, how I feel thy power!
+    Long have I laboured to elude thy sway--
+      But 'tis enough, for I resist no more.
+
+    The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste,
+      Through many a lonesome path is doomed to roam,
+    Wildered and weary sits him down at last;
+      For long the night, and distant far his home.
+
+
+                                FINIS.
+
+
+                              EDINBURGH:
+
+                     Printed by JAMES BALLANTYNE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by 
+James Beattie
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+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by James Beattie
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius
+       with some other poems
+
+Author: James Beattie
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27221]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINSTREL; PROGRESS OF GENIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1><span style="font-size: 60%">THE</span><br />
+MINSTREL,<br />
+<span style="font-size: 60%">WITH</span><br />
+SOME OTHER POEMS.</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px; padding-top: 2em">
+<img src="images/beattie.jpg" width="250" height="321" alt="frontispiece" title="James Beattie" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/signature.jpg" width="250" height="72" alt="signature" title="Signature: James Beattie" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 150%"><span style="font-size: 60%">THE</span><br />
+MINSTREL;<br />
+<span style="font-size: 60%">OR,</span><br />
+THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.<br /><br />
+
+<span style="font-size: 60%">WITH</span><br />
+SOME OTHER POEMS.</h2>
+
+<p class="author">
+By JAMES BEATTIE, LL.&nbsp;D.
+</p>
+
+<p class="publisher"><span style="font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold">EDINBURGH:</span><br />
+
+PRINTED BY JAMES BALLANTYNE,<br />
+FOR WILLIAM CREECH, MANNERS AND MILLER,<br />
+AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO.<br />
+<span style="font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold">1805.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dedication">
+<small>TO</small><br />
+<big>SIR WILLIAM FORBES,</big><br />
+<small>OF PITSLIGO, BARONET,</small><br /><br />
+<small>AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER,</small><br />
+<small>AND AS AN APPROPRIATE TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE MOST</small><br />
+<small>VALUED FRIENDS OF THE AUTHOR,</small><br /><br />
+THIS EDITION<br />
+<small>OF THE</small><br />
+POETICAL WORKS OF DR BEATTIE,<br />
+<i>IS INSCRIBED</i><br />
+<small>BY</small><br />
+THE PUBLISHERS.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<table summary="table of contents">
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="rightalign"><small>Page.</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="leftalign">The Minstrel, Book I.</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="leftalign"><span style="padding-left: 5.2em">Book II.</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Retirement</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Elegy</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Ode to Hope</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Pygm&aelig;o-gerano-machia: The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Epistle to the Hon. C.&nbsp;B.</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">The Hares: A Fable</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Epitaph: being Part of an Inscription for a Monument,
+to be erected by a Gentleman to the Memory
+of his Lady</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Ode on Lord H*&#8201;*&#8201;*&#8217;s Birth-Day</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">To the Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in
+a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &amp;c.</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">The Hermit</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Ode to Peace</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="leftalign">Triumph of Melancholy</td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h2>PREFACE<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">TO</span><br />
+THE MINSTREL.</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap"><big>T</big>he</span> design was, to trace the progress of a
+Poetical Genius, born in a rude age, from
+the first dawning of fancy and reason, till
+that period at which he may be supposed capable
+of appearing in the world as a <span class="smcap">Minstrel</span>,
+that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;&mdash;a
+character, which, according to the
+notions of our fore-fathers, was not only respectable,
+but sacred.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> endeavoured to imitate <span class="smcap">Spenser</span>
+in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony,
+simplicity, and variety, of his composition.
+Antique expressions I have avoided;
+admitting, however, some old words, where
+they seemed to suit the subject; but I hope
+none will be found that are now obsolete, or
+in any degree unintelligible to a reader of
+English poetry.</p>
+
+<p>To those, who may be disposed to ask,
+what could induce me to write in so difficult
+a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases
+my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure
+and original, to bear some relation to
+the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits
+both of simplicity and magnificence of
+sound and of language, beyond any other
+stanza that I am acquainted with. It allows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>
+the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as
+the more complex modulation of blank verse.
+What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity
+growing at last tiresome to the ear,
+will be found to hold true, only when the
+poetry is faulty in other respects.</p>
+
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span><span style="font-size: 70%">THE</span><br />
+MINSTREL;<br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">IN TWO BOOKS.</span></h2>
+
+<div class="latinquote"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Mus&aelig;,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Accipiant.&mdash;&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Virgil.</span></p>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span style="font-size: 50%">THE</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span><br />
+MINSTREL;<br />
+<span style="font-size: 50%">OR,</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.</span></h2>
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h3>BOOK FIRST.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1"><span class="smcap"><big>A</big>h</span>! who can tell how hard it is to climb<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The steep, where Fame&#8217;s proud temple shines afar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Has felt the influence of malignant star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And waged with Fortune an eternal war!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy&#8217;s frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Poverty&#8217;s unconquerable bar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In life&#8217;s low vale remote has pined alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And yet, the languor of inglorious days<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not equally oppressive is to all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Him, who ne&#8217;er listened to the voice of praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The silence of neglect can ne&#8217;er appal.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition&#8217;s call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would shrink to hear th&#8217; obstreperous trump of Fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Supremely blest, if to their portion fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Else I should here, in cunning phrase, display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How forth <span class="smcap">The Minstrel</span> fared in days of yore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Right glad of heart, though homely in array;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His harp, the sole companion of his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Muses fortune&#8217;s fickle smile deride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon&#8217;s fane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For their delights are with the village-train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom Nature&#8217;s laws engage, and Nature&#8217;s charms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The parasite their influence never warms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">V.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Though richest hues the peacock&#8217;s plumes adorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While warbling larks on russet pinions float;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or seek, at noon, the woodland scene remote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O let them ne&#8217;er, with artificial note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To please a tyrant, strain the little bill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature&#8217;s hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor was perfection made for man below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If bleak and barren Scotia&#8217;s hills arise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor blame the partial fates, if they refuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The imperial banquet, and the rich attire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To fancy, freedom, harmony, resigned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ambition&#8217;s grovelling crew for ever left behind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In each fine sense so exquisitely keen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fain to implore the aid of Flattery&#8217;s screen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(The mansion, then, no more of joy serene)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All that the genial ray of morning gilds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all that echoes to the song of even,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All that the mountain&#8217;s sheltering bosom shields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all the dread magnificence of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">X.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">These charms shall work thy soul&#8217;s eternal health,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">E&#8217;er win its way to thy corrupted heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ah! it poisons like a scorpion&#8217;s dart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The stern resolve, unmoved by pity&#8217;s smart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The troublous day, and long distressful dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Return, my roving Muse! resume thy purposed theme.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But he, I ween, was of the North Countrie:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A nation famed for song, and beauty&#8217;s charms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The shepherd-swain, of whom I mention made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On Scotia&#8217;s mountains fed his little flock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never swayed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An honest heart was almost all his stock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His drink the living water from the rock:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The milky dams supplied his board, and lent<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their kindly fleece to baffle winter&#8217;s shock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe&#8217;er they went.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">From labour health, from health contentment springs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Contentment opes the source of every joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He envied not, he never thought of kings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor from those appetites sustained annoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He mourned no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For on his vows the blameless Ph&#339;be smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">No jealousy their dawn of love o&#8217;ercast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each season looked delightful, as it past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They never roamed; secure beneath the storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which in Ambition&#8217;s lofty land is rife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where peace and love are cankered by the worm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was all the offspring of this simple pair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His birth no oracle or seer foretold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No prodigy appeared in earth or air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor aught that might a strange event declare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You guess each circumstance of <span class="smcap">Edwin</span>&#8217;s birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The parent&#8217;s transport, and the parent&#8217;s care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The gossip&#8217;s prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now his look was most demurely sad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The neighbours stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But why should I his childish feats display?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or roamed at large the lonely mountain&#8217;s head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or, where the maze of some bewildered stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There would he wander wild, &#8217;till Ph&#339;bus&#8217; beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To work the woe of any living thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By trap, or net; by arrow, or by sling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These he detested, those he scorned to wield:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He wished to be the guardian, not the king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tyrant, far less, or traitor, of the field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath the precipice o&#8217;erhung with pine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would Edwin this majestic scene resign<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For aught the huntsman&#8217;s puny craft supplies?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! no: he better knows great Nature&#8217;s charms to prize.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When o&#8217;er the sky advanced the kindling dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where twilight loves to linger for a while;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And villager abroad at early toil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When all in mist the world below was lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And view the enormous waste of vapour, tost<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In billows, lengthening to the horizon round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In darkness, and in storm, he found delight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even sad vicissitude amused his soul:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wished not to controul.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of late so grateful in the hour of drought!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For now the storm howls mournful through the brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty, crowned!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah! see, the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Have all the solitary vale imbrowned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, hark! the river, bursting every mound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Down the vale thunders; and, with wasteful sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet such the destiny of all on earth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;So flourishes and fades majestic man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor lessen of his life the little span.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Old-age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And be it so. Let those deplore their doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Is yonder wave the sun&#8217;s eternal bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And spring shall soon her vital influence shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shall I be left abandoned in the dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shall Nature&#8217;s voice, to man alone unjust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With disappointment, penury, and pain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;No: Heaven&#8217;s immortal spring shall yet arrive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And man&#8217;s majestic beauty bloom again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Bright through the eternal year of Love&#8217;s triumphant reign.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">This truth sublime his simple sire had taught.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In sooth, &#8217;twas almost all the shepherd knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor ever wished his Edwin to pursue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Let man&#8217;s own sphere (quoth he) confine his view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Be man&#8217;s peculiar work his sole delight.&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And much, and oft, he warned him, to eschew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O never, never turn away thine ear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To others do (the law is not severe)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What to thyself thou wishest to be done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And friends, and native land; nor those alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The visionary boy from shelter fly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For now the storm of summer-rain is o&#8217;er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The rainbow brightens to the setting sun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fond fool, that deem&#8217;st the streaming glory nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How vain the chace thine ardour has begun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Yet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This baffled hope might tame thy manhood&#8217;s rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Disappointment of her sting disarm.&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Perish the lore that deadens young desire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pursue, poor imp, the imaginary charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Indulge gay hope, and fancy&#8217;s pleasing fire:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fancy and Hope too soon shall of themselves expire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">When the long-sounding curfew, from afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lingering and listening, wandered down the vale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There would he dream of graves, and corses pale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ghosts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till silenced by the owl&#8217;s terrific song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hung o&#8217;er the dark and melancholy deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where fays, of yore, their revels wont to keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And there let Fancy roam at large, till sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A vision brought to his entranced sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And first, a wildly murmuring wind &#8217;gan creep<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Anon in view a portal&#8217;s blazoned arch<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And forth an host of little warriors march,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And green their helms, and green their silk attire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here and there, right venerably old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">With merriment, and song, and timbrels clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little warriors doff the targe and spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To right, to left, they thrid the flying maze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rapid along: with many-coloured rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who scar&#8217;dst the vision with thy clarion shrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fell chanticleer! who oft hast reft away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My fancied good, and brought substantial ill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O to thy cursed scream, discordant still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let Harmony aye shut her gentle ear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Insult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Forbear, my Muse. Let love attune thy line.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For how should he at wicked chance repine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who feels, from every change, amusement flow?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As on he wanders through the scenes of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the fresh flowers in living lustre blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But who the melodies of morn can tell?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild brook babbling down the mountain side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lowing herd; the sheepfold&#8217;s simple bell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the lone valley; echoing far and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The clamorous horn, along the cliffs above;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hum of bees, and linnet&#8217;s lay of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrill lark carols clear from her a&euml;rial tour.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XL.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">O Nature, how in every charm supreme!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O for the voice and fire of seraphim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sing thy glories with devotion due!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blessed be the day I &#8217;scaped the wrangling crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Pyrrho&#8217;s maze, and Epicurus&#8217; sty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And held high converse with the godlike few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who to the enraptured heart, and ear, and eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Hence! ye, who snare and stupify the mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sophists, of beauty, virtue, joy, the bane!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Greedy and fell, though impotent and blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who spread your filthy nets in Truth&#8217;s fair fane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ever ply your venomed fangs amain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hence to dark Error&#8217;s den, whose rankling slime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">First gave you form! hence! lest the Muse should deign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(Though loath on theme so mean to waste a rhyme),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nature&#8217;s true sons, the friends of man and truth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amused my childhood, and informed my youth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O let your spirit still my bosom sooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For well I know, wherever ye reside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Ah me! abandoned on the lonesome plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save when against the winter&#8217;s drenching rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And driving snow, the cottage shut the door.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her legends when the Beldam &#8217;gan impart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or chant the old heroic ditty o&#8217;er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Various and strange was the long-winded tale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sing, enamoured of the nut-brown maid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The moon-light revel of the fairy glade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And ply in caves the unutterable trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8217;Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But when to horror his amazement rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To latest times shall tender souls bemoan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Behold, with berries smeared, with brambles torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The babes, now famished, lay them down to die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8217;Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Folded in one another&#8217;s arms they lie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For from the town the man returns no more.&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But thou, who Heaven&#8217;s just vengeance darest defy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Brightened one moment Edwin&#8217;s starting tear.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But why should gold man&#8217;s feeble mind decoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And innocence thus die by doom severe?&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The assaults of discontent and doubt repel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Nor be thy generous indignation checked,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor checked the tender tear to misery given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Guilt&#8217;s contagious power shall that protect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This soften and refine the soul for heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt hath driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To censure Fate, and pious hope forego;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scarce fill the circle of one summer-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If but a momentary shower descend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or shall frail man Heaven&#8217;s dread decree gainsay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which bade the series of events extend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wide through unnumbered worlds, and ages without end!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">L.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">One part, one little part, we dimly scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the dark medium of life&#8217;s feverish dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If but that little part incongruous seem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O then, renounce that impious self-esteem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That aims to trace the secrets of the skies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou art but of dust; be humble, and be wise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thus, Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Nature gave him strength, and fire, to soar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On Fancy&#8217;s wing above this vale of tears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where dark cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through microscope of metaphysic lore:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And much they grope for truth, but never hit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For why? their powers, inadequate before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This art preposterous renders more unfit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her ballad, jest, and riddle&#8217;s quaint device,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oft cheered the shepherds round their social hearth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom levity or spleen could ne&#8217;er entice<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To purchase chat or laughter at the price<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah! had they been of court or city breed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Oft when the winter-storm had ceased to rave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He roamed the snowy waste at even, to view<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">High-towering, sail along the horizon blue:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where, &#8217;midst the changeful scenery ever new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">More wildly great than ever pencil drew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thence, musing, onward to the sounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lone enthusiast oft would take his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When sulphurous clouds rolled on the vernal day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Even then he hastened from the haunt of man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Along the darkening wilderness to stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What time the lightning&#8217;s fierce career began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o&#8217;er heaven&#8217;s rending arch the rattling thunder ran.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In sprightly dance the village-youth were joined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the rude gambol far remote reclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah then, all jollity seemed noise and folly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the pure soul, by Fancy&#8217;s fire refined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, what is mirth, but turbulence unholy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Is there a heart that music cannot melt?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah me! how is that rugged heart forlorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is there, who ne&#8217;er those mystic transports felt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of solitude and melancholy born?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He needs not woo the Muse; he is her scorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sophist&#8217;s rope of cobweb he shall twine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mope o&#8217;er the schoolman&#8217;s peevish page; or mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And delve for life, in Mammon&#8217;s dirty mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">For Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had planned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Song was his favourite and first pursuit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And languished to his breath the plaintive flute.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His infant muse, though artless, was not mute:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of elegance, as yet, he took no care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For this of time and culture is the fruit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Edwin gained, at last, this fruit so rare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As in some future verse I purpose to declare.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Meanwhile, whate&#8217;er of beautiful, or new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By chance, or search, was offered to his view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He scanned with curious and romantic eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whate&#8217;er of lore tradition could supply<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roused him, still keen to listen and to pry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At last, though long by penury controuled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And solitude, his soul her graces &#8217;gan unfold.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thus, on the chill Lapponian&#8217;s dreary land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For many a long month lost in snow profound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When Sol from Cancer sends the season bland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in their northern cave the storms hath bound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Torrents are hurled; green hills emerge; and lo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crowned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant&#8217;s heart o&#8217;erflow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The leisure hour is all that thou can&#8217;st claim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But on this verse if <span class="smcap">Montagu</span> should smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">New strains, ere long, shall animate thy frame:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And his applause to me is more than fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For still with truth accords his taste refined.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At lucre or renown let others aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I only wish to please the gentle mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom Nature&#8217;s charms inspire, and love of humankind.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span><span style="font-size: 50%">THE</span><br />
+MINSTREL;<br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">BOOK SECOND.</span></h2>
+
+
+<div class="latinquote">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Rectique cultus pectora roborant.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="right" style="padding-right: 4em"><span class="smcap">Horat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span style="font-size: 50%">THE</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span><br />
+MINSTREL;<br />
+<span style="font-size: 50%">OR,</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.</span></h2>
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h3>BOOK SECOND.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1"><span class="smcap"><big>O</big>f</span> chance or change, O let not man complain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Else shall he never never cease to wail:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All feel the assault of fortune&#8217;s fickle gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gulfs the mountain&#8217;s mighty mass entombed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloomed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But sure to foreign climes we need not range,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor search the ancient records of our race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To learn the dire effects of time and change,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which in ourselves, alas! we daily trace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet, at the darkened eye, the withered face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hoary hair, I never will repine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But spare, O Time, whate&#8217;er of mental grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of candour, love, or sympathy divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whate&#8217;er of fancy&#8217;s ray, or friendship&#8217;s flame, is mine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So I, obsequious to Truth&#8217;s dread command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall here, without reluctance, change my lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now when I leave that flowery path, for aye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of childhood, where I sported many a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Warbling, and sauntering carelessly along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where every face was innocent and gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin&#8217;s infant song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Perish the lore that deadens young desire,&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the soft tenor of my song no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Edwin, though loved of heaven, must not aspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To bliss, which mortals never knew before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But now and then the shades of life explore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though many a sound and sight of woe annoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">V.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But ah, it withers in the chilling hour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all the warring winds of heaven, they rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And from the stormy promontory tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And toss their giant arms amid the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And now the downy cheek and deepened voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gave dignity to Edwin&#8217;s blooming prime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And walks of wider circuit were his choice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One evening, as he framed the careless rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was his chance to wander far abroad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And o&#8217;er a lonely eminence to climb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which heretofore his foot had never trode;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A vale appeared below, a deep retired abode.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thither he hied, enamoured of the scene:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here scorched with lightning, there with ivy green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fenced from the north and east this savage dell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Southward a mountain rose with easy swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose long long groves eternal murmur made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And toward the western sun a streamlet fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, surveyed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold arrayed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">VIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Along this narrow valley, you might see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, here and there, a solitary tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crowned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of parted fragments tumbling from on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, from the summit of that craggy mound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The perching eagle oft was heard to cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the sky.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">One cultivated spot there was, that spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Its flowery bosom to the noon-day beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where many a rose-bud rears its blushing head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And herbs, for food, with future plenty teem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Romantic visions swarm on Edwin&#8217;s soul:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He minded not the sun&#8217;s last trembling gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">X.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And woo the weary to profound repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Can passion&#8217;s wildest uproar lay to rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And whisper comfort to the man of woes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When lucre lures him, or ambition stings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;It is thy weakness that requires their aid:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To palaces, with gold and gems inlaid?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Behold the victor vanquished by the worm!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Virtue has raised above the things below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Who, every hope and fear to heaven resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow.&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This strain, from midst the rocks, was heard to flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In solemn sounds. Now beamed the evening-star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And from embattled clouds, emerging slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cynthia came riding on her silver car;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(While Edwin, wrapt in wonder, listening stood)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Scorned by the wise, and hated by the good!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ye only can engage the servile brood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ashamed of truth and liberty, have wooed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And hugged the chain, that, glittering on their gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven&#8217;s empyreal blaze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Like them, abandoned to Ambition&#8217;s sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;I sought for glory in the paths of guile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And fawned and smiled, to plunder and betray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Myself betrayed and plundered all the while;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;So gnawed the viper the corroding file.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But now, with pangs of keen remorse, I rue<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Those years of trouble and debasement vile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And storms of disappointment, all o&#8217;erpast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Henceforth, no earthly hope with heaven shall share<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;This heart, where peace serenely shines at last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And if for me no treasure be amassed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And if no future age shall hear my name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;I lurk the more secure from fortune&#8217;s blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And with more leisure feed this pious flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The end and the reward of toil is rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possessed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The lay, heaven-prompted, and harmonious string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where night and desolation ever frown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With here and there a violet bestrown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fast by a brook, or fountain&#8217;s murmuring wave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And thither let the village swain repair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, light of heart, the village maiden gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To deck with flowers her half-dishevelled hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And celebrate the merry morn of May.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;There let the shepherd&#8217;s pipe, the live-long day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fill all the grove with love&#8217;s bewitching woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And when mild Evening comes with mantle grey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Let not the blooming band make haste to go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;No ghost, nor spell, my long and last abode shall know.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For though I fly to &#8217;scape from fortune&#8217;s rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For virtue lost, and ruined man, I mourn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O Man! creation&#8217;s pride, heaven&#8217;s darling child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Whom Nature&#8217;s best, divinest, gifts adorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears defiled!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Along yon glittering sky what glory streams!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What majesty attends night&#8217;s lovely queen!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And mountains rise, and oceans roll between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And all conspire to beautify the scene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But, in the mental world, what chaos drear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O when shall that eternal morn appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;These dreadful forms to chace, this chaos dark to clear!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Rose from the abyss; when dark Confusion, driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Down down the bottomless profound of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To blast the fury of oppressive might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Melt the hard heart to love and mercy&#8217;s sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And is it thus in courtly life,&#8217; (he cries)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;That man to man acts a betrayer&#8217;s part?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Each social instinct, and sublime desire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;If what the great pursue, and learned admire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Thus dissipate and quench the soul&#8217;s ethereal fire!&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;erhear, in silent orisons employed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For now no cloud obscures the starry void;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A soothing murmur the lone region fills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But he, from day to day, more anxious grew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The voice still seemed to vibrate on his ear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor durst he hope the Hermit&#8217;s tale untrue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For man he seemed to love, and heaven to fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet, can man&#8217;s gentle heart become so fell?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;No more in vain conjecture let me wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;My hours away, but seek the Hermit&#8217;s cell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">At early dawn the youth his journey took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And many a mountain passed, and valley wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then reached the wild; where, in a flowery nook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seated on a mossy stone, he spied<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An ancient man: his harp lay him beside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A stag sprang from the pasture at his call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, kneeling, licked the withered hand, that tied<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wanderer approaching: innocence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Depressed his eye, that feared to give offence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Why roam thy steps to this abandoned dale?&#8217;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;A shepherd-boy (the Youth replied), far hence<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;My habitation; hear my artless tale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Late as I roamed, intent on Nature&#8217;s charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;I reached, at eve, this wilderness profound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Heard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;(For, in thy speech, I recognise the sound.