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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair, and Falconer + With Lives, Critical Dissertations, and Explanatory Notes + +Author: Rev. George Gilfillan [Ed.] + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8695] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 2, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF BEATTIE, BLAIR, AND FALCONER *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Clytie Siddall, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +BEATTIE, BLAIR, AND FALCONER. + + +With Lives, Critical Dissertations, and Explanatory Notes, + + + +BY THE + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + + +CONTENTS + + +Beattie's Poetical Works +The Life and Poetry of James Beattie +The Minstrel; or, the Progress of Genius +Miscellaneous Poems + Ode to Hope + Ode to Peace + Ode on Lord Hay's Birthday + The Judgment of Paris + The Triumph of Melancholy + Elegy + Elegy, written in the year 1758 + Retirement + The Hermit + On the Report of a Monument to be erected in Westminster Abbey, to + the Memory of a late Author (Churchill) + The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes + The Hares. A Fable + The Wolf and Shepherds. A Fable + Song, in imitation of Shakspeare's "Blow, blow, thou winter wind" + To Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with + Plumes, &c + Epitaph: being part of an Inscription designed for a Monument + erected by a Gentleman to the Memory of his Lady + Epitaph on Two Young Men of the name of Leitch, who were drowned in + crossing the River Southesk + Epitaph, intended for Himself + +Blair's Poetical Works +The Life of Robert Blair + The Grave + A Poem, dedicated to the Memory of the late learned and eminent Mr + William Law, Professor of Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh + +Falconer's Poetical Works +The Life of William Falconer + The Shipwreck + Occasional Elegy, in which the preceding narrative is concluded +Miscellaneous Poems + The Demagogue + A Poem, sacred to the Memory of His Royal Highness Frederick Prince of + Wales + Ode on the Duke of York's second departure from England as Rear-Admiral + The Fond Lover. A Ballad + On the Uncommon Scarcity of Poetry in the Gentleman's Magazine for + December last, 1755, by I. W., a sailor + Description of a Ninety-Gun Ship + + + + + + + +POETICAL WORKS OF JAMES BEATTIE. + + + + + +THE LIFE AND POETRY OF JAMES BEATTIE. + + +James Beattie, the author of the "Minstrel" was born at Laurencekirk, in +the county of Kincardineshire--a village situated in that beautiful +trough of land called the Howe of the Mearns, and surmounted by the +ridge of the Garvock Hills, which divide it from the German Ocean--on +the 25th day of October 1735. His father, who was a small farmer and +shopkeeper, and who is said to have possessed a turn for literature and +versifying, died when James was only seven years old; but his brother +David, the eldest of a family of six, undertook the superintendence of +his education till he was fit to go to the parish school. That school +which had been raised to celebrity by Thomas Ruddiman, the grammarian, +was now taught by one Milne, whom his pupil describes as also a good +grammarian and an excellent Latin scholar, but destitute of taste, and +of all the other qualifications of a teacher. Milne preferred Ovid to +Virgil; but Beattie's taste, already giving promise of its future +classical bent, was attracted by the less meretricious beantics of +Virgil; and this author, in Dryden's translation, as well as Milton's +"Paradise Lost," and Thomson's "Seasons," were devoured with eagerness, +and copied with emulation, by him in the intervals of his school hours. +He was assisted in his studies by Mr Thomson, minister of the parish. In +1749, when he reached the age of fourteen, he entered Marischal College, +Aberdeen, and such was his proficiency that he took by competition the +first of those bursaries or exhibitions which are given to those +students who are unable to support the expenses of their own education. +Aberdeen has been always distinguished by its eminent professors. +Blackwell, Gerard, Reid, Campbell, the subject of this sketch, Brown, +Blackie, &c. are only a few of the celebrated names the roll of its two +colleges contains. The two first-mentioned were flourishing at the time +when young Beattie entered the University. Blackwell was a learned but +pedantic Grecian, who wrote with considerable power and great pomp on +"Mythology," "Homer," and the "Court of Augustus." Alexander Gerard was +the author of some books of some merit, although now nearly forgotten, +on the "Genius of Christianity," on "Taste and Genius," &c. Under both +these Beattie profited very much. He gained a high prize in Blackwell's +class, for an analysis of the fourth book of the "Odyssey." He did not +neglect general reading, nor the art of poetry. He spent much of his +leisure in studying and practising music, which he always loved with a +passion. We can conceive him, too, the "lone enthusiast," repairing +often to the resounding shore of the ocean, or leaning where a greater +than he was by and by to lean, over the Brig of Balgounie, which bends +above the deep, dark Don, or walking out pensively to the Bridge of Dee, +and watching the calm, translucent, yet strong, victorious river running +through its rich green banks and clustering corn-fields to wed the sea. +No university in wide Britain can be named with Aberdeen, in point of +the wild romantic grandeur of its environs, if we include in these the +upper courses of the two rivers which meet beside it and Byron Hall. +Macintosh, as well as Beattie, have owned the inspiration which the +scenery, still more than the scholastic training of the Northern +Metropolis, breathed into their opening minds. + +In 1753, having cultivated assiduously every branch of study taught at +college except mathematics, for which he had neither taste nor aptitude, +Beattie took the degree of A.M. He had hitherto been supported by the +kindness of his brother David, but now he was to look out for a +profession for himself. The situation of parish schoolmaster at Fordoun +falling vacant, he determined to apply for it; and on the 11th of August +1753 he was elected to the office. Fordoun is situated a few miles to +the north-east of Laurencekirk, and is surrounded by similar scenery. A +series of gentlemen's seats extend, at brief intervals, from Brechin to +Stonehaven, along a ridge of bare and bold mountains, and overlooking a +fair and rich plain, so that thus the neighbourhood of Fordoun includes +a combination of the soft, the beautiful, the luxuriant, and the +nakedly-sublime, which must have fed to satiety the eye and heart of +this true poet. Otherwise, the situation could not be called eligible. +The salary was small, the society at that time indifferent, and the +sphere limited. There were, however, some counter-balancing advantages. +Near the village resided Lord Gardenstown, who met Beattie in a romantic +glen near his house, with pencil and paper in his hand--entered into +conversation with him--found out that he was a poet--and gave him the +"Invocation to Venus" in the opening of Lucretius, to translate, which +he did on the spot, and thus removed some doubts Lord Gardenstown had +entertained as to whether his poetry was actually his own; and, besides, +Lord Monboddo, a remarkable man, alike in talent and eccentricity; and +both vied with each other in their patronage of the poetical _dominie_ +when he had undisturbed leisure for study and solitary communion with +nature. On the whole, perhaps, the future "Minstrel" was happier as a +parish schoolmaster than in any part of his after life; and perhaps +often, in more brilliant but less easy days, would revert with a sigh to +the simple school and the stream which murmurs past the small kirkyard +of Fordoun. + +While there, he wrote a few poetical pieces, which he sent with his +initials, and the name of his place of abode, to the _Scots Magazine_. +We can fancy him, like the immortal Peter Pattieson, on the day the +Magazine was due, walking as far as the little height of Auchcairnie, to +watch and weary for the long-expected carrier's cart wending its slow +way from the south and, when the parcel reached his hand, with eager, +trembling fingers, opening it up, to have all the joy of virgin +authorship awakened in his soul. In these days a poetic production from +the country seemed a phenomenon--as great, to use an expression of De +Quincey's, as if "a dragoon horse had struck up 'Rule Britannia,'" and +no doubt, many an eyebrow in Auld Reekie rose in wonder, and many a +voice exclaimed, "Who can this be?" when verses so good by J. B. +Fordoun, flashed upon the public from time to time. But, although his +poetry procured him more fame than he was then aware of, it brought him +nothing more, and his way to competence and elevation in society, seemed +as completely blocked up as ever. + +It would seem that he had, from an early period of his life, looked +forward to the Church as his profession; and, having taught for some +time in Fordoun, he returned to Aberdeen, to prosecute those preparatory +studies which he had for a while abandoned for a parish school and +poetry. Here he attended the lectures of Dr Robert Pollock of Marischal +College, and Professor John Lumsden of King's-and performed the +exercises prescribed by both. It was at this time that he delivered a +discourse in the Divinity Hall in language so lofty, that the Professor +challenged him for writing poetry instead of prose--a story reminding us +of similar facts in the history of Thomson, Pollok, and others whose +names we do not mention--and corroborating the truth, that poetical +genius and the halls of philosophy or theology are seldom congenial, and +that "musty, fusty, crusty" old professors are in general harsh +stepfathers to rising poets. + +Whether from chagrin on account of this criticism--and this is the more +probable, because Beattie was all along very sensitive to depreciation +or abuse--or from some other cause, he determined to abandon the study +of Divinity, and to follow teaching as a profession. In 1757, a vacancy +occurring in the Grammar School of Aberdeen, Beattie offered himself as +a candidate, but failed in the preliminary examination, as he had +himself expected, from a want of circumstantial and minute acquaintance +with the Latin tongue. A few months after, however, a second vacancy +having taken place in the same school, he was elected without the form +of a trial, and entered on the discharge of his duties in June 1758. He +was now in a more advantageous and a more reputable post--and while +discharging its duties with exemplary diligence, he found time for the +cultivation of his poetical gift. + +In 1760, through the exertions of his friends, especially the Earl of +Erroll, and Mr Arbuthnott, Beattie was appointed Professor of Philosophy +in Marischal College. It was thought at the time a startling experiment +to appoint a man so young--and who had given no proof of peculiar +proficiency in philosophical lore--to such an important chair; and was +no doubt stigmatised as one of those arrant 'jobs' by which the history +of Scotch Colleges has been often disgraced. In Beattie's case, however, +as well as in the kindred one of Professor Wilson, the issue was more +fortunate than might have been expected. He set manfully to work to +supply his deficiencies--read and wrote hard--and in a few years had +prepared a very respectable course of lectures--and became able to +front, without shame, such men as Gerard and Gregory, Campbell and +Reid--with whom he was now associated. In the same year appeared, in a +very modest manner, "Proposals for Printing Original Poems and +Translations." In 1761, the volume itself was published--consisting of +the pieces formerly printed in the 'Scots Magazine', corrected and +altered, and of some new productions. The book appeared simultaneously +in Edinburgh and London, and was hailed with universal applause; the +critics generally maintaining that no poetry so good had been written +since Gray's; which they thought Beattie had taken for his model. He +himself entertained, after a while, a very different opinion of their +merits; he was, in fact, seized with a fastidious loathing for them; he +destroyed every copy he could procure; and on republishing his poetry +before his death, he acknowledged only four of these early effusions. + +In 1765, he published, in quarto, his "Judgment of Paris," which met +with the unfavourable reception it deserved. He added it to an edition +of his poems printed in 1766; but afterwards refused to reprint it. We +have given it, however, as well as all his original minor poems, in our +edition, including a poem on Churchill, published by him in 1766, and +which, acrimonious and unjust as it is, is full of spirit, and shows +Beattie in the character of a "good hater." + +In 1763, he had visited London, where almost his only acquaintance was +Andrew Millar, the bookseller, and where nothing remarkable occurred +except a visit to Pope's Villa at Twickenham. In 1765, he had been +invited by the Earl of Strathmore to meet with Gray, then on a visit at +Glammis Castle. Lovelier spot, or more appropriate for the meeting of +two poets, does not exist in broad Scotland than the Castle of Glammis, +with its tall, vast, antique structure, towering over its ancient park, +and shadowed by large ancestral trees--with its interior full of the +quiet memories, quaint paintings, and collected curiosities of a +thousand years--with its chapel situated in the very groin of the +edifice, and in whose dim religious light you see walls surrounded, by +some female hand of a past age, with curious pictures--and with its +leaden roof, commanding a wide view over forest and lawn, village and +stream, mountain, meadow, and all the glories which replenish the long, +fair valley of Strathmore. Here the poets met, and spent two delightful +days. Beattie was amazed at the taste, the judgment, and the extensive +learning of Gray; and Gray, an older and a more fastidious man, was +nevertheless delighted with Beattie's enthusiasm, bonhommie, and heart. + +In 1767, he married Mary, the daughter of Dr Dunn, rector of the Grammar +School, Aberdeen. She was an amiable and lovely woman. Dr Johnson, when +he saw her in London, along with her husband, seemed to think more +highly of her than of him. He was not aware, however, of a fact which +became afterwards distressingly apparent--that from her mother she +inherited a tendency to insanity, which broke out in capricious +waywardness, some time before it culminated in madness. We know not but +this may explain Dr Johnson's saying to Boswell--"Beattie," he said, +"when he came first to London, 'sunk upon' us that he was married," +'i.e.', tried to hide that he was married. Perhaps the reason of this +remark, which so much offended Beattie himself, was, that, afraid of her +capricious flightiness being misunderstood, he was at first reluctant to +bring her into society. His letter to the contrary was we fear, written +for a purpose, and in order to 'conceal' the truth. + +And now came what Beattie and some of his friends--although not we, nor +the literary world now generally--considered the grand epoch of his +life--the publication of his "Essay on Truth." He had for some time been +alarmed at the progress of the sceptical philosophy, both at home and +abroad, and had expressed that alarm to his friends in his +correspondence. At last this fear awoke in him a Quixotic courage, and +he sallied forth like the valiant Don, in search of all whom he knew or +imagined to be the enemies of Truth--and like him made some considerable +mistakes, and showed more zeal than discretion. We may quote here some +sensible sentences from one of his biographers.--"That his meaning was +excellent, no one can doubt; whether he discovered the right remedy for +the harm which he was desirous of removing, is much more questionable. +To magnify any branch of human knowledge beyond its just importance, may +indeed tend to weaken the force of religious faith; but many acute +metaphysicians have been good Christians, and before the question thus +agitated can be set at rest, we must suppose a proficiency in those +inquiries which he would proscribe as dangerous. After all, we can +discover no more reason why sciolists in metaphysics should bring that +study into discredit, than that religion itself should be disparaged +through the extravagance of fanaticism. To have met the subject fully, +he ought to have shown, that not only those opinions he controverts are +erroneous, but that all the systems of former metaphysicians were so +likewise." In truth, Beattie would have gained his purpose far better +had he been able to have written another such satire against Hume and +his followers, as Swift's "Battle of the Books," Butler's "Elephant in +the Moon," or Voltaire's "Micromegas." Had he had sufficient wit and +sufficient knowledge, the inconsistencies, absurdities, and endless +quarrels of metaphysicians might have furnished an admirable field! But +wit was hardly one of his qualities, and his knowledge of these subjects +was superficial. In fact, the gentle "minstrel" warring against +philosophy, reminds us of a plain English scholar attacking the Talmud, +or of one who had never crossed the 'Pons Asinorum' slandering the +Fluxions of Newton. + +The essay appeared in 1770, and became instantly popular, passed through +five large editions in four years, and was translated into foreign +tongues. Hume smiled at it in his sleeve, but attempted no answer. +Burke, Johnson, and Warburton, who must have seen through its sounding +shallowness, pardoned and praised it for its good intentions, and +because its author, though a champion rather showy than strong, was on +the right side. Flushed by its success, Beattie, in 1771, revisited +London, and obtained admission to the best literary circles--sate under +the "peacock-hangings" of Mrs Montague--visited Hagley Park, and became +intimate with Lord Lyttelton--chatted cheerily with Boswell and +Garrick--listened with wonder to the deep bow-wows of Johnson's +talk--and as he watched the rich alluvial, yet romantic mountain stream +of thought, knowledge, and imagery that flowed perpetually from the +inspired lips of Burke, perhaps forgot Gray and Glammis Castle, and felt +"a greater is here." These men, in their turn, seem all to have liked +Beattie, although the full 'quid pro quo' of praise came only from +Lord Lyttelton, who vowed that in him Thomson had come back from the +shades, much purified and refined by his Elysian sojourn! Beattie, we +fear, was a little spoiled by the flatteries he received from Lyttelton +and that peculiar clique which circled round him; and hence his +prejudice in their favour, and the praise he reciprocates, are enormous. +"Lord Lyttelton," says a writer, "is his private friend, and him he +always calls the 'Great Historian,' though he is obliged to give his +lordship's name afterwards, to let his readers know of whom he is +speaking! From his letters it might appear that all the literary talent, +all the taste, and all the virtue of the country, were confined to his +circle of friends--Lord Lyttelton, Mrs Montague, Dr Porteous, and Major +Mercer." + +In 1773, he again visited London, and the climax of his renown seemed to +be reached, when the University of Oxford gave him the degree of +LL.D.--when three different times he refused the offer by bishops and +archbishops of promotion in the English Church--and when (oh, brave!) he +was admitted to an interview with their Majesties, complimented on his +"Essay on Truth" by good old George III., who was much better qualified +to judge of an essay on turnips, and gifted with a pension of L200 +a-year. About the same time he was urged to apply for the Professorship +of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh, which he declined to do, apparently +from a terror at the thought of coming so near David Hume--a terror +which strikes us as exceedingly ludicrous, when we recollect that, most +pernicious as were Hume's principles, he was in private as harmless, +good-natured, and ('Scottice') 'sonsy' a being as lived. + +A few months after the "Essay on Truth" appeared, and while the echoes +of its fame were beginning to spread through the world, there had +appeared a thin anonymous quarto, entitled the "First Book of the +Minstrel." It slid noiselessly as a star into the world's air. The +critics, finding no name on the title page, were peculiarly severe, and +peculiarly senseless, in their treatment of the unpretending volume, +which would have been crushed under their heavy strictures, had +not--rare event in those days--the public chosen to judge for itself, +and to fall in love with the beautiful poem. It consequently soon ran +through four editions, each edition containing some corrections and +improvements; and in the year 1774 he published the second part, which, +now that its author's name was known, was loudly praised by the Reviews, +as well as by the general reader. He always meant to, but never did, add +a third. + +From the date of his refusal of promotion in the English Church, Beattie +had made up his mind to remain in Aberdeen, which is a beautifully built +town, and which teemed to him with old associations. He spent his +winters in diligently instructing his class, and in summer was often +found at Peterhead, a town situated on the most easterly promontory of +Scotland, and which was then noted for its medicinal waters. Beattie was +troubled with a vertiginous complaint, which he found benefited by the +use of the Peterhead Spa. He no doubt also admired and often visited the +noble sea scenery to the south of that town.--Slaines Castle, standing +on its rock, sheer over the savage surge, and begirt by the perpetual +clang of sea-fowl and roar of billows, and the famous Bullers of Buchan, +where the sea has forced its way through the solid rock, leaving an arch +of triumph to commemorate the passage, and formed a huge round pot where +its waters, in the time of storm, rage and fret and foam like a newly +imprisoned maniac--a pot which Dr Johnson proposes to substitute for the +Red Sea, in the future incarceration of demons. + +In 1776, he published, by subscription, a new and splendid edition of +his "Essay on Truth," accompanied by two other essays, much more +interesting, on "Poetry and Music," and on "Laughter and Ludicrous +Composition," and by "Remarks on the Utility of Classical Learning." +This was followed, in 1783, by a volume of "Dissertations on Memory and +Imagination, Dreaming," &c. In 1786 he published a little treatise on +the "Christian Evidences," which he had shown to Bishop Porteous in +London, two years before, and been recommended by him to give to the +world. Beattie himself preferred it to all his writings, in "closeness +of matter and style." In 1790 and 1793, appeared two volumes on the +"Elements of Moral Science," containing an abridgment of his lectures on +Moral Philosophy and Logic. He wrote also, in the "Transactions" of the +Royal Society, Edinburgh, a paper on the sixth book of the "AEneid", and +contributed a few notes to an edition of Addison's works. + +His wife long ere this had been separated from him by her malady. By her +he had two sons, James Hay, named after the Earl of Errol, and Montague, +after the celebrated Mrs Montague. The history of both was hapless. +James Hay, who gave high literary promise, and was still more +distinguished by his amiable disposition, after having been appointed to +be his father's successor in the chair, died in 1790, at the age of +twenty-two, of a consumption. Beattie felt the blow deeply, and +published, soon after, the life and remains of the precocious youth. Our +readers must all remember the exquisite story of his teaching him the +idea of a Creator by sowing his name in cresses in the garden. The loss +of Montague, also a youth of much promise, by a rapid fever in 1796, +completed the prostration of the poor father. It was the case of Burke +over again, but worse, inasmuch as Beattie, a weaker nature, was +sometimes driven to seek oblivion in the cup, and as sometimes his +reason reeled on its throne, and he went about the house asking where +his son was, and whether he had or had not a son. He retired from all +society--lost taste for his former pleasures, such as music, which he +had once relished so keenly--was seized, in 1799, with a paralytic +affection, which deprived him of speech--and languished on, ever and +anon visited with new assaults of the same malady, till at last, on the +18th of August 1803, the gifted, amiable, but most miserable "Minstrel" +breathed his last. He now lies beside his two dear sons in the +churchyard of St Nicholas, Aberdeen, a graceful Latin inscription from +the pen of Dr James Gregory of Edinburgh distinguishing the stone which +covers his ashes. + +Beattie was of the middle size, of slouching gait, and common-place +appearance, redeemed by two fine dark eyes, which, melancholy in repose, +gleamed and glowed whenever he became animated in conversation. He had +warm affections, a tender, shrinking, sensitive disposition, was a kind +parent, an attached friend, truly pious, and could be charged with no +fault, save an irritability of temper, which grew upon him with his +misfortunes and infirmities, and, latterly, that occasional excess to +which we have alluded, which sprung rather from dotage and wretchedness +than from inclination, and in which he was far more to be pitied than +blamed. + +Of his pretensions as a philosopher we shall say nothing, save that he +has now no name, and is held rather to have struck at and all about +Hume, than to have smote him hip and thigh. His essays are exceedingly +agreeable reading. Cowper relished no book so well, but they can +scarcely be called either profound or brilliant. They soothe, but do not +suggest--they tickle, but do not tell us anything new. It is as a poet +that his name must survive, and the paean of reception which saluted him +in his "Essay on Truth," entering on stilts, should have been reserved +entirely for the "Minstrel," with the meek harp in his hand. + +Much has been said of the effect of fine scenery upon the development of +genius. And as this is the theme of one-half of the "Minstrel," we must +be permitted a few remarks on it. The finest scenery in the world +cannot, then, 'create' genius. A dunce, born in the Vale of Tempe, will +remain a dunce still. And, on the other hand, a poet reared in St Giles +or the Goosedubs will develop his poetic vein. The true influences, we +suspect, of scenery on genius are the following:--1st, Where poetry lies +deep and latent in a deep but silent nature, scenery will act like the +rod of Moses on the rock in bringing forth the struggling waters--it +will prompt to imitation, and gradually supply language. 2d, Early +familiarity with the beautiful aspects of nature will enable the youth +of genius to realize the descriptions of nature in the great poetic +masters, to test their truth, and imbibe their spirit, by comparing them +day by day with their archetypes. He can stand on a snow-clad mountain, +with Thomson's "Winter" in his hands. He can walk through a wood of +pines, swinging in the tempest, and repeat Coleridge's "Ode to +Schiller." He can, lying on a twilight hill, with twilight mountains +darkening into night around him, and twilight fields and rivers +glimmering far below, and one cataract, touching the grand piano of the +silence into melancholy music, turn round and see in the north-east the +moon rising in that "clouded majesty" of which Milton had spoken long +before. He can take the "Lady of the Lake" to the same summit, while +afternoon, the everlasting autumn of the day, is shedding its thoughtful +and mellow lines over the landscape, and can see in it a counterpart of +the scene at the Trosachs--the woodlands, the mountains, the isle, the +westland heaven--all, except the chase, the stag, and the stranger, and +these the imagination can supply; or he can plunge into the moorlands, +and reaching, toward the close of a summer's day, some insulated peak, +can see a storm of wild mountains between him and the west, dark and +proud, like captives at the chariot-wheels of the sun, and smitten here +and there into reluctant splendour by his beams, and think of all the +gorgeous descriptions of sunset and its momentary miracles to be found +in Scott, Byron, Wilson, Croly, Shelley, Wordsworth, and Coleridge; or +he can from some mighty Ben look abroad over a country--Scotland, and +the sea below, the blue heaven above, till, in his enthusiasm, he might +deem that he could lay his one hand on the mane of the ocean, and his +other on the tresses of the sun, and feels for the first time the force +of Beattie's own fine words-- + + "All the dread magnificence of Heaven." + + +Again, scenery will help sometimes to settle a question with a young +mind, whose intellectual and imaginative faculties are nearly equal, +whether it shall turn permanently to philosophy or to poetry. Such +dilemmas or Hercules choices are not uncommon; and there is a period in +life when the sight of a mountain, or a sunset, or an autumn river, amid +its yellow woods, can have more power than even a book, or the influence +of an older mind, or a young love-passion, in deciding them. Again, +early intimacy with fine scenery furnishes the poetic mind with an +exhaustless supply of images. These being sown in youth, sown broadcast, +and without any effort of the mind to receive or retain them, bear fruit +for ever. It is a shower of morning manna, which no after fervours of +noon, or chills of evening, are able to melt or freeze. Or, shall we say +the mind of the young, especially if gifted, is a daguerreotype plate of +the finest construction, and when surrounded by romantic or lovely +scenes, it receives and preserves them to the last, and can reproduce +them, too, in ever-varying forms, and perpetual succession? And hence, +in fine, it follows, that the greatest poets have either been brought up +in the country, or have early come in contact with a beautiful nature, +as the names of Homer, Virgil, Shakspeare, Milton, Thomson, Burns, +Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, Byron, Wilson, and Thomas Aird, abundantly +prove. + +Beattie employs the greater part of his first Canto of the "Minstrel" in +showing the influence of Nature on the dawning mind of a poet. And there +can be little doubt that it is the scenery of his own native region, and +the progress of his own mind, that he has described. "The long, long +vale withdrawn," is the Howe of the Mearns--the "uplands" whence he +views it, are the hills of Garvock--the "mountain grey," is the Grampian +ridge to the north-west--the "blue main" is the German Ocean, expanding +eastward--and the "vale" where the hermit is overheard pouring out his +plaint, may not inaptly be figured by that portion of Glen Esk, which +meets the all-beautiful Burn, and where "rocks on rocks are piled by +magic spell," and where, then as now, + + "Southward a mountain rose with easy swell, + Whose long, long groves eternal murmur made." + +And, besides, there is his famous piece of cloud scenery, beginning, + + "And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb," + +the truth of which any one may attest by walking up, in the cloudy and +dark day, the Cairn-a-Mount, a lofty knoll, across which a road leads to +Deeside, to the north of the poet's birthplace, and watching the sea of +vapour boiling, shifting, sinking, rising, tumultuating at his feet. + +Gray used to contend that, the stanza beginning, "O how canst thou +renounce the boundless store?" was absolute inspiration, but objected, +we think erroneously, to one word in it as French--"the _garniture_ of +fields," to which Cary very properly produces, in reply, the words from +our common version of the Bible--"The Lord _garnished_ the heavens." We +have noticed a stronger objection to a line in this otherwise perfect +stanza. It is this-- + + "All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields." + +Here is unquestionably a tautology, since to shield and to shelter +convey precisely the same idea. + +The charm of the "Minstrel" greatly lies in its blending of the moral +elements with the material imagery of the poem. The mind, the growth of +which he describes, is not forced into activity, or hatched prematurely +by electric heat; it developes sweetly, gradually, and in finest harmony +with the beautiful and the great around it--like a fir amidst the +plantations of Woodmyre, or a planetree on the far-seen heights of +Esslie. The second canto has beautiful passages, but is, on the whole, +more vague and fantastic than the first. We regret exceedingly that +Beattie never found leisure for writing a third canto, and leading +Edwin, whom he had brought to the threshold, within the sanctuary of +song, and consecrating him the "High Priest of the Nine," by baptizing +him into the Christian faith. The poem is a dream as well as a +fragment--no poetic mind was perhaps ever so thoroughly insulated as +that of his hero--but the "dream is one," it is consistent with itself, +and is painted with trembling truth of touch and delicate tenderness of +feeling. We feel it to be destitute of profound suggestiveness and +massive thought, but its verse