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;You mourned for ruined man, and virtue lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And seemed to feel of keen remorse the wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Pondering on former days, by guilt engrossed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Or in the giddy storm of dissipation tossed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But say, in courtly life can craft be learned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where knowledge opens, and exalts the soul?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Can selfishness the liberal heart controul?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Is glory there achieved by arts, as foul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;As those which felons, fiends, and furies plan?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tygers prowl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Love is the godlike attribute of man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;O teach a simple Youth this mystery to scan!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or else the lamentable strain disclaim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And give me back the calm, contented mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Which, late, exulting, viewed, in Nature&#8217;s frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Goodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Grace, grandeur, and utility combined.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Restore those tranquil days, that saw me still<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Well pleased with all, but most with humankind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When Fancy roamed through Nature&#8217;s works at will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Unchecked by cold distrust, and uninformed of ill.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Wouldst thou (the Sage replied) in peace return<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Leave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;From every gentle ear the dreadful truth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For if my desultory strain with ruth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And indignation make thine eyes o&#8217;erflow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Alas! what comfort could thy anguish sooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shouldst thou the extent of human folly know?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But let untender thoughts afar be driven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor venture to arraign the dread decree:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For know, to man, as candidate for heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The voice of The Eternal said, Be free:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And this divine prerogative to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Does virtue, happiness, and heaven convey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For virtue is the child of liberty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And happiness of virtue; nor can they<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Be free to keep the path, who are not free to stray.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Which else might thy young virtue overpower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And in thy converse I shall find relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When the dark shades of melancholy lower:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For solitude has many a dreary hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Come often then; for, haply, in my bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may&#8217;st gain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And now, at length, to Edwin&#8217;s ardent gaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Muse of History unrolls her page.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But few, alas! the scenes her art displays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To charm his fancy, or his heart engage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, smiling Virtue prompts the patriot&#8217;s rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And languish in the dust, and clasp the abandoned urn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Hands drenched in blood, and breasts begirt with steel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Heroes, alas! are things of small concern.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Could History man&#8217;s secret heart reveal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not yearn!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;All else from Nature&#8217;s moral path decline,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Lured by the toys that captivate the throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To herd in cabinets and camps, among<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;How tyrant blood, o&#8217;er many a region wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;O, who of man the story will unfold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ere victory and empire wrought annoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In that elysian age (misnamed of gold)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The age of love, and innocence, and joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When all were great and free! man&#8217;s sole employ<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To deck the bosom of his parent earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To aid the floweret&#8217;s long-expected birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;His eye still smiling, and his heart content.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;None prowled for prey, none watched to circumvent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To all an equal lot Heaven&#8217;s bounty gave:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;No vassal feared his lord, no tyrant feared his slave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To pierce those hallowed bowers: &#8217;tis Fancy&#8217;s beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;That paints the charms of that delicious theme.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Then hail sweet Fancy&#8217;s ray! and hail the dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Careless what others of my choice may deem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;I long where Love and Fancy lead to go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XXXIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied),<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For soft and smooth are Fancy&#8217;s flowery ways.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And yet, even there, if left without a guide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The young adventurer unsafely plays.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Eyes, dazzled long by Fiction&#8217;s gaudy rays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In modest Truth no light nor beauty find.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;More dark and helpless far, than if it ne&#8217;er had shined?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XL.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fancy enervates, while it sooths, the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To joy each heightening charm it can impart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And often, where no real ills affright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Its visionary fiends, an endless train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Assail with equal or superior might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And yet, alas! the real ills of life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;We fare on earth, as other men have fared:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Were they successful? Let not us despair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Was disappointment oft their sole reward?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;How they have borne the load ourselves are doomed to bear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Sacred to science, liberty, and right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And peace, through every age divinely bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus inshrined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;In power, and man with man for mutual aid combine!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reared!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restrained!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Without you what were man? A grovelling herd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchained.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reigned<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In arts unrivalled: O, to latest days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In Albion may your influence, unprofaned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To godlike worth the generous bosom raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And prompt the Sage&#8217;s lore, and fire the Poet&#8217;s lays.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But now let other themes our care engage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To curb Imagination&#8217;s lawless rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And from within the cherished heart to brace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Philosophy appears. The gloomy race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;By Indolence and moping Fancy bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Then waken from long lethargy to life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Then jarring appetites forego their strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;A strife by ignorance to madness wrought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With fell revenge, lust that defies controul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With gluttony and death. The mind untaught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;As Ph&#339;bus to the world, is Science to the soul.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And Reason, now, through Number, Time, and Space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Whose long progression leads to Deity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Can mortal strength presume to soar so high?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Can mortal sight, so oft bedimmed with tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Such glory bear?&mdash;for lo, the shadows fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;From Nature&#8217;s face; Confusion disappears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In the deep windings of the grove, no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of winds, is heard the angry spirit&#8217;s yell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;No wizard mutters the tremendous spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Or chace the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Stunned with the eternal turbulence of waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Lo, with dim eyes, that never learned to smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And trembling hands, the famished native craves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or scorched on rocks, he pines from day to day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And to a happier land wafts merrily away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">XLIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And even where Nature loads the teeming plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;With the full pomp of vegetable store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Stretch their enormous gloom; which, to explore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;For there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">L.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;&#8217;Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The soil, by plenty to intemperance fed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Poison, and plague, and yelling rage, are fled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The waters, bursting from their slimy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Bring health and melody to every vale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And, from the breezy main, and mountain&#8217;s head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What dire necessities, on every hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Our art, our strength, our fortitude, require!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of foes intestine, what a numerous band<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Against this little throb of life conspire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Yet Science can elude their fatal ire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Awhile, and turn aside Death&#8217;s levelled dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever&#8217;s fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Nor less to regulate man&#8217;s moral frame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Science exerts her all-composing sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or pines, to indolence and spleen a prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Or avarice, a fiend more fierce than they?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Flee to the shade of Academus&#8217; grove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Where cares molest not, discord melts away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;In harmony, and the pure passions prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;How sweet the words of truth, breathed from the lips of Love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;What cannot Art and Industry perform,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When Science plans the progress of their toil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;They smile at penury, disease, and storm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;A land, or when the rabble&#8217;s headlong rage<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Order transforms to anarchy and spoil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Deep-versed in man, the philosophic Sage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;Prepares, with lenient hand, their phrenzy to assuage.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">&#8216;&#8217;Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;From situation, temper, soil, and clime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Explored, a nation&#8217;s various powers can bind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;And various orders, in one form sublime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;The assault of foreign or domestic crime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8216;While public Faith, and public Love sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8216;And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.&#8217;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Enraptured by the Hermit&#8217;s strain, the Youth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Proceeds the path of science to explore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now, expanding to the beams of truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">New energies, and charms unknown before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His mind discloses: Fancy now no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creation&#8217;s blended stores arranging as she flies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Nor love of novelty alone inspires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their laws and nice dependencies to scan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For, mindful of the aids that life requires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And of the services man owes to man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He meditates new arts on Nature&#8217;s plan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flame of Industry and Genius fan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Emulation&#8217;s noble rage alarm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVII.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">But She, who set on fire his infant heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And blessed, the Muse, and her celestial art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still claim the Enthusiast&#8217;s fond and first regard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Nature&#8217;s beauties variously compared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And variously combined, he learns to frame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enamoured consecrates to never-dying fame.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To his experienced eye a modest grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Presents, where Ornament the second place<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Subservient still. Simplicity apace<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clears the ambiguous phrase, and lops the unwieldy line.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LIX.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What sweet delirium o&#8217;er his bosom stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His deep majestic melody &#8217;gan roll:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fain would I sing, what transport stormed his soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How the red current throbbed his veins along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Homer raised high to heaven the loud, the impetuous song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And how his lyre, though rude her first essays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now skilled to sooth, to triumph, to complain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was taught to modulate the artful strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fain would sing: but ah! I strive in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With trembling step, to join yon weeping train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I haste, where gleams funereal glare around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, mixed with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LXI.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Adieu, ye lays, that fancy&#8217;s flowers adorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The soft amusement of the vacant mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He sleeps in dust. Ah! how should I pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My theme! To heart-consuming grief resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, on his recent grave I fix my view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pour my bitter tears.&mdash;Ye flowery lays, adieu!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">LXII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Art thou, my <span class="smcap">Gregory</span>, for ever fled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And am I left to unavailing woe!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When fortune&#8217;s storms assail this weary head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where cares long since have shed untimely snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">No more thy soothing voice my anguish chears:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Tis meet that I should mourn:&mdash;flow forth afresh my tears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>POEMS<br />
+<span style="font-size: 50%">ON</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">SEVERAL OCCASIONS.</span></h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3>RETIREMENT.<br />
+
+1758.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>W</big>hen</span>, in the crimson cloud of Even,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lingering light decays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hesper, on the front of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His glittering gem displays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in the silent vale, unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside a lulling stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A pensive Youth, of placid mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Indulged this tender theme.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High o&#8217;er the glimmering dale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye woods, along whose windings wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murmurs the solemn gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Melancholy strays forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Woe retires to weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time the wan moon&#8217;s yellow horn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleams on the western deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne&#8217;er drew Ambition&#8217;s eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Scaped a tumultuous world&#8217;s alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To your retreats I fly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in your most sequestered bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me at last recline,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Solitude, mild, modest power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leans on her ivy&#8217;d shrine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How shall I woo thee, matchless Fair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy heavenly smile how win!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy smile, that smooths the brow of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stills the storm within.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O wilt thou to thy favourite grove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine ardent votary bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bless his hours, and bid them move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Serene, on silent wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oft let remembrance sooth his mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dreams of former days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, in the lap of peace reclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He framed his infant lays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Fancy roved at large, nor Care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor cold Distrust alarmed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Envy, with malignant glare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His simple youth had harmed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Twas then, O Solitude, to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His early vows were paid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From heart sincere, and warm, and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devoted to the shade.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah why did Fate his steps decoy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In stormy paths to roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remote from all congenial joy?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O take the Wanderer home!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy charms my only theme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waves o&#8217;er the gloomy stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence the scared owl, on pinions grey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breaks from the rustling boughs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down the lone vale sails away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To more profound repose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O! while to thee the woodland pours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its wildly warbling song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And balmy from the bank of flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The zephyr breathes along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let no rude sound invade from far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No vagrant foot be nigh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No ray from Grandeur&#8217;s gilded car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flash on the startled eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But if some pilgrim through the glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hallowed bowers explore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O guard from harm his hoary head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And listen to his lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he of joys divine shall tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wean from earthly woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And triumph o&#8217;er the mighty spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That chains this heart below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For me, no more the path invites<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ambition loves to tread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more I climb those toilsome heights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By guileful Hope misled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Mirth&#8217;s enlivening strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For present pleasure soon is o&#8217;er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the past is vain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3>ELEGY.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></h3>
+<hr />
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>S</big>till</span> shall unthinking man substantial deem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The forms, that fleet through life&#8217;s deceitful dream?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On clouds, where Fancy&#8217;s beam amusive plays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall heedless Hope the towering fabric raise?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till at Death&#8217;s touch the fairy visions fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And real scenes rush dismal on the eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, from Elysium&#8217;s balmy slumber torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who flowery vales in endless view survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glittering in beams of visionary day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, yet while Fate delays the impending woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest, like the lightning&#8217;s glance, the sudden ill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest, thus encompassed with funereal gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like me, ye bend o&#8217;er some untimely tomb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pour your wild ravings in Night&#8217;s frighted ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half pronounce Heaven&#8217;s sacred doom severe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That charms the eye, or captivates the mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair, as the floweret opening on the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet, as the downy-pinioned gale, that roves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warbling remote, along the vales decay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sweetness, mildness, can be matched with thine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why roam abroad? Since still, to Fancy&#8217;s eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see, I see thy lovely form arise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gaze on that cheek, where all the Graces smile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where meekness beams ineffable delight;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That brow, where Wisdom sits enthroned serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each feature forms, and dignifies the mein:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still let me listen, while her words impart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet effusions of the blameless heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all my soul, each tumult charmed away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yields, gently led, to Virtue&#8217;s easy sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By thee inspired, O Virtue! Age is young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And music warbles from the faltering tongue:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when Youth&#8217;s living bloom reflects thy beams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resistless on the view the glory streams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love, Wonder, Joy, alternately alarm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Beauty dazzles with angelic charm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! whither fled! ye dear illusions, stay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How are the roses on that cheek decay&#8217;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which late the purple light of youth display&#8217;d!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow&#8217;d;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With life and thought each speaking feature glow&#8217;d.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair was the flower, and soft the vernal sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elate with hope, we deemed no tempest nigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When lo! a whirlwind&#8217;s instantaneous gust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left all its beauties withering in the dust!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All cold the hand, that soothed Woe&#8217;s weary head!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quenched the eye, the pitying tear that shed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Infusing balm into the rankled soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Death! why arm with cruelty thy power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But peace, bold thought! be still my bursting heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We, not <span class="smcap">Eliza</span>, felt the fatal dart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scaped the dark dungeon, does the slave complain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On this dark wild condemned to roam forlorn?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Reason&#8217;s meteor-rays, with sickly glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O&#8217;er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disclosing dubious to the affrighted eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O&#8217;erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Black billowy seas in storm perpetual toss&#8217;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where dangers threat, and fear alarms no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Transporting thought! here let me wipe away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear of grief, and wake a bolder lay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! the swimming eye o&#8217;erflows anew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor check the sacred drops to pity due;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! where in speechless, hopeless anguish, bend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O&#8217;er her loved dust, the Parent, Brother, Friend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How vain the hope of man!&mdash;But cease the strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Sorrow&#8217;s dread solemnity profane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mixed with yon drooping mourners, on her bier<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In silence shed the sympathetic tear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3>ODE TO HOPE.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></h3>
+<hr />
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>O</big> thou</span>, who glad&#8217;st the pensive soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More than Aurora&#8217;s smile the swain forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left all night long to mourn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrieks of woe, as intermits the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far o&#8217;er the monstrous wilderness resound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a fire-eyed visage glares around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O come, and be once more my guest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, for thou oft thy suppliant&#8217;s vow hast heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft with smiles indulgent cheer&#8217;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soothed him into rest.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep flashing through the midnight of their mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sable bands combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Fear&#8217;s black banner bloats the troubled sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appalled retire. Suspicion hides her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dares th&#8217; obliquely gleaming eye-ball raise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair, with gorgon-figured veil o&#8217;erspread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speeds to dark Phlegethon&#8217;s detested maze.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, startled at the heavenly ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sullen glides away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view&#8217;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dissolve. Above the sparkling flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Ph&#339;bus rears his awful brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From lengthening lawn and valley low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The troops of fen-born mists retire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The joyous swain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyes the gay villages again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gold-illumined spire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, on the billowy ether borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floats the loose lay&#8217;s jovial measure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And light along the fairy Pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her green robes glittering to the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the damp dungeon shrink, or hoary hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or westward, with impetuous flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When first on Childhood&#8217;s eager gaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life&#8217;s varied landscape, stretch&#8217;d immense around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Starts out of night profound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy voice incites to tempt th&#8217; untrodden maze.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His bashful eye still kindling as he views,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With beating heart the upland path pursues:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The path that leads, where, hung sublime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seen afar, youth&#8217;s gallant trophies, bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Fancy&#8217;s rainbow ray, invite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wingy nerves to climb.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pursue thy pleasurable way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While melting airs are heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soft-eyed cherub forms around thee play:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Simplicity, in careless flowers array&#8217;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prattling amusive in his accent meek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Modesty, half turning as afraid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Content and Leisure, hand in hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Mirth, in many a mazy ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frisks o&#8217;er the flowery land.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Frail man, how various is thy lot below!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-day though gales propitious blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Peace, soft gliding down the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lead Love along and Harmony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow the gay scene deforms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then all around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunder&#8217;s sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolls rattling on through heaven&#8217;s profound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down rush all the storms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye days, that balmy influence shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When sweet Childhood, ever sprightly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In paths of pleasure sported lightly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither, ah, whither are ye fled!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O leave him not midst tumult and dismay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For now youth&#8217;s eminence he gains:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what a weary length of lingering toil remains!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They shrink, they vanish into air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mingling cries assail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wail of Woe, and groans of grim Despair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pride, smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frowning Disdain, and hagard Hate advance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, amidst the dire array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale wither&#8217;d Care his giant-stature rears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo, his iron hand prepares<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grasp its feeble prey.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who now will guard bewildered youth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe from the fierce assaults of hostile rage?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such war can Virtue wage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! full oft on Guilt&#8217;s victorious car<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the fair captive, marked with many a scar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resigns to tears her angel form.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ill-fated youth, then, whither wilt thou fly?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No friend, no shelter now is nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And onward rolls the storm.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But whence the sudden beam that shoots along?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why shrink aghast the hostile throng?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, from amidst Affliction&#8217;s night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope bursts, all radiant, on the sight:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her words the troubled bosom sooth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Why thus dismayed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Though foes invade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Hope ne&#8217;er is wanting to their aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Who tread the path of truth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;&#8217;Tis I, who smooth the rugged way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;I, who close the eyes of Sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And with glad visions of to-morrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Repair the weary soul&#8217;s decay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;When Death&#8217;s cold touch thrills to the freezing heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Dreams of heaven&#8217;s opening glories I impart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Till the freed spirit springs on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;In rapture too severe for weak Mortality.&#8221;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span><small><i>PYGM&AElig;O-GERANO-MACHIA</i>,</small><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">THE BATTLE OF</span><br />
+THE PIGMIES AND CRANES.</h3>
+
+<h4>FROM THE LATIN OF ADDISON.</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>T</big>he</span> pygmy-people, and the feathered train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingling in mortal combat on the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I sing. Ye Muses, favour my designs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lead on my squadrons, and arrange the lines;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flashing swords and fluttering wings display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long bills nibbling in the bloody fray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cranes darting with disdain on tiny foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conflicting birds and men, and war&#8217;s unnumbered woes!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wars and woes of heroes six feet long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have oft resounded in Pierian song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who has not heard of Colchos&#8217; golden fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Argo, manned with all the flower of Greece?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Thebes&#8217; fell brethren, Theseus, stern of face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Peleus&#8217; son, unrivalled in the race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&AElig;neas, founder of the Roman line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And William, glorious on the banks of Boyne?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who has not learned to weep at Pompey&#8217;s woes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over Blackmore&#8217;s epic page to doze?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Tis I, who dare attempt unusual strains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hosts unsung, and unfrequented plains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And armies rushing down the darkened skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where India reddens to the early dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winds a deep vale from vulgar eyes withdrawn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bosomed in groves the lowly region lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rocky mountains round the border rise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, till the doom of Fate its fall decreed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The empire flourished of the pygmy-breed;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Industry performed, and Genius planned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And busy multitudes o&#8217;erspread the land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now to these lone bounds if pilgrim stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tempting through craggy cliffs the desperate way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He finds the puny mansion fallen to earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its godlings mouldering on th&#8217; abandoned hearth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And starts, where small white bones are spread around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Or little footsteps lightly print the ground;&#8221;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the proud crane her nest securely builds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chattering amid the desolated fields.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But different fates befel her hostile rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While reigned, invincible through many an age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dreaded Pygmy: roused by war&#8217;s alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth rushed the madding Mannikin to arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce to the field of death the hero flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The faint crane, fluttering, flaps the ground, and dies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the victor borne (o&#8217;erwhelming load!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bloody bill loose-dangling marks the road.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And often made the callow young his prey;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With slaughtered victims heaped his board, and smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To visit the sire&#8217;s trespass on the child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft, where his feathered foe had reared her nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laid her eggs and household gods to rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burning for blood, in terrible array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eighteen-inch militia burst their way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When scarce his chirping bill had broke the shell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loud uproar hence, and rage of arms arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fell rancour of encountering foes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Death&#8217;s grim visage scares the pygmy realms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Mice, high theme of the Meonian lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When bold to battle marched the accoutered Frogs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the deep tumult thundered through the bogs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierced by the javelin-bulrush on the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, agonizing, rolled the mouse in gore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shorn of one leg, slow sprawled along on three:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now the day of woe drew on apace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A day of woe to all the pygmy-race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When dwarfs were doomed (but penitence was vain)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For roused to vengeance by repeated wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From distant climes the long-billed legions throng:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Strymon&#8217;s lake, Cayster&#8217;s plashy meads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fens of Scythia green with rustling reeds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From where the Danube winds through many a land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Mareotis laves the Egyptian strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rendezvous they waft on eager wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wait assembled the returning spring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whet their keen beaks, and twisting claws, for fight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each crane the pygmy power in thought o&#8217;erturns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every bosom for the battle burns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When genial gales the frozen air unbind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far in the sky they form their long array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And land and ocean stretch&#8217;d immense survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep, deep beneath; and triumphing in pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With clouds and winds commixed, innumerous ride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor less the alarm that shook the world below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where marched in pomp of war the embattled foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where mannikins with haughty step advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To right and left the lengthening lines they form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ranked in deep array await the storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of giant stature, and imperial mien.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full twenty inches tall, he strode along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And viewed with lofty eye the wondering throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while with many a scar his visage frowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bared his broad bosom, rough with many a wound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of beaks and claws, disclosing to their sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glorious meed of high heroic might.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For with insatiate vengeance, he pursued,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never-ending hate, the feathery brood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unhappy they, confiding in the length<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horny beak, or talon&#8217;s crooked strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who durst abide his rage; the blade descends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the panting trunk the pinion rends.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid low in dust the pinion waves no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trunk, disfigured, stiffens in its gore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What hosts of heroes fell beneath his force!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What heaps of chicken-carnage marked his course!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How oft, O Strymon, thy lone banks along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did wailing Echo waft the funeral song!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now from far the mingling clamours rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loud and more loud rebounding through the skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From skirt to skirt of heaven, with stormy sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cloud rolls on, and darkens all the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Near and more near descends the dreadful shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now in battleous array displayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On sounding wings, and screaming in their ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cranes rush onward, and the fight require.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The pygmy warriors eye, with fearless glare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The host thick swarming o&#8217;er the burthened air:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick swarming now, but to their native land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doomed to return a scanty, straggling band.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When sudden, darting down the depth of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce on the expecting foe the cranes are driven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The kindling phrensy every bosom warms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The region echoes to the crash of arms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loose feathers from the encountering armies fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in careering whirlwinds mount the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To breathe from toil upsprings the panting crane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then with fresh vigour downward darts again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Success in equal balance hovering hangs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, on the sharp spear, mad with mortal pangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bird transfixed in bloody vortex whirls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet fierce in death the threatening talon curls;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, while the life-blood bubbles from his wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With little feet the pygmy beats the ground;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep from his breast the short, short sob he draws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, dying, curses the keen-pointed claws.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembles the thundering field, thick covered o&#8217;er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With falchions, mangled wings, and streaming gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pygmy arms, and beaks of ample size;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here a claw, and there a finger lies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Encompassed round with heaps of slaughtered foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All grim in blood the pygmy champion glows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the assailing host impetuous springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless of nibbling bills, and flapping wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And midst the tumult wheresoe&#8217;er he turns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The battle with redoubled fury burns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From every side the avenging cranes, amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Throng, to o&#8217;erwhelm this terror of the plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When suddenly (for such the will of Jove)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fowl enormous, sousing from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant chieftain clutched, and, soaring high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Sad chance of battle!) bore him up the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cranes pursue, and, clustering in a ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chatter triumphant round the captive king.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, ah! what pangs each pygmy bosom wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, now to cranes a prey, on talons hung,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High in the clouds they saw their helpless lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wriggling form still lessening as he soared!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lo! yet again, with unabated rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In mortal strife the mingling hosts engage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crane with darted bill assaults the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hovering; then wheels aloft to scape the blow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dwarf in anguish aims the vengeful wound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But whirls in empty air the falchion round.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such was the scene, when midst the loud alarms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sublime the eternal Thunderer rose in arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Briareus, by mad ambition driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaved Pelion huge, and hurled it high at heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jove rolled redoubling thunders from on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountains and bolts encountered in the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till one stupendous ruin whelmed the crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their vast limbs weltering wide in brimstone blue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But now at length the pygmy legions yield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, winged with terror, fly the fatal field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They raise a weak and melancholy wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in distraction scattering o&#8217;er the vale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prone on their routed rear the cranes descend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their bills bite furious, and their talons rend:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With unrelenting ire they urge the chace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sworn to exterminate the hated race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8217;Twas thus the Pygmy Name, once great in war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For spoils of conquered cranes renown&#8217;d afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perished. For, by the dread decree of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short is the date to earthly grandeur given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And vain are all attempts to roam beyond<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Fate has fixed the everlasting bound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fallen are the trophies of Assyrian power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Persia&#8217;s proud dominion is no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, though to both superior far in fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine empire, Latium! is an empty name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now, with lofty chiefs of antient time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pygmy heroes roam the Elysian clime.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, if belief to matron-tales be due,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full oft, in the belated shepherd&#8217;s view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their frisking forms, in gentle green arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gambol secure along the moonlight glade.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secure, for no alarming cranes molest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all their woes in long oblivion rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down the deep dale, and narrow winding way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They foot it featly, ranged in ringlets gay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Tis joy and frolic all, where&#8217;er they rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fairy-people is the name they love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>EPISTLE<br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">TO</span><br />
+<small>THE HONOURABLE C.&nbsp;B.</small></h3>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p style="padding-left: 30%"><small>PETERHEAD</small>, 1766.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>W</big>hen</span> B*&#8201;*&#8201;* invites me, and inviting sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instant I&#8217;d fly, (had heaven vouchsafed me wings)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hail him in that calm sequestered seat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence he looks down with pity on the great;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, midst the groves retired, at leisure wooes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Domestic love, contentment, and the Muse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wish for wings and winds to speed my course;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since B&mdash;&mdash;t and the fates refuse a horse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where now the Pegasus of antient time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Ippogrifo famed in modern rhime?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, where that wooden steed, whose every leg<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like lightning flew, obsequious to the peg;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waxen wings by D&aelig;dalus designed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And China waggons wafted by the wind?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Spaniard reached the moon, upborn by geese;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Then first &#8217;twas known that she was made of cheese.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fidler on a fish through waves advanced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He twanged his catgut, and the Dolphin danced.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hags rode on broom-sticks, heathen-gods on clouds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ladies, on rams and bulls, have dared the floods.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much famed the shoes Jack Giant-killer wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fortunatus&#8217; hat is famed much more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such vehicles were common once, no doubt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But modern versemen must even trudge on foot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or doze at home, expectants of the gout.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hard is the task, indeed &#8217;tis wondrous hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To act the Hirer, yet preserve the Bard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Next week, by &mdash;&mdash;, (but &#8217;tis a sin to swear)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;I give my word, sir, you shall have my mare;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Sound wind and limb, as any ever was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And rising only seven years old next grass.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Four miles an hour she goes, nor needs a spur;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;A pretty piece of flesh, upon my conscience, sir.&#8221;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This speech was B&mdash;&mdash;t&#8217;s; and, tho&#8217; mean in phrase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nearest thing to prose, as Horace says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Satire the fourth, and forty-second line)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Twill intimate that I propose to dine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next week with B*&#8201;*&#8201;*. Muse, lend thine aid a while;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this great purpose claims a lofty style.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ere yonder sun, now glorious in the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has thrice three times reclined on Thetis&#8217; breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere thrice three times, from old Tithonus&#8217; bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her charms all glowing with celestial red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The balmy morn shall rise to mortal view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from her bright locks shake the pearls of dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These eyes, O B*&#8201;*&#8201;*, shall hail thy opening glades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These ears shall catch the music of thy shades;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This cherished frame shall drink the gladsome gales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fresh fragrance of thy flowery vales.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And (for I know the Muse will come along)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To B*&#8201;*&#8201;* I mean to meditate a song:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A song, adorned with every rural charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trim as thy garden, ample as thy farm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet as thy milk, and brisk as bottled beer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wholesome as mutton, and as water clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In wildflowers fertile, as thy fields of corn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frolicksome as lambs, or sheep new shorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I ask not ortolans, or Chian wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fat of rams, or quintessence of swine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her spicy stores let either India keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor El Dorado vend her golden sheep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the mansion house, or council hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still on her black splay feet may the huge tortoise crawl.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Parson&#8217;s butt my appetite can move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor, Bell, thy beer; nor even thy nectar, Jove.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If B*&#8201;*&#8201;* be happy, and in health, his guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom wit and learning charm, can wish no better feast.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h2 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span><small>THE</small><br />
+HARES,<br />
+
+<small>A FABLE.</small></h2>
+<hr />
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>Y</big>es</span>, yes, I grant the sons of earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are doomed to trouble from their birth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We all of sorrow have our share;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But say, Is your&#8217;s without compare?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look round the world; perhaps you&#8217;ll find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each individual of our kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pressed with an equal load of ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Equal at least. Look further still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And own your lamentable case<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is little short of happiness.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yonder hut, that stands alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attend to Famine&#8217;s feeble moan;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or view the couch where Sickness lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His frame by strong convulsion torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or see, transfixed with keener pangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where o&#8217;er his hoard the miser hangs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Slumber&#8217;s balmy blessing shares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their tempests on his harassed soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But here, perhaps, it may avail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To enforce our reasoning with a tale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mild was the morn, the sky serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The jolly hunting band convene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The beagle&#8217;s breast with ardour burns;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bounding steed the champaign spurns;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fancy oft the game descries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the hound&#8217;s nose, and huntsman&#8217;s eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Just then, a council of the hares<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had met, on national affairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chiefs were set; while o&#8217;er their head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The furze its frizzled covering spread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long lists of grievances were heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And general discontent appeared.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Our harmless race shall every savage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Both quadruped and biped, ravage?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Unite their wits to work us ill?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The youth, his parent&#8217;s sole delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whose pulse in every vein beats strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whose limbs leap light the vales along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;May yet e&#8217;er noontide meet his death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And lie dismembered on the heath:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;For youth, alas! nor cautious age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;In every field we meet the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The morning but awakes our fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The evening sees us bathed in tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;But must we ever idly grieve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Small is each individual force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;To stratagem be our recourse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And then, from all our tribes combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The murderer to his cost may find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;No foe is weak, whom Justice arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Be roused; or liberty acquire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Or in the great attempt expire.&#8221;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said no more, for in his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conflicting thoughts the voice suppressed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fire of vengeance seemed to stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his swoln eyeball&#8217;s yellow gleam.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now the tumults of the war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingling confusedly from afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swell in the wind. Now louder cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Distinct, of hounds and men arise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth from the brake, with beating heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th&#8217; assembled hares tumultuous start,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, every straining nerve on wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Away precipitately spring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hunting band, a signal given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick thundering o&#8217;er the plain are driven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O&#8217;er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And river broad, impetuous bound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now plunge amid the forest shades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glance through the openings of the glades;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now o&#8217;er the level valley sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now with short steps strain up the steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While backward from the hunter&#8217;s eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The landscape like a torrent flies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At last an ancient wood they gained,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By pruner&#8217;s axe yet unprofaned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High o&#8217;er the rest, by Nature reared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The oak&#8217;s majestic boughs appeared;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath, a copse of various hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In barbarous luxuriance grew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No knife had curbed the rambling sprays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No hand had wove th&#8217; implicit maze.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hazle&#8217;s stubborn stem intwined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bramble twigs were wreathed around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rough furze crept along the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here sheltering, from the sons of murther,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hares drag their tired limbs no further.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But, lo! the western wind erelong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was loud, and roared the woods among:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sound of woe and war arose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hares, distracted, scour the grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As terror and amazement drove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But danger, wheresoe&#8217;er they fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still seemed impending o&#8217;er their head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now crowded in a grotto&#8217;s gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hope extinct, they wait their doom:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dire was the silence, till, at length,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even from despair deriving strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bloody eye, and furious look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A daring youth arose, and spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8220;O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whom ills of every sort await!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;O, cursed with keenest sense to feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The sharpest sting of every ill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Of liberty and vengeance dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;What now remains? To what recess<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Shall we our weary steps address,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Since Fate is evermore pursuing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;All ways and means to work our ruin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Are we alone, of all beneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Condemned to misery worse than death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Must we, with fruitless labour, strive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;In misery worse than death to live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;No. Be the smaller ill our choice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;So dictates Nature&#8217;s powerful voice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Death&#8217;s pang will in a moment cease;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And then, All hail, eternal peace!&#8221;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus while he spoke, his words impart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dire resolve to every heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A distant lake in prospect lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, glittering in the solar ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleamed through the dusky trees, and shot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A trembling light along the grot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither with one consent they bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their sorrows with their lives to end;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While each, in thought, already hears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The water hissing in his ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fast by the margin of the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Concealed within a thorny brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A linnet sate, whose careless lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amused the solitary day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless he sung, for on his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sorrow no lasting trace impressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When suddenly he heard a sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of swift feet traversing the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thence, trembling, casts around his eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No foe appeared, his fears were vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased, he renews the sprightly strain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hares, whose noise had caused his fright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw, with surprise, the linnet&#8217;s flight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there on earth a wretch, they said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom our approach can strike with dread?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An instantaneous change of thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tumult every bosom wrought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fares the system-building sage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, plodding on from youth to age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At last, on some foundation-dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has reared aloft his goodly scheme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And proved his predecessors fools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bound all nature by his rules;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fares he, in that dreadful hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When injured truth exerts her power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some new phenomenon to raise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From its proud summit to the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proves the whole edifice unsound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8220;Children,&#8221; thus spake a hare sedate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who oft had known the extremes of Fate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;In slight events the attentive mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;May hints of good instruction find.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;That our condition is the worst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And we with such misfortunes cursed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;As all comparison defy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Was late the universal cry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;When, lo! an accident so slight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;As yonder little linnet&#8217;s flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Has made your stubborn hearts confess<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;(So your amazement bids me guess)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;That all our load of woes and fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Is but a part of what he bears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Where can he rest secure from harms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Whom even a helpless hare alarms?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Yet he repines not at his lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;When past, his dangers are forgot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;On yonder bough he trims his wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And with unusual rapture sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;While we, less wretched, sink beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Our lighter ills, and rush to death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;No more of this unmeaning rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;But hear, my friends, the word of age:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&#8220;When, by the winds of autumn driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The scattered clouds fly cross the heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Oft have we, from some mountain&#8217;s head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Beheld the alternate light and shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The shadowy cloud; there, downward pours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Streaming direct, a flood of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Which from the view flies swift away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;It flies, while other shades advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And other streaks of sunshine glance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Thus chequered is the life below<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;With gleams of joy, and clouds of woe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Then hope not, while we journey on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Still to be basking in the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;That sunshine will no more return.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;If, by your terrors overcome,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Ye fly before the approaching gloom,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The rapid clouds your flight pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And darkness still o&#8217;ercasts your view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Who longs to reach the radiant plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Must onward urge his course amain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;For doubly swift the shadow flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;When &#8217;gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;At least be firm, and undismayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Erelong, spontaneous glides away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And gives you back the enlivening ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Lo! while I speak, our danger past!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;No more the shrill horn&#8217;s angry blast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Howls in our ear; the savage roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Of war and murder is no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Then snatch the hour that Fate allows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Nor think of past and future woes.&#8221;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He spoke; and hope revives; the lake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That instant, one and all forsake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sweet amusement to employ<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The present sprightly hour of joy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, from the western mountain&#8217;s brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Compassed with clouds of various glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun a broader orb displays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lawn assumes a fresher green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dew-drops spangle all the scene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The balmy zephyr breathes along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shepherd sings his tender song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all their lays the groves resound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And falling waters murmur round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discord and care were put to flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all was peace, and calm delight.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>EPITAPH:<br /><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT TO BE</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY.</span></h3>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>F</big>arewell</span>, my best beloved! whose heavenly mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Genius with virtue, strength with softness, joined;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devotion, undebased by pride or art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With meek simplicity, and joy of heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though sprightly, gentle; though polite, sincere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only of thyself a judge severe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unblamed, unequalled, in each sphere of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tenderest Daughter, Sister, Parent, Wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thee their patroness the afflicted lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I&mdash;&mdash;but, ah! can words my loss declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or paint the extremes of transport and despair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My guide, my friend, my best-beloved, farewell!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>ODE<br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">ON</span><br />
+<small>LORD HAY&#8217;S BIRTH-DAY.</small></h3>
+
+<h4>13<small>TH MAY</small>, 1767.</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>A</big> muse</span>, unskilled in venal praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unstained with flattery&#8217;s art;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who loves simplicity of lays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathed ardent from the heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While gratitude and joy inspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resumes the long-unpractised lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hail, <span class="smcap">O Hay</span>, thy natal Morn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No gaudy wreath of flowers she weaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But twines with oak the laurel leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy cradle to adorn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, not on beds of gaudy flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine ancestors reclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where sloth dissolves, and spleen devours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All energy of mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hurl the dart, to ride the car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stem the deluges of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And snatch from Fate a sinking land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trample the invader&#8217;s lofty crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from his grasp the dagger wrest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And desolating brand:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Twas this that raised the illustrious line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To match the first in fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand years have seen it shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With unabated flame:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have seen thy mighty sires appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foremost in Glory&#8217;s high career,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pride and pattern of the brave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, pure from lust of blood their fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from Ambition&#8217;s wild desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They triumphed but to save.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Muse with joy attends their way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vales of peace along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, to its Lord the village gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Renews the grateful song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon castle&#8217;s glittering towers contain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No pit of woe, nor clanking chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor to the suppliant&#8217;s wail resound:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The open doors the needy bless.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The unfriended hail their calm recess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladness smiles around.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There, to the sympathetic heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life&#8217;s best delights belong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mitigate the mourner&#8217;s smart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guard the weak from wrong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye sons of luxury, be wise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know, happiness for ever flies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cold and solitary breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then let the social instinct glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And learn to feel another&#8217;s woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his joy be blessed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O yet, ere Pleasure plant her snare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For unsuspecting youth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere Flattery her song prepare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To check the voice of Truth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O may his country&#8217;s guardian power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attend the slumbering Infant&#8217;s bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bright, inspiring dreams impart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rouse the hereditary fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To kindle each sublime desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exalt, and warm the heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Swift to reward a parent&#8217;s fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A parent&#8217;s hopes to crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roll on in peace, ye blooming years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That rear him to renown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, in his finished form and face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Admiring multitudes shall trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each patrimonial charm combined;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The courteous yet majestic mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The liberal smile, the look serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great and gentle mind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, though thou draw a nation&#8217;s eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And win a nation&#8217;s love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let not thy towering mind despise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village and the grove.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No slander there shall wound thy fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No ruffian take his deadly aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No rival weave the secret snare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Innocence, with angel smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Simplicity, that knows not guile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Love and Peace are there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When winds the mountain oak assail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay its glories waste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Content may slumber in the vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unconscious of the blast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through scenes of tumult while we roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heart, alas! is ne&#8217;er at home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It hopes in time to roam no more:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mariner, not vainly brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Combats the storm, and rides the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rest, at last, on shore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How vain your mask of state!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good alone have joy sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good alone are great:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great, when, amid the vale of peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They bid the plaint of sorrow cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear the voice of artless praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, when along the trophied plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sublime they lead the victor train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While shouting nations gaze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span><span style="font-size: 70%">TO</span><br />
+<small>THE RIGHT HONOURABLE</small><br />
+LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON,<br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET,</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 70%">WITH FEATHERS, &amp;c.</span></h3>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>W</big>hy</span>, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the dread semblance of that warlike helm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That nodding plume, and wreath of various glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That graced the chiefs of Scotia&#8217;s antient realm?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou knowest that virtue is of power the source,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all her magic to thy eyes is given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We own their empire, while we feel their force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beaming with the benignity of heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The plumy helmet, and the martial mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might dignify Minerva&#8217;s awful charms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But more resistless far the Idalian queen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiles, graces, gentleness, her only arms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span><span style="font-size: 70%">THE</span><br />
+HERMIT.</h3>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>A</big>t</span> the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nought but the nightingale&#8217;s song in the grove:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Twas then, by the cave of the mountain afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Hermit his song of the night thus began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more with himself, or with nature, at war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thought as a sage, while he felt as a man:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Ah! why thus abandoned to darkness and woe?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not thy lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Mourn, sweetest complainer! man calls thee to mourn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;O sooth him, whose pleasures like thine pass away&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Full quickly they pass&mdash;but they never return.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Now gliding remote on the verge of the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The moon, half-extinguished, her crescent displays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;But lately I marked, when majestic on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;The path that conducts thee to splendour again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;But man&#8217;s faded glory no change shall renew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>&#8221;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&#8217;Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That leads, to bewilder, and dazzles, to blind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;O pity, great Father of light,&#8221; then I cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&#8220;From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free.&#8221;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And darkness and doubt are now flying away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Nature all glowing in Eden&#8217;s first bloom!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3>ODE TO PEACE.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></h3>
+
+<h4>WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1756.</h4>
+<hr />