is solemnly dignified, its imagery is +chastely grand, and a rich chiaroscuro rests like a tropical night upon +the whole. Besides the stanzas we have already alluded to, it has some +of those brief touches which show the master's hand: such as-- + + "Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad;" + +or in his curse upon the Cock, the line-- + + "And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear;" + +or the burst of description, how like the scene when the clouds suddenly +disperse, and show us + + "the evening star. + And from embattled clouds emerging slow, + Cynthia came riding in her silver car: + And hoary mountain cliffs shone faintly from afar." + + +His smaller poems possess many felicitous lines. The "Ode to Peace" +closes splendidly, and the "Hermit" is little inferior to Gray's +"Elegy." Its burden is the doctrine of the Resurrection, and it breathes +a more evangelical spirit than Gray. It begins in gloom, but ends in +glory--a glory reflected from the revealed truth of Scripture, which, +once believed, seems then to the poet corroborated by those analogies of +nature which had previously ministered despair instead of hope--such as +the monthly death and resurrection of the moon, and the nightly +darkening and morning revelation of the beauties of the landscape. The +stanza commencing with "'Tis night," may be called perfectly beautiful; +and we shall not soon forget that Dr Thomas Brown never quoted it +without tears, and that he quoted it, in tones of deep and tremulous +pathos, in the last lecture he ever delivered to his students. + +On the whole, Beattie may be ranked beside, or near, Campbell, Collins, +Gray, and Akenside. Deficient in thought and passion, in creative power, +and copious imagination, he is strong in sentiment, in mild tenderness, +and in delicate description of nature. Whatever become of his Essay on +Truth, or even of his less elaborate and more pleasing Essays on Music, +Imagination, and Dreams, the world can never, at any stage of its +advancement, forget to read and admire the "Minstrel" and the "Hermit," +or to cherish the memory of their warm-hearted and sorely-tried author. + +We now bid the author of the "Minstrel" farewell! We love to think of +him wandering in youth through the black plantations of firs, which +border on his birthplace, or climbing grey Garvock Hill, and fixing his +dark pensive eyes on the distant white sails, hovering like rare wings +over the rounded blue-green German deep, or crossing those dreary moors +which lie between Stonehaven and Aberdeen, a solitary pedestrian, in +search of learning and distinction, in that noble old city--or teaching +his son to "consider the cresses of the garden 'how they grow,'" and to +find in them something worth a thousand homilies or elaborate arguments +for the being of a God--or taking his last look of the dead body of his +last son, Montague, and saying, "Now I have done with the world." He had +many of the powers, all the virtues, and scarcely one of the faults +generally supposed to be connected with the character, mind, and +temperament of a poet. + + + + +BEATTIE'S POEMS. + + + + +THE MINSTREL; + +OR, + +THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. + + + +PREFACE. + +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 forefathers, 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 not intelligible 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 simplicity and +magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza 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. + + +BOOK I. + + + Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musae, + Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore, + Accipiant-- + + VIRGIL + + +1 + + 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-- + Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, + And Poverty's unconquerable bar-- + In life's low vale remote has pined alone, +Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied and unknown? + + +2 + + And yet the languor of inglorious days, + Not equally oppressive is to all; + Him who ne'er listen'd 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 the 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. + + +3 + +The rolls of fame I will not now explore; + Nor need I here describe, in learned lay, + How forth the Minstrel fared in days of yore, + Right glad of heart, though homely in array; + His waving locks and beard all hoary gray; + While from his bending shoulder, decent hung + His harp, the sole companion of his way, + Which to the whistling wild responsive rung: +And ever as he went some merry lay he sung. + + +4 + + Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride, + That a poor villager inspires my strain; + With thee let Pageantry and Power abide: + The gentle Muses, haunt the sylvan reign; + Where through wild groves at eve the lonely swain + Enraptured roams, to gaze on 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 gold alarms. + + +5 + + 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. + Oh, 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! + + +6 + + Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand; + Nor was perfection made for man below; + Yet all her schemes with nicest art are plann'd; + 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. + + +7 + + 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 resign'd; +Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. + + +8 + + 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? + + +9 + + Oh, 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, +Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven? + + +10 + + 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. + + +11 + + 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; [1] + 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. + + + +12 + + The shepherd swain of whom I mention made, + On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock; + The sickle, scythe, or plough he never sway'd: + 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. + + +13 + + 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 sustain'd annoy, + That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; + Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled; + He mourn'd 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. + + +14 + + No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast, + Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife; + Each season look'd delightful, as it pass'd, + To the fond husband, and the faithful wife. + Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life + They never roam'd: secure beneath the storm + Which in Ambition's lofty hand is rife, + Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm +Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform. + + +15 + + The wight whose tale these artless lines unfold, + Was all the offspring of this humble pair: + His birth no oracle or seer foretold; + No prodigy appear'd 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. + + +16 + + And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy: + Deep thought oft seem'd 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 laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. + The neighbours stared and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad: +Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad. + + +17 + + 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 roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head, + Or, where the maze of some bewilder'd 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. + + +18 + + 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: + Those he detested; those he scorn'd to wield; + He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king, + Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field. +And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. + + +19 + + 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. + + +20 + + And oft he traced the uplands, to survey, + When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn, + The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain gray, + 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! + + +21 + + 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 shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, + And view the enormous waste of vapour, toss'd + In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, + Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd! + And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, +Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound! + + +22 + + 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 sheen, [2] + 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 wish'd not to control. + + +23 + + "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. + + +24 + + "Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, + And meads, with life and mirth and beauty crown'd? + Ah! see, the unsightly slime and sluggish pool, + Have all the solitary vale imbrown'd; + 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 shatter'd rocks away. + + +25 + + "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. + Oh, 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. + + +26 + + "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. + + +27 + + "Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, + When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive? + Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, + Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live? + Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive + With disappointment, penury, and pain? + No! Heaven's immortal springs shall yet arrive, + And man's majestic beauty bloom again, +Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign." + + +28 + + 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 wish'd his Edwin to pursue. + "Let man's own sphere," said he, "confine his view; + Be man's peculiar work his sole delight." + And much, and oft, he warn'd him to eschew + Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, +By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might. + + +29 + + "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." + + +30 + + 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 chase thine ardour has begun! +'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run. + + +31 + + 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. + + +32 + + When the long-sounding curfew from afar + Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale, + Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star, + Lingering and listening, wander'd 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. + + +33 + + 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 rove 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. + + +34 + + Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch + Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold; + And forth a 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. + + +35 + + 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 thread the flying maze; + Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance + Rapid along: with many-colour'd rays + Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze. + + +36 + + The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day, + Who scar'dst the vision with thy clarion shrill, + Fell chanticleer; who oft hath reft away + My fancied good, and brought substantial ill! + Oh, 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! + + +37 + + 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. + + +38 + + 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, the linnet's lay of love, + And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. + + +39 + + The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark; + Crown'd 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 astonish'd springs; + Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour; + The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; + Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, + And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour. + + +40 + + 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! + Blest 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. + + +41 + + 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 venom'd fangs amain! + Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling slime + First gave you form! Hence! lest the Muse should deign + (Though loth on theme so mean to waste a rhyme), + With vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime. + + +42 + + 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 inform'd my youth. + O let your spirit still my bosom soothe, + 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. + + +43 + + Ah me! neglected 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 legend 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. + + +44 + + Various and strange was the long-winded tale; + And halls, and knights, and feats of arms display'd; + Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale, + And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid; + The moonlight revel of the fairy glade; + Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood, + And ply in caves the unutterable trade, [3] + 'Midst fiends and spectres quench the Moon in blood, + Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood. + + +45 + + 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 sear'd to stone? + For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse, + To latest times shall tender souls bemoan + Those hopeless orphan babes by thy fell arts undone. + + +46 + + Behold, with berries smear'd, with brambles torn, [4] + The babes, now famish'd, lay them down to die: + Amidst the 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 dar'st defy, + This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, + When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store. + + +47 + + A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy + Brighten'd 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. + + +48 + + Nor be thy generous indignation check'd, + Nor check'd 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 has 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. + + +49 + + 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 unnumber'd worlds, and ages without end? + + +50 + + 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. + + +51 + + 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 idle art makes more and more unfit; + Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit. + + +52 + + Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth. + Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device + Oft cheer'd 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. + + +53 + + Oft when the winter storm had ceased to rave, + He roam'd 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. + + +54 + + 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 roll'd on the autumnal day, + Even then he hasten'd from the haunt of man, + Along the trembling wilderness to stray, + What time the lightning's fierce career began, +And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran. + + +55 + + Responsive to the lively pipe, when all + In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd, + 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 seem'd 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? + + +56 + + Is there a heart that music cannot melt? + Alas! 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. + + +57 + + For Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had plann'd; + Song was his favourite and first pursuit. + The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand, + And languish'd 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 gain'd at last this fruit so rare: +As in some future verse I purpose to declare. + + +58 + + Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful or new, + Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky, + By chance or search, was offer'd to his view, + He scann'd 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 controll'd +And solitude, his soul her graces 'gan unfold. + + +59 + + 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 caves the storms are bound; + From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound, + Torrents are hurl'd; green hills emerge; and, lo! + The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crown'd; + Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go; +And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow. [5] + + + +60 + + Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while, + The leisure hour is all that thou canst claim. + But on this verse if Montagu should smile, + New strains ere long shall animate thy frame. + And her applause to me is more than fame; + For still with truth accords her 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. + + +[Footnote 1: There is hardly an ancient 'ballad' or romance, wherein a +minstrel or a harper appears, but he is characterized, by way of +eminence, to have been 'of the north countrie'. It is probable that +under this appellation were formerly comprehended all the provinces to +the north of the Trent.--See 'Percy's Essay on the Minstrels'.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Dazzling sheen:' Brightness, splendour. The word is used +by some late writers, as well as by Milton.] + +[Footnote 3: Allusion to Shakspeare:-- + + 'Mac'. How now, ye secret, black, and midnight hags, + What is't ye do? + 'Wit'. A deed without a name. + + (MACBETH, Act 4, Scene 1.)] + + +[Footnote 4: See the fine old ballad called, 'The Children in the +Wood.'] + +[Footnote 5: Spring and autumn are hardly known to the Laplanders. About +the time the sun enters Cancer, their fields, which a week before were +covered with snow, appear on a sudden full of grass and +flowers.--Scheffer's 'History of Lapland.'] + + + + + + +BOOK II. + + + Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam, + Rectique cultus pectora roborant. + + (HORAT.) + + +1 + + 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 doom'd; + Earthquakes have raised to Heaven the humble vale, + And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entomb'd; +And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloom'd. [1] + + +2 + + 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 darken'd eye, the wither'd 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. + + +3 + + 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. + + +4 + + "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. + + +5 + + Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows: + The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower, + Some tints of transient beauty may disclose; + But soon 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. + + +6 + + And now the downy cheek and deepen'd 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 trod; +A vale appear'd below, a deep retired abode. + + +7 + + Thither he hied, enamour'd of the scene; + For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell, + Here scorch'd 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 survey'd +Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array'd. + + +8 + + 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 crown'd. + 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. + + +9 + + One cultivated spot there was, that spread + Its flowery bosom to the noonday beam, + Where many a rosebud 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. + + +10 + + "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. + + +11 + + "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 vanquish'd by the worm! +Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform! + + +12 + + "True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind + Virtue has raised above the things below; + Who, every hope and fear to Heaven resign'd, + Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow." + This strain from 'midst the rocks was heard to flow + In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star; + And from embattled clouds emerging slow, + Cynthia came riding on her silver car; +And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar. + + +13 + + Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew + (While Edwin, wrapt in wonder, listening stood): + "Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu, + Scorn'd 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 woo'd + And hugg'd the chain that, glittering on their gaze, +Seems to outshine the pomp of Heaven's empyreal blaze + + +14 + + "Like them, abandon'd to Ambition's sway, + I sought for glory in the paths of guile; + And fawn'd and smiled, to plunder and betray, + Myself betray'd and plunder'd all the while; + So gnaw'd 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! + + +15 + + "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 amass'd, + 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. + + +16 + + "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 possess'd, + 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? + + +17 + + "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 bestrewn, + Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; + And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave. + + +18 + + "And thither let the village swain repair; + And, light of heart, the village maiden gay, + To deck with flowers her half-dishevell'd hair, + And celebrate the merry morn of May. + There let the shepherd's pipe the livelong day + Fill all the grove with love's bewitching woe; + And when mild Evening comes in mantle gray, + Let not the blooming band make haste to go; + No ghost, nor spell, my long and last abode shall know. + + +19 + + "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 ruin'd 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? + + +20 + + "Along yon glittering sky what glory streams! + What majesty attends Night's lovely queen! + Fair laugh our valleys 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 chase, this chaos dark to clear? + + +21 + + "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!" + + +22 + + 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 learn'd admire, + Thus dissipate and quench the soul's ethereal fire!" + + +23 + + He said, and turn'd away; nor did the Sage + O'erhear, in silent orisons employ'd. + The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage, + Home, as he hied, the evening scene enjoy'd: + For now no cloud obscures the starry void; + The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills; [2] + Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoy'd; + A soothing murmur the lone region fills + Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills. + + +24 + + But he from day to day more anxious grew, + The voice still seem'd to vibrate on his ear. + Nor durst he hope the hermit's tale untrue; + For man he seem'd 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." + + +25 + + At early dawn the Youth his journey took, + And many a mountain pass'd and valley wide, + Then reach'd 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, lick'd the wither'd hand that tied + A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall, + And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small. + + +26 + + And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw + The wanderer approaching: innocence + Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe + Depress'd his eye, that fear'd to give offence. + "Who art thou, courteous stranger and from whence + Why roam thy steps to this sequester'd dale?" + "A shepherd boy," the Youth replied, "far hence + My habitation; hear my artless tale; + Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail + + +27 + + "Late as I roam'd, intent on Nature's charms, + I reach'd 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 mourn'd for ruin'd man, and virtue lost, + And seem'd to feel of keen remorse the wound, + Pondering on former days, by guilt engross'd, + Or in the giddy storm of dissipation toss'd. + + +28 + + "But say, in courtly life can craft be learn'd, + Where knowledge opens and exalts the soul? + Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearn'd, + Can selfishness the liberal heart control? + Is glory there achieved by arts as foul + As those that felons, fiends, and furies plan? + Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tigers prowl: + Love is the godlike attribute of man. + O teach a simple youth this mystery to scan. + + +29 + + "Or else the lamentable strain disclaim, + And give me back the calm, contented mind. + Which, late exulting, view'd 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 roam'd through Nature's works at will, + Uncheck'd by cold distrust, and uninform'd by ill." + + +30 + + "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 any desultory strain with ruth + And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow, + Alas! what comfort could thy anguish soothe, + Shouldst thou the extent of human folly know? + Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe. + + +31 + + "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. + + +32 + + "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 mayst gain: + If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain." + + +33 + + 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 abandon'd urn. + + +34 + + "Ambition's slippery verge shall mortals tread, + Where ruin's gulf, unfathom'd, yawns beneath? + Shall life, shall liberty be lost," he said, + "For the vain toys that Pomp and Power bequeath? + The car of victory, the plume, the wreath + Defend not from the bolt of fate the brave: + No note the clarion of Renown can breathe, + To alarm the long night of the lonely grave, +Or check the headlong haste of time's o'erwhelming wave. + + +35 + + "Ah, what avails it to have traced the springs, + That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel? + Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings, + Hands drench'd 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? + + +36 + + "This praise, O Cheronean sage [3] 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 chant of heraldry the drowsy song, + How tyrant blood o'er many a region wide, +Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide. + + +37 + + "Oh, 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? + + +38 + + "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 prowl'd for prey, none watch'd to circumvent; + To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave: + No vassal fear'd his lord, no tyrant fear'd his slave. + + +39 + + "But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared + To pierce those hallow'd bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam + Pour'd 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." + + +40 + + "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? + + +41 + + "Fancy enervates, while it soothes 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. + + +42 + + "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 us not despair, + Was disappointment oft their sole reward? + Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare + How they have borne the load ourselves are doom'd to bear. + + +43 + + "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 enshrined + In power, and man with man for mutual aid combined? + + +44 + + "Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom rear'd! + Hail, sacred Freedom, when by law restrain'd! + Without you, what were man? A grovelling herd, + In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchain'd. + Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reign'd + In arts unrivall'd! 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! + + +45 + + "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 cherish'd 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! + + +46 + + "Then waken from long lethargy to life [4] + 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 control, + 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. + + +47 + + "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 bedimm'd with tears, + Such glory bear?--for, lo! the shadows fly + From Nature's face; confusion disappears, + And order charms the eye, and harmony the ears! + + +48 + + "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 chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon. + + +49 + + "Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle, + Stunn'd with the eternal turbulence of waves, + Lo! with dim eyes, that never learn'd to smile, + And trembling hands, the famish'd native craves + Of Heaven his wretched fare; shivering in caves, + Or scorch'd 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! + + +50 + + "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 [5] + 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 steams from every flood. + + +51 + + "'Twas from Philosophy man learn'd 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. + + +52 + + "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 + A while, and turn aside Death's levell'd dart, + Soothe 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. + + +53 + + "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. + + +54 + + "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 frenzy to assuage. + + +55 + + "'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 policy, 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." + + +56 + + Enraptured by the hermit's strain, the youth + Proceeds the path of Science to explore. + And now, expanded 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, fix'd in aim, and conscious of her power, + Aloft from cause to cause exults to rise, + Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies. + + +57 + + 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. + + +58 + + But she, who set on fire his infant heart, + And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared + And bless'd, 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, [6] which the bard, + While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, + Enamour'd, consecrates to never-dying fame. + + +59 + + 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. + + +60 + + Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains) + What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole, + When the great shepherd of the Mantuan plains [7] + His deep majestic melody 'gan roll: + Fain would I sing what transport storm'd his soul, + How the red current throbb'd his veins along, + When, like Pelides, bold beyond control, + Without art graceful, without effort strong, + Homer raised high to heaven the loud, the impetuous song. + + +61 + + And how his lyre, though rude her first essays, + Now skill'd to soothe, 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, mix'd with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound. + + +62 + + 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. [8] Ah, how shall I pursue + My theme? To heart-consuming grief resign'd, + Here on his recent grave I fix my view, + And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu! + + +63 + + 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 cheers: + 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. + + +[Footnote 1: See Plato's 'Timaeus.'] + +[Footnote 2: 'How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.' +(Shakspeare.)] + +[Footnote 3: 'Cheronean sage:' Plutarch.] + +[Footnote 4: The influence of the philosophic spirit, in humanizing the +mind, and preparing it for intellectual exertion and delicate +pleasure;--in exploring, by the help of geometry, the system of the +universe;--in banishing superstition; in promoting navigation, +agriculture, medicine, and moral and political science.] + +[Footnote 5: 'To explore:' this, from Thomson, who says in his +'Summer'-- + + 'Which even imagination fears to tread.'] + + +[Footnote 6: General ideas of excellence, the immediate archetypes of +sublime imitation, both in painting and in poetry. See Aristotle's +'Poetics,' and the 'Discourses' of Sir Joshua Reynolds.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Great shepherd of the Mantuan plains:' Virgil.] + +[Footnote 8: This excellent person died suddenly on the 10th of February +1773. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days after.] + + + + + + + + + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. + + + + +ODE TO HOPE. + + +I. 1. + + O thou, who gladd'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, + Appall'd retire. Suspicion hides her head, + Nor dares the obliquely gleaming eyeball 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 desert 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 the 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 groan 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 haggard 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 bewilder'd youth + Safe from the fierce assault 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, mark'd with many a scar, + In lone obscurity, oppress'd, 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 soothe. + "Why thus dismay'd? + Though foes invade, + Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid + Who tread the path of truth. + 'Tis I, who smoothe 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." + + + + + + + + +ODE TO PEACE. + + +I. 1. + + Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice + From ancient darkness call'd the morn, + Of jarring elements composed the noise; + When Chaos, from his old dominion torn, + With all his bellowing throng, + Far, far was hurl'd the void abyss along; + And all the bright angelic choir + To loftiest raptures tune the heavenly lyre, + Pour'd in loud symphony the impetuous strain; + And every fiery orb and planet sung, + And wide through night's dark desolate domain + Rebounding long and deep the lays triumphant rung. + + +I. 2. + + Oh, whither art thou fled, Saturnian reign? + Roll round again, majestic Years! + To break fell Tyranny's corroding chain, + From Woe's wan cheek to wipe the bitter tears, + Ye Years, again roll round! + Hark, from afar what loud tumultuous sound, + While echoes sweep the winding vales, + Swells full along the plains, and loads the gales! + Murder deep-roused, with the wild whirlwind's haste + And roar of tempest, from her cavern springs; + Her tangled serpents girds around her waist, + Smiles ghastly stern, and shakes her gore-distilling wings. + + +I. 3. + + Fierce up the yielding skies + The shouts redoubling rise: + Earth shudders at the dreadful sound, + And all is listening, trembling round. + Torrents, that from yon promontory's head + Dash'd furious down in desperate cascade, + Heard from afar amid the' lonely night, + That oft have led the wanderer right, + Are silent at the noise. + The mighty ocean's more majestic voice, + Drown'd in superior din, is heard no more; + The surge in silence sweeps along the foamy shore. + + +II. 1. + + The bloody banner streaming in the air, + Seen on yon sky-mix'd mountain's brow, + The mingling multitudes, the madding car, + Pouring impetuous on the plain below, + War's dreadful lord proclaim. + Bursts out by frequent fits the expansive flame. + Whirl'd in tempestuous eddies flies + The surging smoke o'er all the darken'd skies. + The cheerful face of heaven no more is seen, + Fades the morn's vivid blush to deadly pale: + The bat flits transient o'er the dusky green, + Night's shrieking birds along the sullen twilight sail. + + +II. 2. + + Involved in fire-streak'd gloom the car comes on. + The mangled steeds grim Terror guides. + His forehead writhed to a relentless frown, + Aloft the angry Power of Battles rides: + Grasp'd in his mighty hand + A mace tremendous desolates the land; + Thunders the turret 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 bloated paleness beauty's bloom o'erspreads, + Fades every flowery field, and every verdure dies. + + +II. 3. + + How startled Frenzy stares, + Bristling her ragged hairs! + Revenge the gory fragment gnaws; + See, with her griping vulture-claws + Imprinted deep, she rends the opening wound! + Hatred her torch blue-streaming tosses round: + The shrieks of agony and clang of arms + Re-echo to the fierce alarms + Her trump terrific blows. + Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose + Of kingly gesture a gigantic form, + That with his scourge sublime directs the whirling storm. + + +III. 1. + + Ambition, outside fair! within more foul + Than fellest fiend from Tartarus sprung, + In caverns hatch'd, where the fierce torrents roll + Of Phlegethon, the burning banks along, + Yon naked waste survey: + Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay; + Where late the rosy-bosom'd Hours + In loose array danced lightly o'er the flowers; + Where late the shepherd told his tender tale; + And, waked by the soft-murmuring breeze of morn, + The voice of cheerful labour fill'd 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 outstretch'd beneath yon hanging wall + Pale Famine moans with feeble breath, + And Torture yells, and grinds her 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: + Along the lilied lawn the nymphs advance, + Plush'd with love's bloom, and range the sprightly dance: + The gladsome shepherds on the mountain-side, + Array'd 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; + These quench the animating fire + That warms the bosom with sublime desire. + Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel, + Hate rides tremendous on the o'erwhelming brow, + And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel, + Blaze the funereal flames, and sound the shrieks of Woe. + + +IV. 2. + + From Albion fled, thy once beloved retreat, + What region brightens in thy smile, + Creative Peace, and underneath thy feet + Sees sullen 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 Libya's burning sand? + Or does some isle thy parting flight detain, + Where roves the Indian through primeval shades, + Haunts the pure pleasures of the woodland reign, + And led by Reason's ray the path of Nature treads? + + +IV. 3. + + On Cuba's utmost steep, [1] + Far leaning o'er the deep, + The Goddess' pensive form was seen. + Her robe of Nature's varied green + Waved on the gale; grief dimm'd her radiant eyes, + Her swelling 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 + Gleam'd the Iberian streamer from afar. + She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne, + Slow wing'd her way sublime, and mingled with the morn. + + +[Footnote 1: This alludes to the discovery of America by the Spaniards +under Columbus. These ravagers are said to have made their first descent +on the islands in the Gulf of Florida, of which Cuba is one.] + + + + + +ODE ON LORD HAY'S BIRTHDAY. + + + 1 + + A muse, unskill'd in venal praise, + Unstain'd 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. + + + 2 + + 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: + + + 3 + + 'Twas this that raised th' 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 triumph'd but to save. + + + 4 + + The Muse with joy attends their way + The vale 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. + + + 5 + + 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 blest. + + + 6 + + 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. + + + 7 + + 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 finish'd 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. + + + 8 + + 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 no guile, + And Love and Peace are there. + + + 9 + + 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. + + +10 + + 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. + + + + + + + + + +THE JUDGMENT OP PARIS. + + + 1 + + Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove, + A scene for love and solitude design'd; + Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove, + Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined. + + + 2 + + All up the craggy cliffs, that tower'd to heaven, + Green waved the murmuring pines on every side; + Save where, fair opening to the beam of even, + A dale sloped gradual to the valley wide. + + + 3 + + Echo'd the vale with many a cheerful note; + The lowing of the herds resounding long, + The shrilling pipe, and mellow horn remote, + And social clamours of the festive throng. + + + 4 + + For now, low hovering o'er the western main, + Where amber clouds begirt his dazzling throne, + The Sun with ruddier verdure deck'd the plain; + And lakes and streams and spires triumphal shone. + + + 5 + + And many a band of ardent youths were seen; + Some into rapture fired by glory's charms, + Or hurl'd the thundering car along the green, + Or march'd embattled on in glittering arms. + + + 6 + + Others more mild, in happy leisure gay, + The darkening forest's lonely gloom explore, + Or by Scamander's flowery margin stray, + Or the blue Hellespont's resounding shore. + + + 7 + + But chief the eye to Ilion's glories turn'd, + That gleam'd along the extended champaign far, + And bulwarks in terrific pomp adorn'd, + Where Peace sat smiling at the frowns of War. + + + 8 + + Rich in the spoils of many a subject clime, + In pride luxurious blazed the imperial dome; + Tower'd 'mid the encircling grove the fane sublime, + And dread memorials mark'd the hero's tomb + + + 9 + + Who from the black and bloody cavern led + The savage stern, and soothed his boisterous breast; + Who spoke, and Science rear'd her radiant head, + And brighten'd o'er the long benighted waste: + + +10 + + Or, greatly daring in his country's cause, + Whose heaven-taught soul the awful plan design'd, + Whence Power stood trembling at the voice of laws; + Whence soar'd on Freedom's wing the ethereal mind. + + +11 + + But not the pomp that royalty displays, + Nor all the imperial pride of lofty Troy, + Nor Virtue's triumph of immortal praise + Could rouse the langour of the lingering boy. + + +12 + + Abandon'd all to soft Enone's charms, + He to oblivion doom'd the listless day; + Inglorious lull'd in Love's dissolving arms, + While flutes lascivious breathed the enfeebling lay. + + +13 + + To trim the ringlets of his scented hair: + To aim, insidious, Love's bewitching glance; + Or cull fresh garlands for the gaudy fair, + Or wanton loose in the voluptuous dance: + + +14 + + These were his arts; these won Enone's love, + Nor sought his fetter'd soul a nobler aim. + Ah, why should beauty's smile those arts approve + Which taint with infamy the lover's flame? + + +15 + + Now laid at large beside a murmuring spring, + Melting he listen'd to the vernal song, + And Echo, listening, waved her airy wing, + While the deep winding dales the lays prolong; + + +16 + + When, slowly floating down the azure skies, + A crimson cloud flash'd on his startled sight, + Whose skirts gay-sparkling with unnumber'd dyes + Launch'd the long billowy trails of flickery light. + + +17 + + That instant, hush'd was all the vocal grove, + Hush'd was the gale, and every ruder sound; + And strains aerial, warbling far above, + Rung in the ear a magic peal profound. + + +18 + + Near and more near the swimming radiance roll'd; + Along the mountains stream the lingering fires; + Sublime the groves of Ida blaze with gold, + And all the Heaven resounds with louder lyres. + + +19 + + The trumpet breathed a note: and all in air, + The glories vanish'd from the dazzled eye; + And three ethereal forms, divinely fair, + Down the steep glade were seen advancing nigh. + + +20 + + The flowering glade fell level where they moved; + O'erarching high the clustering roses hung; + And gales from heaven on balmy pinion roved, + And hill and dale with gratulation rung. + + +21 + + The FIRST with slow and stately step drew near, + Fix'd was her lofty eye, erect her mien: + Sublime in grace, in majesty severe, + She look'd and moved a goddess and a queen. + + +22 + + Her robe along the gale profusely stream'd, + Light lean'd the sceptre on her bending arm; + And round her brow a starry circlet gleam'd, + Heightening the pride of each commanding charm. + + +23 + + Milder the NEXT came on with artless grace, + And on a javelin's quivering length reclined: + To exalt her mien she bade no splendour blaze, + Nor pomp of vesture fluctuate on the wind. + + +24 + + Serene, though awful, on her brow the light + Of heavenly wisdom shone; nor roved her eyes. + Save to the shadowy cliffs majestic height, + Or the blue concave of the involving skies. + + +25 + + Keen were her eyes to search the inmost soul: + Yet virtue triumph'd in their beams benign, + And impious Pride oft felt their dread control, + When in fierce lightning flash'd the wrath divine. [1] + + +26 + + With awe and wonder gazed the adoring swain; + His kindling cheeks great Virtue's power confess'd; + But soon 'twas o'er; for Virtue prompts in vain, + When Pleasure's influence numbs the nerveless breast. + + +27 + + And now advanced the QUEEN of melting JOY, + Smiling supreme in unresisted charms: + Ah, then, what transports fired the trembling boy! + How throbb'd his sickening frame with fierce alarms! + + +28 + + Her eyes in liquid light luxurious swim, + And languish with unutterable love. + Heaven's warm bloom glows along each brightening limb, + Where fluttering bland the veil's thin mantlings rove. + + +29 + + Quick, blushing as abash'd, she half withdrew: + One hand a bough of flowering myrtle waved. + One graceful spread, where, scarce conceal'd from view, + Soft through the parting robe her bosom heaved. + + +30 + + "Offspring of Jove supreme! beloved of Heaven! + Attend." Thus spoke the Empress of the Skies. + "For know, to thee, high-fated prince, 'tis given + Through the bright realms of Fame sublime to rise, + + +31 + + Beyond man's boldest hope; if nor the wiles + Of Pallas triumph o'er the ennobling thought; + Nor Pleasure lure with artificial smiles + To quaff the poison of her luscious draught. + + +32 + + When Juno's charms the prize of beauty claim, + Shall aught on earth, shall aught in heaven contend? + Whom Juno calls to high triumphant fame, + Shall he to meaner sway inglorious bend? + + +33 + + Yet lingering comfortless in lonesome wild, + Where Echo sleeps 'mid cavern'd vales profound, + The pride of Troy, Dominion's darling child, + Pines while the slow hour stalks in sullen round. + + +34 + + Hear thou, of Heaven unconscious! From the blaze + Of glory, stream'd from Jove's eternal throne, + Thy soul, O mortal, caught the inspiring rays + That to a god exalt Earth's raptured son. + + +35 + + Hence the bold wish, on boundless pinion borne, + That fires, alarms, impels the maddening soul; + The hero's eye, hence, kindling into scorn, + Blasts the proud menace, and defies control. + + +36 + + But, unimproved, Heaven's noblest boons are vain, + No sun with plenty crowns the uncultured vale: + Where green lakes languish on the silent plain, + Death rides the billows of the western gale. + + +37 + + Deep in yon mountain's womb, where the dark cave + Howls to the torrent's everlasting roar, + Does the rich gem its flashy radiance wave? + Or flames with steady ray the imperial ore? + + +38 + + Toil deck'd with glittering domes yon champaign wide, + And wakes yon grove-embosom'd lawns to joy, + And rends the rough ore from the mountain's side, + Spangling with starry pomp the thrones of Troy. + + +39 + + Fly these soft scenes. Even now, with playful art, + Love wreathes the flowery ways with fatal snare; + And nurse the ethereal fire that warms thy heart, + That fire ethereal lives but by thy care. + + +40 + + Lo! hovering near on dark and dampy wing, + Sloth with stern patience waits the hour assign'd, + From her chill plume the deadly dews to fling, + That quench Heaven's beam, and freeze the cheerless mind. + + +41 + + Vain, then, the enlivening sound of Fame's alarms, + For Hope's exulting impulse prompts no more: + Vain even the joys that lure to Pleasure's arms, + The throb of transport is for ever o'er. + + +42 + + O who shall then to Fancy's darkening eyes + Recall the Elysian dreams of joy and light? + Dim through the gloom the formless visions rise, + Snatch'd instantaneous down the gulf of night. + + +43 + + Thou who, securely lull'd in youth's warm ray, + Mark'st not the desolations wrought by Time, + Be roused or perish. Ardent for its prey, + Speeds the fell hour that ravages thy prime. + + +44 + + And, 'midst the horrors shrined of midnight storm, + The fiend Oblivion eyes thee from afar, + Black with intolerable frowns her form, + Beckoning the embattled whirlwinds into war. + + +45 + + Fanes, bulwarks, mountains, worlds, their tempest whelms; + Yet glory braves unmoved the impetuous sweep. + Fly then, ere, hurl'd from life's delightful realms, + Thou sink to Oblivion's dark and boundless deep. + + +46 + + Fly, then, where Glory points the path sublime, + See her crown dazzling with eternal light! + 'Tis Juno prompts thy daring steps to climb, + And girds thy bounding heart with matchless might. + + +47 + + Warm in the raptures of divine desire, + Burst the soft chain that curbs the aspiring mind; + And fly where Victory, borne on wings of fire, + Waves her red banner to the rattling wind. + + +48 + + Ascend the car: indulge the pride of arms, + Where clarions roll their kindling strains on high, + Where the eye maddens to the dread alarms, + And the long shout tumultuous rends the sky. + + +49 + + Plunged in the uproar of the thundering field, + I see thy lofty arm the tempest guide: + Fate scatters lightning from thy meteor-shield, + And Ruin spreads around the sanguine tide. + + +50 + + Go, urge the terrors of thy headlong car + On prostrate Pride, and Grandeur's spoils o'erthrown, + While all amazed even heroes shrink afar, + And hosts embattled vanish at thy frown. + + +51 + + When glory crowns thy godlike toils, and all + The triumph's lengthening pomp exalts thy soul, + When lowly at thy feet the mighty fall, + And tyrants tremble at thy stern control: + + +52 + + When conquering millions hail thy sovereign might, + And tribes unknown dread acclamation join; + How wilt thou spurn the forms of low delight! + For all the ecstasies of heaven are thine: + + +53 + + For thine the joys, that fear no length of days, + Whose wide effulgence scorns all mortal bound: + Fame's trump in thunder shall announce thy praise, + Nor bursting worlds her clarion's blast confound." + + +54 + + The Goddess ceased, not dubious of the prize: + Elate she mark'd his wild and rolling eye, + Mark'd his lip quiver, and his bosom rise, + And his warm cheek suffused with crimson dye. + + +55 + + But Pallas now drew near. Sublime, serene, + In conscious dignity she view'd the swain: + Then, love and pity softening all her mien, + Thus breathed with accents mild the solemn strain: + + +56 + + "Let those whose arts to fatal paths betray, + The soul with passion's gloom tempestuous blind, + And snatch from Reason's ken the auspicious ray + Truth darts from heaven to guide the exploring mind. + + +57 + + "But Wisdom loves the calm and serious hour, + When heaven's pure emanation beams confess'd: + Rage, ecstasy, alike disclaim her power, + She woo's each gentler impulse of the breast. + + +58 + + Sincere the unalter'd bliss her charms impart, + Sedate the enlivening ardours they inspire: + She bids no transient rapture thrill the heart, + She wakes no feverish gust of fierce desire. + + +59 + + Unwise, who, tossing on the watery way, + All to the storm the unfetter'd sail devolve: + Man more unwise resigns the mental sway, + Borne headlong on by passion's keen resolve. + + +60 + + While storms remote but murmur on thine ear, + Nor waves in ruinous uproar round thee roll, + Yet, yet a moment check thy prone career, + And curb the keen resolve that prompts thy soul. + + +61 + + Explore thy heart, that, roused by Glory's name, + Pants all enraptured with the mighty charm-- + And does Ambition quench each milder flame? + And is it conquest that alone can warm? + + +62 + + To indulge fell Rapine's desolating lust, + To drench the balmy lawn in streaming gore, + To spurn the hero's cold and silent dust-- + Are these thy joys? Nor throbs thy heart for more? + + +63 + + Pleased canst thou listen to the patriot's groan, + And the wild wail of Innocence forlorn? + And hear the abandon'd maid's last frantic moan, + Her love for ever from her bosom torn? + + +64 + + Nor wilt thou shrink, when Virtue's fainting breath + Pours the dread curse of vengeance on thy head? + Nor when the pale ghost bursts the cave of death, + To glare distraction on thy midnight bed? + + +65 + + Was it for this, though born to regal power, + Kind Heaven to thee did nobler gifts consign, + Bade Fancy's influence gild thy natal hour, + And bade Philanthropy's applause be thine? + + +66 + + Theirs be the dreadful glory to destroy, + And theirs the pride of pomp, and praise suborn'd, + Whose eye ne'er lighten'd at the smile of Joy, + Whose cheek the tear of Pity ne'er adorn'd: + + +67 + + Whose soul, each finer sense instinctive quell'd, + The lyre's mellifluous ravishment defies: + Nor marks where Beauty roves the flowery field, + Or Grandeur's pinion sweeps the unbounded skies. + + +68 + + Hail to sweet Fancy's unexpressive charm! + Hail to the pure delights of social love! + Hail, pleasures mild, that fire not while ye warm, + Nor rack the exulting frame, but gently move! + + +69 + + But Fancy soothes no more, if stern remorse + With iron grasp the tortured bosom wring. + Ah then! even Fancy speeds the venom's course, + Even Fancy points with rage the maddening sting. + + +70 + + Her wrath a thousand gnashing fiends attend, + And roll the snakes, and toss the brands of hell; + The beam of Beauty blasts: dark heavens impend + Tottering: and Music thrills with startling yell. + + +71 + + What then avails, that with exhaustless store + Obsequious Luxury loads thy glittering shrine? + What then avails, that prostrate slaves adore, + And Fame proclaims thee matchless and divine? + + +72 + + What though bland Flattery all her arts apply? + Will these avail to calm the infuriate brain? + Or will the roaring surge, when heaved on high, + Headlong hang, hush'd, to hear the piping swain? + + +73 + + In health how fair, how ghastly in decay + Man's lofty form! how heavenly fair the mind + Sublimed by Virtue's sweet enlivening sway! + But ah! to guilt's outrageous rule resign'd. + + +74 + + How hideous and forlorn! when ruthless Care + With cankering tooth corrodes the seeds of life, + And deaf with passion's storms when pines Despair, + And howling furies rouse the eternal strife. + + +75 + + Oh, by thy hopes of joy that restless glow, + Pledges of Heaven! be taught by Wisdom's lore; + With anxious haste each doubtful path forego, + And life's wild ways with cautious fear explore. + + +76 + + Straight be thy course: nor tempt the maze that leads + Where fell Remorse his shapeless strength conceals, + And oft Ambition's dizzy cliff he treads, + And slumbers oft in Pleasure's flowery vales. + + +77 + + Nor linger unresolved: Heaven prompts the choice, + Save when Presumption shuts the ear of Pride: + With grateful awe attend to Nature's voice, + The voice of Nature Heaven ordain'd thy guide. + + +78 + + Warn'd by her voice the arduous path pursue, + That leads to Virtue's fane a hardy band: + What though no gaudy scenes decoy their view, + Nor clouds of fragrance roll along the land? + + +79 + + What though rude mountains heave the flinty way? + Yet there the soul drinks light and life divine, + And pure aerial gales of gladness play, + Brace every nerve, and every sense refine. + + +80 + + Go, prince, be virtuous and be blest. The throne + Rears not its state to swell the couch of Lust: + Nor dignify Corruption's daring son, + To o'erwhelm his humbler brethren of the dust. + + +81 + + But yield an ampler scene to Bounty's eye, + An ampler range to Mercy's ear expand: + And, 'midst admiring nations, set on high + Virtue's fair model, framed by Wisdom's hand. + + +82 + + Go then: the moan of Woe demands thine aid: + Pride's licensed outrage claims thy slumbering ire: + Pale Genius roams the bleak neglected shade, + And battening Avarice mocks his tuneless lyre. + + +83 + + Even Nature pines, by vilest chains oppress'd: + The astonish'd kingdoms crouch to Fashion's nod. + O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast, + Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode? + + +84 + + O yet once more shall Peace from heaven return, + And young Simplicity with mortals dwell! + Nor Innocence the august pavilion scorn, + Nor meek Contentment fly the humble cell! + + +85 + + Wilt thou, my prince, the beauteous train implore + 'Midst earth's forsaken scenes once more to bide? + Then shall the shepherd sing in every bower, + And Love with garlands wreathe the domes of Pride. + + +86 + + The bright tear starting in the impassion'd eyes + Of silent Gratitude: the smiling gaze + Of Gratulation, faltering while he tries + With voice of transport to proclaim thy praise: + + +87 + + The ethereal glow that stimulates thy frame, + When all the according powers harmonious move, + And wake to energy each social aim, + Attuned spontaneous to the will of Jove: + + +88 + + Be these, O man, the triumphs of thy soul; + And all the conqueror's dazzling glories slight, + That meteor-like o'er trembling nations roll, + To sink at once in deep and dreadful night. + + +89 + + Like thine, yon orb's stupendous glories burn + With genial beam; nor, at the approach of even, + In shades of horror leave the world to mourn, + But gild with lingering light the empurpled heaven." + + +90 + + Thus while she spoke, her eye, sedately meek, + Look'd the pure fervour of maternal love. + No rival zeal intemperate flush'd her cheek-- + Can Beauty's boast the soul of Wisdom move? + + +91 + + Worth's noble pride, can Envy's leer appal, + Or staring Folly's vain applauses soothe? + Can jealous Fear Truth's dauntless heart enthrall? + Suspicion lurks not in the heart of Truth. + + +92 + + And now the shepherd raised his pensive head: + Yet unresolved and fearful roved his eyes, + Scared at the glances of the awful maid; + For young unpractised Guilt distrusts the guise + + +93 + + Of shameless Arrogance.--His wavering breast, + Though warm'd by Wisdom, own'd no constant fire, + While lawless Fancy roam'd afar, unblest + Save in the oblivious lap of soft Desire. + + +94 + + When thus the queen of soul-dissolving smiles: + "Let gentler fate my darling prince attend, + Joyless and cruel are the warrior's spoils, + Dreary the path stern Virtue's sons ascend. + + +95 + + Of human joy full short is the career, + And the dread verge still gains upon your sight; + While idly gazing far beyond your sphere, + Ye scan the dream of unapproach'd delight: + + +96 + + Till every sprightly hour and blooming scene + Of life's gay morn unheeded glides away, + And clouds of tempests mount the blue serene, + And storms and ruin close the troublous day. + + +97 + + Then still exult to hail the present joy, + Thine be the boon that comes unearn'd by toil; + No forward vain desire thy bliss annoy, + No flattering hope thy longing hours beguile. + + +98 + + Ah! why should man pursue the charms of Fame, + For ever luring, yet for ever coy? + Light as the gaudy rainbow's pillar'd gleam, + That melts illusive from the wondering boy! + + +99 + + What though her throne irradiate many a clime, + If hung loose-tottering o'er the unfathom'd tomb? + What though her mighty clarion, rear'd sublime, + Display the imperial wreath and glittering plume? + + +100 + + Can glittering plume, or can the imperial wreath + Redeem from unrelenting fate the brave? + What note of triumph can her clarion breathe, + To alarm the eternal midnight of the grave? + + +101 + + That night draws on: nor will the vacant hour + Of expectation linger as it flies: + Nor fate one moment unenjoy'd restore: + Each moment's flight how precious to the wise! + + +102 + + O shun the annoyance of the bustling throng, + That haunt with zealous turbulence the great: + There coward Office boasts the unpunish'd wrong, + And sneaks secure in insolence of state. + + +103 + + O'er fancied injury Suspicion pines, + And in grim silence gnaws the festering wound: + Deceit the rage-embitter'd smile refines, + And Censure spreads the viperous hiss around. + + +104 + + Hope not, fond prince, though Wisdom guard thy throne, + Though Truth and Bounty prompt each generous aim, + Though thine the palm of peace, the victor's crown, + The Muse's rapture, and the patriot's flame: + + +105 + + Hope not, though all that captivates the wise, + All that endears the good exalt thy praise: + Hope not to taste repose: for Envy's eyes + At fairest worth still point their deadly rays. + + +106 + + Envy, stern tyrant of the flinty heart, + Can aught of Virtue, Truth, or Beauty charm? + Can soft Compassion thrill with pleasing smart, + Repentance melt, or Gratitude disarm? + + +107 + + Ah no. Where Winter Scythia's waste enchains, + And monstrous shapes roar to the ruthless storm, + Not Phoebus' smile can cheer the dreadful plains, + Or soil accursed with balmy life inform. + + +108 + + Then, Envy, then is thy triumphant hour, + When mourns Benevolence his baffled scheme: + When Insult mocks the clemency of Power, + And loud dissension's livid firebrands gleam: + + +109 + + When squint-eyed Slander plies the unhallow'd tongue, + From poison'd maw when Treason weaves his line, + And Muse apostate (infamy to song!) + Grovels, low muttering, at Sedition's shrine. + + +110 + + Let not my prince forego the peaceful shade, + The whispering grove, the fountain and the plain: + Power, with the oppressive weight of pomp array'd, + Pants for simplicity and ease in vain. + + +111 + + The yell of frantic Mirth may stun his ear, + But frantic Mirth soon leaves the heart forlorn; + And Pleasure flies that high tempestuous sphere: + Far different scenes her lucid paths adorn. + + +112 + + She loves to wander on the untrodden lawn, + Or the green bosom of reclining hill, + Soothed by the careless warbler of the dawn, + Or the lone plaint of ever-murmuring rill. + + +113 + + Or from the mountain glade's aerial brow, + While to her song a thousand echoes call, + Marks the wide woodland wave remote below, + Where shepherds pipe unseen, and waters fall. + + +114 + + Her influence oft the festive hamlet proves, + Where the high carol cheers the exulting ring; + And oft she roams the maze of wildering groves, + Listening the unnumber'd melodies of Spring. + + +115 + + Or to the long and lonely shore retires; + What time, loose-glimmering to the lunar beam, + Faint heaves the slumberous wave, and starry fires + Gild the blue deep with many a lengthening gleam. + + +116 + + Then to the balmy bower of Rapture borne, + While strings self-warbling breathe Elysian rest, + Melts in delicious vision, till the morn + Spangle with twinkling dew the flowery waste. + + +117 + + The frolic Moments, purple-pinion'd, dance + Around, and scatter roses as they play; + And the blithe Graces, hand in hand, advance, + Where, with her loved compeers, she deigns to stray; + + +118 + + Mild Solitude, in veil of rustic dye, + Her sylvan spear with moss-grown ivy bound; + And Indolence, with sweetly languid eye, + And zoneless robe that trails along the ground; + + +119 + + But chiefly Love--O thou, whose gentle mind + Each soft indulgence Nature framed to share; + Pomp, wealth, renown, dominion, all resign'd, + Oh, haste to Pleasure's bower, for Love is there. + + +120 + + Love, the desire of Gods! the feast of heaven! + Yet to Earth's favour'd offspring not denied! + Ah! let not thankless man the blessing given + Enslave to Fame, or sacrifice to Pride. + + +121 + + Nor I from Virtue's call decoy thine ear; + Friendly to Pleasure are her sacred laws: + Let Temperance' smile the cup of gladness cheer; + That cup is death, if he withhold applause. + + +122 + + Far from thy haunt be Envy's baneful sway, + And Hate, that works the harass'd soul to storm; + But woo Content to breathe her soothing lay, + And charm from Fancy's view each angry form. + + +123 + + No savage joy the harmonious hours profane! + Whom Love refines, can barbarous tumults please? + Shall rage of blood pollute the sylvan reign? + Shall Leisure wanton in the spoils of Peace? + + +124 + + Free let the feathery race indulge the song, + Inhale the liberal beam, and melt in love: + Free let the fleet hind bound her hills along, + And in pure streams the watery nations rove. + + +125 + + To joy in Nature's universal smile + Well suits, O man, thy pleasurable sphere; + But why should Virtue doom thy years to toil? + Ah! why should Virtue's laws be deem'd severe? + + +126 + + What meed, Beneficence, thy care repays? + What, Sympathy, thy still returning pang? + And why his generous arm should Justice raise, + To dare the vengeance of a tyrant's fang? + + +127 + + From thankless spite no bounty can secure; + Or froward wish of discontent fulfil, + That knows not to regret thy bounded power, + But blames with keen reproach thy partial will. + + +128 + + To check the impetuous all-involving tide + Of human woes, how impotent thy strife! + High o'er thy mounds devouring surges ride, + Nor reck thy baffled toils, or lavish'd life. + + +129 + + The bower of bliss, the smile of love be thine, + Unlabour'd ease, and leisure's careless dream. + Such be their joys who bend at Venus' shrine, + And own her charms beyond compare supreme." + + +130 + + Warm'd as she spoke, all panting with delight, + Her kindling beauties breathed triumphant bloom; + And Cupids flutter'd round in circlets bright, + And Flora pour'd from all her stores perfume. + + +131 + + "Thine be the prize," exclaim'd the enraptured youth, + "Queen of unrivall'd charms, and matchless joy."