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>P</big>eace</span>, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From antient darkness called the morn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hushed of jarring elements the noise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Chaos, from his old dominion torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all his bellowing throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far was hurled the void abyss along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the bright angelic choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Striking, through all their ranks, the eternal lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poured, in loud symphony, the impetuous strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every fiery orb and planet sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wide, through Night&#8217;s dark solitary reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rebounding long and deep, the lays triumphant rung!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, whither art thou fled, Saturnian Age!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roll round again, majestic years!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To break the sceptre of tyrannic Rage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Woe&#8217;s wan cheek to wipe the bitter tears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye years, again roll round!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! from afar what desolating sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While echoes load the sighing gales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dire presage the throbbing heart assails!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murder, deep-roused, with all the whirlwind&#8217;s haste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And roar of tempest, from her cavern springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her tangled serpents girds around her waist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiles ghastly fierce, and shakes her gore-distilling wings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">I. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The shouts, redoubling, rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thunder to the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nymphs, disordered, dart along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet powers of solitude and song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stunned with the horrors of discordant sound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all is listening, trembling round.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Torrents, far heard amid the waste of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That oft have led the wanderer right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are silent at the noise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty Ocean&#8217;s more majestic voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drowned in superior din, is heard no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The surge in silence seems to sweep the foamy shore.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The bloody banner, streaming in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seen on yon sky-mixt mountain&#8217;s brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mingling multitudes, the madding car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Driven in confusion to the plain below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">War&#8217;s dreadful Lord proclaim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bursts out, by frequent fits, the expansive flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snatched in tempestuous eddies, flies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The surging smoke o&#8217;er all the darkened skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chearful face of heaven no more is seen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bloom of morning fades to deadly pale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bat flies transient o&#8217;er the dusky green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Night&#8217;s foul birds along the sullen twilight sail.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Involved in fire-streaked gloom, the car comes on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rushing steeds grim Terror guides.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His forehead writhed to a relentless frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aloft the angry Power of Battles rides.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grasped in his mighty hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mace, tremendous, desolates the land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tower rolls headlong down the steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain shrinks before its wasteful sweep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chill horror the dissolving limbs invades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smit by the blasting lightning of his eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A deeper gloom invests the howling shades;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stripped is the shattered grove, and every verdure dies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">II. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How startled Phrenzy stares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bristling her ragged hairs!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revenge the gory fragment gnaws;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, with her griping vulture claws<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imprinted deep, she rends the mangled wound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hate whirls her torch sulphureous round.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrieks of agony, and clang of arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Re-echo to the hoarse alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her trump terrific blows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of kingly gesture, a gigantic form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That with his scourge sublime rules the careering storm.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ambition, outside fair! within as foul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As fiends of fiercest heart below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who ride the hurricanes of fire, that roll<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their thundering vortex o&#8217;er the realms of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon naked waste survey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where late was heard the flute&#8217;s mellifluous lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where late the rosy-bosomed hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In loose array, danced lightly o&#8217;er the flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where late the shepherd told his tender tale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, wakened by the murmuring breeze of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice of chearful Labour filled the dale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dove-eyed Plenty smiled, and waved her liberal horn.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yon ruins, sable from the wasting flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mark the once resplendent dome;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frequent corse obstructs the sullen stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ghosts glare horrid from the sylvan gloom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sadly silent all!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save where, outstretched beneath yon hanging wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale Famine moans with feeble breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Anguish yells, and grinds his bloody teeth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though vain the Muse, and every melting lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To touch thy heart, unconscious of remorse!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know, monster, know, thy hour is on the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see, I see the years begin their mighty course.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">III. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What scenes of glory rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before my dazzled eyes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young zephyrs wave their wanton wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And melody celestial rings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All blooming on the lawn the nymphs advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And touch the lute, and range the dance:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the blithe shepherds, on the mountain&#8217;s side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arrayed in all their rural pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exalt the festive note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inviting Echo from her inmost grot&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IV. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Illusions vain! Can sacred <span class="smcap">Peace</span> reside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where sordid gold the breast alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Cruelty inflames the eye of Pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure&#8217;s arms?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ambition, these are thine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These from the soul erase the form divine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quench the animating fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That warms the bosom with sublime desire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hatred triumphs on the o&#8217;erwhelming brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blaze the blue flames of death, and sound the shrieks of woe.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IV. 2.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From Albion fled, thy once beloved retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What regions brighten in thy smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creative <span class="smcap">Peace!</span> and underneath thy feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See sudden flowers adorn the rugged soil?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bleak Siberia blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waved over by thy magic wand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does life inform fell Lybia&#8217;s burning sand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or does some isle thy parting flight detain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where roves the Indian through prim&aelig;val shades;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haunts the pure pleasures of the sylvan reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, led by Reason&#8217;s light, the path of Nature treads?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="stanzano">IV. 3.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On Cuba&#8217;s utmost steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far leaning o&#8217;er the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Goddess&#8217; pensive form was seen:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her robe, of Nature&#8217;s varied green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waved on the gale; grief dimmed her radiant eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her bosom heaved with boding sighs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She eyed the main; where, gaining on the view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emerging from the ethereal blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midst the dread pomp of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blazed the Iberian streamer from afar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slow winged her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<h3 style="line-height: 200%"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span><span style="font-size: 70%">THE</span><br />
+TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.</h3>
+<hr />
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><big>M</big>emory</span>, be still! why throng upon the thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These scenes so deeply stained with sorrow&#8217;s dye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there in all thy stores no cheerful draught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To brighten yet once more in Fancy&#8217;s eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes&mdash;from afar a landscape seems to rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Embellished by the lavish hand of spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thin gilded clouds float lightly through the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And laughing loves disport on fluttering wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How blest the youth in yonder valley laid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What smiles in every conscious feature play!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, to the murmurs of the breezy glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His merry pipe attunes the rural lay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, Innocence! whose bosom all serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Feels not, as yet, the internal tempest roll.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, ne&#8217;er may care distract thy placid mein!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ne&#8217;er may the shades of doubt o&#8217;erwhelm thy soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vain wish! for lo, in gay attire concealed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yonder she comes! the heart-inflaming fiend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O smile accurst, to hide the worst designs!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While round her arm, unseen, a serpent twines&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, instant, lo, his dizzy eyeball swims<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ghastly, and reddening darts a frantic glare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pain, with strong grasp, distorts his writhing limbs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Fear&#8217;s cold hand erects his frozen hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And does thy spring no happier prospect yield!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should the sunbeam paint thy glittering clime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the keen mildew desolates the field!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The musing mind, and sooth to soft delight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye images of woe, no more recoil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Be life&#8217;s past scenes wrapt in oblivious night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now when fierce Winter, armed with wasteful power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet to sit in this sequestered bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ambition here displays no gilded toy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Pleasure&#8217;s paths to wilds of woe decoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur&#8217;s proud disguise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oft has Contentment cheered this lone abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the mild languish of her smiling eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Health in rosy bloom has often glowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While loose-robed Quiet stood enamoured by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even the storm lulls to more profound repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The storm these humble walls assails in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrub is sheltered, when the whirlwind blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While the oak&#8217;s mighty ruin strows the plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And toss the infuriate surge, and vales lay waste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature thy temporary rage defies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To her relief the gentler Seasons haste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Throned in her emerald car, see Spring appear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(As Fancy wills, the landscape starts to view.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her emerald car the youthful Zephyrs bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fanning her bosom with their pinions blue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lo, her rod the rose-lip&#8217;d Power extends!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo, the lawns are decked in living green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Beauty&#8217;s bright-eyed train from Heaven descends!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Haste, happy days, and make all Nature glad&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But will all Nature joy at your return?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, can ye cheer pale Sickness&#8217; gloomy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or dry the tears that bathe the untimely urn?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where groans the dungeon to the captive&#8217;s wail?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ease tired Disappointment&#8217;s bleeding heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Will all your stores of softening balm avail!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When stern Oppression, in his harpy fangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Want&#8217;s weak grasp the last sad morsel bears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can ye allay the dying parent&#8217;s pangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose infant craves relief with fruitless tears?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For ah! thy reign, Oppression, is not past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who from the shivering limbs the vestment rends?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who lays the once rejoicing village waste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But hope not, Muse, vain-glorious as thou art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the weak impulse of thy humble strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope not to soften Pride&#8217;s obdurate heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When <span class="smcap">Errol</span>&#8217;s bright example shines in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy weeping eye, nor further urge thy flight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy supply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or transient gleams, that flash and sink in night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet fain the mind its anguish would forego:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spread, then, Historic Muse, thy pictured scroll;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bid the great scenes in all their splendour glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And rouse to thought sublime the exulting soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What mingling pomps rush on the enraptured gaze!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lo, where the gallant navy rides the deep!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, glittering towns their spiry turrets raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There, bulwarks overhang the shaggy steep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bristling with spears, and bright with burnished shields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The embattled legions stretch their long array;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discord&#8217;s red torch, as fierce she scours the fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bloody tincture stains the face of day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now the hosts in silence wait the sign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Keen are their looks whom Liberty inspires!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quick as the goddess darts along the line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each breast impatient burns with noble fires.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her form how graceful! In her lofty mien<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The smiles of love stern Wisdom&#8217;s frown controul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fearless eye, determined though serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Speaks the great purpose, and the unconquered soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each feature fierce and hagard, as with pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With menace loud he cries, while from his hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo, at his call, impetuous as the storms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hatred, to madness wrought, each face deforms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, Virtue, now thy powerful succour lend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shield them, for Liberty who dare to die&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are those thy sons, thy generous sons, that fly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not Virtue&#8217;s self, when Heaven its aid denies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can brace the loosened nerves, or warm the heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Virtue&#8217;s self can still the burst of sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When festers in the soul misfortune&#8217;s dart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">See, where by terror and despair dismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The scattering legions pour along the plain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ambition&#8217;s car, in bloody spoils arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hews its broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But who is He, that, by yon lonely brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With woods o&#8217;erhung, and precipices rude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lies all abandoned, yet, with dauntless look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sees streaming from his breast the purple flood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, <span class="smcap">Brutus</span>! ever thine be Virtue&#8217;s tear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lo, his dim eyes to Liberty he turns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, scarce supported on her broken spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O&#8217;er her expiring son the goddess mourns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From her dishevelled locks she rends the plume;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on her tear-stained cheek no roses bloom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fame&#8217;s loudest trumpet labours with thy name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Flattery bids for thee her altars flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor in life&#8217;s lofty bustling sphere alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sphere where monarchs and where heroes toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sink Virtue&#8217;s sons beneath Misfortune&#8217;s frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While Guilt&#8217;s thrilled bosom leaps at Pleasure&#8217;s smile:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full oft, where Solitude and Silence dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far remote, amid the lowly plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resounds the voice of Woe from Virtue&#8217;s cell:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such is man&#8217;s doom; and Pity weeps in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still grief recoils&mdash;How vainly have I strove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy power, O Melancholy, to withstand!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired I submit; but yet, O yet remove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or ease the pressure of thy heavy hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, for a while, let the bewildered soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Find in society relief from woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O yield, a while, to Friendship&#8217;s soft controul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come then, <span class="smcap">Philander</span>! whose exalted mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Looks down from far on all that charms the great;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou canst bear, unshaken and resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who lend&#8217;st to Misery&#8217;s moan a pitying ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And feel&#8217;st with ecstasy another&#8217;s joys:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who know&#8217;st man&#8217;s frailty, with a favouring eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And melting heart, behold&#8217;st a brother&#8217;s fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, unenslaved by Fashion&#8217;s narrow tye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With manly freedom follow&#8217;st Nature&#8217;s call.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And bring thy <span class="smcap">Delia</span>, sweetly-smiling fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose spotless soul no rankling thoughts deform;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gentle accents calm each throbbing care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And harmonize the thunder of the storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She courts no homage, nor desires to shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her each sentiment sublime is joined<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To female softness, and a form divine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come, and disperse the involving shadows drear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let chastened mirth the social hours employ.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O catch the swift-winged moment while &#8217;tis near&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On swiftest wing the moment flies of joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even while the careless disencumbered soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sinks, all dissolving, into pleasure&#8217;s dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even then to time&#8217;s tremendous verge we roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With headlong haste, along life&#8217;s surgey stream.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can gaiety the vanished years restore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or soothe the sad <small>INEVITABLE HOUR</small>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still sounds the solemn knell, in Fancy&#8217;s ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That called <span class="smcap">Eliza</span> to the silent tomb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her how jocund rolled the sprightly year!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How shone the nymph in beauty&#8217;s brightest bloom!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! Beauty&#8217;s bloom avails not in the grave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Youth&#8217;s lofty mien, nor Age&#8217;s awful grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moulder alike unknown the prince and slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whelmed in the enormous wreck of human race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The thought-fixed portraiture, the breathing bust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The arch with proud memorials arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The long-lived pyramid shall sink in dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To dumb Oblivion&#8217;s ever desert shade.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fancy from joy still wanders far astray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah Melancholy, how I feel thy power!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long have I laboured to elude thy sway&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But &#8217;tis enough, for I resist no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&nbsp;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The traveller thus, that o&#8217;er the midnight waste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through many a lonesome path is doomed to roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wildered and weary sits him down at last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For long the night, and distant far his home.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center" style="padding-top: 4em; font-size: 80%">FINIS.</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="padding-top: 2em; font-size: 80%">EDINBURGH:<br />
+
+Printed by <span class="smcap">James Ballantyne</span>.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by 
+James Beattie
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+Project Gutenberg's The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by James Beattie
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius
+       with some other poems
+
+Author: James Beattie
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27221]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINSTREL; PROGRESS OF GENIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL,
+                                 WITH
+                           SOME OTHER POEMS.
+
+
+                            [Illustration]
+
+
+                             THE MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+                                 WITH
+                           SOME OTHER POEMS.
+
+
+                       By JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.
+
+
+                              EDINBURGH:
+                     PRINTED BY JAMES BALLANTYNE,
+                FOR WILLIAM CREECH, MANNERS AND MILLER,
+                       AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO.
+                                 1805.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+                          SIR WILLIAM FORBES,
+                         OF PITSLIGO, BARONET,
+                AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER,
+           AND AS AN APPROPRIATE TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE MOST
+                     VALUED FRIENDS OF THE AUTHOR,
+                             THIS EDITION
+                                OF THE
+                     POETICAL WORKS OF DR BEATTIE,
+                            _IS INSCRIBED_
+                                  BY
+                            THE PUBLISHERS.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                                   Page.
+The Minstrel, Book I.                                                 1
+              Book II.                                               35
+
+Retirement                                                           71
+
+Elegy                                                                76
+
+Ode to Hope                                                          81
+
+Pygmaeo-gerano-machia: The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes           89
+
+Epistle to the Hon. C. B. 101
+
+The Hares: A Fable                                                  105
+
+Epitaph: being Part of an Inscription for a Monument,
+to be erected by a Gentleman to the Memory
+of his Lady                                                         118
+
+Ode on Lord H***'s Birth-Day                                        119
+
+To the Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in
+a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &c.                            125
+
+The Hermit                                                          127
+
+Ode to Peace                                                        130
+
+Triumph of Melancholy                                               139
+
+
+
+
+                       PREFACE TO THE MINSTREL.
+
+
+The design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a
+rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period
+at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a
+MINSTREL, that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;--a character,
+which, according to the notions of our fore-fathers, was not only
+respectable, but sacred.
+
+I have endeavoured to imitate SPENSER in the measure of his verse, and
+in the harmony, simplicity, and variety, of his composition. Antique
+expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where
+they seemed to suit the subject; but I hope none will be found that
+are now obsolete, or in any degree unintelligible to a reader of
+English poetry.
+
+To those, who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in
+so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and
+seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation
+to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both of simplicity
+and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza
+that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the
+couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What
+some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome
+to the ear, will be found to hold true, only when the poetry is faulty
+in other respects.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                             IN TWO BOOKS.
+
+
+    _Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musae,
+     Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore,
+     Accipiant.----_
+
+                                         VIRGIL.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+
+
+
+                              BOOK FIRST.
+
+
+                          I.
+
+      Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
+      The steep, where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
+      Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
+      Has felt the influence of malignant star,
+      And waged with Fortune an eternal war!
+      Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
+      And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
+      In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
+    Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
+
+
+                         II.
+
+      And yet, the languor of inglorious days
+      Not equally oppressive is to all.
+      Him, who ne'er listened to the voice of praise,
+      The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
+      There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
+      Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame;
+      Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
+      Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
+    Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.
+
+
+                        III.
+
+      This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;
+      Else I should here, in cunning phrase, display,
+      How forth THE MINSTREL fared in days of yore,
+      Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
+      His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:
+      And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
+      His harp, the sole companion of his way,
+      Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
+    And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.
+
+
+                         IV.
+
+      Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,
+      That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.
+      The Muses fortune's fickle smile deride,
+      Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane;
+      For their delights are with the village-train,
+      Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms:
+      They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
+      The parasite their influence never warms,
+    Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.
+
+
+                          V.
+
+      Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
+      Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
+      Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
+      While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
+      Or seek, at noon, the woodland scene remote,
+      Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.
+      O let them ne'er, with artificial note,
+      To please a tyrant, strain the little bill!
+    But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will.
+
+
+                         VI.
+
+      Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand;
+      Nor was perfection made for man below.
+      Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned,
+      Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe.
+      With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,
+      If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise;
+      There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow;
+      Here, peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies,
+    And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.
+
+
+                        VII.
+
+      Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse
+      Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire;
+      Nor blame the partial fates, if they refuse
+      The imperial banquet, and the rich attire.
+      Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.
+      Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined?
+      No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,
+      To fancy, freedom, harmony, resigned;
+    Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind.
+
+
+                       VIII.
+
+      Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul
+      In each fine sense so exquisitely keen,
+      On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,
+      Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen;
+      Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen,
+      Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,
+      (The mansion, then, no more of joy serene)
+      Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
+    And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?
+
+
+                         IX.
+
+      O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store
+      Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
+      The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
+      The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
+      All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
+      And all that echoes to the song of even,
+      All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,
+      And all the dread magnificence of heaven,
+    O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!
+
+
+                          X.
+
+      These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health,
+      And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart.
+      But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth
+      E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart;
+      For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart;
+      Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,
+      The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart,
+      The troublous day, and long distressful dream.
+    Return, my roving Muse! resume thy purposed theme.
+
+
+                         XI.
+
+      There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell,
+      A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree;
+      Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,
+      Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;
+      But he, I ween, was of the North Countrie:
+      A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms;
+      Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
+      Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
+    Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.
+
+
+                        XII.
+
+      The shepherd-swain, of whom I mention made,
+      On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock;
+      The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never swayed;
+      An honest heart was almost all his stock;
+      His drink the living water from the rock:
+      The milky dams supplied his board, and lent
+      Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock;
+      And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,
+    Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went.
+
+
+                       XIII.
+
+      From labour health, from health contentment springs.
+      Contentment opes the source of every joy.
+      He envied not, he never thought of kings;
+      Nor from those appetites sustained annoy,
+      Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy:
+      Nor fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled;
+      He mourned no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,
+      For on his vows the blameless Phoebe smiled,
+    And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.
+
+
+                        XIV.
+
+      No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
+      Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
+      Each season looked delightful, as it past,
+      To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.
+      Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life
+      They never roamed; secure beneath the storm
+      Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,
+      Where peace and love are cankered by the worm
+    Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.
+
+
+                         XV.
+
+      The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,
+      Was all the offspring of this simple pair.
+      His birth no oracle or seer foretold:
+      No prodigy appeared in earth or air,
+      Nor aught that might a strange event declare.
+      You guess each circumstance of EDWIN'S birth;
+      The parent's transport, and the parent's care;
+      The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth;
+    And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.
+
+
+                        XVI.
+
+      And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy;
+      Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye.
+      Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
+      Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy.
+      Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy;
+      And now his look was most demurely sad,
+      And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why.
+      The neighbours stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad:
+    Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.
+
+
+                       XVII.
+
+      But why should I his childish feats display?
+      Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled;
+      Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
+      Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped,
+      Or roamed at large the lonely mountain's head;
+      Or, where the maze of some bewildered stream
+      To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,
+      There would he wander wild, 'till Phoebus' beam,
+    Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.
+
+
+                      XVIII.
+
+      The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
+      To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.
+      His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed
+      To work the woe of any living thing,
+      By trap, or net; by arrow, or by sling;
+      These he detested, those he scorned to wield:
+      He wished to be the guardian, not the king,
+      Tyrant, far less, or traitor, of the field.
+    And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.
+
+
+                        XIX.
+
+      Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
+      Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine;
+      And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves,
+      From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine:
+      While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join,
+      And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.
+      Would Edwin this majestic scene resign
+      For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies?
+    Ah! no: he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.
+
+
+                         XX.
+
+      And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,
+      When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn,
+      The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,
+      And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn;
+      Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn,
+      Where twilight loves to linger for a while;
+      And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
+      And villager abroad at early toil.
+    But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile.
+
+
+                        XXI.
+
+      And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,
+      When all in mist the world below was lost.
+      What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,
+      Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast,
+      And view the enormous waste of vapour, tost
+      In billows, lengthening to the horizon round,
+      Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed!
+      And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,
+    Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!
+
+
+                       XXII.
+
+      In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,
+      Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene.
+      In darkness, and in storm, he found delight:
+      Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene
+      The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.
+      Even sad vicissitude amused his soul:
+      And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,
+      And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
+    A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wished not to controul.
+
+
+                      XXIII.
+
+      'O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!'
+      (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)
+      'Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,
+      'Of late so grateful in the hour of drought!
+      'Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought
+      'To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake?
+      'Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought!
+      'For now the storm howls mournful through the brake,
+    'And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.
+
+
+                       XXIV.
+
+      'Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,
+      'And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty, crowned!
+      'Ah! see, the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool,
+      'Have all the solitary vale imbrowned;
+      'Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound.
+      'The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray:
+      'And, hark! the river, bursting every mound,
+      'Down the vale thunders; and, with wasteful sway,
+    'Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.
+
+
+                        XXV.
+
+      'Yet such the destiny of all on earth:
+      'So flourishes and fades majestic man.
+      'Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,
+      'And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan.
+      'O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan,
+      'Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime,
+      'Nor lessen of his life the little span.
+      'Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of Time,
+    'Old-age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
+
+
+                       XXVI.
+
+      'And be it so. Let those deplore their doom,
+      'Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn.
+      'But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
+      'Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
+      'Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return?
+      'Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed?
+      'Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,
+      'And spring shall soon her vital influence shed,
+    'Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.
+
+
+                      XXVII.
+
+      'Shall I be left abandoned in the dust,
+      'When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?
+      'Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust,
+      'Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live?
+      'Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive
+      'With disappointment, penury, and pain?
+      'No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive;
+      'And man's majestic beauty bloom again,
+    'Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign.'
+
+
+                     XXVIII.
+
+      This truth sublime his simple sire had taught.
+      In sooth, 'twas almost all the shepherd knew.
+      No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought,
+      Nor ever wished his Edwin to pursue.
+      'Let man's own sphere (quoth he) confine his view,
+      'Be man's peculiar work his sole delight.'
+      And much, and oft, he warned him, to eschew
+      Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,
+    By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might.
+
+
+                       XXIX.
+
+      'And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe,
+      'O never, never turn away thine ear.
+      'Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,
+      'Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear!