-- + O blind to fate, felicity, and truth! + But such are they whom Pleasure's snares decoy. + + +132 + + The Sun was sunk; the vision was no more; + Night downward rush'd tempestuous, at the frown + Of Jove's awaken'd wrath: deep thunders roar, + And forests howl afar, and mountains groan, + + +133 + + And sanguine meteors glare athwart the plain; + With horror's scream the Ilian towers resound, + Raves the hoarse storm along the bellowing main, + And the strong earthquake rends the shuddering ground. + + +[Footnote 1: This is agreeable to the theology of Homer,--who often +represents Pallas as the executioner of divine vengeance.] + + + + + + + + + + +THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY. + + +1 + + Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought + These scenes deep-stain'd with Sorrow's sable dye? + Hast thou in store no joy-illumined draught, + To cheer bewilder'd Fancy's tearful eye? + + +2 + + Yes--from afar a landscape seems to rise, + Deck'd gorgeous by the lavish hand of Spring: + Thin gilded clouds float light along the skies, + And laughing Loves disport on fluttering wing. + + +3 + + How blest the youth in yonder valley laid! + Soft smiles in every conscious feature play, + While to the gale low murmuring through the glade, + He tempers sweet his sprightly-warbling lay. + + +4 + + Hail, Innocence! whose bosom, all serene, + Feels not fierce Passion's raving tempest roll! + Oh, ne'er may Care distract that placid mien! + Oh, ne'er may Doubt's dark shades o'erwhelm thy soul! + + +5 + + Vain wish! for, lo! in gay attire conceal'd, + Yonder she comes, the heart-inflaming fiend! + (Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield?) + Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend! + + +6 + + O smile accursed, to hide the worst designs! + Now with blithe eye she woo's him to be blest, + While round her arm unseen a serpent twines-- + And, lo! she hurls it hissing at his breast. + + +7 + + And, instant, lo! his dizzy eyeball swims + Ghastly, and reddening darts a threatful glare; + Pain with strong grasp distorts his writhing limbs, + And Fear's cold hand erects his bristling hair! + + +8 + Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime? + And does thy spring no happier prospect yield? + Why gilds the vernal sun thy gaudy clime, + When nipping mildews waste the flowery field? + + +9 + + How Memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile + The musing mind, and soothe to soft delight. + Ye images of woe, no more recoil; + Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night. + + +10 + + Now when fierce Winter, arm'd with wasteful power, + Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar, + How sweet to sit in this sequester'd bower, + To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war! + + +11 + + Ambition here displays no gilded toy + That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise, + Nor Pleasure's flower-embroider'd paths decoy, + Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's gay disguise. + + +12 + + Oft has Contentment cheer'd this lone abode + With the mild languish of her smiling eye; + Here Health has oft in blushing beauty glow'd, + While loose-robed Quiet stood enamour'd by. + + +13 + + Even the storm lulls to more profound repose: + The storm these humble walls assails in vain: + Screen'd is the lily when the whirlwind blows, + While the oak's stately ruin strews the plain. + + +14 + + Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies; + Roll the old ocean, and the vales lay waste: + Nature thy momentary rage defies; + To her relief the gentler seasons haste. + + +15 + + 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. + + +16 + + Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen; + And, lo! her rod the rose-lipp'd power extends. + And, lo! the lawns are deck'd in living green, + And Beauty's bright-eyed train from heaven descends. + + +17 + + Haste, happy days, and make all nature glad-- + But will all nature joy at your return? + Say, can ye cheer pale Sickness' gloomy bed, + Or dry the tears that bathe the untimely urn? + + +18 + + Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart + 'Cross the dark cell where hopeless slavery lies? + To ease tired Disappointment's bleeding heart, + Will all your stores of softening balm suffice? + + +19 + + When fell Oppression in his harpy fangs + From Want's weak grasp the last sad morsel bears, + Can ye allay the heart-wrung parent's pangs, + Whose famish'd child craves help with fruitless tears? + + +20 + + 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. + + +21 + + O ye, to Pleasure who resign the day, + As loose in Luxury's clasping arms you lie, + O yet let pity in your breast bear sway, + And learn to melt at Misery's moving cry. + + +22 + + But hop'st thou, Muse, vain-glorious as thou art, + With the weak impulse of thy humble strain, + Hop'st thou to soften Pride's obdurate heart, + When Errol's bright example shines in vain? + + +23 + + 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. + + +24 + + Yet fain the mind its anguish would forego-- + Spread then, historic Muse, thy pictured scroll; + Bid thy great scenes in all their splendour glow, + And swell to thought sublime the exalted soul. + + +25 + + What mingling pomps rush boundless on the gaze! + What gallant navies ride the heaving deep! + What glittering towns their cloud-wrapt turrets raise! + What bulwarks frown horrific o'er the steep! + + +26 + + Bristling with spears, and bright with burnish'd 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. + + +27 + + And now the hosts in silence wait the sign. + How keen their looks whom Liberty inspires! + Quick as the Goddess darts along the line, + Each breast impatient burns with noble fires. + + +28 + + Her form how graceful! In her lofty mien + The smiles of Love stern Wisdom's frown control; + Her fearless eye, determined though serene, + Speaks the great purpose, and the unconquer'd soul. + + +29 + + Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band, + Each feature fierce and haggard, as with pain! + With menace loud he cries, while from his hand + He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain. + + +30 + + 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. + + +31 + + Now, Virtue, now thy powerful succour lend, + Shield them for Liberty who dare to die-- + Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend? + Are these thy sons, thy generous sons, that fly? + + +32 + + Not Virtue's self, when Heaven its aid denies, + Can brace the loosen'd nerves or warm the heart! + Not Virtue's self can still the burst of sighs, + When festers in the soul Misfortune's dart. + + +33 + + See where, by heaven-bred terror all dismay'd + The scattering legions pour along the plain; + Ambition's car, with bloody spoils array'd, + Hews its broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein. + + +34 + + But who is he that, by yon lonely brook, + With woods o'erhung and precipices rude, [1] + Abandon'd lies, and with undaunted look + Sees streaming from his breast the purple flood? + + +35 + + 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. + + +36 + + Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies, + From her dishevell'd locks she rends the plume; + No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes, + And on her tear-stain'd cheek no roses bloom. + + +37 + + Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway, + Fame's loudest trumpet labours in thy praise, + For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay, + And Flattery bids for thee her altars blaze. + + +38 + + 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 thrill'd bosom leaps at Pleasure's smile; + + +39 + + 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. + + +40 + + 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. + + +41 + + Yet for a while let the bewilder'd soul + Find in society relief from woe; + O yield a while to Friendship's soft control; + Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow? + + +42 + + Come, then, Philander! for thy lofty mind + Looks down from far on all that charms the great; + For thou canst bear, unshaken and resign'd, + The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate: + + +43 + + Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere, + Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys; + Who lend'st to misery's moans a pitying ear, + And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys: + + +44 + + Who know'st man's frailty: with a favouring eye, + And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall; + Who, unenslaved by custom's narrow tie, + With manly freedom follow'st reason's call. + + +45 + + And bring thy Delia, softly-smiling fair, + Whose spotless soul no sordid thoughts deform: + Her accents mild would still each throbbing care, + And harmonize the thunder of the storm. + + +46 + + Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined, + She courts not homage, nor desires to shine: + In her each sentiment sublime is join'd + To female sweetness, and a form divine. + + +47 + + Come, and dispel the deep surrounding shade: + Let chasten'd mirth the social hours employ; + O catch the swift-wing'd hour before 'tis fled, + On swiftest pinion flies the hour of joy. + + +48 + + Even while the careless disencumber'd soul + Dissolving sinks to joy's oblivious dream, + Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll + With haste impetuous down life's surgy stream. + + +49 + + Can Gaiety the vanish'd 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? + + +50 + + Still sounds the solemn knell in Fancy's ear, + That call'd Cleora to the silent tomb; + To her how jocund roll'd the sprightly year! + How shone the nymph in beauty's brightest bloom! + + +51 + + Ah! beauty's bloom avails not in the grave, + Youth's lofty mien, nor age's awful grace: + Moulder unknown the monarch and the slave, + Whelm'd in the enormous wreck of human race. + + +52 + + The thought-fix'd portraiture, the breathing bust, + The arch with proud memorials array'd, + The long-lived pyramid shall sink in dust + To dumb oblivion's ever-desert shade. + + +53 + + Fancy from comfort wanders still astray. + Ah, Melancholy! how I feel thy power! + Long have I labour'd to elude thy sway! + But 'tis enough, for I resist no more. + + +54 + + The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste + Through many a lonesome path is doom'd to roam, + Wilder'd and weary sits him down at last; + For long the night, and distant far his home. + + +[Footnote 1: Such, according to the description given by Plutarch, was +the scene of Brutus's death.] + + + + + + + + + +ELEGY. + + +1 + + Tired with the busy crowds, that all the day + Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame, + My languid powers dissolve with quick decay, + Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame. + + +2 + + Hail, kind reviver! that canst lull the cares, + And every weary sense compose to rest, + Lighten the oppressive load which anguish bears, + And warm with hope the cold desponding breast. + + +3 + + Touch'd by thy rod, from Power's majestic brow + Drops the gay plume; he pines a lowly clown; + And on the cold earth stretch'd, the son of Woe + Quaffs Pleasure's draught, and wears a fancied crown. + + +4 + + When roused by thee, on boundless pinions borne, + Fancy to fairy scenes exults to rove, + Now scales the cliff gay-gleaming on the morn, + Now sad and silent treads the deepening grove; + + +5 + + Or skims the main, and listens to the storms, + Marks the long waves roll far remote away; + Or, mingling with ten thousand glittering forms, + Floats on the gale, and basks in purest day. + + +6 + + Haply, ere long, pierced by the howling blast, + Through dark and pathless deserts I shall roam, + Plunge down the unfathom'd deep, or shrink aghast + Where bursts the shrieking spectre from the tomb: + + +7 + + Perhaps loose Luxury's enchanting smile + Shall lure my steps to some romantic dale, + Where Mirth's light freaks the unheeded hours beguile, + And airs of rapture warble in the gale. + + +8 + + Instructive emblem of this mortal state! + Where scenes as various every hour arise + In swift succession, which the hand of Fate + Presents, then snatches from our wondering eyes. + + +9 + + Be taught, vain man, how fleeting all thy joys, + Thy boasted grandeur and thy glittering store: + Death comes, and all thy fancied bliss destroys; + Quick as a dream it fades, and is no more. + + +10 + + And, sons of Sorrow! though the threatening storm + Of angry Fortune overhang awhile, + Let not her frowns your inward peace deform; + Soon happier days in happier climes shall smile. + + +11 + + Through Earth's throng'd visions while we toss forlorn, + 'Tis tumult all, and rage, and restless strife; + But these shall vanish like the dreams of morn, + When Death awakes us to immortal life. + + + + + + + + + +ELEGY. + +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1758. + + + + Still shall unthinking man substantial deem + The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream? + Till at some stroke of Fate the vision flies, + And sad realities in prospect rise; + And, from Elysian slumbers rudely 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 plains in endless pomp survey, + Glittering in beams of visionary day; 10 + 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 encompass'd 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! 20 + Fresh, as the floweret opening on the morn, + Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn! + Sweet, as the downy pinion'd gale, that roves + To gather fragrance in Arabian groves! + Mild, as the melodies at close of day, + That, heard remote, along the vale decay! + Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine, + What sweetness, mildness, can be match'd with thine? + Why roam abroad, since recollection true + Restores the lovely form to fancy's view? 30 + 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 mean: + Still let me listen, while her words impart + The sweet effusions of the blameless heart; + Till all my soul, each tumult charm'd away, + Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway. 40 + + 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. 50 + + 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 blossom, soft the vernal sky; + Elate with hope, we deem'd no tempest nigh: + When, lo! a whirlwind's instantaneous gust + Left all its beauties withering in the dust. 60 + + Cold the soft hand that soothed Woe's weary head! + And quench'd 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. 70 + Escaped the dungeon, does the slave complain, + Nor bless the friendly hand that broke the chain? + Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn, + On this dark wild condemn'd 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 deeps in storms perpetual tost, + And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost 80 + 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 fears alarm 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! 90 + How vain the hope of man! but cease thy strain, + Nor sorrow's dread solemnity profane; + Mix'd with yon drooping mourners, on her bier + In silence shed the sympathetic tear. + + + + + + + + + +RETIREMENT. 1758. + + +1 + + 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: + + +2 + + "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! + + +3 + + 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 sequester'd bower + Let me at last recline, + Where Solitude, mild, modest power, + Leans on her ivied shrine. + + +4 + + 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? + + +5 + + Oft let Remembrance soothe 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 alarm'd, + Nor Envy, with malignant glare, + His simple youth had harm'd. + + +6 + + 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! + + +7 + + 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 gray + Breaks from the rustling boughs, + And down the lone vale sails away + To more profound repose. + + +8 + + Oh, 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. + + +9 + + But if some pilgrim through the glade + Thy hallow'd 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 his heart below. + + +10 + + 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." + + + + + + + + + +THE HERMIT. + + +1 + + 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 thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, + While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began: + No more with himself or with nature at war, + He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man. + + +2 + + "Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and woe, + Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall? + For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow, + And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthrall. + But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, + Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn: + O, soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away: + Full quickly they pass--but they never return. + + +3 + + Now gliding remote on the verge of the sky, + The Moon, half extinguish'd, her crescent displays: + But lately I mark'd 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 what change shall renew? + Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain! + + +4 + + '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? + + +5 + + 'Twas thus, by the glare of false Science betray'd, + 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.' + + +6 + + 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." + + + + + + + + + +ON + +THE REPORT OF A MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED +IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, TO THE MEMORY +OF A LATE AUTHOR (CHURCHILL). + +(WRITTEN IN 1765.) + +[PART OF A LETTER TO A PERSON OF QUALITY.] + + +Lest your Lordship, who are so well acquainted with everything that +relates to true honour, should think hardly of me for attacking the +memory of the dead, I beg leave to offer a few words in my own +vindication. + +If I had composed the following verses, with a view to gratify private +resentment, to promote the interest of any faction, or to recommend +myself to the patronage of any person whatsoever, I should have been +altogether inexcusable. To attack the memory of the dead from selfish +considerations, or from mere wantonness of malice, is an enormity which +none can hold in greater detestation than I. But I composed them from +very different motives; as every intelligent reader, who peruses them +with attention, and who is willing to believe me upon my own testimony, +will undoubtedly perceive. My motives proceeded from a sincere desire to +do some small service to my country, and to the cause of truth and +virtue. The promoters of faction I ever did, and ever will, consider as +the enemies of mankind: to the memory of such I owe no veneration: to +the writings of such I owe no indulgence. + +Your Lordship knows that (Churchill) owed the greatest share of his +renown to the most incompetent of all judges, the mob: actuated by the +most unworthy of all principles, a spirit of insolence, and inflamed by +the vilest of all human passions, hatred to their fellow-citizens. Those +who joined the cry in his favour seemed to me to be swayed rather by +fashion than by real sentiment: he therefore might have lived and died +unmolested by me, confident as I am, that posterity, when the present +unhappy dissensions are forgotten, will do ample justice to his real +character. But when I saw the extravagant honours that were paid to his +memory, and heard that a monument in Westminster Abbey was intended for +one whom even his admirers acknowledge to have been an incendiary and a +debauchee; I could not help wishing that my countrymen would reflect a +little on what they were doing, before they consecrated, by what +posterity would think the public voice, a character, which no friend to +virtue or true taste can approve. It was this sentiment, enforced by the +earnest request of a friend, which produced the following little poem; +in which I have said nothing of (Churchill's) manners that is not +warranted by the best authority: nor of his writings, that is not +perfectly agreeable to the opinion of many of the most competent judges +in Britain. + +ABERDEEN, January 1765. + + + + Bufo, begone! with thee may Faction's fire, + That hatch'd thy salamander-fame, expire. + Fame, dirty idol of the brainless crowd, + What half-made moon-calf can mistake for good! + Since shared by knaves of high and low degree; + Cromwell and Cataline: Guido Faux, and thee. + By nature uninspired, untaught by art; + With not one thought that breathes the feeling heart, + With not one offering vow'd to Virtue's shrine, + With not one pure unprostituted line; 10 + Alike debauch'd in body, soul, and lays;-- + For pension'd censure, and for pension'd praise, + For ribaldry, for libels, lewdness, lies, + For blasphemy of all the good and wise: + Coarse violence in coarser doggrel writ, + Which bawling blackguards spell'd, and took for wit: + For conscience, honour, slighted, spurn'd, o'erthrown:-- + Lo! Bufo shines the minion of renown. + Is this the land that boasts a Milton's fire, + And magic Spenser's wildly warbling lyre? 20 + The land that owns the omnipotence of song, + When Shakspeare whirls the throbbing heart along? + The land, where Pope, with energy divine, + In one strong blaze bade wit and fancy shine: + Whose verse, by truth in virtue's triumph born, + Gave knaves to infamy, and fools to scorn; + Yet pure in manners, and in thought refined, + Whose life and lays adorn'd and bless'd mankind? + Is this the land, where Gray's unlabour'd art + Soothes, melts, alarms, and ravishes the heart: 30 + While the lone wanderer's sweet complainings flow + In simple majesty of manly woe: + Or while, sublime, on eagle pinion driven, + He soars Pindaric heights, and sails the waste of Heaven? + Is this the land, o'er Shenstone's recent urn, + Where all the Loves and gentler Graces mourn? + And where, to crown the hoary bard of night, [1] + The Muses and the Virtues all unite? + Is this the land where Akenside displays + The bold yet temperate flame of ancient days? 40 + Like the rapt sage, [2] in genius as in theme, + Whose hallow'd strain renown'd Illyssus' stream: + Or him, the indignant bard, [3] whose patriot ire, + Sublime in vengeance, smote the dreadful lyre: + For truth, for liberty, for virtue warm, + Whose mighty song unnerved a tyrant's arm, + Hush'd the rude roar of discord, rage, and lust, + And spurn'd licentious demagogues to dust. + Is this the queen of realms? the glorious isle, + Britannia, blest in Heaven's indulgent smile? 50 + Guardian of truth, and patroness of art, + Nurse of the undaunted soul, and generous heart! + Where, from a base unthankful world exiled, + Freedom exults to roam the careless wild: + Where taste to science every charm supplies, + And genius soars unbounded to the skies? + And shall a Bufo's most polluted name + Stain her bright tablet of untainted fame? + Shall his disgraceful name with theirs be join'd, + Who wish'd and wrought the welfare of their kind? 60 + His name, accurst, who, leagued with----[4] and Hell, + Labour'd to rouse, with rude and murderous yell, + Discord the fiend, to toss rebellion's brand, + To whelm in rage and woe a guiltless land: + To frustrate wisdom's, virtue's noblest plan, + And triumph in the miseries of man. + Drivelling and dull, when crawls the reptile Muse, + Swoln from the sty, and rankling from the stews, + With envy, spleen, and pestilence replete, + And gorged with dust she lick'd from Treason's feet: 70 + Who once, like Satan, raised to Heaven her sight, + But turn'd abhorrent from the hated light:-- + O'er such a Muse shall wreaths of glory bloom? + No--shame and execration be her doom. + Hard-fated Bufo, could not dulness save + Thy soul from sin, from infamy thy grave? + Blackmore and Quarles, those blockheads of renown, + Lavish'd their ink, but never harm'd the town. + Though this, thy brother in discordant song, + Harass'd the ear, and cramp'd the labouring tongue: 80 + And that, like thee, taught staggering prose to stand, + And limp on stilts of rhyme around the land. + Harmless they dozed a scribbling life away, + And yawning nations own'd the innoxious lay, + But from thy graceless, rude, and beastly brain, + What fury breathed the incendiary strain? + Did hate to vice exasperate thy style? + No--Bufo match'd the vilest of the vile. + Yet blazon'd was his verse with Virtue's name-- + Thus prudes look down to hide their want of shame: 90 + Thus hypocrites to truth, and fools to sense, + And fops to taste, have sometimes made pretence: + Thus thieves and gamesters swear by honour's laws: + Thus pension-hunters bawl "their country's cause:" + Thus furious Teague for moderation raved, + And own'd his soul to liberty enslaved. + Nor yet, though thousand cits admire thy rage, + Though less of fool than felon marks thy page: + Nor yet, though here and there one lonely spark + Of wit half brightens through the involving dark, 100 + To show the gloom more hideous for the foil, + But not repay the drudging reader's toil; + (For who for one poor pearl of clouded ray + Through Alpine dunghills delves his desperate way? + Did genius to thy verse such bane impart? + No. 'Twas the demon of thy venom'd heart, + (Thy heart with rancour's quintessence endued). + And the blind zeal of a misjudging crowd. + Thus from rank soil a poison'd mushroom sprung, + Nursling obscene of mildew and of dung: 110 + By Heaven design'd on its own native spot + Harmless to enlarge its bloated bulk, and rot. + But gluttony the abortive nuisance saw; + It roused his ravenous, undiscerning maw: + Gulp'd down the tasteless throat, the mess abhorr'd + Shot fiery influence round the maddening board. + O had thy verse been impotent as dull, + Nor spoke the rancorous heart, but lumpish scull; + Had mobs distinguish'd, they who howl'd thy fame, + The icicle from the pure diamond's flame, 120 + From fancy's soul thy gross imbruted sense, + From dauntless truth thy shameless insolence, + From elegance confusion's monstrous mass, + And from the lion's spoils the skulking ass, + From rapture's strain the drawling doggrel line, + From warbling seraphim the grunting swine; + With gluttons, dunces, rakes, thy name had slept, + Nor o'er her sullied fame Britannia wept: + Nor had the Muse, with honest zeal possess'd, + To avenge her country, by thy name disgraced, 130 + Raised this bold strain for virtue, truth, mankind, + And thy fell shade to infamy resign'd. + When frailty leads astray the soul sincere, + Let mercy shed the soft and manly tear. + When to the grave descends the sensual sot, + Unnamed, unnoticed, let his carrion rot. + When paltry rogues, by stealth, deceit, or force, + Hazard their necks, ambitious of your purse: + For such the hangman wreaths his trusty gin, + And let the gallows expiate their sin. 140 + But when a ruffian, whose portentous crimes, + Like plagues and earthquakes terrify the times, + Triumphs through life, from legal judgment free, + For Hell may hatch what law could ne'er foresee: + Sacred from vengeance shall his memory rest?-- + Judas, though dead, though damn'd, we still detest. + + +[Footnote 1: 'Hoary bard of night:' Dr Young.] +[Footnote 2: 'Rapt sage:' Pluto.] +[Footnote 3: 'Indignant bard:' Alceus; see Akenside's 'Ode on Lyric + Poetry.'] + +[Footnote 4: Wilkes.] + + + + + + + + + +THE BATTLE OF THE PIGMIES AND CRANES. + +(FROM THE "PYGMAEO-GERANO-MACHIA" OF ADDISON.) + +1762. + + + The Pigmy people, and the feather'd 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 unnumber'd woes! + The wars and woes of heroes six feet long + Have oft resounded in Pierian song. 10 + Who has not heard of Colchos' golden fleece, + And Argo mann'd with all the flower of Greece? + Of Thebes' fell brethren; Theseus stern of face; + And Peleus' son, unrivall'd in the race; + Eneas, founder of the Roman line, + And William, glorious on the banks of Boyne? + Who has not learn'd 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; 20 + The small shrill trump, and chiefs of little size, + And armies rushing down the darken'd skies. + Where India reddens to the early dawn, + Winds a deep vale from vulgar eye withdrawn: + Bosom'd in groves the lowly region lies, + And rocky mountains round the border rise. + Here, till the doom of fate its fall decreed, + The empire flourish'd of the pigmy breed; + Here Industry perform'd, and Genius plann'd, + And busy multitudes o'erspread the land. 30 + 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 the abandon'd hearth; + And starts where small white bones are spread around, + "Or little [1] footsteps lightly print the ground;" + While the proud crane her nest securely builds, + Chattering amid the desolated fields. + But different fates befell her hostile rage, + While reign'd invincible through many an age 40 + The dreaded pigmy: roused by war's alarms, + Forth rush'd the madding manikin 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 slaughter'd victims heap'd his board, and smiled, + To avenge the parent's trespass on the child. 50 + Oft, where his feather'd foe had rear'd 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, + Whence 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 pigmy realms. 60 + Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire + Of mice, high theme of the Maeonian lyre; + When bold to battle march'd the accoutred frogs, + And the deep tumult thunder'd through the bogs. + Pierced by the javelin bulrush on the shore + Here agonizing roll'd the mouse in gore; + And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!) + Shorn of one leg, slow sprawl'd along on three; + He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high, + But mourns in hoarsest croaks his destiny. 70 + And now the day of woe drew on apace, + A day of woe to all the pigmy race, + When dwarfs were doom'd (but penitence was vain) + To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain. + For, roused to vengeance by repeated wrong, + From distant climes the long-bill'd 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 leaves the Egyptian strand; 80 + 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 pigmy 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 90 + Deep, deep beneath; and, triumphing in pride + With clouds and winds commix'd, innumerous ride. + 'Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven + Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven. + Nor less the alarm that shook the world below, + Where march'd in pomp of war the embattled foe: + Where manikins with haughty step advance, + And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance: + To right and left the lengthening lines they form, + And rank'd in deep array await the storm. 100 + High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen, + Of giant stature and imperial mien: + Full twenty inches tall, he strode along, + And view'd with lofty eye the wondering throng; + And while with many a scar his visage frown'd, + 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. 110 + 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 mark'd his course! + How oft, O Strymon, thy lone banks along, + Did wailing Echo waft the funeral song! 120 + 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 battailous array display'd, + On sounding wings, and screaming in their ire, + The cranes rush onward, and the fight require. + The pigmy warriors eye with fearless glare + The host thick swarming o'er the burden'd air; 130 + Thick swarming now, but to their native land + Doom'd 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 frenzy 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 downwards darts again. 140 + Success in equal balance hovering hangs. + Here, on the sharp spear, mad with mortal pangs, + The bird transfix'd 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 pigmy 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 cover'd o'er + With falchions, mangled wings, and streaming gore; 150 + And pigmy arms, and beaks of ample size, + And here a claw, and there a finger, lies. + Encompass'd round with heaps of slaughter'd foes, + All grim in blood the pigmy 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. 160 + When suddenly (for such the will of Jove) + A fowl enormous, sousing from above, + The gallant chieftain clutch'd, 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 pigmy 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 soar'd. 170 + 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 hurl'd it high at heaven, 180 + Jove roll'd redoubling thunders from on high, + Mountains and bolts encounter'd in the sky; + Till one stupendous ruin whelm'd the crew, + Their vast limbs weltering wide in brimstone blue. + But now at length the pigmy legions yield, + And, wing'd 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; 190 + With unrelenting ire they urge the chase, + Sworn to exterminate the hated race. + 'Twas thus the pigmy name, once great in war, + For spoils of conquer'd cranes renown'd afar, + Perish'd. 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 fix'd the everlasting bound. + Fallen are the trophies of Assyrian power, + And Persia's proud dominion is no more: 200 + Yea, though to both superior far in fame, + Thine empire, Latium, is an empty name! + And now, with lofty chiefs of ancient time, + The pigmy 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 array'd, + Gambol secure amid the moonlight glade: + Secure, for no alarming cranes molest, + And all their woes in long oblivion rest: 210 + Down the deep vale 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. + + +[Footnote 1: 'Or little,' &c.: from Gray's Elegy.] + + + + + + + +THE HARES. + +A FABLE. + + + Yes, yes, I grant the sons of Earth + Are doom'd to trouble from their birth. + We all of sorrow have our share; + But say, is yours without compare? + Look round the world; perhaps you'll find + Each individual of our kind + Press'd with an equal load of ill, + Equal at least: look further still, + And own your lamentable case + Is little short of happiness. 