+      'To others do (the law is not severe)
+      'What to thyself thou wishest to be done.
+      'Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,
+      'And friends, and native land; nor those alone;
+    'All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own.'
+
+
+                        XXX.
+
+      See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower,
+      The visionary boy from shelter fly!
+      For now the storm of summer-rain is o'er,
+      And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky.
+      And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
+      The rainbow brightens to the setting sun!
+      Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh,
+      How vain the chace thine ardour has begun!
+    'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run.
+
+
+                       XXXI.
+
+      Yet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age,
+      When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm,
+      This baffled hope might tame thy manhood's rage,
+      And Disappointment of her sting disarm.----
+      But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm?
+      Perish the lore that deadens young desire!
+      Pursue, poor imp, the imaginary charm,
+      Indulge gay hope, and fancy's pleasing fire:
+    Fancy and Hope too soon shall of themselves expire.
+
+
+                      XXXII.
+
+      When the long-sounding curfew, from afar,
+      Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
+      Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
+      Lingering and listening, wandered down the vale.
+      There would he dream of graves, and corses pale;
+      And ghosts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng,
+      And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,
+      Till silenced by the owl's terrific song,
+    Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along.
+
+
+                     XXXIII.
+
+      Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed,
+      Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep,
+      To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied,
+      Where fays, of yore, their revels wont to keep;
+      And there let Fancy roam at large, till sleep
+      A vision brought to his entranced sight.
+      And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep
+      Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright,
+    With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night.
+
+
+                      XXXIV.
+
+      Anon in view a portal's blazoned arch
+      Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold;
+      And forth an host of little warriors march,
+      Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.
+      Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold,
+      And green their helms, and green their silk attire;
+      And here and there, right venerably old,
+      The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire,
+    And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.
+
+
+                       XXXV.
+
+      With merriment, and song, and timbrels clear,
+      A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance;
+      The little warriors doff the targe and spear,
+      And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance.
+      They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance;
+      To right, to left, they thrid the flying maze;
+      Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance
+      Rapid along: with many-coloured rays
+    Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze.
+
+
+                      XXXVI.
+
+      The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day,
+      Who scar'dst the vision with thy clarion shrill,
+      Fell chanticleer! who oft hast reft away
+      My fancied good, and brought substantial ill!
+      O to thy cursed scream, discordant still,
+      Let Harmony aye shut her gentle ear:
+      Thy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill,
+      Insult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear,
+    And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear.
+
+
+                     XXXVII.
+
+      Forbear, my Muse. Let love attune thy line.
+      Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so.
+      For how should he at wicked chance repine,
+      Who feels, from every change, amusement flow?
+      Even now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow,
+      As on he wanders through the scenes of morn,
+      Where the fresh flowers in living lustre blow,
+      Where thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn,
+    A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne.
+
+
+                    XXXVIII.
+
+      But who the melodies of morn can tell?
+      The wild brook babbling down the mountain side;
+      The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;
+      The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried
+      In the lone valley; echoing far and wide,
+      The clamorous horn, along the cliffs above;
+      The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
+      The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love,
+    And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
+
+
+                      XXXIX.
+
+      The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark;
+      Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings;
+      The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!
+      Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings;
+      Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs;
+      Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour;
+      The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
+      Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower,
+    And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour.
+
+
+                         XL.
+
+      O Nature, how in every charm supreme!
+      Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new!
+      O for the voice and fire of seraphim,
+      To sing thy glories with devotion due!
+      Blessed be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew,
+      From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty;
+      And held high converse with the godlike few,
+      Who to the enraptured heart, and ear, and eye,
+    Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody.
+
+
+                        XLI.
+
+      Hence! ye, who snare and stupify the mind,
+      Sophists, of beauty, virtue, joy, the bane!
+      Greedy and fell, though impotent and blind,
+      Who spread your filthy nets in Truth's fair fane,
+      And ever ply your venomed fangs amain!
+      Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling slime
+      First gave you form! hence! lest the Muse should deign,
+      (Though loath on theme so mean to waste a rhyme),
+    With vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime.
+
+
+                       XLII.
+
+      But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay,
+      Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth!
+      Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,
+      Amused my childhood, and informed my youth.
+      O let your spirit still my bosom sooth,
+      Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!
+      Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;
+      For well I know, wherever ye reside,
+    There harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide.
+
+
+                      XLIII.
+
+      Ah me! abandoned on the lonesome plain,
+      As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
+      Save when against the winter's drenching rain,
+      And driving snow, the cottage shut the door.
+      Then, as instructed by tradition hoar,
+      Her legends when the Beldam 'gan impart,
+      Or chant the old heroic ditty o'er,
+      Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;
+    Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.
+
+
+                       XLIV.
+
+      Various and strange was the long-winded tale;
+      And halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed;
+      Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
+      And sing, enamoured of the nut-brown maid;
+      The moon-light revel of the fairy glade;
+      Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood,
+      And ply in caves the unutterable trade,
+      'Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,
+    Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood.
+
+
+                        XLV.
+
+      But when to horror his amazement rose,
+      A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,
+      A tale of rural life, a tale of woes,
+      The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce.
+      O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce
+      That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone!
+      For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,
+      To latest times shall tender souls bemoan
+    Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.
+
+
+                       XLVI.
+
+      Behold, with berries smeared, with brambles torn,
+      The babes, now famished, lay them down to die;
+      'Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,
+      Folded in one another's arms they lie;
+      Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry:
+      'For from the town the man returns no more.'
+      But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance darest defy,
+      This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,
+    When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store.
+
+
+                      XLVII.
+
+      A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy
+      Brightened one moment Edwin's starting tear.--
+      'But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy,
+      'And innocence thus die by doom severe?'
+      O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere,
+      The assaults of discontent and doubt repel:
+      Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere;
+      But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel;
+    Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well.
+
+
+                     XLVIII.
+
+      Nor be thy generous indignation checked,
+      Nor checked the tender tear to misery given;
+      From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect,
+      This soften and refine the soul for heaven.
+      But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt hath driven
+      To censure Fate, and pious hope forego;
+      Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,
+      Perfection, beauty, life, they never know,
+    But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe.
+
+
+                       XLIX.
+
+      Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age,
+      Scarce fill the circle of one summer-day,
+      Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage,
+      Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay,
+      If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,
+      If but a momentary shower descend!
+      Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay,
+      Which bade the series of events extend
+    Wide through unnumbered worlds, and ages without end!
+
+
+                          L.
+
+      One part, one little part, we dimly scan,
+      Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream;
+      Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,
+      If but that little part incongruous seem.
+      Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem;
+      Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.
+      O then, renounce that impious self-esteem,
+      That aims to trace the secrets of the skies:
+    For thou art but of dust; be humble, and be wise.
+
+
+                         LI.
+
+      Thus, Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years.
+      For Nature gave him strength, and fire, to soar,
+      On Fancy's wing above this vale of tears;
+      Where dark cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore
+      Through microscope of metaphysic lore:
+      And much they grope for truth, but never hit.
+      For why? their powers, inadequate before,
+      This art preposterous renders more unfit;
+    Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit.
+
+
+                        LII.
+
+      Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth.
+      Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device,
+      Oft cheered the shepherds round their social hearth;
+      Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice
+      To purchase chat or laughter at the price
+      Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed,
+      That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice.
+      Ah! had they been of court or city breed,
+    Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed.
+
+
+                       LIII.
+
+      Oft when the winter-storm had ceased to rave,
+      He roamed the snowy waste at even, to view
+      The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave
+      High-towering, sail along the horizon blue:
+      Where, 'midst the changeful scenery ever new,
+      Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,
+      More wildly great than ever pencil drew;
+      Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size,
+    And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.
+
+
+                        LIV.
+
+      Thence, musing, onward to the sounding shore,
+      The lone enthusiast oft would take his way,
+      Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar
+      Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array
+      When sulphurous clouds rolled on the vernal day,
+      Even then he hastened from the haunt of man,
+      Along the darkening wilderness to stray,
+      What time the lightning's fierce career began,
+    And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran.
+
+
+                         LV.
+
+      Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all
+      In sprightly dance the village-youth were joined,
+      Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall,
+      From the rude gambol far remote reclined,
+      Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind.
+      Ah then, all jollity seemed noise and folly.
+      To the pure soul, by Fancy's fire refined,
+      Ah, what is mirth, but turbulence unholy,
+    When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy!
+
+
+                        LVI.
+
+      Is there a heart that music cannot melt?
+      Ah me! how is that rugged heart forlorn!
+      Is there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt,
+      Of solitude and melancholy born?
+      He needs not woo the Muse; he is her scorn.
+      The sophist's rope of cobweb he shall twine;
+      Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page; or mourn,
+      And delve for life, in Mammon's dirty mine;
+    Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine.
+
+
+                       LVII.
+
+      For Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had planned;
+      Song was his favourite and first pursuit.
+      The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand,
+      And languished to his breath the plaintive flute.
+      His infant muse, though artless, was not mute:
+      Of elegance, as yet, he took no care;
+      For this of time and culture is the fruit;
+      And Edwin gained, at last, this fruit so rare:
+    As in some future verse I purpose to declare.
+
+
+                      LVIII.
+
+      Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new,
+      Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky,
+      By chance, or search, was offered to his view,
+      He scanned with curious and romantic eye.
+      Whate'er of lore tradition could supply
+      From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old,
+      Roused him, still keen to listen and to pry.
+      At last, though long by penury controuled,
+    And solitude, his soul her graces 'gan unfold.
+
+
+                        LIX.
+
+      Thus, on the chill Lapponian's dreary land,
+      For many a long month lost in snow profound,
+      When Sol from Cancer sends the season bland,
+      And in their northern cave the storms hath bound;
+      From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound,
+      Torrents are hurled; green hills emerge; and lo,
+      The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crowned;
+      Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go;
+    And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow.
+
+
+                         LX.
+
+      Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while.
+      The leisure hour is all that thou can'st claim.
+      But on this verse if MONTAGU should smile,
+      New strains, ere long, shall animate thy frame:
+      And his applause to me is more than fame;
+      For still with truth accords his taste refined.
+      At lucre or renown let others aim,
+      I only wish to please the gentle mind,
+    Whom Nature's charms inspire, and love of humankind.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                             BOOK SECOND.
+
+
+    _Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,
+     Rectique cultus pectora roborant._
+
+                                HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                               MINSTREL;
+                                  OR,
+                        THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
+
+
+
+
+                             BOOK SECOND.
+
+
+                          I.
+
+      Of chance or change, O let not man complain,
+      Else shall he never never cease to wail:
+      For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
+      Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,
+      All feel the assault of fortune's fickle gale;
+      Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed;
+      Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale;
+      And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entombed;
+    And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloomed.
+
+
+                         II.
+
+      But sure to foreign climes we need not range,
+      Nor search the ancient records of our race,
+      To learn the dire effects of time and change,
+      Which in ourselves, alas! we daily trace.
+      Yet, at the darkened eye, the withered face,
+      Or hoary hair, I never will repine:
+      But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace,
+      Of candour, love, or sympathy divine,
+    Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame, is mine.
+
+
+                        III.
+
+      So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command,
+      Shall here, without reluctance, change my lay,
+      And smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand;
+      Now when I leave that flowery path, for aye,
+      Of childhood, where I sported many a day,
+      Warbling, and sauntering carelessly along;
+      Where every face was innocent and gay,
+      Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue,
+    Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin's infant song.
+
+
+                         IV.
+
+      'Perish the lore that deadens young desire,'
+      Is the soft tenor of my song no more.
+      Edwin, though loved of heaven, must not aspire
+      To bliss, which mortals never knew before.
+      On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar,
+      Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy,
+      But now and then the shades of life explore;
+      Though many a sound and sight of woe annoy,
+    And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy.
+
+
+                          V.
+
+      Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows.
+      The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,
+      Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;
+      But ah, it withers in the chilling hour.
+      Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power
+      Of all the warring winds of heaven, they rise,
+      And from the stormy promontory tower,
+      And toss their giant arms amid the skies,
+    While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies.
+
+
+                         VI.
+
+      And now the downy cheek and deepened voice
+      Gave dignity to Edwin's blooming prime;
+      And walks of wider circuit were his choice,
+      And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime.
+      One evening, as he framed the careless rhyme,
+      It was his chance to wander far abroad,
+      And o'er a lonely eminence to climb,
+      Which heretofore his foot had never trode;
+    A vale appeared below, a deep retired abode.
+
+
+                        VII.
+
+      Thither he hied, enamoured of the scene:
+      For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell,
+      Here scorched with lightning, there with ivy green,
+      Fenced from the north and east this savage dell;
+      Southward a mountain rose with easy swell,
+      Whose long long groves eternal murmur made;
+      And toward the western sun a streamlet fell,
+      Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, surveyed
+    Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold arrayed.
+
+
+                       VIII.
+
+      Along this narrow valley, you might see
+      The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground,
+      And, here and there, a solitary tree,
+      Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crowned.
+      Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound
+      Of parted fragments tumbling from on high;
+      And, from the summit of that craggy mound,
+      The perching eagle oft was heard to cry,
+    Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the sky.
+
+
+                         IX.
+
+      One cultivated spot there was, that spread
+      Its flowery bosom to the noon-day beam,
+      Where many a rose-bud rears its blushing head,
+      And herbs, for food, with future plenty teem.
+      Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream,
+      Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul:
+      He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam,
+      Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll,
+    When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole.
+
+
+                          X.
+
+      'Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,
+      'And woo the weary to profound repose;
+      'Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest,
+      'And whisper comfort to the man of woes!
+      'Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,
+      'And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.
+      'O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes,
+      'When lucre lures him, or ambition stings,
+    'Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.
+
+
+                         XI.
+
+      'Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire?
+      'Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid:
+      'To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire?
+      'It is thy weakness that requires their aid:
+      'To palaces, with gold and gems inlaid?
+      'They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm:
+      'To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade?
+      'Behold the victor vanquished by the worm!
+    'Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform!
+
+
+                        XII.
+
+      'True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind
+      'Virtue has raised above the things below;
+      'Who, every hope and fear to heaven resigned,
+      'Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow.'
+      This strain, from midst the rocks, was heard to flow
+      In solemn sounds. Now beamed the evening-star;
+      And from embattled clouds, emerging slow,
+      Cynthia came riding on her silver car;
+    And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.
+
+
+                       XIII.
+
+      Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew;
+      (While Edwin, wrapt in wonder, listening stood)
+      'Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu;
+      'Scorned by the wise, and hated by the good!
+      'Ye only can engage the servile brood
+      'Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days,
+      'Ashamed of truth and liberty, have wooed,
+      'And hugged the chain, that, glittering on their gaze,
+    'Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze.
+
+
+                        XIV.
+
+      'Like them, abandoned to Ambition's sway,
+      'I sought for glory in the paths of guile;
+      'And fawned and smiled, to plunder and betray,
+      'Myself betrayed and plundered all the while;
+      'So gnawed the viper the corroding file.
+      'But now, with pangs of keen remorse, I rue
+      'Those years of trouble and debasement vile.
+      'Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue?
+    'Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view!
+
+
+                         XV.
+
+      'The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care,
+      'And storms of disappointment, all o'erpast,
+      'Henceforth, no earthly hope with heaven shall share
+      'This heart, where peace serenely shines at last.
+      'And if for me no treasure be amassed,
+      'And if no future age shall hear my name,
+      'I lurk the more secure from fortune's blast,
+      'And with more leisure feed this pious flame,
+    'Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame.
+
+
+                        XVI.
+
+      'The end and the reward of toil is rest.
+      'Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace.
+      'Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possessed,
+      'Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease!
+      'Ah! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece,
+      'The lay, heaven-prompted, and harmonious string,
+      'The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece,
+      'All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring,
+    'If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring!
+
+
+                       XVII.
+
+      'Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb
+      'With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown,
+      'In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome,
+      'Where night and desolation ever frown.
+      'Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
+      'Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
+      'With here and there a violet bestrown,
+      'Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave;
+    'And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
+
+
+                      XVIII.
+
+      'And thither let the village swain repair;
+      'And, light of heart, the village maiden gay,
+      'To deck with flowers her half-dishevelled hair,
+      'And celebrate the merry morn of May.
+      'There let the shepherd's pipe, the live-long day,
+      'Fill all the grove with love's bewitching woe;
+      'And when mild Evening comes with mantle grey,
+      'Let not the blooming band make haste to go;
+    'No ghost, nor spell, my long and last abode shall know.
+
+
+                        XIX.
+
+      'For though I fly to 'scape from fortune's rage,
+      'And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn,
+      'Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage,
+      'Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn:
+      'For virtue lost, and ruined man, I mourn.
+      'O Man! creation's pride, heaven's darling child,
+      'Whom Nature's best, divinest, gifts adorn,
+      'Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled,
+    'And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears defiled!
+
+
+                         XX.
+
+      'Along yon glittering sky what glory streams!
+      'What majesty attends night's lovely queen!
+      'Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams;
+      'And mountains rise, and oceans roll between,
+      'And all conspire to beautify the scene.
+      'But, in the mental world, what chaos drear!
+      'What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien!
+      'O when shall that eternal morn appear,
+    'These dreadful forms to chace, this chaos dark to clear!
+
+
+                        XXI.
+
+      'O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven,
+      'In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light,
+      'Rose from the abyss; when dark Confusion, driven
+      'Down down the bottomless profound of night,
+      'Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight!
+      'O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray,
+      'To blast the fury of oppressive might,
+      'Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway,
+    'And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.'
+
+
+                       XXII.
+
+      Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes
+      In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.
+      'And is it thus in courtly life,' (he cries)
+      'That man to man acts a betrayer's part?
+      'And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert,
+      'Each social instinct, and sublime desire?
+      'Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,
+      'If what the great pursue, and learned admire,
+    'Thus dissipate and quench the soul's ethereal fire!'
+
+
+                      XXIII.
+
+      He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage
+      O'erhear, in silent orisons employed.
+      The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,
+      Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed:
+      For now no cloud obscures the starry void;
+      The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills;
+      Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed;
+      A soothing murmur the lone region fills,
+    Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.
+
+
+                       XXIV.
+
+      But he, from day to day, more anxious grew.
+      The voice still seemed to vibrate on his ear.
+      Nor durst he hope the Hermit's tale untrue;
+      For man he seemed to love, and heaven to fear;
+      And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.
+      'Yet, can man's gentle heart become so fell?
+      'No more in vain conjecture let me wear
+      'My hours away, but seek the Hermit's cell;
+    'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.'
+
+
+                        XXV.
+
+      At early dawn the youth his journey took,
+      And many a mountain passed, and valley wide,
+      Then reached the wild; where, in a flowery nook,
+      And seated on a mossy stone, he spied
+      An ancient man: his harp lay him beside.
+      A stag sprang from the pasture at his call,
+      And, kneeling, licked the withered hand, that tied
+      A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall,
+    And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small.
+
+
+                       XXVI.
+
+      And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw
+      The wanderer approaching: innocence
+      Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe
+      Depressed his eye, that feared to give offence.
+      'Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence?
+      'Why roam thy steps to this abandoned dale?'
+      'A shepherd-boy (the Youth replied), far hence
+      'My habitation; hear my artless tale;
+    'Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.
+
+
+                      XXVII.
+
+      'Late as I roamed, intent on Nature's charms,
+      'I reached, at eve, this wilderness profound;
+      'And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms,
+      'Heard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound,
+      '(For, in thy speech, I recognise the sound.)
+      'You mourned for ruined man, and virtue lost,
+      'And seemed to feel of keen remorse the wound,
+      'Pondering on former days, by guilt engrossed,
+    'Or in the giddy storm of dissipation tossed.
+
+
+                     XXVIII.
+
+      'But say, in courtly life can craft be learned,
+      'Where knowledge opens, and exalts the soul?
+      'Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearned,
+      'Can selfishness the liberal heart controul?
+      'Is glory there achieved by arts, as foul
+      'As those which felons, fiends, and furies plan?
+      'Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tygers prowl;
+      'Love is the godlike attribute of man.
+    'O teach a simple Youth this mystery to scan!
+
+
+                       XXIX.
+
+      'Or else the lamentable strain disclaim,
+      'And give me back the calm, contented mind;
+      'Which, late, exulting, viewed, in Nature's frame,
+      'Goodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,
+      'Grace, grandeur, and utility combined.
+      'Restore those tranquil days, that saw me still
+      'Well pleased with all, but most with humankind;
+      'When Fancy roamed through Nature's works at will,
+    'Unchecked by cold distrust, and uninformed of ill.'
+
+
+                        XXX.
+
+      'Wouldst thou (the Sage replied) in peace return
+      'To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,
+      'Leave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,
+      'From every gentle ear the dreadful truth:
+      'For if my desultory strain with ruth
+      'And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow,
+      'Alas! what comfort could thy anguish sooth,
+      'Shouldst thou the extent of human folly know?
+    'Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.
+
+
+                       XXXI.
+
+      'But let untender thoughts afar be driven;
+      'Nor venture to arraign the dread decree:
+      'For know, to man, as candidate for heaven,
+      'The voice of The Eternal said, Be free:
+      'And this divine prerogative to thee
+      'Does virtue, happiness, and heaven convey;
+      'For virtue is the child of liberty,
+      'And happiness of virtue; nor can they
+    'Be free to keep the path, who are not free to stray.
+
+
+                      XXXII.
+
+      'Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,
+      'Which else might thy young virtue overpower;
+      'And in thy converse I shall find relief,
+      'When the dark shades of melancholy lower:
+      'For solitude has many a dreary hour,
+      'Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain:
+      'Come often then; for, haply, in my bower,
+      'Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may'st gain:
+    'If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.'
+
+
+                     XXXIII.
+
+      And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze
+      The Muse of History unrolls her page.
+      But few, alas! the scenes her art displays,
+      To charm his fancy, or his heart engage.
+      Here, chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,
+      And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:
+      Here, smiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage,
+      But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,
+    And languish in the dust, and clasp the abandoned urn.
+
+
+                      XXXIV.
+
+      'Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs
+      'That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel!
+      'Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,
+      'Hands drenched in blood, and breasts begirt with steel!
+      'To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel,
+      'Heroes, alas! are things of small concern.
+      'Could History man's secret heart reveal,
+      'And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,
+    'Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not yearn!
+
+
+                       XXXV.
+
+      'This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine.
+      '(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!)
+      'All else from Nature's moral path decline,
+      'Lured by the toys that captivate the throng;
+      'To herd in cabinets and camps, among
+      'Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride;
+      'Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song,
+      'How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide,
+    'Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.
+
+
+                      XXXVI.
+
+      'O, who of man the story will unfold,
+      'Ere victory and empire wrought annoy,
+      'In that elysian age (misnamed of gold)
+      'The age of love, and innocence, and joy,
+      'When all were great and free! man's sole employ
+      'To deck the bosom of his parent earth;
+      'Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy,
+      'To aid the floweret's long-expected birth,
+    'And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth.
+
+
+                     XXXVII.
+
+      'Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves,
+      'Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent,
+      'Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves,
+      'His eye still smiling, and his heart content.
+      'Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went.
+      'Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.
+      'None prowled for prey, none watched to circumvent.
+      'To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave:
+    'No vassal feared his lord, no tyrant feared his slave.
+
+
+                    XXXVIII.
+
+      'But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared
+      'To pierce those hallowed bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam,
+      'Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard,
+      'That paints the charms of that delicious theme.
+      'Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream
+      'That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe!
+      'Careless what others of my choice may deem,
+      'I long where Love and Fancy lead to go,
+    'And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.'
+
+
+                      XXXIX.
+
+      'I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied),
+      'For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways.
+      'And yet, even there, if left without a guide,
+      'The young adventurer unsafely plays.
+      'Eyes, dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays,
+      'In modest Truth no light nor beauty find.
+      'And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze,
+      'That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind,
+    'More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined?
+
+
+                         XL.
+
+      'Fancy enervates, while it sooths, the heart,
+      'And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight:
+      'To joy each heightening charm it can impart,
+      'But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night.
+      'And often, where no real ills affright,
+      'Its visionary fiends, an endless train,
+      'Assail with equal or superior might,
+      'And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain,
+    'And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.
+
+
+                        XLI.
+
+      'And yet, alas! the real ills of life
+      'Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared;
+      'Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife,
+      'Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard.
+      'We fare on earth, as other men have fared:
+      'Were they successful? Let not us despair.
+      'Was disappointment oft their sole reward?
+      'Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare,
+    'How they have borne the load ourselves are doomed to bear.
+
+
+                       XLII.
+
+      'What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils,
+      'And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight,
+      'To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils
+      'Sacred to science, liberty, and right,
+      'And peace, through every age divinely bright,
+      'Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind!
+      'Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height,
+      'A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus inshrined
+    'In power, and man with man for mutual aid combine!
+
+
+                      XLIII.
+
+      'Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reared!
+      'Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restrained!
+      'Without you what were man? A grovelling herd,
+      'In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchained.
+      'Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reigned
+      'In arts unrivalled: O, to latest days,
+      'In Albion may your influence, unprofaned,
+      'To godlike worth the generous bosom raise,
+    'And prompt the Sage's lore, and fire the Poet's lays.
+
+
+                       XLIV.
+
+      'But now let other themes our care engage.
+      'For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace,
+      'To curb Imagination's lawless rage,
+      'And from within the cherished heart to brace,
+      'Philosophy appears. The gloomy race,
+      'By Indolence and moping Fancy bred,
+      'Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place,
+      'And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead,
+    'While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.
+
+
+                        XLV.
+
+      'Then waken from long lethargy to life
+      'The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought;
+      'Then jarring appetites forego their strife,
+      'A strife by ignorance to madness wrought.
+      'Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought
+      'With fell revenge, lust that defies controul,
+      'With gluttony and death. The mind untaught,
+      'Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl;
+    'As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.
+
+
+                       XLVI.
+
+      'And Reason, now, through Number, Time, and Space,
+      'Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye,
+      'And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace,
+      'Whose long progression leads to Deity.
+      'Can mortal strength presume to soar so high?
+      'Can mortal sight, so oft bedimmed with tears,
+      'Such glory bear?--for lo, the shadows fly
+      'From Nature's face; Confusion disappears,
+    'And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.
+
+
+                      XLVII.
+
+      'In the deep windings of the grove, no more
+      'The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell;
+      'Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar
+      'Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell;
+      'No wizard mutters the tremendous spell,
+      'Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon;
+      'Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell,
+      'To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon,
+    'Or chace the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.
+
+
+                     XLVIII.
+
+      'Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle,
+      'Stunned with the eternal turbulence of waves,
+      'Lo, with dim eyes, that never learned to smile,
+      'And trembling hands, the famished native craves
+      'Of Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves,
+      'Or scorched on rocks, he pines from day to day;
+      'But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves
+      'The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray,
+    'And to a happier land wafts merrily away.
+
+
+                       XLIX.
+
+      'And even where Nature loads the teeming plain
+      'With the full pomp of vegetable store,
+      'Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane:
+      'Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore,
+      'Stretch their enormous gloom; which, to explore,
+      'Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood;
+      'For there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore,
+      'Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood,
+    'Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood.
+
+
+                          L.
+
+      'Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame
+      'The soil, by plenty to intemperance fed.
+      'Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame,
+      'Poison, and plague, and yelling rage, are fled.
+      'The waters, bursting from their slimy bed,
+      'Bring health and melody to every vale:
+      'And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head,
+      'Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale,
+    'To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.
+
+
+                         LI.
+
+      'What dire necessities, on every hand,
+      'Our art, our strength, our fortitude, require!
+      'Of foes intestine, what a numerous band
+      'Against this little throb of life conspire!
+      'Yet Science can elude their fatal ire
+      'Awhile, and turn aside Death's levelled dart,
+      'Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire,
+      'And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart,
+    'And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.
+
+
+                        LII.
+
+      'Nor less to regulate man's moral frame
+      'Science exerts her all-composing sway.
+      'Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame,
+      'Or pines, to indolence and spleen a prey,
+      'Or avarice, a fiend more fierce than they?
+      'Flee to the shade of Academus' grove;
+      'Where cares molest not, discord melts away
+      'In harmony, and the pure passions prove,
+    'How sweet the words of truth, breathed from the lips of Love.
+
+
+                       LIII.
+
+      'What cannot Art and Industry perform,
+      'When Science plans the progress of their toil!
+      'They smile at penury, disease, and storm;
+      'And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil.
+      'When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil
+      'A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage
+      'Order transforms to anarchy and spoil,
+      'Deep-versed in man, the philosophic Sage
+    'Prepares, with lenient hand, their phrenzy to assuage.
+
+
+                        LIV.
+
+      ''Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind,
+      'From situation, temper, soil, and clime
+      'Explored, a nation's various powers can bind,
+      'And various orders, in one form sublime
+      'Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time,
+      'Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear
+      'The assault of foreign or domestic crime,
+      'While public Faith, and public Love sincere,
+    'And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.'
+
+
+                         LV.
+
+      Enraptured by the Hermit's strain, the Youth
+      Proceeds the path of science to explore.
+      And now, expanding to the beams of truth,
+      New energies, and charms unknown before,
+      His mind discloses: Fancy now no more
+      Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies;
+      But, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power,
+      Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise,
+    Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies.
+
+
+                        LVI.
+
+      Nor love of novelty alone inspires,
+      Their laws and nice dependencies to scan;
+      For, mindful of the aids that life requires,
+      And of the services man owes to man,
+      He meditates new arts on Nature's plan;
+      The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm,
+      The flame of Industry and Genius fan,
+      And Emulation's noble rage alarm,
+    And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.
+
+
+                       LVII.
+
+      But She, who set on fire his infant heart,
+      And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared
+      And blessed, the Muse, and her celestial art,
+      Still claim the Enthusiast's fond and first regard.
+      From Nature's beauties variously compared,
+      And variously combined, he learns to frame
+      Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard,
+      While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,
+    Enamoured consecrates to never-dying fame.
+
+
+                      LVIII.
+
+      Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show,
+      Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface,
+      Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now
+      To his experienced eye a modest grace
+      Presents, where Ornament the second place
+      Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design
+      Subservient still. Simplicity apace
+      Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine,
+    And clears the ambiguous phrase, and lops the unwieldy line.
+
+
+                        LIX.
+
+      Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains)
+      What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole,
+      When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains
+      His deep majestic melody 'gan roll:
+      Fain would I sing, what transport stormed his soul,
+      How the red current throbbed his veins along,
+      When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul,
+      Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong,
+    Homer raised high to heaven the loud, the impetuous song.
+
+
+                         LX.
+
+      And how his lyre, though rude her first essays,
+      Now skilled to sooth, to triumph, to complain,
+      Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,
+      Was taught to modulate the artful strain,
+      I fain would sing: but ah! I strive in vain.
+      Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.
+      With trembling step, to join yon weeping train,
+      I haste, where gleams funereal glare around,
+    And, mixed with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound.
+
+
+                        LXI.
+
+      Adieu, ye lays, that fancy's flowers adorn,
+      The soft amusement of the vacant mind!
+      He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,
+      He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined,
+      Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!
+      He sleeps in dust. Ah! how should I pursue
+      My theme! To heart-consuming grief resigned,
+      Here, on his recent grave I fix my view,
+    And pour my bitter tears.--Ye flowery lays, adieu!
+
+
+                       LXII.
+
+      Art thou, my GREGORY, for ever fled!
+      And am I left to unavailing woe!
+      When fortune's storms assail this weary head,
+      Where cares long since have shed untimely snow,
+      Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go!
+      No more thy soothing voice my anguish chears:
+      Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,
+      My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.
+    'Tis meet that I should mourn:--flow forth afresh my tears.
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+                                  ON
+                          SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+                                  ON
+                          SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
+
+
+                              RETIREMENT.
+
+                                 1758.
+
+    When, in the crimson cloud of Even,
+    The lingering light decays,
+    And Hesper, on the front of heaven,
+    His glittering gem displays;
+    Deep in the silent vale, unseen,
+    Beside a lulling stream,
+    A pensive Youth, of placid mien,
+    Indulged this tender theme.
+
+    Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled,
+    High o'er the glimmering dale;
+    Ye woods, along whose windings wild,
+    Murmurs the solemn gale;
+    Where Melancholy strays forlorn,
+    And Woe retires to weep,
+    What time the wan moon's yellow horn
+    Gleams on the western deep.
+
+    To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms
+    Ne'er drew Ambition's eye,
+    'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms,
+    To your retreats I fly.
+    Deep in your most sequestered bower,
+    Let me at last recline,
+    Where Solitude, mild, modest power,
+    Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
+
+    How shall I woo thee, matchless Fair!
+    Thy heavenly smile how win!
+    Thy smile, that smooths the brow of care,
+    And stills the storm within.
+    O wilt thou to thy favourite grove
+    Thine ardent votary bring,
+    And bless his hours, and bid them move,
+    Serene, on silent wing.
+
+    Oft let remembrance sooth his mind
+    With dreams of former days,
+    When, in the lap of peace reclined,
+    He framed his infant lays;
+    When Fancy roved at large, nor Care,
+    Nor cold Distrust alarmed,
+    Nor Envy, with malignant glare,
+    His simple youth had harmed.
+
+    'Twas then, O Solitude, to thee
+    His early vows were paid,
+    From heart sincere, and warm, and free,
+    Devoted to the shade.
+    Ah why did Fate his steps decoy
+    In stormy paths to roam,
+    Remote from all congenial joy?--
+    O take the Wanderer home!
+
+    Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine,
+    Thy charms my only theme;
+    My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine
+    Waves o'er the gloomy stream,
+    Whence the scared owl, on pinions grey,
+    Breaks from the rustling boughs,
+    And down the lone vale sails away
+    To more profound repose.
+
+    O! while to thee the woodland pours
+    Its wildly warbling song,
+    And balmy from the bank of flowers
+    The zephyr breathes along;
+    Let no rude sound invade from far,
+    No vagrant foot be nigh,
+    No ray from Grandeur's gilded car,
+    Flash on the startled eye.
+
+    But if some pilgrim through the glade,
+    Thy hallowed bowers explore,
+    O guard from harm his hoary head,
+    And listen to his lore;
+    For he of joys divine shall tell,
+    That wean from earthly woe,
+    And triumph o'er the mighty spell,
+    That chains this heart below.
+
+    For me, no more the path invites
+    Ambition loves to tread;
+    No more I climb those toilsome heights
+    By guileful Hope misled;
+    Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more
+    To Mirth's enlivening strain;
+    For present pleasure soon is o'er,
+    And all the past is vain.
+
+
+
+
+                                ELEGY.
+
+
+    Still shall unthinking man substantial deem
+    The forms, that fleet through life's deceitful dream?
+    On clouds, where Fancy's beam amusive plays,
+    Shall heedless Hope the towering fabric raise?
+    Till at Death's touch the fairy visions fly,
+    And real scenes rush dismal on the eye;
+    And, from Elysium's balmy slumber torn,
+    The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn.
+      O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance,
+    Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance,
+    Who flowery vales in endless view survey,
+    Glittering in beams of visionary day;
+    O, yet while Fate delays the impending woe,
+    Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow;
+    Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill
+    Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill;
+    Lest, thus encompassed with funereal gloom,
+    Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb,
+    Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear,
+    And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe.
+      Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combined,
+    That charms the eye, or captivates the mind!
+    Fair, as the floweret opening on the morn,
+    Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!
+    Sweet, as the downy-pinioned gale, that roves
+    To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!
+    Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day,
+    Warbling remote, along the vales decay!
+    Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine,
+    What sweetness, mildness, can be matched with thine?
+    Why roam abroad? Since still, to Fancy's eyes,
+    I see, I see thy lovely form arise.
+    Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,
+    Gaze on that cheek, where all the Graces smile;
+    That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright,
+    Where meekness beams ineffable delight;
+    That brow, where Wisdom sits enthroned serene,
+    Each feature forms, and dignifies the mein:
+    Still let me listen, while her words impart
+    The sweet effusions of the blameless heart,
+    Till all my soul, each tumult charmed away,
+    Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway.
+      By thee inspired, O Virtue! Age is young,
+    And music warbles from the faltering tongue:
+    Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow,
+    And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow,
+    Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies
+    Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes:
+    But when Youth's living bloom reflects thy beams,
+    Resistless on the view the glory streams;
+    Love, Wonder, Joy, alternately alarm,
+    And Beauty dazzles with angelic charm.
+    Ah! whither fled! ye dear illusions, stay!
+    Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay!
+    How are the roses on that cheek decay'd,
+    Which late the purple light of youth display'd!
+    Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow'd;
+    With life and thought each speaking feature glow'd.
+    Fair was the flower, and soft the vernal sky;
+    Elate with hope, we deemed no tempest nigh;
+    When lo! a whirlwind's instantaneous gust
+    Left all its beauties withering in the dust!
+      All cold the hand, that soothed Woe's weary head!
+    And quenched the eye, the pitying tear that shed!
+    And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole,
+    Infusing balm into the rankled soul!
+    O Death! why arm with cruelty thy power,
+    And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower?
+    Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven?
+    Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven?
+    But peace, bold thought! be still my bursting heart!
+    We, not ELIZA, felt the fatal dart.
+    Scaped the dark dungeon, does the slave complain,
+    Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain?
+    Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn,
+    On this dark wild condemned to roam forlorn?
+    Where Reason's meteor-rays, with sickly glow,
+    O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw?
+    Disclosing dubious to the affrighted eye
+    O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
+    Black billowy seas in storm perpetual toss'd,
+    And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost.
+    O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay,
+    Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day,
+    And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar,
+    Where dangers threat, and fear alarms no more!
+      Transporting thought! here let me wipe away
+    The tear of grief, and wake a bolder lay.
+    But ah! the swimming eye o'erflows anew,
+    Nor check the sacred drops to pity due;
+    Lo! where in speechless, hopeless anguish, bend
+    O'er her loved dust, the Parent, Brother, Friend!
+    How vain the hope of man!--But cease the strain,
+    Nor Sorrow's dread solemnity profane;
+    Mixed with yon drooping mourners, on her bier
+    In silence shed the sympathetic tear.
+
+
+
+
+                             ODE TO HOPE.
+
+
+                       I. 1.
+
+    O thou, who glad'st the pensive soul,
+    More than Aurora's smile the swain forlorn,
+    Left all night long to mourn
+    Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl;
+    And shrieks of woe, as intermits the storm,
+    Far o'er the monstrous wilderness resound,
+    And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form,
+    And many a fire-eyed visage glares around,
+    O come, and be once more my guest!
+    Come, for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard,
+    And oft with smiles indulgent cheer'd,
+    And soothed him into rest.
+
+
+                       I. 2.
+
+    Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye,
+    Deep flashing through the midnight of their mind,
+    The sable bands combined,
+    Where Fear's black banner bloats the troubled sky,
+    Appalled retire. Suspicion hides her head,
+    Nor dares th' obliquely gleaming eye-ball raise;
+    Despair, with gorgon-figured veil o'erspread,
+    Speeds to dark Phlegethon's detested maze.
+    Lo, startled at the heavenly ray,
+    With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings,
+    And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings,
+    And sullen glides away.
+
+
+                       I. 3.
+
+    Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd,
+    Dissolve. Above the sparkling flood
+    When Phoebus rears his awful brow,
+    From lengthening lawn and valley low
+    The troops of fen-born mists retire.
+    Along the plain
+    The joyous swain
+    Eyes the gay villages again,
+    And gold-illumined spire;
+    While, on the billowy ether borne,
+    Floats the loose lay's jovial measure;
+    And light along the fairy Pleasure,
+    Her green robes glittering to the morn,
+    Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all
+    To the damp dungeon shrink, or hoary hall,
+    Or westward, with impetuous flight,
+    Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night.
+
+
+                      II. 1.
+
+    When first on Childhood's eager gaze
+    Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around,
+    Starts out of night profound,
+    Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze.
+    Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face,
+    His bashful eye still kindling as he views,
+    And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace,
+    With beating heart the upland path pursues:
+    The path that leads, where, hung sublime,
+    And seen afar, youth's gallant trophies, bright
+    In Fancy's rainbow ray, invite
+    His wingy nerves to climb.
+
+
+                      II. 2.
+
+    Pursue thy pleasurable way,
+    Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard,
+    While melting airs are heard,
+    And soft-eyed cherub forms around thee play:
+    Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd,
+    Prattling amusive in his accent meek;
+    And Modesty, half turning as afraid,
+    The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek;
+    Content and Leisure, hand in hand
+    With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing;
+    And Mirth, in many a mazy ring,
+    Frisks o'er the flowery land.
+
+
+                      II. 3.
+
+    Frail man, how various is thy lot below!
+    To-day though gales propitious blow,
+    And Peace, soft gliding down the sky,
+    Lead Love along and Harmony,
+    To-morrow the gay scene deforms;
+    Then all around
+    The thunder's sound
+    Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound,
+    And down rush all the storms.
+    Ye days, that balmy influence shed,
+    When sweet Childhood, ever sprightly,
+    In paths of pleasure sported lightly,
+    Whither, ah, whither are ye fled!
+    Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way,
+    O leave him not midst tumult and dismay;
+    For now youth's eminence he gains:
+    But what a weary length of lingering toil remains!
+
+
+                     III. 1.
+
+    They shrink, they vanish into air.
+    Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale;
+    And mingling cries assail,
+    The wail of Woe, and groans of grim Despair.
+    Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye
+    Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance;
+    Pride, smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy,
+    Frowning Disdain, and hagard Hate advance;
+    Behold, amidst the dire array,
+    Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears,
+    And lo, his iron hand prepares
+    To grasp its feeble prey.
+
+
+                     III. 2.
+
+    Who now will guard bewildered youth
+    Safe from the fierce assaults of hostile rage?
+    Such war can Virtue wage,
+    Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth!
+    Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car
+    The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne;
+    While the fair captive, marked with many a scar,
+    In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn,
+    Resigns to tears her angel form.
+    Ill-fated youth, then, whither wilt thou fly?
+    No friend, no shelter now is nigh,
+    And onward rolls the storm.
+
+
+                     III. 3.
+
+    But whence the sudden beam that shoots along?
+    Why shrink aghast the hostile throng?
+    Lo, from amidst Affliction's night,
+    Hope bursts, all radiant, on the sight:
+    Her words the troubled bosom sooth.
+    "Why thus dismayed?
+    "Though foes invade,
+    "Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid,
+    "Who tread the path of truth.
+    "'Tis I, who smooth the rugged way,
+    "I, who close the eyes of Sorrow,
+    "And with glad visions of to-morrow
+    "Repair the weary soul's decay.
+    "When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart,
+    "Dreams of heaven's opening glories I impart,
+    "Till the freed spirit springs on high,
+    "In rapture too severe for weak Mortality."
+
+
+
+
+                        _PYGMAEO-GERANO-MACHIA_,
+                             THE BATTLE OF
+                        THE PIGMIES AND CRANES.
+
+                      FROM THE LATIN OF ADDISON.
+
+
+    The pygmy-people, and the feathered train,
+    Mingling in mortal combat on the plain,
+    I sing. Ye Muses, favour my designs,
+    Lead on my squadrons, and arrange the lines;
+    The flashing swords and fluttering wings display,
+    And long bills nibbling in the bloody fray;
+    Cranes darting with disdain on tiny foes,
+    Conflicting birds and men, and war's unnumbered woes!
+      The wars and woes of heroes six feet long
+    Have oft resounded in Pierian song.
+    Who has not heard of Colchos' golden fleece,
+    And Argo, manned with all the flower of Greece?
+    Of Thebes' fell brethren, Theseus, stern of face,
+    And Peleus' son, unrivalled in the race,
+    AEneas, founder of the Roman line,
+    And William, glorious on the banks of Boyne?
+    Who has not learned to weep at Pompey's woes,
+    And over Blackmore's epic page to doze?