10 + 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, transfixt with keener pangs, + Where o'er his hoard the miser hangs; + Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares, + Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares; 20 + Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll + Their tempests on his harass'd 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, 30 + 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 appear'd. + "Our harmless race shall every savage + Both quadruped and biped ravage? + Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still + Unite their wits to work us ill? 40 + 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 ere noontide meet his death, + And lie dismember'd 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; 50 + 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's force; + To stratagem be our recourse; + And then, from all our tribes combined, + The murderer to his cost may find + No foes are weak whom Justice arms, + Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms. 60 + Be roused; or liberty acquire, + Or in the great attempt expire." + He said no more, for in his breast + Conflicting thoughts the voice suppress'd: + The fire of vengeance seem'd 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. 70 + Forth from the brake, with beating heart, + The 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; 80 + Now o'er the level valley sweep, + Now with short step strain up the steep; + While backward from the hunter's eyes + The landscape like a torrent flies. + At last an ancient wood they gain'd, + By pruner's axe yet unprofaned. + High o'er the rest, by nature rear'd, + The oak's majestic boughs appear'd; + Beneath, a copse of various hue + In barbarous luxuriance grew. 90 + No knife had curb'd the rambling sprays, + No hand had wove the implicit maze. + The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind, + The hazel's stubborn stem entwined, + And bramble twigs were wreathed around, + And rough furze crept along the ground. + Here sheltering from the sons of murther, + The hares their tired limbs drag no further. + But, lo! the western wind ere long + Was loud, and roar'd the woods among; 100 + 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 seem'd 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, 110 + 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, 120 + Since Fate is evermore pursuing + All ways, and means to work our ruin? + Are we alone, of all beneath, + Condemn'd 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!" 130 + 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, + Gleam'd 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. 140 + Fast by the margin of the lake, + Conceal'd within a thorny brake, + A linnet sat, whose careless lay + Amused the solitary day. + Careless he sung, for on his breast + Sorrow no lasting trace impress'd; + 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; 150 + No foe appear'd, 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, 160 + At last on some foundation dream + Has rear'd 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. 170 + "Children," thus spoke a hare sedate, + Who oft had known the extremes of fate, + "In slight events the docile mind + May hints of good instruction find, + That our condition is the worst, + And we with such misfortunes curst, + As all comparison defy, + Was late the universal cry; + When, lo! an accident so slight + As yonder little linnet's flight, 180 + 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, the danger is forgot: + On yonder bough he trims his wings, + And with unusual rapture sings: 190 + While we, less wretched, sink beneath + Our lighter ills, and rush to death. + No more of this unmeaning rage, + But hear, my friends, the words of age: + "When, by the winds of autumn driven, + The scatter'd 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, 200 + 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 chequer'd 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. 210 + 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 undismay'd + Maintain your ground! the fleeting shade 220 + Ere long 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 moment fate allows, + Nor think of past or future woes." + He spoke; and hope revives; the lake + That instant one and all forsake, 230 + In sweet amusement to employ + The present sprightly hour of joy. + Now from the western mountain's brow, + Compass'd 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, 240 + 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. + + + + + + + + + + + + +THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS. + +A FABLE. + +(WRITTEN IN 1757, AND FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1766.) + + + Laws, as we read in ancient sages, + Have been like cobwebs in all ages: + Cobwebs for little flies are spread, + And laws for little folks are made; + But if an insect of renown, + Hornet or beetle, wasp or drone, + Be caught in quest of sport or plunder, + The flimsy fetter flies in sunder. + Your simile perhaps may please one + With whom wit holds the place of reason: 10 + But can you prove that this in fact is + Agreeable to life and practice? + Then hear, what in his simple way + Old AEsop told me t' other day. + In days of yore, but (which is very odd) + Our author mentions not the period, + We mortal men, less given to speeches, + Allow'd the beasts sometimes to teach us. + But now we all are prattlers grown, + And suffer no voice but our own; 20 + With us no beast has leave to speak, + Although his honest heart should break. + 'Tis true, your asses and your apes, + And other brutes in human shapes, + And that thing made of sound and show, + Which mortals have misnamed a beau, + (But in the language of the sky + Is call'd a two-legg'd butterfly), + Will make your very heartstrings ache + With loud and everlasting clack, 30 + And beat your auditory drum, + Till you grow deaf, or they grow dumb. + But to our story we return: + 'Twas early on a Summer morn, + A Wolf forsook the mountain den, + And issued hungry on the plain. + Full many a stream and lawn he past + And reach'd a winding vale at last; + Where from a hollow rock he spied + The shepherds drest in flowery pride. 40 + Garlands were strew'd, and all was gay, + To celebrate a holiday. + The merry tabor's gamesome sound + Provoked the sprightly dance around. + Hard by a rural board was rear'd, + On which in fair array appear'd + The peach, the apple, and the raisin, + And all the fruitage of the season. + But, more distinguish'd than the rest, + Was seen a wether ready drest, 50 + That smoking, recent from the flame, + Diffused a stomach-rousing steam. + Our Wolf could not endure the sight, + Courageous grew his appetite: + His entrails groan'd with tenfold pain, + He lick'd his lips, and lick'd again: + At last, with lightning in his eyes, + He bounces forth, and fiercely cries: + "Shepherds, I am not given to scolding, + But now my spleen I cannot hold in. 60 + By Jove, such scandalous oppression + Would put an elephant in passion. + You, who your flocks (as you pretend) + By wholesome laws from harm defend, + Which make it death for any beast, + How much soe'er by hunger press'd, + To seize a sheep by force or stealth, + For sheep have right to life and health; + Can you commit, uncheck'd by shame, + What in a beast so much you blame? 70 + What is a law, if those who make it + Become the forwardest to break it? + The case is plain: you would reserve + All to yourselves, while others starve. + Such laws from base self-interest spring, + Not from the reason of the thing--" + He was proceeding, when a swain + Burst out,--"And dares a wolf arraign + His betters, and condemn their measures, + And contradict their wills and pleasures? 80 + We have establish'd laws, 'tis true, + But laws are made for such as you. + Know, sirrah, in its very nature + A law can't reach the legislature. + For laws, without a sanction join'd, + As all men know, can never bind; + But sanctions reach not us the makers, + For who dares punish us, though breakers? + 'Tis therefore plain, beyond denial, + That laws were ne'er design'd to tie all; 90 + But those, whom sanctions reach alone: + We stand accountable to none. + Besides, 'tis evident, that, seeing + Laws from the great derive their being, + They as in duty bound should love + The great, in whom they live and move, + And humbly yield to their desires: + 'Tis just what gratitude requires. + What suckling, dandled on the lap, + Would tear away its mother's pap? 100 + But hold--Why deign I to dispute + With such a scoundrel of a brute? + Logic is lost upon a knave, + Let action prove the law our slave." + An angry nod his will declared + To his gruff yeoman of the guard; + The full-fed mongrels, train'd to ravage, + Fly to devour the shaggy savage. + The beast had now no time to lose + In chopping logic with his foes; 110 + "This argument," quoth he, "has force, + And swiftness is my sole resource." + He said, and left the swains their prey, + And to the mountains scour'd away. + + + + + + + + +SONG; + +IN IMITATION OF SHAKSPEARE'S "BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND." + + +1 + + Blow, blow, thou vernal gale! + Thy balm will not avail + To ease my aching breast; + Though thou the billows smooth, + Thy murmurs cannot soothe + My weary soul to rest. + + +2 + + Flow, flow, thou tuneful stream! + Infuse the easy dream + Into the peaceful soul; + But thou canst not compose + The tumult of my woes, + Though soft thy waters roll. + + +3 + + Blush, blush, ye fairest flowers! + Beauties surpassing yours + My Rosalind adorn; + Nor is the Winter's blast, + That lays your glories waste, + So killing as her scorn. + + +4 + + Breathe, breathe, ye tender lays, + That linger down the maze + Of yonder winding grove; + O let your soft control + Bend her relenting soul + To pity and to love. + + +5 + + Fade, fade, ye flowerets fair! + Gales, fan no more the air! + Ye streams, forget to glide; + Be hush'd each vernal strain; + Since nought can soothe my pain, + Nor mitigate her pride. + + + + + + + + + + + + +TO LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON, + +DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET, WITH PLUMES, ETC. + + + 1 + + Why, lady, wilt them 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 ancient realm? + + + 2 + + Thou know'st 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. + + + 3 + + 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. + + + + + + + + + + +EPITAPH: + +BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION DESIGNED FOR A MONUMENT +ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY. + + + Farewell, my best beloved! whose heavenly mind + Genius with virtue, strength with softness join'd; + 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, unequall'd 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! + + + + + + + + +EPITAPH + +ON TWO YOUNG MEN OF THE NAME OF LEITCH, WHO WERE DROWNED IN CROSSING THE + RIVER SOUTHESK. 1757. + + + O thou! whose steps in sacred reverence tread + These lone dominions of the silent dead; + On this sad stone a pious look bestow, + Nor uninstructed read this tale of woe; + And while the sigh of sorrow heaves thy breast, + Let each rebellious murmur be suppress'd; + Heaven's hidden ways to trace, for us how vain! + Heaven's wise decrees, how impious to arraign! + Pure from the stains of a polluted age, + In early bloom of life they left the stage: + Not doom'd in lingering woe to waste their breath, + One moment snatch'd them from the power of Death: + They lived united, and united died; + Happy the friends whom Death cannot divide! + + + + + + + + + + + +EPITAPH, INTENDED FOR HIMSELF. + + + 1 + + Escaped the gloom of mortal life, a soul + Here leaves its mouldering tenement of clay, + Safe where no cares their whelming billows roll, + No doubts bewilder, and no hopes betray. + + + 2 + + Like thee, I once have stemm'd the sea of life; + Like thee, have languish'd after empty joys; + Like thee, have labour'd in the stormy strife; + Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys. + + + 3 + + Yet, for a while, 'gainst Passion's threatful blast + Let steady Reason urge the struggling oar; + Shot through the dreary gloom, the morn at last + Gives to thy longing eye the blissful shore. + + + 4 + + Forget my frailties, thou art also frail; + Forgive my lapses, for thyself mayst fall; + Nor read, unmoved, my artless tender tale, + I was a friend, O man! to thee, to all. + + + +END OF BEATTIE'S POEMS. + + + + + + + + + + + +POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BLAIR. + + + + +THE LIFE OF ROBERT BLAIR. + + +The paradox of Dr Johnson, in reference to sacred poetry, has long ago +fallen into disrepute. It seems singular indeed, how it ever obtained +credence, even although supported by one of the most powerful pens that +ever wrote in Britain, when we remember that, previous to that author's +day, the best poetry in the world 'had' been sacred. The Holy Scriptures +then existed, with that poetry which bursts out at their every pore, +besides being collected here and there into masses of rich song, +"pressed down, shaken together, and running over." Dante, too, had +written his great work, which, as if to mark it out for ever from things +unclean and common, he had called the "'Divina' Commedia," and which was +worthy of the name. Tasso's "Gerusalemme Liberata" had a religious +moral, as well as a title suggestive of religious ideas. Spenser's +"Faery Queen" was sacred, if not in all the parts, yet at least in the +pervading spirit of its poetry. Cowley's "Davideis," Herbert's "Temple," +Milton's "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained," and Young's "Night +Thoughts," existed then, were all admitted to be more or less +masterpieces, and were all sacred in their subjects and aims. Blair's +"Grave" too, had, ere Johnson's day, appeared, and furnished a good +example of a solemn and religious theme, treated with genuine poetic +power. + +We need not say what a flood of sacred song has arisen since, and +drowned the dictum of the lexicographer in the waves. Nay, an opinion is +gaining ground, that all lofty poetry tends toward the sacred, and lies +under the shadow of the divine. Poetry is like fire, which, even when +employed in culinary or destructive purposes, points its column upwards, +and seems to transmit the flower and essence of its conquests to heaven. +All poetry that does not thus ascend is either morbid in spirit, or +secondary in merit. + + +We come now to the life of one of our best religious poets,--ROBERT +BLAIR--whose short poem "The Grave," is so admirable as to excite keen +regret that it is almost the only specimen extant of his gifted and +original mind. + +The facts of his life are more than usually scanty, and our biography, +therefore, must be brief and meagre. Robert Blair was born in Edinburgh, +in 1699. It is curious, by the way, how few poets the Modern Athens has +produced. It has bred lawyers, statists, critics, savans, in plenty, but +reared but few men of transcendant genius, and, so far as we remember, +only five good poets,--Scott, Ferguson, Ramsay, Falconer, and +Blair,--whom the manufacturing town of Paisley nearly matches with its +Tannahill, Motherwell, Alexander and John Wilson. Blair was the eldest +son of the Rev. David Blair, who was a minister of the Old Church of +Edinburgh, and one of the chaplains to the King. His mother was Euphemia +Nisbet, daughter of Alexander Nisbet, Esq., of Carfin. His grandfather, +Robert Blair, of Irvine,--descended from the ancient family of Blair 'of +that ilk ('i.e.', of Blair), in Ayrshire,--distinguished himself, in the +troublous times of the Solemn League and Covenant, as a powerful +preacher, an able negociator, and a brave, determined man. The +celebrated Hugh Blair,--whose writings, once so popular, seem now nearly +forgotten,--was our poet's cousin, although younger by nineteen years. +Robert lost his father while yet a boy, but enjoyed the anxious care and +admirable training of an excellent mother. He studied first at the +University of Edinburgh, and afterwards in Holland. Of the particulars +of either part of his curriculum nothing is known. On his return from +abroad, he seems to have received license to preach, and to have hung +about Edinburgh for a few years, an unemployed probationer. This was of +less consequence, as he had some hereditary property. It gave him, too, +abundant leisure for study, and he employed it well--cultivating natural +history and the cognate sciences--publishing a few fugitive verses, +which made very little impression on the public--and drawing out the +first rude draught of the poem which was destined to make him +immortal,--"The Grave." In 1731, when he was in his thirty-second year, +he was appointed to the living of Athelstaneford, a parish in East +Lothian, where he continued to reside all the rest of his life. +Dissenter though the author of this biography be, he is free to confess, +that there is very much that is enviable in the position of a parish +minister, particularly in the country. Possessed of an easy competence, +and a manageable field of labour, surrounded by the simplicities of +rural manners, and the picturesque features of rural scenery,--lord of +his sphere of duty, and master of his time,--his life can be, and often +is, one of the most useful and happy, honourable in its toils, and +graceful in its relaxations, to be found on earth. Where could we expect +elegant studies to be prosecuted with more success, or whence could we +expect more works of sanctified learning and genius to issue, than in +and from the "manses" of Scotland, always so beautifully situated, now +on the brink of the mountain stream, singing its wild way through the +woods,--now in the centre of rich orchards and fertile fields,--now on +sunny braes, overlooking the whole parish, prostrate in its loveliness +at their feet,--and now surrounded and shadowed by broad old oaks and +tall black pine-trees? And so, accordingly, it has been, although not +perhaps to the extent we might have wished or expected. Philosophy of +the deepest order has been studied--inquiries the most profound and +extensive into natural science and history have been prosecuted; and +painting, music, and poetry, have found enthusiastic and gifted +votaries, who, at the same time, have not neglected their higher +vocation,--in the quiet manses of our country; and we rejoice to know +that this state of things continues, and is not confined to the +Established Church, but may be asserted with equal or greater force to +exist in others. + +At Athelstaneford, Blair seems to have realised this ideal of a country +minister. He was attentive to his pastoral duties, and the correspondent +of Doddridge and the author of "The Grave," could not fail to be an +evangelical, a practical, and a powerful preacher. He at the same time +diligently prosecuted his favourite studies, which were botany, natural +history, and poetry. Possessing a considerable fortune, he lived on a +footing of equality and friendship with the gentry of the neighbourhood, +and others of similar rank in distant parts of Scotland. Sir Francis +Kinloch of Gilmerton and John Gallander of Craigforth are mentioned as +two of his intimates. We are tempted to figure the author of "The Grave" +as a morose and melancholy 'solitaire'--musing amid midnight +churchyards--stumbling over bones--and returning home to light his lamp, +inserted in a gaping skull, and to write out his gloomy cogitations. +This is very far from being his real character. He was more frequently +seen wandering amidst the flowery nooks of summer, with a microscope in +his hand; or, on his way home from his pastoral visitations, stopping to +analyse the fungi and the mosses which met him on his path; or musing +above the long liquid lapse of some wayside stream, down which were +floating the red leaves of autumn; or turning a telescope of his own +construction aloft to the gleaming host of heaven. In his mode of +spending his time, as well as in some of the stern features of his +genius, he resembled Crabbe, who, believing that every weed was a +flower, spent much of his time amidst the fields and on the sea-shores; +who extracted delight out of the meanest fungus, even as he extracted +poetry out of the humblest characters; and whose life, like Blair's, was +a harmless dream. + +After spending seven years of studious solitude, he, in 1738, married +his relation, Isabella Law, daughter of Mr Law of Elvingston, who had +been professor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, and +whose death, which had happened ten years before, he had mourned in some +rather lame verses, which our readers will find in this edition. Her +brother was the sheriff-depute of East Lothian. She is described as a +lady of great beauty and amiable manners, and succeeded in making the +poet very happy. She bore him five sons and one daughter. Of these, +Robert arose, through various gradations of honour at the Scottish bar, +to be President of the Court of Session, and died in 1811. He was a man +of massive and powerful intellect. It is, we think, in 'Peter's +Letters' that Lockhart gives a glowing portraiture of President +Blair's remarkable powers. He had not the genius or "hairbrained +sentimental trace" of his father, but had inherited that clear, stern +understanding, and that profound insight into men and manners, which are +met with in every page of "The Grave." + +Of this poem the author had, we said, drawn a first outline when a youth +in Edinburgh. This he completed after his settlement at Athelstaneford; +and, about the year 1742, he began to make arrangements for its +publication. He had, probably through his neighbour, the celebrated +Colonel Gardiner, who fell at the battle of Prestonpans, become +acquainted with Isaac Watts, who paid him, he says in one of his +letters, "many civilities." To him he forwarded the MS. of his poem. Dr +Watts, with characteristic candour and good taste, admired it, and +offered it to two different London booksellers, both of whom, however, +declined to publish it, expressing a doubt whether any person living +three hundred miles from town could write so as to be acceptable to the +fashionable and the polite! No poetry at that time went down except +imitations of Pope. Blair got back his MS., and, nothing daunted, sent +it to Philip Doddridge, who was also an intimate of Colonel Gardiner's, +requesting his opinion, which appears to have been as favourable as that +of Dr Watts. At length it was published in London in the year 1743, and +reprinted at Edinburgh in 1747, a year after its author's death. + +Between that event and the appearance of his poem, nothing remarkable +occurred. The success of his work must have shed additional sweetness +into a cup which was rich before. "His tastes," says one of his +biographers, "were elegant and domestic. Books and flowers seem to have +been the only rivals in his thoughts. His rambles were from his fireside +to his garden; and, although the only record of his genius is of a +gloomy character, it is evident that his habits and life contributed to +render him cheerful and happy." At last that awful chasm, the terrors, +grandeurs, and moral lessons of which he had so powerfully sung, opened +its jaws to receive him, and the Grave crowned its laureate with its +cold and earthy crown. He was seized with fever, caught probably in the +exercise of his pastoral functions, and expired on the 4th of February +1746, at the early age of forty-seven, when his body and mind were both +in full vigour, and when, speaking after the manner of men, yet greater +works than "The Grave" were before him. He left his wife, who lived till +1774, and five children behind him. His body reposes in the church-yard +of Athelstaneford, without a monument, and with nothing but the initials +K.B. to mark the spot. + +The fact that he died comparatively so young, sufficiently accounts for +the paucity of his poems. He had found a vein of rich and virgin gold; +he had thrown out one mass of ore, and was, as it were, resting on his +pickaxe ere recommencing his labour, when he was smitten down by a +workman who never rests nor slumbers. Still let us thankfully accept +what he has produced; the more as it is so distinctively original, so +free from any serious alloy, and so impressively religious in its spirit +and tone. + +This masterpiece of Blair's genius is not a great poem so much as it is +a magnificent portion, fragment, or book of a great poem. The most, +alike of its merits and its faults, spring from the fact, that it keeps +close to its subject--it daguerreotypes its dreadful theme. Many have +objected to its conclusion as lame and impotent, and would have wished a +loftier swell of hopeful anticipation of the Resurrection at the close; +but this, in fact, would have started the subject of another poem. Blair +was writing of the power and triumphs of the tomb. He left it to others, +or possibly to another poem by himself, to celebrate the victory over +it, to be gained at the resurrection. Enough for his purpose to allude +to it at the close, in such a way as to intimate his own belief in its +reality. Surely he expects too much who requires the painter of "Night" +to introduce "Morning" into the same picture. + +The shortness of the poem has been objected to it. But this, we think, +shows the poet's good sense. The subject is too uniform and too gloomy +for a long poem. "The Grave, in twelve books" would have been totally +unreadable. It was far better to give, as Blair has given, a strong, +stern, rapid, and concentrated sketch of the grisly gulf. The grave, in +one respect, has no unity, and no story. It stands by itself, hollow, +solitary, with its momentary ghastly yawnings, its general repose, and +the dark mysteries which, whether open or shut, it conceals in its +silent bosom. Reverence, as well as good taste, requires the poet who +would venture on such a theme, to approach it trembling, and to withdraw +from it in haste. + +Yet Blair has been accused of a want of reverence in his treatment of +this awful subject, nor is this objection altogether unfounded; the poet +does treat "the Grave" in a somewhat abrupt and cavalier fashion, and +does not seem sufficiently afraid of it. He was young when he wrote the +greater part of the poem, and of young poets we may ask as Wordsworth +asks about little children, "What can they know of death?" It had never +knocked at his door or glared in at his window. He was, besides, of a +bold and daring genius. He consulted rather strong effect than minute +finish. The tone and style of his poem, consequently, are somewhat +hirsute and unpolished. Campbell says of him, judiciously, "Blair may be +a homely and even a gloomy poet in the eye of fastidious criticism; but +there is a masculine and pronounced character even in his gloom and +homeliness that keeps it most distinctly apart from either dulness or +vulgarity. His style pleases us like the powerful expression of a +countenance without regular beauty." He excels most in describing the +darkest and most terrible ideas suggested by the subject, and seems +almost to exult, while depicting the triumphs of the grave over the +rich, the strong, the lofty, and the powerful. Death himself he assails +in language approaching virulence, as when he says + + + O great maneater, + Unheard-of epicure, without a fellow, + Thou must render up thy dead, + And with high interest too. + + +This exulting spirit, however, springs in him, less from ferocious +feeling than from conscious rejoicing power. He is not a savage, +brandishing his bloody tomahawk, so much as a Michael Angelo, hewing, +with heat and haste, at one of his terrible pieces of statuary. He +characterizes the miser severely; he lashes the proud wicked man whom he +sees pompously hearsed into Hell; with stern irony he pursues the beauty +from her looking-glass to the clods where + + + "The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd, + Feeds on her damask cheek;" + + +he derides the baffled son of AEsculapius, who is deserted and deceived +by his own drugs; and he exerts all the fearful force of his genius to +show us the suicide in that "Other Place," where + + + "The common damn'd shun his society, + And look upon themselves as fiends less foul." + + +But the fine imagery and the rapid touch serve alike to show that though +he is angry, it is with the wrath of a man--not with the malignity of a +demon. We have sometimes been induced to fancy that Pollok, in the +"Course of Time," loves to linger amid the ruins of fallen and lost +natures; and finds a savage luxury in the contemplation of the agonies +of those whom he represents as damned. He tells us that he loved no +scenery so well as that of solitary wastes, where nature was utterly +barren and seemed willing to decay--where the dark wings of monotonous +gloom and eternal silence met and sullenly embraced over the dreary +region; and he seems to have had the same passion for moral as for +physical desolations. Blair, on the other hand, never tarries long in +such scenes; he does not dwell amidst, and brood over them like an owl, +but crosses them with the swift brushing wing of a bird returning to her +evening nest. He never goes out of his way to search for them--he sees +and shows them merely because they meet him on his path. There is +nothing morbid nor much that is melancholy in this poem. He takes the +hard fact as it is, and paints it with all his force, but he does not +seek to exaggerate or discolour it. He shows "the Grave" in various +lights, at morning, night, and noon--not under the uniform weight of a +leaden midnight sky, or only by the ghastly illumination of a waning +moon. + +Southey, in his "Life of Cowper," has fallen into the mistake of +supposing Blair one of the imitators of Young. Now, in fact, Blair's +poem was 'written' before the "Last Day" of Young, or the "Night +Thoughts" had appeared. Its originality is indeed one of its greatest +merits and charms. The author has copied no style, imitated no manner, +and scorned to permit any living man or poet to stand between him and +the cold stern reality of death, which he was to reflect in song. He is +worthy, thus, of the name so often misapplied, of Poet--'i.e.' Maker. +You see an original genius both in the beauties and the faults of the +work. Its language, so simply strong and daring in its homeliness, its +free and energetic motion, its fresh fearless touch, its fidelity to +nature and to life, the quick succession and sharp brief poignancy of +its pictures, its absence of elaboration, and carelessness about minute +lights and shades--all combine to prove that the author has an eye, an +imagination, and a purpose quite peculiar to himself. He treats "the +Grave" with as much originality as if he had been contemporary with the +earliest sepulchre--as if he had plucked grass from Abel's tomb; and +yet, while it has not lost to his eye its first fearful gloss and glory, +it has gathered around it the dear or dismal associations of six +thousand years; and Adam and the "new-made widow" seem to be leaning +side by side over its dust. We could have conceived of him treating the +subject more reconditely, imaginatively, and metaphysically, but not of +handling it with more direct and masculine power. + +That he has done so, is, undoubtedly, one great cause of the poem's +popularity. Had he woven any gossamer of reverie or philosophic +conjecture over "the Grave," or even shown much personal interest in it, +he might have gained a more peculiar set of admirers, but would not have +won his way to the world's heart. As it is, the popularity of "The +Grave" has been unbounded. Partly from the subject, partly from the +shortness, partly from the signal truth and force of the poem, it rose +rapidly to fame. It became "everybody's Grave." The poem was copied +into all school collections. It lay along with 'Robinson Crusoe' and +Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress', in the windows of cottages, and on the +tables of wayside inns--achieving thus what Coleridge predicated over +that well-thumbed copy of 'Thomson's Seasons', in the Welsh +ale-house--"true fame!" It pervaded America. It was translated into +other languages, and in its own it now transmigrated into a tract, now +filled the page of a periodical, and now became a small separate book, +telling its solemn tale to those who, though at first reluctant, as was +the wedding guest to hear the Anciente Marinere, were at last compelled +to listen, if not to learn. Light ballads and other amusing and clever +trifles, had before and have since thus "put a girdle round about the +globe in forty minutes;" but here was the phenomenon of a sad and +serious strain, with little merit or charm but Christian truth and +rugged poetry, passing, as if on telegraphic wires, through the whole +world in a moment of time. Perhaps we should add a reason, although a +very subordinate one, for the popularity of the poem. It was its +author's 'first' and 'last'. He wrote himself at once and easily +'up'--he never tried and succeeded in writing himself laboriously +'down'. + +The only books which should gain permanent reputation are those which +supply materials for thought, and are studded with moveable gems of +expression. We think we may divide the poems of the past and present +into two classes, which we may discriminate into 'buildings' and +'quarries'. Many works to which you can hardly deny the character of +works of genius may be likened to elegant and splendid edifices, the +structure of which you cannot but admire, although the secret of their +architecture you do not understand, and although from them you neither +do nor can extract a single stone. They stand up before the view, +dazzling and confounding,-- + + "Distinct but distant, clear, but ah! how cold." + +Other books, less magnificent in aspect and rougher in style, are yet so +full of suggestive and germinating thought, that we must liken them to +quarries, surrounded it may be by thorns and briars, and precipices, but +containing the richest of matter, and communicating with the very depths +of the earth. Not to enter on the vexed questions connected with more +celebrated poets, we may name Darwin and Dr Thomas Brown as two +specimens of the building, and Robert Blair as an admirable example of +the quarry. In household words and sententious truths, he yields (taking +his space into consideration), not even to Young, or Pope, or Cowper, +but to Shakspeare alone. His poem is a tissue of texts; many of his +expressions might pass and have passed for bits of Hamlet. Take a few:-- + + + "Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul, + Sweetener of life, and solder of society." + + "Son of the morning, whither art thou gone? + Where hast thou hid thy many-spangled head, + And the majestic menace of thine eyes + Felt from afar?" + + "Sorry pre-eminence of high descent! + Above the vulgar, born to 'rot in state'." + + +Hence, by the way, Byron's famous lines,-- + + + "It seem'd the mockery of hell to fold + The 'rottenness' of eighty years in gold." + + +The exquisite description of beauty in the grave has been already +quoted. That of the strong man dying is quite Shakspearian, and equally +so is the picture commencing, "Death's shafts fly quick," particularly +the passage about the sexton. How much he has compressed in the few +words of the celebrated description!