+    'Tis I, who dare attempt unusual strains,
+    Of hosts unsung, and unfrequented plains;
+    The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little size,
+    And armies rushing down the darkened skies.
+      Where India reddens to the early dawn,
+    Winds a deep vale from vulgar eyes withdrawn:
+    Bosomed in groves the lowly region lies,
+    And rocky mountains round the border rise.
+    Here, till the doom of Fate its fall decreed,
+    The empire flourished of the pygmy-breed;
+    Here Industry performed, and Genius planned,
+    And busy multitudes o'erspread the land.
+    But now to these lone bounds if pilgrim stray,
+    Tempting through craggy cliffs the desperate way,
+    He finds the puny mansion fallen to earth,
+    Its godlings mouldering on th' abandoned hearth;
+    And starts, where small white bones are spread around,
+    "Or little footsteps lightly print the ground;"
+    While the proud crane her nest securely builds,
+    Chattering amid the desolated fields.
+      But different fates befel her hostile rage,
+    While reigned, invincible through many an age,
+    The dreaded Pygmy: roused by war's alarms,
+    Forth rushed the madding Mannikin to arms.
+    Fierce to the field of death the hero flies;
+    The faint crane, fluttering, flaps the ground, and dies;
+    And by the victor borne (o'erwhelming load!)
+    With bloody bill loose-dangling marks the road.
+    And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay,
+    And often made the callow young his prey;
+    With slaughtered victims heaped his board, and smiled,
+    To visit the sire's trespass on the child.
+    Oft, where his feathered foe had reared her nest,
+    And laid her eggs and household gods to rest,
+    Burning for blood, in terrible array,
+    The eighteen-inch militia burst their way:
+    All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell,
+    When scarce his chirping bill had broke the shell.
+      Loud uproar hence, and rage of arms arose,
+    And the fell rancour of encountering foes;
+    Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms,
+    And Death's grim visage scares the pygmy realms.
+    Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire
+    Of Mice, high theme of the Meonian lyre;
+    When bold to battle marched the accoutered Frogs,
+    And the deep tumult thundered through the bogs.
+    Pierced by the javelin-bulrush on the shore,
+    Here, agonizing, rolled the mouse in gore;
+    And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!)
+    Shorn of one leg, slow sprawled along on three:
+    He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high,
+    But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny.
+      And now the day of woe drew on apace,
+    A day of woe to all the pygmy-race,
+    When dwarfs were doomed (but penitence was vain)
+    To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain.
+    For roused to vengeance by repeated wrong,
+    From distant climes the long-billed legions throng:
+    From Strymon's lake, Cayster's plashy meads,
+    And fens of Scythia green with rustling reeds;
+    From where the Danube winds through many a land,
+    And Mareotis laves the Egyptian strand,
+    To rendezvous they waft on eager wing,
+    And wait assembled the returning spring.
+    Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight,
+    Whet their keen beaks, and twisting claws, for fight;
+    Each crane the pygmy power in thought o'erturns,
+    And every bosom for the battle burns.
+      When genial gales the frozen air unbind,
+    The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind.
+    Far in the sky they form their long array,
+    And land and ocean stretch'd immense survey,
+    Deep, deep beneath; and triumphing in pride,
+    With clouds and winds commixed, innumerous ride;
+    'Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven
+    Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.
+      Nor less the alarm that shook the world below,
+    Where marched in pomp of war the embattled foe;
+    Where mannikins with haughty step advance,
+    And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
+    To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
+    And ranked in deep array await the storm.
+      High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen,
+    Of giant stature, and imperial mien.
+    Full twenty inches tall, he strode along,
+    And viewed with lofty eye the wondering throng;
+    And, while with many a scar his visage frowned,
+    Bared his broad bosom, rough with many a wound
+    Of beaks and claws, disclosing to their sight
+    The glorious meed of high heroic might.
+    For with insatiate vengeance, he pursued,
+    And never-ending hate, the feathery brood.
+    Unhappy they, confiding in the length
+    Of horny beak, or talon's crooked strength,
+    Who durst abide his rage; the blade descends,
+    And from the panting trunk the pinion rends.
+    Laid low in dust the pinion waves no more,
+    The trunk, disfigured, stiffens in its gore.
+    What hosts of heroes fell beneath his force!
+    What heaps of chicken-carnage marked his course!
+    How oft, O Strymon, thy lone banks along,
+    Did wailing Echo waft the funeral song!
+      And now from far the mingling clamours rise,
+    Loud and more loud rebounding through the skies.
+    From skirt to skirt of heaven, with stormy sway,
+    A cloud rolls on, and darkens all the day.
+    Near and more near descends the dreadful shade,
+    And now in battleous array displayed,
+    On sounding wings, and screaming in their ire,
+    The cranes rush onward, and the fight require.
+      The pygmy warriors eye, with fearless glare,
+    The host thick swarming o'er the burthened air:
+    Thick swarming now, but to their native land
+    Doomed to return a scanty, straggling band.--
+    When sudden, darting down the depth of heaven,
+    Fierce on the expecting foe the cranes are driven.
+    The kindling phrensy every bosom warms,
+    The region echoes to the crash of arms:
+    Loose feathers from the encountering armies fly,
+    And in careering whirlwinds mount the sky.
+    To breathe from toil upsprings the panting crane,
+    Then with fresh vigour downward darts again.
+    Success in equal balance hovering hangs.
+    Here, on the sharp spear, mad with mortal pangs,
+    The bird transfixed in bloody vortex whirls,
+    Yet fierce in death the threatening talon curls;
+    There, while the life-blood bubbles from his wound,
+    With little feet the pygmy beats the ground;
+    Deep from his breast the short, short sob he draws,
+    And, dying, curses the keen-pointed claws.
+    Trembles the thundering field, thick covered o'er
+    With falchions, mangled wings, and streaming gore,
+    And pygmy arms, and beaks of ample size;
+    And here a claw, and there a finger lies.
+      Encompassed round with heaps of slaughtered foes,
+    All grim in blood the pygmy champion glows;
+    And on the assailing host impetuous springs,
+    Careless of nibbling bills, and flapping wings;
+    And midst the tumult wheresoe'er he turns,
+    The battle with redoubled fury burns.
+    From every side the avenging cranes, amain,
+    Throng, to o'erwhelm this terror of the plain.
+    When suddenly (for such the will of Jove)
+    A fowl enormous, sousing from above,
+    The gallant chieftain clutched, and, soaring high,
+    (Sad chance of battle!) bore him up the sky.
+    The cranes pursue, and, clustering in a ring,
+    Chatter triumphant round the captive king.
+    But, ah! what pangs each pygmy bosom wrung,
+    When, now to cranes a prey, on talons hung,
+    High in the clouds they saw their helpless lord,
+    His wriggling form still lessening as he soared!
+      Lo! yet again, with unabated rage,
+    In mortal strife the mingling hosts engage.
+    The crane with darted bill assaults the foe,
+    Hovering; then wheels aloft to scape the blow:
+    The dwarf in anguish aims the vengeful wound;
+    But whirls in empty air the falchion round.
+      Such was the scene, when midst the loud alarms
+    Sublime the eternal Thunderer rose in arms;
+    When Briareus, by mad ambition driven,
+    Heaved Pelion huge, and hurled it high at heaven.
+    Jove rolled redoubling thunders from on high,
+    Mountains and bolts encountered in the sky;
+    Till one stupendous ruin whelmed the crew,
+    Their vast limbs weltering wide in brimstone blue.
+      But now at length the pygmy legions yield,
+    And, winged with terror, fly the fatal field.
+    They raise a weak and melancholy wail,
+    All in distraction scattering o'er the vale.
+    Prone on their routed rear the cranes descend;
+    Their bills bite furious, and their talons rend:
+    With unrelenting ire they urge the chace,
+    Sworn to exterminate the hated race.
+      'Twas thus the Pygmy Name, once great in war,
+    For spoils of conquered cranes renown'd afar,
+    Perished. For, by the dread decree of Heaven,
+    Short is the date to earthly grandeur given,
+    And vain are all attempts to roam beyond
+    Where Fate has fixed the everlasting bound.
+    Fallen are the trophies of Assyrian power,
+    And Persia's proud dominion is no more;
+    Yea, though to both superior far in fame,
+    Thine empire, Latium! is an empty name.
+      And now, with lofty chiefs of antient time,
+    The pygmy heroes roam the Elysian clime.
+    Or, if belief to matron-tales be due,
+    Full oft, in the belated shepherd's view,
+    Their frisking forms, in gentle green arrayed,
+    Gambol secure along the moonlight glade.
+    Secure, for no alarming cranes molest,
+    And all their woes in long oblivion rest;
+    Down the deep dale, and narrow winding way,
+    They foot it featly, ranged in ringlets gay:
+    'Tis joy and frolic all, where'er they rove,
+    And Fairy-people is the name they love.
+
+
+
+
+                                EPISTLE
+                                  TO
+                         THE HONOURABLE C. B.
+
+
+                                    PETERHEAD, 1766.
+
+    When B*** invites me, and inviting sings,
+    Instant I'd fly, (had heaven vouchsafed me wings)
+    To hail him in that calm sequestered seat,
+    Whence he looks down with pity on the great;
+    And, midst the groves retired, at leisure wooes
+    Domestic love, contentment, and the Muse.
+    I wish for wings and winds to speed my course;
+    Since B----t and the fates refuse a horse.
+      Where now the Pegasus of antient time,
+    And Ippogrifo famed in modern rhime?
+    O, where that wooden steed, whose every leg
+    Like lightning flew, obsequious to the peg;
+    The waxen wings by Daedalus designed,
+    And China waggons wafted by the wind?
+    A Spaniard reached the moon, upborn by geese;
+    (Then first 'twas known that she was made of cheese.)
+    A fidler on a fish through waves advanced,
+    He twanged his catgut, and the Dolphin danced.
+    Hags rode on broom-sticks, heathen-gods on clouds;
+    Ladies, on rams and bulls, have dared the floods.
+    Much famed the shoes Jack Giant-killer wore,
+    And Fortunatus' hat is famed much more.
+    Such vehicles were common once, no doubt;
+    But modern versemen must even trudge on foot,
+    Or doze at home, expectants of the gout.
+      Hard is the task, indeed 'tis wondrous hard,
+    To act the Hirer, yet preserve the Bard.
+    "Next week, by----, (but 'tis a sin to swear)
+    "I give my word, sir, you shall have my mare;
+    "Sound wind and limb, as any ever was,
+    "And rising only seven years old next grass.
+    "Four miles an hour she goes, nor needs a spur;
+    "A pretty piece of flesh, upon my conscience, sir."
+      This speech was B----t's; and, tho' mean in phrase,
+    The nearest thing to prose, as Horace says,
+    (Satire the fourth, and forty-second line)
+    'Twill intimate that I propose to dine
+    Next week with B***. Muse, lend thine aid a while;
+    For this great purpose claims a lofty style.
+      Ere yonder sun, now glorious in the west,
+    Has thrice three times reclined on Thetis' breast;
+    Ere thrice three times, from old Tithonus' bed,
+    Her charms all glowing with celestial red,
+    The balmy morn shall rise to mortal view,
+    And from her bright locks shake the pearls of dew,
+    These eyes, O B***, shall hail thy opening glades,
+    These ears shall catch the music of thy shades;
+    This cherished frame shall drink the gladsome gales,
+    And the fresh fragrance of thy flowery vales.
+    And (for I know the Muse will come along)
+    To B*** I mean to meditate a song:
+    A song, adorned with every rural charm,
+    Trim as thy garden, ample as thy farm,
+    Sweet as thy milk, and brisk as bottled beer,
+    Wholesome as mutton, and as water clear,
+    In wildflowers fertile, as thy fields of corn,
+    And frolicksome as lambs, or sheep new shorn.
+      I ask not ortolans, or Chian wine,
+    The fat of rams, or quintessence of swine.
+    Her spicy stores let either India keep,
+    Nor El Dorado vend her golden sheep.
+    And to the mansion house, or council hall,
+    Still on her black splay feet may the huge tortoise crawl.
+    Not Parson's butt my appetite can move,
+    Nor, Bell, thy beer; nor even thy nectar, Jove.
+    If B*** be happy, and in health, his guest,
+    Whom wit and learning charm, can wish no better feast.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+                                HARES,
+                               A FABLE.
+
+
+    Yes, yes, I grant the sons of earth
+    Are doomed to trouble from their birth:
+    We all of sorrow have our share;
+    But say, Is your's without compare?
+    Look round the world; perhaps you'll find
+    Each individual of our kind
+    Pressed with an equal load of ill,
+    Equal at least. Look further still,
+    And own your lamentable case
+    Is little short of happiness.
+    In yonder hut, that stands alone,
+    Attend to Famine's feeble moan;
+    Or view the couch where Sickness lies;
+    Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,
+    His frame by strong convulsion torn,
+    His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.
+    Or see, transfixed with keener pangs,
+    Where o'er his hoard the miser hangs;
+    Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares,
+    Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares;
+    Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll
+    Their tempests on his harassed soul.
+      But here, perhaps, it may avail
+    To enforce our reasoning with a tale.
+      Mild was the morn, the sky serene,
+    The jolly hunting band convene;
+    The beagle's breast with ardour burns;
+    The bounding steed the champaign spurns;
+    And fancy oft the game descries
+    Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
+      Just then, a council of the hares
+    Had met, on national affairs.
+    The chiefs were set; while o'er their head
+    The furze its frizzled covering spread.
+    Long lists of grievances were heard,
+    And general discontent appeared.
+    "Our harmless race shall every savage,
+    "Both quadruped and biped, ravage?
+    "Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still
+    "Unite their wits to work us ill?
+    "The youth, his parent's sole delight,
+    "Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite,
+    "Whose pulse in every vein beats strong,
+    "Whose limbs leap light the vales along,
+    "May yet e'er noontide meet his death,
+    "And lie dismembered on the heath:
+    "For youth, alas! nor cautious age,
+    "Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage.
+    "In every field we meet the foe,
+    "Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe:
+    "The morning but awakes our fears,
+    "The evening sees us bathed in tears.
+    "But must we ever idly grieve,
+    "Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?
+    "Small is each individual force,
+    "To stratagem be our recourse;
+    "And then, from all our tribes combined,
+    "The murderer to his cost may find,
+    "No foe is weak, whom Justice arms,
+    "Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms.
+    "Be roused; or liberty acquire,
+    "Or in the great attempt expire."--
+    He said no more, for in his breast
+    Conflicting thoughts the voice suppressed:
+    The fire of vengeance seemed to stream
+    From his swoln eyeball's yellow gleam.
+      And now the tumults of the war,
+    Mingling confusedly from afar,
+    Swell in the wind. Now louder cries,
+    Distinct, of hounds and men arise.
+    Forth from the brake, with beating heart,
+    Th' assembled hares tumultuous start,
+    And, every straining nerve on wing,
+    Away precipitately spring.
+    The hunting band, a signal given,
+    Thick thundering o'er the plain are driven;
+    O'er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound,
+    And river broad, impetuous bound;
+    Now plunge amid the forest shades,
+    Glance through the openings of the glades;
+    Now o'er the level valley sweep,
+    Now with short steps strain up the steep,
+    While backward from the hunter's eyes
+    The landscape like a torrent flies.
+    At last an ancient wood they gained,
+    By pruner's axe yet unprofaned.
+    High o'er the rest, by Nature reared,
+    The oak's majestic boughs appeared;
+    Beneath, a copse of various hue
+    In barbarous luxuriance grew;
+    No knife had curbed the rambling sprays,
+    No hand had wove th' implicit maze.
+    The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind,
+    The hazle's stubborn stem intwined,
+    And bramble twigs were wreathed around,
+    And rough furze crept along the ground.
+    Here sheltering, from the sons of murther,
+    The hares drag their tired limbs no further.
+      But, lo! the western wind erelong
+    Was loud, and roared the woods among:
+    From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs,
+    The sound of woe and war arose.
+    The hares, distracted, scour the grove,
+    As terror and amazement drove;
+    But danger, wheresoe'er they fled,
+    Still seemed impending o'er their head.
+    Now crowded in a grotto's gloom,
+    All hope extinct, they wait their doom:
+    Dire was the silence, till, at length,
+    Even from despair deriving strength,
+    With bloody eye, and furious look,
+    A daring youth arose, and spoke.
+      "O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,
+    "Whom ills of every sort await!
+    "O, cursed with keenest sense to feel
+    "The sharpest sting of every ill!
+    "Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,
+    "Of liberty and vengeance dream,
+    "What now remains? To what recess
+    "Shall we our weary steps address,
+    "Since Fate is evermore pursuing
+    "All ways and means to work our ruin?
+    "Are we alone, of all beneath,
+    "Condemned to misery worse than death!
+    "Must we, with fruitless labour, strive,
+    "In misery worse than death to live!
+    "No. Be the smaller ill our choice:
+    "So dictates Nature's powerful voice.
+    "Death's pang will in a moment cease;
+    "And then, All hail, eternal peace!"
+    Thus while he spoke, his words impart
+    The dire resolve to every heart.
+      A distant lake in prospect lay,
+    That, glittering in the solar ray,
+    Gleamed through the dusky trees, and shot
+    A trembling light along the grot.
+    Thither with one consent they bend,
+    Their sorrows with their lives to end;
+    While each, in thought, already hears
+    The water hissing in his ears,
+      Fast by the margin of the lake,
+    Concealed within a thorny brake,
+    A linnet sate, whose careless lay
+    Amused the solitary day.
+    Careless he sung, for on his breast
+    Sorrow no lasting trace impressed;
+    When suddenly he heard a sound
+    Of swift feet traversing the ground.
+    Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,
+    Thence, trembling, casts around his eyes;
+    No foe appeared, his fears were vain;
+    Pleased, he renews the sprightly strain.
+      The hares, whose noise had caused his fright,
+    Saw, with surprise, the linnet's flight.
+    Is there on earth a wretch, they said,
+    Whom our approach can strike with dread?
+    An instantaneous change of thought
+    To tumult every bosom wrought.
+    So fares the system-building sage,
+    Who, plodding on from youth to age,
+    At last, on some foundation-dream,
+    Has reared aloft his goodly scheme,
+    And proved his predecessors fools,
+    And bound all nature by his rules;
+    So fares he, in that dreadful hour,
+    When injured truth exerts her power,
+    Some new phenomenon to raise;
+    Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,
+    From its proud summit to the ground,
+    Proves the whole edifice unsound.
+      "Children," thus spake a hare sedate,
+    Who oft had known the extremes of Fate,
+    "In slight events the attentive mind
+    "May hints of good instruction find.
+    "That our condition is the worst,
+    "And we with such misfortunes cursed
+    "As all comparison defy,
+    "Was late the universal cry.
+    "When, lo! an accident so slight,
+    "As yonder little linnet's flight,
+    "Has made your stubborn hearts confess
+    "(So your amazement bids me guess)
+    "That all our load of woes and fears
+    "Is but a part of what he bears.
+    "Where can he rest secure from harms,
+    "Whom even a helpless hare alarms?
+    "Yet he repines not at his lot;
+    "When past, his dangers are forgot:
+    "On yonder bough he trims his wings,
+    "And with unusual rapture sings;
+    "While we, less wretched, sink beneath
+    "Our lighter ills, and rush to death.
+    "No more of this unmeaning rage,
+    "But hear, my friends, the word of age:
+      "When, by the winds of autumn driven,
+    "The scattered clouds fly cross the heaven,
+    "Oft have we, from some mountain's head,
+    "Beheld the alternate light and shade
+    "Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers
+    "The shadowy cloud; there, downward pours,
+    "Streaming direct, a flood of day,
+    "Which from the view flies swift away;
+    "It flies, while other shades advance,
+    "And other streaks of sunshine glance.
+    "Thus chequered is the life below
+    "With gleams of joy, and clouds of woe.
+    "Then hope not, while we journey on,
+    "Still to be basking in the sun;
+    "Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,
+    "That sunshine will no more return.
+    "If, by your terrors overcome,
+    "Ye fly before the approaching gloom,
+    "The rapid clouds your flight pursue,
+    "And darkness still o'ercasts your view.
+    "Who longs to reach the radiant plain,
+    "Must onward urge his course amain;
+    "For doubly swift the shadow flies,
+    "When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.
+    "At least be firm, and undismayed
+    "Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade,
+    "Erelong, spontaneous glides away,
+    "And gives you back the enlivening ray.
+    "Lo! while I speak, our danger past!
+    "No more the shrill horn's angry blast
+    "Howls in our ear; the savage roar
+    "Of war and murder is no more.
+    "Then snatch the hour that Fate allows,
+    "Nor think of past and future woes."
+    He spoke; and hope revives; the lake
+    That instant, one and all forsake,
+    In sweet amusement to employ
+    The present sprightly hour of joy.
+      Now, from the western mountain's brow,
+    Compassed with clouds of various glow,
+    The sun a broader orb displays,
+    And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.
+    The lawn assumes a fresher green,
+    And dew-drops spangle all the scene.
+    The balmy zephyr breathes along,
+    The shepherd sings his tender song.
+    With all their lays the groves resound,
+    And falling waters murmur round;
+    Discord and care were put to flight,
+    And all was peace, and calm delight.
+
+
+
+
+                               EPITAPH:
+           BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT TO BE
+           ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY.
+
+
+    Farewell, my best beloved! whose heavenly mind
+    Genius with virtue, strength with softness, joined;
+    Devotion, undebased by pride or art,
+    With meek simplicity, and joy of heart;
+    Though sprightly, gentle; though polite, sincere;
+    And only of thyself a judge severe;
+    Unblamed, unequalled, in each sphere of life,
+    The tenderest Daughter, Sister, Parent, Wife.
+    In thee their patroness the afflicted lost;
+    Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast;
+    And I----but, ah! can words my loss declare,
+    Or paint the extremes of transport and despair?
+    O Thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell,
+    My guide, my friend, my best-beloved, farewell!
+
+
+
+
+                                  ODE
+                                  ON
+                         LORD HAY'S BIRTH-DAY.