-- + + + "The wind is up; hark! how it howls! methinks + Till now I never heard a sound so dreary; + Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird, + Rook'd in the spire, screams loud." + + +Who Blair's favourite authors were, we are not informed, but internal +evidence proves him to have frequently and profitably read Shakspeare; +and in terseness of description, comprehensiveness of vision, careless +grandeur of execution, and short felicitous strokes of genius, he bears +to him a considerable resemblance. + +Blair's originality is proved by the fact, that many poets since have +been either indebted to or inspired by his manly, noble verse. A great +original, although he seldom steals himself, is the innocent cause of +much theft in others, and his writings tempt, like the unbolted gate of +a bank, to plunder. Young, although a truly gifted man, has kindled his +night-lamp again and again at the phosphoric flame of "The Grave." The +author of the "Night Thoughts" has written more sustained and sounding +passages than Blair; his style is more antithetic, and his general mode +of thought more ingenious; his book is a much larger one; he exhibits at +times gleams of deeper insight; has occasional bursts of more +impassioned earnestness; and his work has a personal interest, like an +interrupted story or imperfect plot running through it: but "The Grave" +is superior in ease, in nature, in healthy tone, and in those happy +touches which light upon even genius only in rare and favoured hours. In +some of these points, as well as in a certain power of rough moral +anatomy, and vivid hurrying sarcasm (like one in haste lifting, +handling, and striking with a red-hot falchion), Blair reminds us rather +of Cowper; but the poet of "The Task" teaches a sterner morality, wears +around him a mantle of austerer gloom, abounds more in Scriptural +reference and in purely theological matter, and exhibits a more +thoroughly bardic and prophetic spirit. James Grahame, the author of +"The Sabbath," resembles Blair somewhat in happy pictorial flashes, and +in the frequent rudeness of his versification; but is, on the whole, a +milder, a more refined, a tenderer, and a weaker writer. It is clear +that Pollok found the germ of his noble poem, "The Course of Time," in +"The Grave." They resemble each other in their want of a plot, a hinge, +a "back-bone," both being collections of loosely-strung moral sketches, +with no unity but that of spirit, as also in the homely force and +boldness of the writing; and if Pollok in aught differ from Blair, it is +partly in the length of his poem and its elaboration, and partly in that +feverish, hectic heat, and that morbid intensity and fury of +temperament, which are the sources of much of Pollok's strength, and of +more of his weakness. No poem on any similar subject, in our time, can +be named with Blair's, except perhaps Bryant's "Thanatopsis." The moral +tendency, however, and religious tone of the two poems are entirely +different. "Thanatopsis" looks at the Grave solely in its physical and +poetical aspects. It never mentions either the Resurrection or the +Future State. An Indian would have coloured his poem on the sepulchre +with finer and fierier lines, like the stamp of autumn on the fallen +leaf. The main idea in it (an idea probably suggested by a line in "The +Grave"-- + + "What is this world? + What but a spacious burial-place unwall'd?") + +is that of the earth as a great sepulchre; and its lesson is to +inculcate on the death-devoted dust, which we call man, the duty of +dropping into its kindred dust as quietly and gracefully as possible. It +is, as a poem, chiefly remarkable for its solemn music, which reminds +you of a burial-march, but is far inferior to the Scottish poem in lofty +moral, in theological truth, and in illustrative power. Blair, and not +Bryant, remains the laureate of the Grave. + +It is much to have one's name and fame connected with one of the great +centrical truths of the universe, especially when that truth is related +to a fact. Suppose a writer to have produced a great poem on Light and +the Sun--or on Absolute Being and God--or on Immortal Life and +Heaven--how sublime and how enviable were his reputation! It were for +ever bound up, in the bundle of life, with these great Ideas and Facts. +Now, Blair has sung, in notes as yet unequalled, one of the cardinal, +although one of the gloomiest thoughts and actualities in existence, and +his name ought to stand proportionally high. He has, in a solemn yet +happy hour, turned aside from the highways, and the byeways too, of the +world, and gone a-musing and meditating, like Isaac in the evening +fields, and found among these a field of the dead, a place of skulls; +and, returning home, has recorded that one brief meditation in verse, +and made it and himself immortal. Such, precisely, is this Poem, and +such the experience of this Poet. As long as "the mourners go about the +streets," or assemble in their crowds, blackening the silent 'braes' on +their way to the country churchyard--as long as the grass of the grave +murmurs out its moral in the western wind, and the sunshine seems to +sadden as it shines upon the memorials and monuments of the dead--so +long shall men read the "The Grave," and turn with pensive joy and +tearful gratitude to the memory of its poet. + + + + + + + + + + +BLAIR'S POEMS. + + + + +THE GRAVE. + + + While some affect the sun, and some the shade, + Some flee the city, some the hermitage; + Their aims as various, as the roads they take + In journeying through life;--the task be mine, + To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb; + The appointed place of rendezvous, where all + These travellers meet.--Thy succours I implore, + Eternal king! whose potent arm sustains + The keys of Hell and Death.--The Grave, dread thing! + Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appall'd 10 + Shakes off her wonted firmness. Ah! how dark + Thy long-extended realms, and rueful wastes! + Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark night, + Dark as was chaos, ere the infant Sun + Was roll'd together, or had tried his beams + Athwart the gloom profound.--The sickly taper, + By glimmering through thy low-brow'd misty vaults + (Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy slime), + Lets fall a supernumerary horror, + And only serves to make thy night more irksome. 20 + Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, + Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell + 'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms: + Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades, + Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports) + Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds: + No other merriment, dull tree! is thine. + See yonder hallow'd fane--the pious work + Of names once famed, now dubious or forgot, + And buried 'midst the wreck of things which were; 30 + There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead. + The wind is up: hark! how it howls! Methinks + Till now I never heard a sound so dreary: + Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird, + Rook'd in the spire, screams loud: the gloomy aisles + Black-plaster'd, and hung round with shreds of 'scutcheons, + And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the sound, + Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults, + The mansions of the dead.--Roused from their slumbers, + In grim array the grisly spectres rise, 40 + Grin horrible, and, obstinately sullen, + Pass and repass, hush'd as the foot of night. + Again the screech-owl shrieks: ungracious sound! + I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill. + Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms, + Coeval near with that, all ragged show, + Long lash'd by the rude winds: some rift half down + Their branchless trunks; others so thin at top, + That scarce two crows could lodge in the same tree. + Strange things, the neighbours say, have happen'd here: 50 + Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow tombs; + Dead men have come again, and walk'd about; + And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd! + (Such tales their cheer at wake or gossipping, + When it draws near to witching time of night.) + Oft, in the lone church-yard at night I've seen, + By glimpse of moonshine chequering through the trees, + The schoolboy with his satchel in his hand, + Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, + And lightly tripping o'er the long flat stones 60 + (With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown), + That tell in homely phrase who lie below. + Sudden he starts! and hears, or thinks he hears, + The sound of something purring at his heels; + Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him, + Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows; + Who gather round, and wonder at the tale + Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, + That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand + O'er some new-open'd grave, and, strange to tell! 70 + Evanishes at crowing of the cock. + The new-made widow too, I've sometimes spied, + Sad sight! slow moving o'er the prostrate dead: + Listless, she crawls along in doleful black, + Whilst bursts of sorrow gush from either eye, + Past falling down her now untasted cheek. + Prone on the lowly grave of the dear man + She drops; whilst busy meddling memory, + In barbarous succession, musters up + The past endearments of their softer hours, 80 + Tenacious of its theme. Still, still she thinks + She sees him, and, indulging the fond thought, + Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf, + Nor heeds the passenger who looks that way. + Invidious grave!--how dost thou rend in sunder + Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one! + A tie more stubborn far than nature's band. + Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul; + Sweetener of life, and solder of society! + I owe thee much: thou hast deserved from me, 90 + Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. + Oft have I proved the labours of thy love, + And the warm efforts of the gentle heart, + Anxious to please.--Oh! when my friend and I + In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on, + Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down + Upon the sloping cowslip-cover'd bank, + Where the pure limpid stream has slid along + In grateful errors through the underwood, + Sweet murmuring,--methought the shrill-tongued thrush 100 + Mended his song of love; the sooty blackbird + Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note; + The eglantine smelt sweeter, and the rose + Assumed a dye more deep; whilst every flower + Vied with its fellow-plant in luxury + Of dress.--Oh! then the longest summer's day + Seem'd too, too much in haste: still the full heart + Had not imparted half! 'twas happiness + Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed, + Not to return, how painful the remembrance! 110 + Dull Grave!--thou spoil'st the dance of youthful blood, + Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth, + And every smirking feature from the face; + Branding our laughter with the name of madness. + Where are the jesters now? the men of health + Complexionally pleasant? Where the droll, + Whose every look and gesture was a joke + To clapping theatres and shouting crowds, + And made even thick-lipp'd musing melancholy + To gather up her face into a smile 120 + Before she was aware? Ah! sullen now, + And dumb as the green turf that covers them. + Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war? + The Roman Caesars, and the Grecian chiefs, + The boast of story? Where the hotbrain'd youth, + Who the tiara at his pleasure tore + From kings of all the then discover'd globe, + And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hamper'd, + And had not room enough to do its work?-- + Alas! how slim, dishonourably slim, 130 + And cramm'd into a place we blush to name! + Proud Royalty! how alter'd in thy looks! + How blank thy features, and how wan thy hue! + Son of the morning, whither art thou gone? + Where hast thou hid thy many-spangled head, + And the majestic menace of thine eyes, + Felt from afar? Pliant and powerless now, + Like new-born infant wound up in his swathes, + Or victim tumbled flat upon its back, + That throbs beneath the sacrificer's knife. 140 + Mute must thou bear the strife of little tongues, + And coward insults of the base-born crowd, + That grudge a privilege thou never hadst, + But only hoped for in the peaceful grave, + Of being unmolested and alone. + Arabia's gums and odoriferous drugs, + And honours by the heralds duly paid + In mode and form even to a very scruple: + Oh, cruel irony! these come too late; + And only mock whom they were meant to honour, 150 + Surely there's not a dungeon slave that's buried + In the highway, unshrouded and uncoffin'd, + But lies as soft, and sleeps as sound as he. + Sorry pre-eminence of high descent, + Above the vulgar born, to rot in state! + But see! the well plumed hearse comes nodding on, + Stately and slow; and properly attended + By the whole sable tribe that painful watch + The sick man's door, and live upon the dead, + By letting out their persons by the hour, 160 + To mimic sorrow when the heart's not sad. + How rich the trappings, now they're all unfurl'd + And glittering in the sun! Triumphant entries + Of conquerors, and coronation pomps, + In glory scarce exceed. Great gluts of people + Retard the unwieldy show; whilst from the casements + And houses' tops, ranks behind ranks close wedged + Hang bellying o'er. But tell us, why this waste? + Why this ado in earthing up a carcase + That's fallen into disgrace, and in the nostril 170 + Smells horrible?--Ye undertakers, tell us, + 'Midst all the gorgeous figures you exhibit, + Why is the principal conceal'd, for which + You make this mighty stir?--'Tis wisely done; + What would offend the eye in a good picture, + The painter casts discreetly into shade. + Proud lineage! now how little thou appear'st! + Below the envy of the private man! + Honour, that meddlesome officious ill, + Pursues thee even to death, nor there stops short; 180 + Strange persecution! when the grave itself + Is no protection from rude sufferance. + Absurd to think to overreach the grave, + And from the wreck of names to rescue ours! + The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame + Die fast away: only themselves die faster. + The far-famed sculptor, and the laurell'd bard, + Those bold insurancers of deathless fame, + Supply their little feeble aids in vain. + The tapering pyramid, the Egyptian's pride, 190 + And wonder of the world; whose spiky top + Has wounded the thick cloud, and long outlived + The angry shaking of the winter's storm; + Yet spent at last by the injuries of heaven, + Shatter'd with age and furrow'd o'er with years, + The mystic cone, with hieroglyphics crusted, + At once gives way. Oh, lamentable sight! + The labour of whole ages tumbles down, + A hideous and mis-shapen length of ruins. + Sepulchral columns wrestle, but in vain, 200 + With all-subduing Time: his cankering hand + With calm deliberate malice wasteth them: + Worn on the edge of days, the brass consumes, + The busto moulders, and the deep-cut marble, + Unsteady to the steel, gives up its charge. + Ambition, half convicted of her folly, + Hangs down the head, and reddens at the tale. + Here, all the mighty troublers of the earth, + Who swam to sovereign rule through seas of blood; + The oppressive, sturdy, man-destroying villains, 210 + Who ravaged kingdoms, and laid empires waste, + And in a cruel wantonness of power + Thinn'd states of half their people, and gave up + To want the rest; now, like a storm that's spent, + Lie hush'd, and meanly sneak behind the covert. + Vain thought! to hide them from the general scorn + That haunts and dogs them like an injured ghost + Implacable. Here, too, the petty tyrant, + Whose scant domains geographer ne'er noticed, + And, well for neighbouring grounds, of arm as short; 220 + Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor, + And gripp'd them like some lordly beast of prey; + Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger, + And piteous, plaintive voice of misery + (As if a slave was not a shred of nature, + Of the same common nature with his lord); + Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipp'd, + Shakes hands with dust, and calls the worm his kinsman; + Nor pleads his rank and birthright: Under ground + Precedency's a jest; vassal and lord, 230 + Grossly familiar, side by side consume. + When self-esteem, or others' adulation, + Would cunningly persuade us we are something + Above the common level of our kind, + The Grave gainsays the smooth-complexion'd flattery, + And with blunt truth acquaints us what we are. + Beauty,--thou pretty plaything, dear deceit! + That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, + And gives it a new pulse, unknown before, + The Grave discredits thee: thy charms expunged, 240 + Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd, + What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers + Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage? + Methinks I see thee with thy head low laid, + Whilst, surfeited upon thy damask cheek, + The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd, + Riots unscared. For this, was all thy caution? + For this, thy painful labours at thy glass? + To improve those charms and keep them in repair, + For which the spoiler thanks thee not. Foul feeder! 250 + Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well, + And leave as keen a relish on the sense. + Look how the fair one weeps!--the conscious tears + Stand thick as dew-drops on the bells of flowers: + Honest effusion! the swoln heart in vain + Works hard to put a gloss on its distress. + Strength, too,--thou surly, and less gentle boast + Of those that laugh loud at the village ring! + A fit of common sickness pulls thee down + With greater ease than e'er thou didst the stripling 260 + That rashly dared thee to the unequal fight. + What groan was that I heard?--deep groan indeed! + With anguish heavy laden; let me trace it: + From yonder bed it comes, where the strong man, + By stronger arm belabour'd, gasps for breath + Like a hard-hunted beast. How his great heart + Beats thick! his roomy chest by far too scant + To give the lungs full play. What now avail + The strong-built, sinewy limbs, and well spread shoulders? + See how he tugs for life, and lays about him, 270 + Mad with his pains!--Eager he catches hold + Of what comes next to hand, and grasps it hard, + Just like a creature drowning;--hideous sight! + Oh! how his eyes stand out, and stare full ghastly! + While the distemper's rank and deadly venom + Shoots like a burning arrow 'cross his bowels, + And drinks his marrow up.--Heard you that groan? + It was his last.--See how the great Goliath, + Just like a child that brawl'd itself to rest, + Lies still.--What mean'st thou then, O mighty boaster! 280 + To vaunt of nerves of thine? What means the bull, + Unconscious of his strength, to play the coward, + And flee before a feeble thing like man, + That, knowing well the slackness of his arm, + Trusts only in the well-invented knife? + With study pale, and midnight vigils spent, + The star-surveying sage, close to his eye + Applies the sight-invigorating tube; + And, travelling through the boundless length of space, + Marks well the courses of the far-seen orbs, 290 + That roll with regular confusion there, + In ecstasy of thought. But, ah, proud man! + Great heights are hazardous to the weak head; + Soon, very soon, thy firmest footing fails; + And down thou dropp'st into that darksome place, + Where nor device nor knowledge ever came. + Here the tongue-warrior lies, disabled now, + Disarm'd, dishonour'd, like a wretch that's gagg'd, + And cannot tell his ails to passers-by. + Great man of language!--whence this mighty change, 300 + This dumb despair, and drooping of the head? + Though strong persuasion hung upon thy lip, + And sly insinuation's softer arts + In ambush lay about thy flowing tongue; + Alas, how chop-fallen now! Thick mists and silence + Rest, like a weary cloud, upon thy breast + Unceasing.--Ah! where is the lifted arm, + The strength of action, and the force of words, + The well-turn'd period, and the well-timed voice, + With all the lesser ornaments of phrase? 310 + Ah! fled for ever, as they ne'er had been; + Razed from the book of fame; or, more provoking, + Perchance some hackney hunger-bitten scribbler + Insults thy memory, and blots thy tomb + With long flat narrative, or duller rhymes, + With heavy halting pace that drawl along; + Enough to rouse a dead man into rage, + And warm with red resentment the wan cheek. + Here the great masters of the healing art, + These mighty mock defrauders of the tomb, 320 + Spite of their juleps and catholicons, + Resign to fate.--Proud AEsculapius' son! + Where are thy boasted implements of art, + And all thy well-cramm'd magazines of health? + Nor hill nor vale, as far as ship could go, + Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook, + Escaped thy rifling hand;--from stubborn shrubs + Thou wrung'st their shy retiring virtues out, + And vex'd them in the fire: nor fly, nor insect, + Nor writhy snake, escaped thy deep research. 330 + But why this apparatus Why this cost? + Tell us, thou doughty keeper from the grave, + Where are thy recipes and cordials now, + With the long list of vouchers for thy cures? + Alas! thou speakest not.--The bold impostor + Looks not more silly when the cheat's found out. + Here the lank-sided miser, worst of felons, + Who meanly stole (discreditable shift!) + From back, and belly too, their proper cheer, + Eased of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay 340 + To his own carcase, now lies cheaply lodged. + By clamorous appetites no longer teased, + Nor tedious bills of charges and repairs. + But, ah! where are his rents, his comings-in? + Ay! now you've made the rich man poor indeed; + Robb'd of his gods, what has he left behind? + O cursed lust of gold! when for thy sake + The fool throws up his interest in both worlds; + First starved in this, then damn'd in that to come. + How shocking must thy summons be, O Death! 350 + To him that is at ease in his possessions; + Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, + Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come! + In that dread moment, how the frantic soul + Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, + Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help, + But shrieks in vain!--How wishfully she looks + On all she's leaving, now no longer her's! + A little longer, yet a little longer, + Oh! might she stay, to wash away her stains, 360 + And fit her for her passage.--Mournful sight! + Her very eyes weep blood;--and every groan + She heaves is big with horror: but the foe, + Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, + Pursues her close through every lane of life, + Nor misses once the track, but presses on; + Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge, + At once she sinks to everlasting ruin. + Sure 'tis a serious thing to die! My soul, + What a strange moment it must be, when near 370 + Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulf in view! + That awful gulf no mortal e'er repass'd + To tell what's doing on the other side. + Nature runs back and shudders at the sight, + And every life-string bleeds at thoughts of parting; + For part they must: body and soul must part; + Fond couple! link'd more close than wedded pair. + This wings its way to its Almighty Source, + The witness of its actions, now its judge: + That drops into the dark and noisome grave, 380 + Like a disabled pitcher of no use. + If death were nothing, and nought after death; + If when men died, at once they ceased to be, + Returning to the barren womb of nothing, + Whence first they sprung; then might the debauchee + Untrembling mouth the heavens:--then might the drunkard + Reel over his full bowl, and, when 'tis drain'd, + Fill up another to the brim, and laugh + At the poor bugbear Death: then might the wretch + That's weary of the world, and tired of life, 390 + At once give each inquietude the slip, + By stealing out of being when he pleased, + And by what way, whether by hemp, or steel. + Death's thousand doors stand open.--Who could force + The ill pleased guest to sit out his full time, + Or blame him if he goes? Sure he does well, + That helps himself, as timely as he can, + When able.--But if there's an Hereafter; + And that there is, conscience, uninfluenced, + And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man; 400 + Then must it be an awful thing to die: + More horrid yet to die by one's own hand. + Self-murder!--name it not: our island's shame, + That makes her the reproach of neighbouring states. + Shall nature, swerving from her earliest dictate, + Self-preservation, fall by her own act? + Forbid it, Heaven!--Let not upon disgust + The shameless hand be foully crimson'd o'er + With blood of its own lord.--Dreadful attempt! + Just reeking from self-slaughter, in a rage 410 + To rush into the presence of our Judge; + As if we challenged him to do his worst, + And matter'd not his wrath!--Unheard-of tortures + Must be reserved for such: these herd together; + The common damn'd shun their society, + And look upon themselves as fiends less foul. + Our time is fix'd; and all our days are number'd; + How long, how short, we know not:--this we know, + Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, + Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission: 420 + Like sentries that must keep their destined stand, + And wait the appointed hour, till they're relieved. + Those only are the brave who keep their ground, + And keep it to the last. To run away + Is but a coward's trick: to run away + From this world's ills, that at the very worst + Will soon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves, + By boldly venturing on a world unknown, + And plunging headlong in the dark;--'tis mad! + No frenzy half so desperate as this. 430 + Tell us, ye dead! will none of you, in pity + To those you left behind, disclose the secret? + Oh! that some courteous ghost would blab it out; + What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be. + I've heard that souls departed have sometimes + Forewarn'd men of their death:--'twas kindly done + To knock, and give the alarm.--But what means + This stinted charity?--'Tis but lame kindness + That does its work by halves.--Why might you not + Tell us what 'tis to die? do the strict laws 440 + Of your society forbid your speaking + Upon a point so nice?--I'll ask no more: + Sullen, like lamps in sepulchres, your shine + Enlightens but yourselves. Well, 'tis no matter; + A very little time will clear up all, + And make us learn'd as you are, and as close. + Death's shafts fly thick!--Here falls the village-swain, + And there his pamper'd lord!--The cup goes round; + And who so artful as to put it by? + 'Tis long since death had the majority; 450 + Yet, strange! the living lay it not to heart. + See yonder maker of the dead man's bed, + The Sexton, hoary-headed chronicle; + Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole + A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand + Digs through whole rows of kindred and acquaintance, + By far his juniors.--Scarce a skull's cast up, + But well he knew its owner, and can tell + Some passage of his life.--Thus hand in hand + The sot has walk'd with death twice twenty years; 460 + And yet ne'er younker on the green laughs louder, + Or clubs a smuttier tale: when drunkards meet, + None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand + More willing to his cup.--Poor wretch! he minds not, + That soon some trusty brother of the trade + Shall do for him what he has done for thousands. + On this side, and on that, men see their friends + Drop off, like leaves in autumn; yet launch out + Into fantastic schemes, which the long livers + In the world's hale and undegenerate days 470 + Could scarce have leisure for.--Fools that we are! + Never to think of death and of ourselves + At the same time: as if to learn to die + Were no concern of ours.--O more than sottish, + For creatures of a day, in gamesome mood, + To frolic on eternity's dread brink + Unapprehensive; when, for aught we know, + The very first swoln surge shall sweep us in! + Think we, or think we not, time hurries on + With a resistless, unremitting stream; 480 + Yet treads more soft than e'er did midnight thief, + That slides his hand under the miser's pillow, + And carries off his prize.--What is this world? + What but a spacious burial-field unwall'd, + Strew'd with death's spoils, the spoils of animals + Savage and tame, and full of dead men's bones! + The very turf on which we tread once lived; + And we that live must lend our carcases + To cover our own offspring: in their turns + They too must cover theirs.--'Tis here all meet! 490 + The shivering Icelander, and sun-burnt Moor; + Men of all climes, that never met before; + And of all creeds, the Jew, the Turk, the Christian. + Here the proud prince, and favourite yet prouder, + His sovereign's keeper, and the people's scourge, + Are huddled out of sight.--Here lie abash'd + The great negotiators of the earth, + And celebrated masters of the balance, + Deep read in stratagems, and wiles of courts. + Now vain their treaty skill: death scorns to treat. 500 + Here the o'er-loaded slave flings down his burden + From his gall'd shoulders;--and when the cruel tyrant, + With all his guards and tools of power about him, + Is meditating new unheard-of hardships, + Mocks his short arm,--and, quick as thought, escapes + Where tyrants vex not, and the weary rest. + Here the warm lover, leaving the cool shade, + The tell-tale echo, and the babbling stream + (Time out of mind the favourite seats of love), + Fast by his gentle mistress lays him down, 510 + Unblasted by foul tongue.--Here friends and foes + Lie close; unmindful of their former feuds. + The lawn-robed prelate and plain presbyter, + Erewhile that stood aloof, as shy to meet, + Familiar mingle here, like sister streams + That some rude interposing rock had split. + Here is the large-limb'd peasant;--here the child + Of a span long, that never saw the sun, + Nor press'd the nipple, strangled in life's porch. + Here is the mother, with her sons and daughters; 520 + The barren wife; the long-demurring maid, + Whose lonely unappropriated sweets + Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff, + Not to be come at by the willing hand. + Here are the prude severe, and gay coquette, + The sober widow, and the young green virgin, + Cropp'd like a rose before 'tis fully blown, + Or half its worth disclosed. Strange medley here! + Here garrulous old age winds up his tale; + And jovial youth, of lightsome vacant heart, 530 + Whose every day was made of melody, + Hears not the voice of mirth.--The shrill-tongued shrew, + Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding. + Here are the wise, the generous, and the brave; + The just, the good, the worthless, the profane; + The downright clown, and perfectly well-bred; + The fool, the churl, the scoundrel, and the mean; + The supple statesman, and the patriot stern; + The wrecks of nations, and the spoils of time, + With all the lumber of six thousand years. 540 + Poor man!--how happy once in thy first state! + When yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand, + He stamp'd thee with his image, and, well pleased, + Smiled on his last fair work.--Then all was well. + Sound was the body, and the soul serene; + Like two sweet instruments, ne'er out of tune, + That play their several parts.--Nor head, nor heart, + Offer'd to ache: nor was there cause they should; + For all was pure within: no fell remorse, + Nor anxious casting-up of what might be, 550 + Alarm'd his peaceful bosom.--Summer seas + Show not more smooth, when kiss'd by southern winds + Just ready to expire.--Scarce importuned, + The generous soil, with a luxuriant hand, + Offer'd the various produce of the year, + And everything most perfect in its kind. + Blessed! thrice-blessed days!--But ah, how short! + Blest as the pleasing dreams of holy men; + But fugitive like those, and quickly gone. + O slippery state of things!--What sudden turns! 560 + What strange vicissitudes in the first leaf + Of man's sad history!--To-day most happy, + And ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject! + How scant the space between these vast extremes! + Thus fared it with our sire:--not long he enjoy'd + His paradise.--Scarce had the happy tenant + Of the fair spot due time to prove its sweets, + Or sum them up, when straight he must be gone, + Ne'er to return again.--And must he go? + Can nought compound for the first dire offence 570 + Of erring man? Like one that is condemn'd, + Fain would he trifle time with idle talk, + And parley with his fate. But 'tis in vain; + Not all the lavish odours of the place, + Offer'd in incense, can procure his pardon, + Or mitigate his doom. A mighty angel, + With flaming sword, forbids his longer stay, + And drives the loiterer forth; nor must he take + One last and farewell round. At once he lost + His glory and his God. If mortal now, 580 + And sorely maim'd, no wonder!--Man has sinn'd. + Sick of his bliss, and bent on new adventures, + Evil he needs would try: nor tried in vain. + (Dreadful experiment! destructive measure! + Where the worst thing could happen is success.) + Alas! too well he sped:--the good he scorn'd + Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, + Not to return; or if it did, its visits, + Like those of angels, short and far between: + Whilst the black Demon, with his hell-scaped train, 590 + Admitted once into its better room, + Grew loud and mutinous, nor would be gone; + Lording it o'er the man: who now too late + Saw the rash error which he could not mend: + An error fatal not to him alone, + But to his future sons, his fortune's heirs. + Inglorious bondage! Human nature groans + Beneath a vassalage so vile and cruel, + And its vast body bleeds through every vein. + What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, Sin! 600 + Greatest and first of ills: the fruitful parent + Of woes of all dimensions: but for thee + Sorrow had never been,--All-noxious thing, + Of vilest nature! Other sorts of evils + Are kindly circumscribed, and have their bounds. + The fierce volcano, from his burning entrails + That belches molten stone and globes of fire, + Involved in pitchy clouds of smoke and stench, + Mars the adjacent fields for some leagues round, + And there it stops. The big-swoln inundation, 610 + Of mischief more diffusive, raving loud, + Buries whole tracts of country, threatening more; + But that too has its shore it cannot pass. + More dreadful far than these! Sin has laid waste, + Not here and there a country, but a world: + Despatching, at a wide-extended blow, + Entire mankind; and for their sakes defacing + A whole creation's beauty with rude hands; + Blasting the foodful grain, the loaded branches; + And marking all along its way with ruin. 620 + Accursed thing!--Oh! where shall fancy find + A proper name to call thee by, expressive + Of all thy horrors?--Pregnant womb of ills! + Of tempers so transcendantly malign, + That toads and serpents of most deadly kind + Compared to thee are harmless.--Sicknesses + Of every size and symptom, racking pains, + And bluest plagues, are thine.--See how the fiend + Profusely scatters the contagion round! + Whilst deep-mouth'd slaughter, bellowing at her heels, 630 + Wades deep in blood new-spilt; yet for to-morrow + Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring, + And inly pines till the dread blow is struck. + But, hold! I've gone too far; too much discover'd + My father's nakedness, and nature's shame. + Here let me pause, and drop an honest tear, + One burst of filial duty and condolence, + O'er all those ample deserts Death hath spread, + This chaos of mankind.--O great man-eater! + Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet! 640 + Unheard-of epicure, without a fellow! + The veriest gluttons do not always cram; + Some intervals of abstinence are sought + To edge the appetite: Thou seekest none. + Methinks the countless swarms thou hast devour'd, + And thousands at each hour thou gobblest up, + This, less than this, might gorge thee to the full! + But, ah! rapacious still, thou gap'st for more: + Like one, whole days defrauded of his meals, + On whom lank Hunger lays her skinny hand, 650 + And whets to keenest eagerness his cravings: + As if diseases, massacres, and poison, + Famine, and war, were not thy caterers. + But know that thou must render up thy dead, + And with high interest too.--They are not thine, + But only in thy keeping for a season, + Till the great promised day of restitution; + When loud-diffusive sound from brazen trump + Of strong-lung'd cherub shall alarm thy captives, + And rouse the long, long sleepers into life, 660 + Day-light, and liberty.-- + Then must thy gates fly open, and reveal + The mines that lay long forming under ground, + In their dark cells immured; but now full ripe, + And pure as silver from the crucible, + That twice has stood the torture of the fire + And inquisition of the forge. We know, + The illustrious Deliverer of mankind, + The Son of God, thee foil'd. Him in thy power + Thou couldst not hold: self-vigorous he rose, 670 + And, shaking off thy fetters, soon retook + Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent: + (Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!) + Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth, + And show'd himself alive to chosen witnesses, + By proofs so strong, that the most slow-assenting + Had not a scruple left. This having done, + He mounted up to heaven. Methinks I see him + Climb the aerial heights, and glide along + Athwart the severing clouds: but the faint eye, 680 + Flung backwards in the chase, soon drops its hold; + Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing. + Heaven's portals wide expand to let him in; + Nor are his friends shut out: as some great prince + Not for himself alone procures admission, + But for his train. It was his royal will + That where he is, there should his followers be. + Death only lies between: a gloomy path, + Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears; + But not untrod, nor tedious: the fatigue 690 + Will soon go off. Besides, there's no bye-road + To bliss. Then why, like ill-condition'd children, + Start we at transient hardships in the way + That leads to purer air, and softer skies, + And a ne'er-setting sun?--Fools that we are! + We wish to be where sweets unwithering bloom; + But straight our wish revoke, and will not go. + So have I seen, upon a summer's even, + Fast by the rivulet's brink a youngster play: + How wishfully he looks to stem the tide! 700 + This moment resolute, next unresolved: + At last he dips his foot; but as he dips, + His fears redouble, and he runs away + From the inoffensive stream, unmindful now + Of all the flowers that paint the further bank, + And smiled so sweet of late.--Thrice welcome death! + That after many a painful bleeding step + Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe + On the long-wish'd-for shore.--Prodigious change! + Our bane turn'd to a blessing!--Death, disarm'd, 710 + Loses his fellness quite.--All thanks to him + Who scourged the venom out!--Sure the last end + Of the good man is peace!--How calm his exit! + Night dews fall not more gently to the ground, + Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft. + Behold him in the evening-tide of life, + A life well spent, whose early care it was + His riper years should not upbraid his green: + By unperceived degrees he wears away; + Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting. 720 + High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches + After the prize in view! and, like a bird + That's hamper'd, struggles hard to get away: + Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded + To let new glories in, the first fair fruits + Of the fast-coming harvest.--Then, oh then! + Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears, + Shrunk to a thing of nought.--Oh! how he longs + To have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd! + 'Tis done! and now he's happy! The glad soul 730 + Has not a wish uncrown'd.--Even the lag flesh + Rests, too, in hope of meeting once again + Its better half, never to sunder more. + Nor shall it hope in vain:--the time draws on, + When not a single spot of burial earth, + Whether on land, or in the spacious sea, + But must give back its long-committed dust + Inviolate!--and faithfully shall these + Make up the full account; not the least atom + Embezzled, or mislaid, of the whole tale. 740 + Each soul shall have a body ready furnish'd; + And each shall have his own.--Hence, ye profane! + Ask not how this can be?--Sure the same power + That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down, + Can re-assemble the loose scatter'd parts, + And put them as they were.--Almighty God + Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd + Through length of days: and what he can, he will: + His faithfulness stands bound to see it done. + When the dread trumpet sounds, the slumbering dust, 750 + Not unattentive to the call, shall wake; + And every joint possess its proper place, + With a new elegance of form, unknown + To its first state. Nor shall the conscious soul + Mistake its partner, but, amidst the crowd, + Singling its other half, into its arms + Shall rush, with all the impatience of a man + That's new come home; and, having long been absent, + With haste runs over every different room, + In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meeting! 760 + Nor time, nor death, shall ever part them more. + Tis but a night, a long and moonless night; + We make the grave our bed, and then are gone. + Thus, at the shut of even, the weary bird + Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake + Cowers down, and dozes till the dawn of day, + Then claps his well-fledged wings, and bears away. + + + + + + + + + + +A POEM, + +DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE LEARNED AND +EMINENT MR WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY +IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. + + + In silence to suppress my griefs I've tried, + And kept within its banks the swelling tide! + But all in vain: unbidden numbers flow; + Spite of myself my sorrows vocal grow. + This be my plea.--Nor thou, dear Shade, refuse + The well-meant tribute of the willing muse, + Who trembles at the greatness of its theme, + And fain would say what suits so high a name. + Which, from the crowded journal of thy fame,-- + Which of thy many titles shall I name? 10 + For, like a gallant prince, that wins a crown, + By undisputed right before his own, + Variety thou hast: our only care + Is what to single out, and what forbear. + Though scrupulously just, yet not severe; + Though cautious, open; courteous, yet sincere; + Though reverend, yet not magisterial; + Though intimate with few, yet loved by all; + Though deeply read, yet absolutely free + From all the stiffnesses of pedantry; 20 + Though circumspectly good, yet never sour; + Pleasant with innocence, and never more. + Religion, worn by thee, attractive show'd, + And with its own unborrow'd beauty glow'd: + Unlike the bigot, from whose watery eyes + Ne'er sunshine broke, nor smile was seen to rise; + Whose sickly goodness lives upon grimace, + And pleads a merit from a blubber'd face. + Thou kept thy raiment for the needy poor, + And taught the fatherless to know thy door; 30 + From griping hunger set the needy free; + That they were needy, was enough to thee. + Thy fame to please, whilst others restless be, + Fame laid her shyness by, and courted thee; + And though thou bade the flattering thing give o'er, + Yet, in return, she only woo'd thee more. + How sweet thy accents! and how mild thy look! + What smiling mirth was heard in all thou spoke; + Manhood and grizzled age were fond of thee, + And youth itself sought thy society. 40 + The aged thou taught, descended to the young, + Clear'd up the irresolute, confirm'd the strong; + To the perplex'd thy friendly counsel lent, + And gently lifted up the diffident; + Sigh'd with the sorrowful, and bore a part + In all the anguish of a bleeding heart; + Reclaim'd the headstrong; and, with sacred skill, + Committed hallow'd rapes upon the will; + Soothed our affections; and, with their delight, + To gain our actions, bribed our appetite. 50 + Now, who shall, with a greatness like thy own, + Thy pulpit dignify, and grace thy gown? + Who, with pathetic energy like thine, + The head enlighten, and the heart refine? + Learn'd were thy lectures, noble the design, + The language _Roman_, and the action fine; + The heads well ranged, the inferences clear, + And strong and solid thy deductions were: + Thou mark'd the boundaries out 'twixt right and wrong, + And show'd the land-marks as thou went along. 60 + Plain were thy reasonings, or, if perplex'd, + Thy life was the best comment on thy text; + For, if in darker points we were deceived, + 'Twas only but observing how thou lived. + Bewilder'd in the greatness of thy fame, + What shall the Muse, what next in order name? + Which of thy social qualities commend-- + Whether of husband, father, or of friend? + A husband soft, beneficent, and kind, + As ever virgin wish'd, or wife could find; 70 + A father indefatigably true + To both a father's trust and tutor's too; + A friend affectionate and staunch to those + Thou wisely singled out; for few thou chose: + Few, did I say, that word we must recall; + A friend, a willing friend, thou wast to all. + Those properties were thine, nor could we know + Which rose the uppermost, so all wast thou. + So have I seen the many-colour'd mead, + Brush'd by the vernal breeze, its fragrance shed: 80 + Though various sweets the various field exhaled, + Yet could we not determine which prevail'd, + Nor this part _rose_, that _honey-suckle_ call + But a rich bloomy aggregate of all. + And thou, the once glad partner of his bed, + But now by sorrow's weeds distinguished, + Whose busy memory thy grief supplies, + And calls up all thy husband to thine eyes; + Thou must not be forgot. How alter'd now! + How thick thy tears! How fast thy sorrows flow! 90 + The well known voice that cheer'd thee heretofore, + These soothing accents thou must hear no more. + Untold be all the tender sighs thou drew, + When on thy cheek he fetch'd a long adieu. + Untold be all thy faithful agonies, + At the last anguish of his closing eyes; + For thou, and only such as thou, can tell + The killing anguish of a last farewell. + This earth, yon sun, and these blue-tinctured skies, + Through which it rolls, must have their obsequies: 100 + Pluck'd from their orbits, shall the planets fall, + And smoke and conflagration cover all: + What, then, is man? The creature of a day, + By moments spent, and minutes borne away. + Time, like a raging torrent, hurries on; + Scarce can we say _it is_, but that 'tis gone. + Whether, fair shade! with social spirits, tell + (Whose properties thou once described so well), + Familiar now thou hearest them relate + The rites and methods of their happy state: 110 + Or if, with forms more fleet, thou roams abroad, + And views the great magnificence of God, + Points out the courses of the orbs on high, + And counts the silver wonders of the sky! + Or if, with glowing seraphim, thou greets + Heaven's King, and shoutest through the golden streets, + That crowds of white-robed choristers display, + Marching in triumph through the pearly way? + Now art thou raised beyond this world of cares, + This weary wilderness, this vale of tears; 120 + Forgetting all thy toils and labours past, + No gloom of sorrow stains thy peaceful breast. + Now, 'midst seraphic splendours shalt thou dwell, + And be what only these pure forms can tell. + How cloudless now, and cheerful is thy day! + What joys, what raptures, in thy bosom play! + How bright the sunshine, and how pure the air! + There's no difficulty of breathing there. + With willing steps a pilgrim at thy shrine, + To dew it with my tears the task be mine; 130 + In lonely dirge, to murmur o'er thy urn + And with new-gather'd flowers thy turf adorn: + Nor shall thy image from my bosom part; + No force shall rip thee from this bleeding heart. + Oft shall I think o'er all I've left in thee, + Nor shall oblivion blot thy memory; + But grateful love its energy express + (The father gone) now to the fatherless. + + + + +END OF BLAIR'S POEMS. + + + + + + + + + +POETICAL WORKS +OF +WILLIAM FALCONER. + + + + +THE LIFE AND POETRY OF + +WILLIAM FALCONER. + + +It may seem singular how the life of a sailor--a life so full of +vicissitude and enterprise, of hair's-breadth escapes, of contact with +wild men and wild usages, and of intercourse with a form of nature so +vast, so fluctuating, so mysterious, and so terribly sublime as the +ocean, which, in its calm and silence, forms an emblem of all that is +peaceful and profound, and, in its tempestuous rage, of all that is +unreconciled and anarchical in the mind of man, now comparable to a + + "Cradled child in dreamless slumber bound!" + +and now to a mad sister of the earth, screaming and foaming in fierce +and aimless antagonism to her brother--should have reared so few poets. +This may arise either from the uncultivated and careless character of +sailors as a class, or from the influence of habit in deadening the +effect of the grandest objects. It is the same with other modes of life +equally romantic. What more so than that of a shepherd among the +Grampian Mountains, constantly living between the everlasting hills and +the silent sun and stars, surrounded by streams, cataracts, deep dun +moorlands, and the wild-eyed and wild-winged creatures which dwell in +them alone, their life hid in Nature, and their cries of rude praise +going up continually to Nature's God? And yet the Highlands of Scotland +have not hitherto produced one great rural poet, except Macpherson, who +did belong to the peasantry. And so of the seafaring class; only, so far +as we remember, have expressed, the one in verse, and the other in +prose, the 'poetry' of their calling,--namely, Cooper and Falconer, both +of whose descriptions of sea storms and scenery have been equalled, if +not surpassed, however, by such landsmen as Byron and Scott. A poetic +mind, which comes in contact with strange and wonderful events or +scenery only at intervals, often carries away a much more vivid idea of +their striking features than those who reside constantly in their midst. +It must be a very rough rope, to borrow an image from the theme, which +does not feel softer after long handling. It is the short and sudden +impression, made in the twinkling of an eye, which is at once the most +lively and the most lasting. When, however, enthusiasm continues, as in +some favoured cases, unabated by familiarity, and is united to thorough +technical knowledge, then the professional man may be nearly as +successful as the amateur, or if there be any deficiency in freshness of +feeling, it is made up for by accuracy of knowledge. It was so in the +case of James Hogg, the poet of the shepherd life of Southern Scotland, +and in William Falconer, the poet of British shipwreck. We shall +afterwards show how his knowledge of his profession partly helped and +partly hindered him in his poem. + +William Falconer was born in Edinburgh in the year 1736. He was the son +of a poor barber in the Netherbow, who had two other children, both deaf +and dumb, who ended their days in a poor-house. He early, through +frequent visits to Leith, came in contact with that tremendous element +which he was to sing so powerfully, and in which he was to sink at +last--which was to give him at once his glory and his grave. While a +mere boy, he went, by his own account, reluctantly on board a Leith +merchant ship, and was afterwards in the Royal Navy. Of his early +education or habits very little is known. He had all his scholarship +from one Webster. We figure him (after the similitude of a dear lost +sailor boy, a relative of our own) as a stripling, with curling hair, +ruddy cheek, form prematurely developed into round robustness, frank, +free, and manly bearing, returning ever and anon from his ocean +wanderings, and bearing to his friends some rare bird or shell of the +tropics as a memorial of his labours and his love. Before he was +eighteen years of age, Providence supplied him with the materials whence +he was to pile up the monument of his future fame. He became second mate +in the ship 'Britannia', a vessel trading in the Levant. This vessel was +shipwrecked off Cape Colonna, exactly in the manner described in the +poem, which is just a coloured photograph of the adventures, +difficulties, dangers, and disastrous result of the voyage. In 1751 we +find him living in Edinburgh, and publishing his first poem. This was an +elegy on the death of Frederick, Prince of Wales. It was followed by +other pieces, which appeared in the 'Gentleman's Magazine', and which +will be found in this volume. Some have claimed for him the authorship +of the favourite sea song, "Cease, Rude Boreas," but this seems +uncertain. + +Falconer is supposed to have continued in the merchant service (one of +his biographers maintains that he was for some time in the 'Ramilies', a +man-of-war, which suffered shipwreck in the Channel) till 1762, when he +published his "Shipwreck." This poem was dedicated to the Duke of York, +who had newly become Rear-Admiral of the Blue on board the 'Princess +Amelia', attached to the fleet under Sir Edward Hawke. The Duke was not +a Solomon, but he had sense enough to perceive, that the sailor who +could produce such a poem was no ordinary man, and generous enough to +offer him promotion, if he should leave the merchant service for the +Royal Navy. Falconer, accordingly, was promoted to be a midshipman on +board the 'Royal George' (Sir Edward Hawke's ship); the same, we +believe, which afterwards went down in such a disastrous manner, and +furnished a subject for one of Cowper's boldest little poems. "The +Shipwreck" was highly commended by the 'Monthly Review',--then the +leading literary organ,--and became widely popular. + +While in the 'Royal George', Falconer contrived to find time for his +poetical studies. Retiring sometimes from his messmates, into a small +space between the cable-trees and the ship's side, he wrote his Ode on +"the Duke of York's Second Departure from England, as Rear-Admiral." +This poem was severely criticised in the 'Critical Review'. It has +certainly much pomp, and thundering sound of language and versification, +but wants the genuine Pindaric inspiration. + +At the peace of 1763 the 'Royal George' was paid off, and Falconer +became purser of the 'Glory', frigate of 32 guns. About this time he +married a young lady named Hicks, daughter of a surgeon in +Sheerness-yard--a lady more distinguished by her mental than her +physical qualities. The poet dubbed her in his verses, "Miranda." It is +hinted that he had some difficulty in procuring her consent to marry +him, and was forced to lay regular siege to her in rhyme. At length she +capitulated, and the marriage was eminently happy. She survived her +husband many years; lived at Bath, and enjoyed a comfortable livelihood +on the proceeds of her husband's "Marine Dictionary." + +When the 'Glory' was laid up at Chatham, Commissioner Hanway, brother of +the once celebrated Jonas Hanway (whom Dr Johnson so justly chastised +for his diatribe against Tea), showed much interest in the pursuits and +person of our poet. He even ordered the captain's cabin to be fitted up +with every comfort, that Falconer might pursue his studies without +expense, and with all convenience. Here he brought his "Marine +Dictionary" to a conclusion--a work which had occupied him for years, +and which supplied a desideratum in the literature of the profession. +The design had been suggested by one Scott, and approved of by Sir +Edward Hawke; and the book, when it appeared in 1769, was greatly +commended by Dr Hamel, the Frenchman, who had gained note himself, by +producing some works on naval architecture. From the 'Glory' Falconer +received an appointment in the 'Swift-sure'. In 1764 he issued a new +edition of "The Shipwreck," carefully corrected, and with considerable +additions. The next year he issued a political poem, in which, like a +true tar of the 'Royal George', he took the King's side, and emitted +much dull and drivelling bile against Lord Chatham, Wilkes, and +Churchill. The satire proved that, though at home on the ocean, he was +utterly "at sea" in land-politics. + +Falconer had now left his cabin study with its many pleasant +accommodations, and become a scribbler of all work in a London garret. +Here his existence ran on for a while in an obscure and probably +miserable current. It is said that Murray, the bookseller, the father of +'the' John Murray, of Albemarle Street, wished to take the poet into +partnership,--upon terms of great advantage,--but that Falconer, for +reasons which are not known, declined the offer. "My Murray," as Byron +calls him, was destined instead to have his name connected with a +grander and ghastlier shipwreck than it lay in the brain of the +projected partner of his firm to conceive, or in his genius to +execute--that, namely, described in the ever-detestable, yet +ever-memorable, second canto of "Don Juan." + +In 1769, a third edition of his poem was called for, and he was employed +in making improvements and additions when he was again summoned to sea. +In his hurry of departure, he is said to have committed these to the +care of the notorious David Mallett, the son of a Crieff innkeeper, the +friend of Thomson, the biographer of Bacon, and, as Johnson called him, +the "beggarly Scotchman, who drew the trigger of Bolingbroke's +blunderbuss of infidelity," who seems to have paid no manner of +attention to his trust, as mistakes in the nautical terms and a frequent +inferiority in execution manifest. + +Falconer had undoubtedly thought the sea a hard and sickening +profession; but latterly found that writing for the booksellers was a +slavery still more abject and unendurable. He resolved once more to +embark upon the "melancholy main." Often as he had hugged its horrors, +laid his hand on its mane, and narrowly escaped its devouring jaws, he +was drawn in again as by the fatal suction of a whirlpool into its +power. Perhaps he had imbibed a passion for the sea. At all events, he +accepted the office of purser to the Aurora frigate, which was going out +to India, and on the 30th of September 1769, he left England for ever. +The Aurora was never heard of more! Some vague rumours, indeed, +prevailed of a contradictory character--that she had been burned--that +she had foundered in the Mozambique Channel--that she had been cast away +on a reef of rocks near Macao--that five persons had been saved from her +wreck, but nothing certain transpired, except that she was lost; and +this fine singer of the sea along with her. Unfortunate Aurora! dawn +soon overcast! Unfortunate poet, so speedily removed! + + "It was that fatal and perfidious bark, + Built i' the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, + That laid so low that sacred head of thine." + +The drowning of one poet of far loftier genius in the Bay of Spezia, +latterly proved that the offering up of Falconer's life had not fully +appeased the wrath of old Neptune, and that bards may still entertain, +in the lines of Wordsworth, + + "Of the old sea some reverential fear." + +Burns heard of and deplored the loss of the Poet of the Shipwreck. In +one of his letters to Mrs Dunlop, he mentions the fact, and adds the +beautiful words, "He was one of those daring, adventurous spirits which +Scotland beyond any other country is remarkable for producing. Little +does the fond mother think, as she hangs delighted over the sweet little +leech at her bosom, where the poor fellow may hereafter wander, and what +may be his fate. I remember a stanza in an old Scottish ballad, which +speaks feelingly to the heart-- + + 'Little did my mother think, + That day she cradled me, + What land I was to travel on, + Or what death I should die.'" + +Falconer is represented as a bluff, blunt, but cheerful sailor--fond of +amusing his shipmates with acrostics on the names of their +mistresses--with little learning except in seamanship, and what he had +picked up in his travels. His smaller pieces scarcely deserve criticsm. +His whole reputation now reposes on the one pillar of his one poem, "The +Shipwreck." + +This poem was greatly overrated when it first appeared. It was by some +critics preferred to Virgil's "AEneid," and compared to the "Odyssey." It +is now, we think, as unjustly depreciated. That there is a good deal of +swollen commonplace in the diction and sentiments, must be admitted. +Falconer arose in a bad age in respect of poetry. The terseness of Pope +was gone, and in his imitators only his tinkle remained. His exquisite +sense and trembling finish had vanished, and only his conventional +diction--the ghost of his greatness--was to be found in the poets of the +time. It was extremely natural that a half-taught mind like Falconer's +should be captivated by what was the mode of the day. Indeed, Burns +himself was only saved from the same error by continuing to write in +Scotch; many of his English verses and his letters are marred by more or +less of the disgusting and vicious affectation of style which then +prevailed; and in parts of Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope," we find the +last modified specimen of the evil. Hence, in Falconer the obsolete +mythological allusions--the names with classical terminations--the +perpetual apostrophes--the set and stilted speeches he puts into the +mouths of heroes--the bombast, verbiage, and sounding sameness of much +of his verse. Nor do we greatly admire the story which he introduces +with the poem, nor the discrimination of his characters, nor, what may +be called strictly, the pathos of the piece. Indeed, considering the +size of the poem, there is so much that is vapid and common, that the +counter-balancing excellences must be great ere they could have floated +it so long. To use an expression suitable to the theme, the vessel which +has sailed so far, notwithstanding its numerous leaks, must be of a +strong and sturdy build. + +And this is the main merit of "The Shipwreck." It has in most of its +descriptive passages a certain rugged strength and truth, which prove at +once the perspicacity and the poetic vision of the author, who, while he +sees all the minute details of his subject, sees also the glory of +imagination shining around them. A ship appears before his view, with +its every spar and yard, clear and distinct as if seen in meridian +sunshine, and yet with a radiance of poetry around it all, as if he were +looking at it by moonlight, or in the magical light of a dream. Take the +following lines, for instance:-- + + "Up-torn reluctant from its oozy cave, + The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave. + High on the slipp'ry masts the yards ascend, + And far abroad the canvas wings extend. + Along the glassy plain the vessel glides, + While azure radiance trembles on her sides." + + +We grant, indeed, that sometimes his technical lore rises up, as it +were, and drowns the poetry. What imaginative quality, for example, have +we in the following verses? + + "The mainsail, by the squall so lately rent, + In streaming pendants flying, is unbent; + With brails refixed, another soon prepared, + Ascending spreads along beneath the yard; + To each yard-arm the head-rope they extend, + And soon their ear-rings and their robans bend. + That task perform'd, they first the braces slack, + Then to the chess-tree drag the unwilling tack; + And, while the lee clue-garnet's lower'd away, + Taught aft the sheet they tally, and belay." + + +This is mere log-book; and such passages are common in the poem. But +frequently he bathes the web of the shrouds and ship-rigging in rich +ideal gold. Take the following:-- + + "With equal sheets restrain'd, the bellying sail + Spreads a broad concave to the sweeping gale; + While o'er the foam the ship impetuous flies, + The helm the attentive timoneer applies: + As in pursuit along the aerial way, + With ardent eye the falcon marks his prey, + Each motion watches of the doubtful chase, + Obliquely wheeling through the fluid space; + So, govern'd by the steersman's GLOWING hands, + The regent helm her motion still commands." + + +Falconer may in some points be likened to Crabbe. Like him, he excels in +minute and patient painting. Like him he is capable at times of +extracting the imaginative element from the barest and simplest details. +And, like him, he sometimes sets before us, mere dry inventories or +invoices, instead of such poetical catalogues as Homer gives of