+
+                            13TH MAY, 1767.
+
+
+    A muse, unskilled in venal praise,
+    Unstained with flattery's art;
+    Who loves simplicity of lays
+    Breathed ardent from the heart;
+    While gratitude and joy inspire,
+    Resumes the long-unpractised lyre,
+    To hail, O HAY, thy natal Morn;
+    No gaudy wreath of flowers she weaves,
+    But twines with oak the laurel leaves,
+    Thy cradle to adorn.
+    For, not on beds of gaudy flowers
+    Thine ancestors reclined,
+    Where sloth dissolves, and spleen devours,
+    All energy of mind;
+    To hurl the dart, to ride the car,
+    To stem the deluges of war,
+    And snatch from Fate a sinking land;
+    Trample the invader's lofty crest,
+    And from his grasp the dagger wrest,
+    And desolating brand:
+
+    'Twas this that raised the illustrious line,
+    To match the first in fame;
+    A thousand years have seen it shine
+    With unabated flame:
+    Have seen thy mighty sires appear
+    Foremost in Glory's high career,
+    The pride and pattern of the brave.
+    Yet, pure from lust of blood their fire,
+    And from Ambition's wild desire,
+    They triumphed but to save.
+
+    The Muse with joy attends their way
+    The vales of peace along;
+    There, to its Lord the village gay
+    Renews the grateful song.
+    Yon castle's glittering towers contain
+    No pit of woe, nor clanking chain,
+    Nor to the suppliant's wail resound:
+    The open doors the needy bless.
+    The unfriended hail their calm recess,
+    And gladness smiles around.
+
+    There, to the sympathetic heart
+    Life's best delights belong,
+    To mitigate the mourner's smart,
+    To guard the weak from wrong.
+    Ye sons of luxury, be wise;
+    Know, happiness for ever flies
+    The cold and solitary breast;
+    Then let the social instinct glow,
+    And learn to feel another's woe,
+    And in his joy be blessed.
+
+    O yet, ere Pleasure plant her snare
+    For unsuspecting youth;
+    Ere Flattery her song prepare
+    To check the voice of Truth;
+    O may his country's guardian power
+    Attend the slumbering Infant's bower,
+    And bright, inspiring dreams impart;
+    To rouse the hereditary fire,
+    To kindle each sublime desire,
+    Exalt, and warm the heart.
+
+    Swift to reward a parent's fears,
+    A parent's hopes to crown,
+    Roll on in peace, ye blooming years,
+    That rear him to renown;
+    When, in his finished form and face,
+    Admiring multitudes shall trace
+    Each patrimonial charm combined;
+    The courteous yet majestic mien,
+    The liberal smile, the look serene,
+    The great and gentle mind.
+
+    Yet, though thou draw a nation's eyes,
+    And win a nation's love,
+    Let not thy towering mind despise
+    The village and the grove.
+    No slander there shall wound thy fame,
+    No ruffian take his deadly aim,
+    No rival weave the secret snare:
+    For Innocence, with angel smile,
+    Simplicity, that knows not guile,
+    And Love and Peace are there.
+
+    When winds the mountain oak assail,
+    And lay its glories waste,
+    Content may slumber in the vale,
+    Unconscious of the blast.
+    Through scenes of tumult while we roam,
+    The heart, alas! is ne'er at home;
+    It hopes in time to roam no more:
+    The mariner, not vainly brave,
+    Combats the storm, and rides the wave,
+    To rest, at last, on shore.
+
+    Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,
+    How vain your mask of state!
+    The good alone have joy sincere,
+    The good alone are great:
+    Great, when, amid the vale of peace,
+    They bid the plaint of sorrow cease,
+    And hear the voice of artless praise;
+    As, when along the trophied plain,
+    Sublime they lead the victor train,
+    While shouting nations gaze.
+
+
+
+
+                        TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+                         LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON,
+                  DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET,
+                          WITH FEATHERS, &c.
+
+
+    Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow,
+    With the dread semblance of that warlike helm,
+    That nodding plume, and wreath of various glow,
+    That graced the chiefs of Scotia's antient realm?
+
+    Thou knowest that virtue is of power the source,
+    And all her magic to thy eyes is given;
+    We own their empire, while we feel their force,
+    Beaming with the benignity of heaven.
+
+    The plumy helmet, and the martial mien,
+    Might dignify Minerva's awful charms;
+    But more resistless far the Idalian queen--
+    Smiles, graces, gentleness, her only arms.
+
+
+
+
+                              THE HERMIT.
+
+
+    At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
+    And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
+    When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
+    And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove:
+    'Twas then, by the cave of the mountain afar,
+    A Hermit his song of the night thus began;
+    No more with himself, or with nature, at war,
+    He thought as a sage, while he felt as a man:
+
+    "Ah! why thus abandoned to darkness and woe?
+    "Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain?
+    "For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
+    "And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain.
+    "Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not thy lay,
+    "Mourn, sweetest complainer! man calls thee to mourn:
+    "O sooth him, whose pleasures like thine pass away--
+    "Full quickly they pass--but they never return.
+
+    "Now gliding remote on the verge of the sky,
+    "The moon, half-extinguished, her crescent displays:
+    "But lately I marked, when majestic on high,
+    "She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
+    "Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
+    "The path that conducts thee to splendour again:
+    "But man's faded glory no change shall renew--
+    "Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain!
+
+    "Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:
+    "I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;
+    "For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,
+    "Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.
+    "Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
+    "Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.--
+    "But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn?
+    "O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?"
+
+    'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed,
+    That leads, to bewilder, and dazzles, to blind;
+    My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,
+    Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.
+    "O pity, great Father of light," then I cried,
+    "Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee!
+    "Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:
+    "From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free."
+
+    And darkness and doubt are now flying away:
+    No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.
+    So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,
+    The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
+    See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,
+    And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!
+    On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
+    And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb!
+
+
+
+
+                             ODE TO PEACE.
+
+                       WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1756.
+
+
+                       I. 1.
+
+    Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
+    From antient darkness called the morn;
+    And hushed of jarring elements the noise,
+    When Chaos, from his old dominion torn,
+    With all his bellowing throng,
+    Far, far was hurled the void abyss along;
+    And all the bright angelic choir,
+    Striking, through all their ranks, the eternal lyre,
+    Poured, in loud symphony, the impetuous strain;
+    And every fiery orb and planet sung,
+    And wide, through Night's dark solitary reign,
+    Rebounding long and deep, the lays triumphant rung!
+
+
+                       I. 2.
+
+    Oh, whither art thou fled, Saturnian Age!
+    Roll round again, majestic years!
+    To break the sceptre of tyrannic Rage;
+    From Woe's wan cheek to wipe the bitter tears;
+    Ye years, again roll round!
+    Hark! from afar what desolating sound,
+    While echoes load the sighing gales,
+    With dire presage the throbbing heart assails!
+    Murder, deep-roused, with all the whirlwind's haste,
+    And roar of tempest, from her cavern springs,
+    Her tangled serpents girds around her waist,
+    Smiles ghastly fierce, and shakes her gore-distilling wings.
+
+
+                       I. 3.
+
+    The shouts, redoubling, rise
+    In thunder to the skies;
+    The nymphs, disordered, dart along,
+    Sweet powers of solitude and song,
+    Stunned with the horrors of discordant sound;
+    And all is listening, trembling round.
+    Torrents, far heard amid the waste of night,
+    That oft have led the wanderer right,
+    Are silent at the noise.
+    The mighty Ocean's more majestic voice,
+    Drowned in superior din, is heard no more;
+    The surge in silence seems to sweep the foamy shore.
+
+
+                      II. 1.
+
+    The bloody banner, streaming in the air,
+    Seen on yon sky-mixt mountain's brow,
+    The mingling multitudes, the madding car,
+    Driven in confusion to the plain below,
+    War's dreadful Lord proclaim.
+    Bursts out, by frequent fits, the expansive flame;
+    Snatched in tempestuous eddies, flies
+    The surging smoke o'er all the darkened skies;
+    The chearful face of heaven no more is seen;
+    The bloom of morning fades to deadly pale;
+    The bat flies transient o'er the dusky green,
+    And Night's foul birds along the sullen twilight sail.
+
+
+                      II. 2.
+
+    Involved in fire-streaked gloom, the car comes on.
+    The rushing steeds grim Terror guides.
+    His forehead writhed to a relentless frown,
+    Aloft the angry Power of Battles rides.
+    Grasped in his mighty hand,
+    A mace, tremendous, desolates the land;
+    The tower rolls headlong down the steep,
+    The mountain shrinks before its wasteful sweep.
+    Chill horror the dissolving limbs invades,
+    Smit by the blasting lightning of his eyes;
+    A deeper gloom invests the howling shades;
+    Stripped is the shattered grove, and every verdure dies.
+
+
+                      II. 3.
+
+    How startled Phrenzy stares,
+    Bristling her ragged hairs!
+    Revenge the gory fragment gnaws;
+    See, with her griping vulture claws
+    Imprinted deep, she rends the mangled wound!
+    Hate whirls her torch sulphureous round.
+    The shrieks of agony, and clang of arms,
+    Re-echo to the hoarse alarms,
+    Her trump terrific blows.
+    Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose,
+    Of kingly gesture, a gigantic form,
+    That with his scourge sublime rules the careering storm.
+
+
+                     III. 1.
+
+    Ambition, outside fair! within as foul
+    As fiends of fiercest heart below,
+    Who ride the hurricanes of fire, that roll
+    Their thundering vortex o'er the realms of woe,
+    Yon naked waste survey;
+    Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay;
+    Where late the rosy-bosomed hours,
+    In loose array, danced lightly o'er the flowers;
+    Where late the shepherd told his tender tale;
+    And, wakened by the murmuring breeze of morn,
+    The voice of chearful Labour filled the dale;
+    And dove-eyed Plenty smiled, and waved her liberal horn.
+
+
+                     III. 2.
+
+    Yon ruins, sable from the wasting flame,
+    But mark the once resplendent dome;
+    The frequent corse obstructs the sullen stream,
+    And ghosts glare horrid from the sylvan gloom.
+    How sadly silent all!
+    Save where, outstretched beneath yon hanging wall,
+    Pale Famine moans with feeble breath,
+    And Anguish yells, and grinds his bloody teeth.
+    Though vain the Muse, and every melting lay,
+    To touch thy heart, unconscious of remorse!
+    Know, monster, know, thy hour is on the way;
+    I see, I see the years begin their mighty course.
+
+
+                     III. 3.
+
+    What scenes of glory rise
+    Before my dazzled eyes!
+    Young zephyrs wave their wanton wings,
+    And melody celestial rings.
+    All blooming on the lawn the nymphs advance,
+    And touch the lute, and range the dance:
+    And the blithe shepherds, on the mountain's side,
+    Arrayed in all their rural pride,
+    Exalt the festive note,
+    Inviting Echo from her inmost grot----
+    But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light;
+    It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight.
+
+
+                      IV. 1.
+
+    Illusions vain! Can sacred PEACE reside
+    Where sordid gold the breast alarms,
+    Where Cruelty inflames the eye of Pride,
+    And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms?
+    Ambition, these are thine!
+    These from the soul erase the form divine;
+    And quench the animating fire,
+    That warms the bosom with sublime desire.
+    Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel,
+    And Hatred triumphs on the o'erwhelming brow,
+    And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel;
+    Blaze the blue flames of death, and sound the shrieks of woe.
+
+
+                      IV. 2.
+
+    From Albion fled, thy once beloved retreat,
+    What regions brighten in thy smile,
+    Creative PEACE! and underneath thy feet
+    See sudden flowers adorn the rugged soil?
+    In bleak Siberia blows,
+    Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose?
+    Waved over by thy magic wand,
+    Does life inform fell Lybia's burning sand?
+    Or does some isle thy parting flight detain,
+    Where roves the Indian through primaeval shades;
+    Haunts the pure pleasures of the sylvan reign,
+    And, led by Reason's light, the path of Nature treads?
+
+
+                      IV. 3.
+
+    On Cuba's utmost steep,
+    Far leaning o'er the deep,
+    The Goddess' pensive form was seen:
+    Her robe, of Nature's varied green,
+    Waved on the gale; grief dimmed her radiant eyes,
+    Her bosom heaved with boding sighs.
+    She eyed the main; where, gaining on the view,
+    Emerging from the ethereal blue,
+    Midst the dread pomp of war,
+    Blazed the Iberian streamer from afar:
+    She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne,
+    Slow winged her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                        TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.
+
+
+    Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought
+      These scenes so deeply stained with sorrow's dye?
+    Is there in all thy stores no cheerful draught,
+      To brighten yet once more in Fancy's eye?
+
+    Yes--from afar a landscape seems to rise,
+      Embellished by the lavish hand of spring;
+    Thin gilded clouds float lightly through the skies,
+      And laughing loves disport on fluttering wing.
+
+    How blest the youth in yonder valley laid!
+      What smiles in every conscious feature play!
+    While, to the murmurs of the breezy glade,
+      His merry pipe attunes the rural lay.
+
+    Hail, Innocence! whose bosom all serene,
+      Feels not, as yet, the internal tempest roll.
+    Oh, ne'er may care distract thy placid mein!
+      Ne'er may the shades of doubt o'erwhelm thy soul!
+
+    Vain wish! for lo, in gay attire concealed,
+      Yonder she comes! the heart-inflaming fiend!
+    (Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield!)
+      Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend!
+
+    O smile accurst, to hide the worst designs!
+      Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest;
+    While round her arm, unseen, a serpent twines----
+      And lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast!
+
+    And, instant, lo, his dizzy eyeball swims
+      Ghastly, and reddening darts a frantic glare;
+    Pain, with strong grasp, distorts his writhing limbs,
+      And Fear's cold hand erects his frozen hair.
+
+    Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime!
+      And does thy spring no happier prospect yield!
+    Why should the sunbeam paint thy glittering clime,
+      When the keen mildew desolates the field!
+
+    How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile
+      The musing mind, and sooth to soft delight.
+    Ye images of woe, no more recoil!
+      Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night.
+
+    Now when fierce Winter, armed with wasteful power,
+      Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar;
+    How sweet to sit in this sequestered bower,
+      To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!
+
+    Ambition here displays no gilded toy,
+      That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise;
+    Nor Pleasure's paths to wilds of woe decoy,
+      Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's proud disguise.
+
+    Oft has Contentment cheered this lone abode,
+      With the mild languish of her smiling eye;
+    Here Health in rosy bloom has often glowed,
+      While loose-robed Quiet stood enamoured by.
+
+    Even the storm lulls to more profound repose;
+      The storm these humble walls assails in vain.
+    The shrub is sheltered, when the whirlwind blows,
+      While the oak's mighty ruin strows the plain.
+
+    Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies;
+      And toss the infuriate surge, and vales lay waste.
+    Nature thy temporary rage defies;
+      To her relief the gentler Seasons haste.
+
+    Throned in her emerald car, see Spring appear!
+      (As Fancy wills, the landscape starts to view.)
+    Her emerald car the youthful Zephyrs bear,
+      Fanning her bosom with their pinions blue.
+
+    Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen,
+      And lo, her rod the rose-lip'd Power extends!
+    And lo, the lawns are decked in living green,
+      And Beauty's bright-eyed train from Heaven descends!
+
+    Haste, happy days, and make all Nature glad----
+      But will all Nature joy at your return?
+    O, can ye cheer pale Sickness' gloomy bed,
+      Or dry the tears that bathe the untimely urn?
+
+    Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart,
+      Where groans the dungeon to the captive's wail?
+    To ease tired Disappointment's bleeding heart,
+      Will all your stores of softening balm avail!
+
+    When stern Oppression, in his harpy fangs,
+      From Want's weak grasp the last sad morsel bears,
+    Can ye allay the dying parent's pangs,
+      Whose infant craves relief with fruitless tears?
+
+    For ah! thy reign, Oppression, is not past.
+      Who from the shivering limbs the vestment rends?
+    Who lays the once rejoicing village waste,
+      Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends!
+
+    But hope not, Muse, vain-glorious as thou art,
+      With the weak impulse of thy humble strain,
+    Hope not to soften Pride's obdurate heart,
+      When ERROL's bright example shines in vain.
+
+    Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye,
+      Thy weeping eye, nor further urge thy flight.
+    Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy supply,
+      Or transient gleams, that flash and sink in night.
+
+    Yet fain the mind its anguish would forego:
+      Spread, then, Historic Muse, thy pictured scroll;
+    Bid the great scenes in all their splendour glow,
+      And rouse to thought sublime the exulting soul.
+
+    What mingling pomps rush on the enraptured gaze!
+      Lo, where the gallant navy rides the deep!
+    Here, glittering towns their spiry turrets raise,
+      There, bulwarks overhang the shaggy steep.
+
+    Bristling with spears, and bright with burnished shields,
+      The embattled legions stretch their long array;
+    Discord's red torch, as fierce she scours the fields,
+      With bloody tincture stains the face of day.
+
+    And now the hosts in silence wait the sign.
+      Keen are their looks whom Liberty inspires!
+    Quick as the goddess darts along the line,
+      Each breast impatient burns with noble fires.
+
+    Her form how graceful! In her lofty mien
+      The smiles of love stern Wisdom's frown controul;
+    Her fearless eye, determined though serene,
+      Speaks the great purpose, and the unconquered soul.
+
+    Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band,
+      Each feature fierce and hagard, as with pain!
+    With menace loud he cries, while from his hand
+      He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain.
+
+    Lo, at his call, impetuous as the storms,
+      Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driven;
+    Hatred, to madness wrought, each face deforms,
+      Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heaven.
+
+    Now, Virtue, now thy powerful succour lend,
+      Shield them, for Liberty who dare to die----
+    Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend!
+      Are those thy sons, thy generous sons, that fly!
+
+    Not Virtue's self, when Heaven its aid denies,
+      Can brace the loosened nerves, or warm the heart;
+    Not Virtue's self can still the burst of sighs,
+      When festers in the soul misfortune's dart.
+
+    See, where by terror and despair dismayed,
+      The scattering legions pour along the plain!
+    Ambition's car, in bloody spoils arrayed,
+      Hews its broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein.
+
+    But who is He, that, by yon lonely brook,
+      With woods o'erhung, and precipices rude,
+    Lies all abandoned, yet, with dauntless look,
+      Sees streaming from his breast the purple flood?
+
+    Ah, BRUTUS! ever thine be Virtue's tear!
+      Lo, his dim eyes to Liberty he turns,
+    As, scarce supported on her broken spear,
+      O'er her expiring son the goddess mourns.
+
+    Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies;
+      From her dishevelled locks she rends the plume;
+    No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes,
+      And on her tear-stained cheek no roses bloom.
+
+    Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway;
+      Fame's loudest trumpet labours with thy name;
+    For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay,
+      And Flattery bids for thee her altars flame.
+
+    Nor in life's lofty bustling sphere alone,
+      The sphere where monarchs and where heroes toil,
+    Sink Virtue's sons beneath Misfortune's frown,
+      While Guilt's thrilled bosom leaps at Pleasure's smile:
+
+    Full oft, where Solitude and Silence dwell,
+      Far, far remote, amid the lowly plain,
+    Resounds the voice of Woe from Virtue's cell:
+      Such is man's doom; and Pity weeps in vain.
+
+    Still grief recoils--How vainly have I strove,
+      Thy power, O Melancholy, to withstand!
+    Tired I submit; but yet, O yet remove,
+      Or ease the pressure of thy heavy hand.
+
+    Yet, for a while, let the bewildered soul
+      Find in society relief from woe;
+    O yield, a while, to Friendship's soft controul;
+      Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow?
+
+    Come then, PHILANDER! whose exalted mind
+      Looks down from far on all that charms the great;
+    For thou canst bear, unshaken and resigned,
+      The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate!
+
+    Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere,
+      Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys;
+    Who lend'st to Misery's moan a pitying ear,
+      And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys:
+
+    Who know'st man's frailty, with a favouring eye
+      And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall;
+    Who, unenslaved by Fashion's narrow tye,
+      With manly freedom follow'st Nature's call.
+
+    And bring thy DELIA, sweetly-smiling fair,
+      Whose spotless soul no rankling thoughts deform;
+    Her gentle accents calm each throbbing care,
+      And harmonize the thunder of the storm.
+
+    Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined,
+      She courts no homage, nor desires to shine;
+    In her each sentiment sublime is joined
+      To female softness, and a form divine.
+
+    Come, and disperse the involving shadows drear;
+      Let chastened mirth the social hours employ.
+    O catch the swift-winged moment while 'tis near--
+      On swiftest wing the moment flies of joy.
+
+    Even while the careless disencumbered soul
+      Sinks, all dissolving, into pleasure's dream,
+    Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll,
+      With headlong haste, along life's surgey stream.
+
+    Can gaiety the vanished years restore,
+      Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed,
+    Or soothe the sad INEVITABLE HOUR,
+      Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?
+
+    Still sounds the solemn knell, in Fancy's ear,
+      That called ELIZA to the silent tomb;
+    With her how jocund rolled the sprightly year!
+      How shone the nymph in beauty's brightest bloom!
+
+    Ah! Beauty's bloom avails not in the grave!
+      Youth's lofty mien, nor Age's awful grace.
+    Moulder alike unknown the prince and slave,
+      Whelmed in the enormous wreck of human race.
+
+    The thought-fixed portraiture, the breathing bust,
+      The arch with proud memorials arrayed,
+    The long-lived pyramid shall sink in dust,
+      To dumb Oblivion's ever desert shade.
+
+    Fancy from joy still wanders far astray.
+      Ah Melancholy, how I feel thy power!
+    Long have I laboured to elude thy sway--
+      But 'tis enough, for I resist no more.
+
+    The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste,
+      Through many a lonesome path is doomed to roam,
+    Wildered and weary sits him down at last;
+      For long the night, and distant far his home.
+
+
+                                FINIS.
+
+
+                              EDINBURGH:
+
+                     Printed by JAMES BALLANTYNE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by
+James Beattie
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