ships, +and Milton of devils. It is remarkable that Falconer never shines at all +except when he is describing ships or sea scenery. + + "His path is on the mountain waves, + His home is on the deep." + + +No words in Scripture are so strange to him as these, "There shall be no +more sea." The course of his voyage in the Shipwreck, brings him past +lands the most famous in the ancient world for arts and arms, for +philosophy, patriotism, and poetry. And sore does he labour to lash +himself into inspiration as he apostrophizes them; but in vain--the +result is little else than furious feebleness and stilted bombast. But +when he returns to the element, the impatient, irregular, changeful, +treacherous, terrible ocean--and watches the night, winged with black +storm and red lightning, sinking down over the Mediterranean, and the +devoted bark which is helplessly struggling with its billows, then his +blood rises, his verse heaves, and hurries on, and you see the full-born +poet-- + + "High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire, + Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire: + With labouring throes she rolls on either side, + And dips her gunnells in the yawning tide. + Her joints unhinged in palsied langour play, + As ice-flakes part beneath the noontide ray; + The gale howls doleful through the blocks and shrouds, + And big rain pours a deluge from the clouds. + From wintry magazines that sweep the sky, + Descending globes of hail incessant fly; + High on the masts with pale and lurid rays, + Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze! + The ethereal dome in mournful pomp array'd, + Now buried lies beneath impervious shade,-- + Now flashing round intolerable light, + Redoubles all the horrors of the night. + Such terror Sinai's trembling hill o'erspread, + When Heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its head. + It seem'd the wrathful angel of the wind, + Had all the horrors of the skies combined; + And here to one ill-fated ship opposed, + At once the dreadful magazine disclosed." + +This is noble writing. "Deep calleth unto deep." It reminds us of Pope's +translation of that tremendous passage in the 8th Book of the Iliad, +where Jove comes forth, and darts his angry lightnings in the eyes of +the Grecians, and repels and appals their mightiest; Nestor alone, but +with his horse wounded by the dart of Paris, sustaining the divine +assault. + +Lord Byron, in his letter to Bowles in defence of Pope, alludes to +Falconer's Shipwreck, and cites it in proof of the poetical use which +may be made of the works of art. But it has justly been remarked by +Hazlitt, in his very masterly reply, published in the 'London Magazine', +that the finest parts of the Shipwreck are not those in which he appears +to versify parts of his own Marine Dictionary, or in which he makes vain +efforts to describe the vestiges of Grecian grandeur, but those in +which, as in the above passage, he mates with the sublime and terrible +'natural' phenomena he meets in his voyage--the gathering of the +storm--the treacherous lull of the sea, breathing itself like a tiger +for its fatal spring--the ship, now walking the calm waters of the +glassy sea, and now wrestling like a demon of kindred power and fury +with the angry billows--the last fearful onset of the maddened +surge--and the secret stab given by the assassin rock from below, which +completes the ruin of the doomed vessel, and scatters its fragments o'er +the tide, growling in joy--these, as the poet describes them, constitute +the poetical glory of "The Shipwreck," and these have little connexion +with art, and much with nature. + +Lord Byron was better at emulating than at criticising Falconer's +'chef-d'oeuvre'. We have already once or twice alluded to 'his' +Shipwreck--surely the grandest and most characteristic effort of his +genius, in its demoniac force, and demoniac spirit. As we have elsewhere +said, "he describes the horrors of a shipwreck, like a fiend who had, +invisible, sat amid the shrouds, choked with laughter--with immeasurable +glee had heard the wild farewell rising from sea to sky--had leaped into +the long-boat as it put off with its pale crew--had gloated o'er the +cannibal repast--had leered, unseen, into the 'dim eyes of those +shipwreck'd men'--and with a loud and savage burst of derision had seen +them at length sinking into the waves." The superiority of his picture +over Falconer's, lies in the simplicity and strength of the style, in +the ease of the narrative, in the variety of the incidents and +characters, and in certain short masterly touches, now of pathos, now of +infernal humour, and now of description, competent only to Byron and to +Shakspeare. Such are,-- + + + "Then shriek'd the timid and stood still the brave." + "The bubbling cry + Of some strong swimmer in his agony." + "For he, poor fellow, had a wife and children, + Two things to dying people quite bewildering,"-- + + +and the inimitable description of the rainbow, closing with,-- + + + "Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then-- + Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreck'd men." + + +The technicalities introduced are fewer; and are handled with greater +force, and made to tell more on the general effect. You marvel, too, at +the versatility of the writer, who seems this moment to be looking at +the scene with the eye of the melancholy Jacques; the next, with the +philosophical aspect of the moralizing Hamlet; the next, with the rage +of a misanthropical Timon; and the next, with the bitter sneer of a +malignant Iago: and yet, who, amidst all these disguises, leaves on you +the impression that he is throughout acting the part, and displaying the +spirit, of a demon--a deep current of mockery at man's miseries, and at +God's providence, running under all his moods and imitations. We read it +once, when recovering from an illness, and shall never forget the +withering horror, and the shock of disgust and loathing, which it gave +to our weakened nerves. + +Since Falconer's time, besides Byron, Scott, in the Pirate, and Cooper, +there has not, as we hinted, been much of the poetical extracted from +the sea. The subject suggested in Boswell's Johnson, by General +Oglethorpe, as a noble theme for a poem--namely, "The Mediterranean," is +still unsung, at least by any competent bard. Mrs Hemans has one sweet +strain on the "Treasures of the Deep." Allan Cunningham's "Wet Sheet and +Flowing Sea," and Barry Cornwall's "The Sea, the Sea," are in +everybody's mouth. We remember a young student at Glasgow College, long +since dead--George Gray by name--a thin lame lad, with dark mild eyes, +and a fine spiritual expression on his pale face, handing in to +Professor Milne of the Moral Philosophy class, some lines which he read +to his class, and by which they, as well as the old, arid, although +profound and ingenious philosopher, were perfectly electrified. We shall +quote all we remember of them, and it will be thought much, when we +state that twenty-five years have elapsed since we read them. They +began-- + + + "The storm is up; the anchor spring, + And man the sails, my merry men; + I must not lose the carolling + Of ocean in a hurricane; + My soul mates with the mountain storm, + The cooing gale disdains. + Bring Ocean in his wildest form, + All booming thunder-strains; + I'll bid him welcome, clap his mane; + I'll dip my temples in his yeast, + And hug his breakers to my breast; + And bid them hail! all hail, I cry, + My younger brethren hail! + + The sea shall be my cemetery + Unto eternity. + + How glorious 'tis to have the wave + For ever dashing o'er thee;-- + Besides that dull and lonesome grave, + Where worms and earth devour thee. + + My messmates, when ye drink my dirge, + Go, fill the cup from ocean's surge; + And when ye drain the beverage up, + Remember Neptune in the cup. + For he has been my _brawling host_, + Since first I roam'd from coast to coast; + And he my _brawling_ host shall be-- + I love his ocean courtesy-- + His _boisterous_ hospitality." + + + +These lines, to us at least, seem to echo the rough roar of the +breakers, as they rush upon an iron-bound coast. Poor G. Gray! He now +sleeps, not in the bosom of that old Ocean he loved so dearly, but, we +think, in the kirkyard of Douglas, in the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire,--a +light early quenched,--but whose memory this notice and these lines may, +perhaps, for a season, preserve! The SEA still lies over, after all +written in prose or rhyme regarding it, as the subject for a great poem; +and it will task all the energies of even the truest poet. + + + + + +FALCONER'S POEMS. + + + + + +THE SHIPWRECK. + +IN THREE CANTOS. + +THE TIME EMPLOYED IN THIS POEM IS ABOUT SIX DAYS. + + + Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, + Et quorum pars magna fui. + + VIRG. AEN. lib. ii. + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE POEM. + + + While jarring interests wake the world to arms, + And fright the peaceful vale with dire alarms, + While Albion bids the avenging thunder roll + Along her vassal deep from pole to pole; + Sick of the scene, where War with ruthless hand + Spreads desolation o'er the bleeding land; + Sick of the tumult, where the trumpet's breath + Bids ruin smile, and drowns the groan of death; + 'Tis mine, retired beneath this cavern hoar, + That stands all lonely on the sea-beat shore, 10 + Far other themes of deep distress to sing + Than ever trembled from the vocal string: + A scene from dumb oblivion to restore, + To fame unknown, and new to epic lore; + Where hostile elements conflicting rise, + And lawless surges swell against the skies, + Till hope expires, and peril and dismay + Wave their black ensigns on the watery way. + Immortal train! who guide the maze of song, + To whom all science, arts, and arms belong; 20 + Who bid the trumpet of eternal fame + Exalt the warrior's and the poet's name, + Or in lamenting elegies express + The varied pang of exquisite distress; + If e'er with trembling hope I fondly stray'd + In life's fair morn beneath your hallow'd shade, + To hear the sweetly-mournful lute complain, + And melt the heart with ecstasy of pain, + Or listen to the enchanting voice of love, + While all Elysium warbled through the grove: 30 + Oh! by the hollow blast that moans around, + That sweeps the wild harp with a plaintive sound; + By the long surge that foams through yonder cave, + Whose vaults remurmur to the roaring wave; + With living colours give my verse to glow, + The sad memorial of a tale of woe! + The fate in lively sorrow to deplore + Of wanderers shipwreck'd on a leeward shore. + Alas! neglected by the sacred Nine, + Their suppliant feels no genial ray divine: 40 + Ah! will they leave Pieria's happy shore + To plough the tide where wintry tempests roar? + Or shall a youth approach their hallow'd fane, + Stranger to Phoebus, and the tuneful train? + Far from the Muses' academic grove + 'Twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove; + Alternate change of climates has he known, + And felt the fierce extremes of either zone: + Where polar skies congeal the eternal snow, + Or equinoctial suns for ever glow, 50 + Smote by the freezing, or the scorching blast, + 'A ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,' [1] + From regions where Peruvian billows roar, + To the bleak coasts of savage Labrador; + From where Damascus, pride of Asian plains, + Stoops her proud neck beneath tyrannic chains, + To where the Isthmus, [2] laved by adverse tides, + Atlantic and Pacific seas divides: + But while he measured o'er the painful race + In fortune's wild illimitable chase, 60 + Adversity, companion of his way, + Still o'er the victim hung with iron sway, + Bade new distresses every instant grow, + Marking each change of place with change of woe: + In regions where the Almighty's chastening hand + With livid pestilence afflicts the land, + Or where pale famine blasts the hopeful year, + Parent of want and misery severe; + Or where, all-dreadful in the embattled line, + The hostile ships in naming combat join, 70 + Where the torn vessel wind and waves assail, + Till o'er her crew distress and death prevail. + Such joyless toils in early youth endured, + The expanding dawn of mental day obscured, + Each genial passion of the soul oppress'd, + And quench'd the ardour kindling in his breast. + Then censure not severe the native song, + Though jarring sounds the measured verse prolong, + Though terms uncouth offend the softer ear, + Yet truth and human anguish deign to hear: 80 + No laurel wreath these lays attempt to claim, + Nor sculptured brass to tell the poet's name. + And, lo! the power that wakes the eventful song + Hastes hither from Lethean banks along: + She sweeps the gloom, and rushing on the sight, + Spreads o'er the kindling scene propitious light. + In her right hand an ample roll appears, + Fraught with long annals of preceding years, + With every wise and noble art of man, + Since first the circling hours their course began: 90 + Her left a silver wand on high display'd, + Whose magic touch dispels oblivion's shade: + Pensive her look; on radiant wings that glow + Like Juno's birds, or Iris' flaming bow, + She sails; and swifter than the course of light + Directs her rapid intellectual flight: + The fugitive ideas she restores, + And calls the wandering thought from Lethe's shores; + To things long past a second date she gives, + And hoary time from her fresh youth receives; 100 + Congenial sister of immortal Fame, + She shares her power, and Memory is her name. + O first-born daughter of primeval time! + By whom transmitted down in every clime + The deeds of ages long elapsed are known, + And blazon'd glories spread from zone to zone; + Whose magic breath dispels the mental night, + And o'er the obscured idea pours the light: + Say on what seas, for thou alone canst tell, + What dire mishap a fated ship befell, 110 + Assail'd by tempests, girt with hostile shores? + Arise! approach! unlock thy treasured stores! + Full on my soul the dreadful scene display, + And give its latent horrors to the day. + + +[Footnote 1: 'A ship-boy,' &c.: Shakspeare's 'Henry the Fourth,' act + iii.] +[Footnote 2: 'Isthmus:' of Darien.] + + + + + + +CANTO I. + +THE SCENE OF WHICH LIES NEAR THE CITY OF CANDIA. + +TIME, ABOUT FOUR DAYS AND A HALF. + +THE ARGUMENT. + +I. Retrospect of the voyage. + Arrival at Candia. + State of that island. + Season of the year described. + +II. Character of the master, and his officers, Albert, Rodmond, and + Arion. + Palemon, son to the owner of the ship. + Attachment of Palemon to Anna, the daughter of Albert. + +III. Noon. + Palemon's history. + +IV. Sunset. + Midnight. + Arion's dream. + Unmoor by moonlight. + Morning. + Sun's azimuth taken. + Beautiful appearance of the ship, as seen by the natives from the + shore. + + + + +I. A ship from Egypt, o'er the deep impell'd + By guiding winds, her course for Venice held: + Of famed Britannia were the gallant crew, + And from that isle her name the vessel drew. + The wayward steps of fortune they pursued, + And sought in certain ills imagined good: + Though caution'd oft her slippery path to shun, + Hope still with promised joys allured them on; + And, while they listen'd to her winning lore, + The softer scenes of peace could please no more. 10 + Long absent they from friends and native home + The cheerless ocean were inured to roam; + Yet Heaven, in pity to severe distress, + Had crown'd each painful voyage with success; + Still, to compensate toils and hazards past, + Restored them to maternal plains at last. + Thrice had the sun, to rule the varying year, + Across the equator roll'd his naming sphere, + Since last the vessel spread her ample sail + From Albion's coast, obsequious to the gale; 20 + She o'er the spacious flood, from shore to shore + Unwearying wafted her commercial store; + The richest ports of Afric she had view'd, + Thence to fair Italy her course pursued; + Had left behind Trinacria's burning isle, + And visited the margin of the Nile. + And now that winter deepens round the pole, + The circling voyage hastens to its goal: + They, blind to fate's inevitable law, + No dark event to blast their hope foresaw; 30 + But from gay Venice soon expect to steer + For Britain's coast, and dread no perils near: + Inflamed by hope, their throbbing hearts, elate, + Ideal pleasures vainly antedate, + Before whose vivid intellectual ray + Distress recedes, and danger melts away. + Already British coasts appear to rise, + The chalky cliffs salute their longing eyes; + Each to his breast, where floods of rapture roll, + Embracing strains the mistress of his soul; 40 + Nor less o'erjoy'd, with sympathetic truth, + Each faithful maid expects the approaching youth. + In distant souls congenial passions glow, + And mutual feelings mutual bliss bestow: + Such shadowy happiness their thoughts employ, + Illusion all, and visionary joy! + Thus time elapsed, while o'er the pathless tide + Their ship through Grecian seas the pilots guide. + Occasion call'd to touch at Candia's shore, + Which, blest with favouring winds, they soon explore; + The haven enter, borne before the gale, 50 + Despatch their commerce, and prepare to sail. + Eternal powers! what ruins from afar + Mark the fell track of desolating war: + Here arts and commerce with auspicious reign + Once breathed sweet influence on the happy plain: + While o'er the lawn, with dance and festive song, + Young Pleasure led the jocund hours along: + In gay luxuriance Ceres too was seen + To crown the valleys with eternal green: 60 + For wealth, for valour, courted and revered, + What Albion is, fair Candia then appear'd. + Ah! who the flight of ages can revoke? + The free-born spirit of her sons is broke, + They bow to Ottoman's imperious yoke. + No longer fame their drooping heart inspires, + For stern oppression quench'd its genial fires: + Though still her fields, with golden harvests crown'd, + Supply the barren shores of Greece around, + Sharp penury afflicts these wretched isles, 70 + There hope ne'er dawns, and pleasure never smiles: + The vassal wretch contented drags his chain, + And hears his famish'd babes lament in vain. + These eyes have seen the dull reluctant soil + A seventh year mock the weary labourer's toil. + No blooming Venus, on the desert shore, + Now views with triumph captive gods adore; + No lovely Helens now with fatal charms + Excite the avenging chiefs of Greece to arms; + No fair Penelopes enchant the eye, 80 + For whom contending kings were proud to die: + Here sullen beauty sheds a twilight ray, + While sorrow bids her vernal bloom decay: + Those charms, so long renown'd in classic strains, + Had dimly shone on Albion's happier plains! + Now in the southern hemisphere the sun + Through the bright Virgin, and the Scales, had run, + And on the Ecliptic wheel'd his winding way, + Till the fierce Scorpion felt his flaming ray. + Four days becalm'd the vessel here remains, 90 + And yet no hopes of aiding wind obtains; + For sickening vapours lull the air to sleep, + And not a breeze awakes the silent deep: + This, when the autumnal equinox is o'er, + And Phoebus in the north declines no more, + The watchful mariner, whom Heaven informs, + Oft deems the prelude of approaching storms. + No dread of storms the master's soul restrain, + A captive fetter'd to the oar of gain: + His anxious heart, impatient of delay, 100 + Expects the winds to sail from Candia's bay, + Determined, from whatever point they rise, + To trust his fortune to the seas and skies. + Thou living ray of intellectual fire, + Whose voluntary gleams my verse inspire, + Ere yet the deepening incidents prevail, + Till roused attention feel our plaintive tale; + Record whom chief among the gallant crew + The unblest pursuit of fortune hither drew! + Can sons of Neptune, generous, brave, and bold, 110 + In pain and hazard toil for sordid gold? + They can! for gold too oft with magic art + Can rule the passions, and corrupt the heart: + This crowns the prosperous villain with applause, + To whom in vain sad merit pleads her cause; + This strews with roses life's perplexing road, + And leads the way to pleasure's soft abode; + This spreads with slaughter'd heaps the bloody plain, + And pours adventurous thousands o'er the main. +II. The stately ship with all her daring band 120 + To skilful Albert own'd the chief command: + Though train'd in boisterous elements, his mind + Was yet by soft humanity refined; + Each joy of wedded love at home he knew; + Aboard, confest the father of his crew! + Brave, liberal, just, the calm domestic scene + Had o'er his temper breathed a gay serene: + Him Science taught by mystic lore to trace + The planets wheeling in eternal race; + To mark the ship in floating balance held, 130 + By earth attracted, and by seas repell'd; + Or point her devious track through climes unknown + That leads to every shore and every zone. + He saw the moon through heaven's blue concave glide, + And into motion charm the expanding tide, + While earth impetuous round her axle rolls, + Exalts her watery zone, and sinks the poles; + Light and attraction, from their genial source, + He saw still wandering with diminish'd force; + While on the margin of declining day 140 + Night's shadowy cone reluctant melts away-- + Inured to peril, with unconquer'd soul, + The chief beheld tempestuous oceans roll: + O'er the wild surge when dismal shades preside, + His equal skill the lonely bark could guide; + His genius, ever for the event prepared, + Rose with the storm, and all its dangers shared. + Rodmond the next degree to Albert bore, + A hardy son of England's farthest shore, + Where bleak Northumbria pours her savage train 150 + In sable squadrons o'er the northern main; + That, with her pitchy entrails stored, resort, + A sooty tribe, to fair Augusta's port: + Where'er in ambush lurk the fatal sands, + They claim the danger, proud of skilful bands; + For while with darkling course their vessels sweep + The winding shore, or plough the faithless deep, + O'er bar and shelf the watery path they sound + With dexterous arm, sagacious of the ground: + Fearless they combat every hostile wind, 160 + Wheeling in mazy tracks, with course inclined: + Expert to moor where terrors line the road, + Or win the anchor from its dark abode; + But drooping, and relax'd, in climes afar, + Tumultuous and undisciplined in war. + Such Rodmond was; by learning unrefined, + That oft enlightens to corrupt the mind-- + Boisterous of manners; train'd in early youth + To scenes that shame the conscious cheek of truth; + To scenes that nature's struggling voice control, 170 + And freeze compassion rising in the soul: + Where the grim hell-hounds, prowling round the shore, + With foul intent the stranded bark explore: + Deaf to the voice of woe, her decks they board, + While tardy justice slumbers o'er her sword. + The indignant Muse, severely taught to feel, + Shrinks from a theme she blushes to reveal. + Too oft example, arm'd with poisons fell, + Pollutes the shrine where mercy loves to dwell: + Thus Rodmond, train'd by this unhallow'd crew, 180 + The sacred social passions never knew. + Unskill'd to argue, in dispute yet loud, + Bold without caution, without honours proud; + In art unschool'd, each veteran rule he prized, + And all improvement haughtily despised. + Yet, though full oft to future perils blind, + With skill superior glow'd his daring mind, + Through snares of death the reeling bark to guide, + When midnight shades involve the raging tide. + To Rodmond, next in order of command, 190 + Succeeds the youngest [1] of our naval band: + But what avails it to record a name + That courts no rank among the sons of fame; + Whose vital spring had just begun to bloom, + When o'er it sorrow spread her sickening gloom? + While yet a stripling, oft with fond alarms + His bosom danced to nature's boundless charms; + On him fair science dawn'd in happier hour, + Awakening into bloom young fancy's flower + But soon adversity, with freezing blast, 200 + The blossom wither'd, and the dawn o'ercast. + Forlorn of heart, and by severe decree + Condemn'd reluctant to the faithless sea, + With long farewell he left the laurel grove, + Where science and the tuneful sisters rove-- + Hither he wander'd, anxious to explore + Antiquities of nations now no more; + To penetrate each distant realm unknown, + And range excursive o'er the untravell'd zone. + In vain--for rude adversity's command 210 + Still on the margin of each famous land, + With unrelenting ire his steps opposed, + And every gate of hope against him closed. + Permit my verse, ye blest Pierian train! + To call Arion this ill-fated swain; + For, like that bard unhappy, on his head + Malignant stars their hostile influence shed: + Both, in lamenting numbers, o'er the deep + With conscious anguish taught the harp to weep; + And both the raging surge in safety bore 220 + Amid destruction, panting to the shore: + This last, our tragic story from the wave + Of dark oblivion haply yet may save; + With genuine sympathy may yet complain, + While sad remembrance bleeds at every vein. + These, chief among the ship's conducting train, + Her path explored along the deep domain; + Train'd to command, and range the swelling sail, + Whose varying force conforms to every gale. + Charged with the commerce, hither also came 230 + A gallant youth, Palemon was his name: + A father's stern resentment doom'd to prove, + He came the victim of unhappy love! + His heart for Albert's beauteous daughter bled, + For her a sacred flame his bosom fed: + Nor let the wretched slaves of folly scorn + This genuine passion, nature's eldest born! + 'Twas his with lasting anguish to complain, + While blooming Anna mourn'd the cause in vain. + Graceful of form, by nature taught to please, 240 + Of power to melt the female breast with ease; + To her Palemon told his tender tale, + Soft as the voice of summer's evening gale: + His soul, where moral truth spontaneous grew, + No guilty wish, no cruel passion knew: + Though tremblingly alive to nature's laws, + Yet ever firm to honour's sacred cause; + O'erjoy'd he saw her lovely eyes relent, + The blushing maiden smiled with sweet consent. + Oft in the mazes of a neighbouring grove 250 + Unheard they breathed alternate vows of love: + By fond society their passion grew, + Like the young blossom fed with vernal dew; + While their chaste souls possess'd the pleasing pains + That truth improves, and virtue ne'er restrains. + In evil hour the officious tongue of fame + Betray'd the secret of their mutual flame. + With grief and anger struggling in his breast, + Palemon's father heard the tale confest: + Long had he listen'd with suspicion's ear, 260 + And learn'd, sagacious, this event to fear. + Too well, fair youth! thy liberal heart he knew, + A heart to nature's warm impressions true: + Full oft his wisdom strove with fruitless toil + With avarice to pollute that generous soil: + That soil, impregnated with nobler seed, + Refused the culture of so rank a weed. + Elate with wealth in active commerce won, + And basking in the smile of fortune's sun; + For many freighted ships from shore to shore, 270 + Their wealthy charge by his appointment bore: + With scorn the parent eyed the lowly shade + That veil'd the beauties of this charming maid. + He, by the lust of riches only moved, + Such mean connexions haughtily reproved: + Indignant he rebuked the enamour'd boy, + The flattering promise of his future joy: + He soothed and menaced, anxious to reclaim + This hopeless passion, or divert its aim: + Oft led the youth where circling joys delight 280 + The ravish'd sense, or beauty charms the sight. + With all her powers enchanting music fail'd, + And pleasure's syren voice no more prevail'd: + Long with unequal art, in vain he strove + To quench the ethereal flame of ardent love. + The merchant, kindling then with proud disdain, + In look and voice assumed a harsher strain. + In absence now his only hope remain'd; + And such the stern decree his will ordain'd: + Deep anguish, while Palemon heard his doom, 290 + Drew o'er his lovely face a saddening gloom; + High beat his heart, fast flow'd the unbidden tear, + His bosom heaved with agony severe: + In vain with bitter sorrow he repined, + No tender pity touch'd that sordid mind-- + To thee, brave Albert! was the charge consign'd. + The stately ship, forsaking England's shore, + To regions far remote Palemon bore. + Incapable of change, the unhappy youth + Still loved fair Anna with eternal truth; 300 + Still Anna's image swims before his sight + In fleeting vision through the restless night; + From clime to clime an exile doom'd to roam, + His heart still panted for its secret home. + The moon had circled twice her wayward zone, + To him since young Arion first was known; + Who, wandering here through many a scene renown'd, + In Alexandria's port the vessel found; + Where, anxious to review his native shore, + He on the roaring wave embark'd once more. 310 + Oft by pale Cynthia's melancholy light + With him Palemon kept the watch of night, + In whose sad bosom many a sigh suppress'd + Some painful secret of the soul confess'd: + Perhaps Arion soon the cause divined, + Though shunning still to probe a wounded mind; + He felt the chastity of silent woe, + Though glad the balm of comfort to bestow. + He with Palemon oft recounted o'er + The tales of hapless love in ancient lore, 320 + Recall'd to memory by the adjacent shore: + The scene thus present, and its story known, + The lover sigh'd for sorrows not his own. + Thus, though a recent date their friendship bore, + Soon the ripe metal own'd the quickening ore; + For in one tide their passions seem'd to roll, + By kindred age and sympathy of soul. + These o'er the inferior naval train preside, + The course determine, or the commerce guide: + O'er all the rest an undistinguished crew, 330 + Her wing of deepest shade oblivion drew. + A sullen languor still the skies oppress'd, + And held the unwilling ship in strong arrest: + High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day, + O'er Ida flaming with meridian ray; + Relax'd from toil the sailors range the shore, + Where famine, war, and storm are felt no more; + The hour to social pleasure they resign, + And black remembrance drown in generous wine. + On deck, beneath the shading canvas spread, 340 + Rodmond a rueful tale of wonders read + Of dragons roaring on the enchanted coast; + The hideous goblin, and the yelling ghost: + But with Arion, from the sultry heat + Of noon, Palemon sought a cool retreat. + And, lo! the shore with mournful prospects crown'd, [2] + The rampart torn with many a fatal wound, + The ruin'd bulwark tottering o'er the strand, + Bewail the stroke of war's tremendous hand: + What scenes of woe this hapless isle o'erspread! 350 + Where late thrice fifty thousand warriors bled. + Full twice twelve summers were yon towers assail'd, + Till barbarous Ottoman at last prevail'd; + While thundering mines the lovely plains o'erturn'd, + While heroes fell, and domes and temples burn'd. +III. But now before them happier scenes arise, + Elysian vales salute their ravish'd eyes; + Olive and cedar form'd a grateful shade, + Where light with gay romantic error stray'd: + The myrtles here with fond caresses twine, 360 + There, rich with nectar, melts the pregnant vine + And, lo! the stream renown'd in classic song, + Sad Lethe, glides the silent vale along. + On mossy banks, beneath the citron grove, + The youthful wanderers found a wild alcove; + Soft o'er the fairy region languor stole, + And with sweet melancholy charm'd the soul. + Here first Palemon, while his pensive mind + For consolation on his friend reclined, + In pity's bleeding bosom pour'd the stream 370 + Of love's soft anguish, and of grief supreme: + "Too true thy words! by sweet remembrance taught, + My heart in secret bleeds with tender thought; + In vain it courts the solitary shade, + By every action, every look betray'd: + The pride of generous woe disdains appeal + To hearts that unrelenting frosts congeal; + Yet sure, if right Palemon can divine, + The sense of gentle pity dwells in thine: + Yes! all his cares thy sympathy shall know, 380 + And prove the kind companion of his woe. + "Albert thou know'st with skill and science graced, + In humble station though by fortune placed, + Yet never seaman more serenely brave + Led Britain's conquering squadrons o'er the wave: + Where full in view Augusta's spires are seen, + With flowery lawns and waving woods between, + An humble habitation rose, beside + Where Thames meandering rolls his ample tide: + There live the hope and pleasure of his life, 390 + A pious daughter, and a faithful wife: + For his return with fond officious care, + Still every grateful object these prepare: + Whatever can allure the smell or sight, + Or wake the drooping spirits to delight. + "This blooming maid in virtue's path to guide + The admiring parents all their care applied; + Her spotless soul to soft affection train'd, + No voice untuned, no sickening folly stain'd! + Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, 400 + Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale: + Her eyes, unconscious of their fatal charms, + Thrill'd every heart with exquisite alarms: + Her face, in beauty's sweet attraction dress'd, + The smile of maiden innocence express'd; + While health, that rises with the new-born day, + Breathed o'er her cheek the softest blush of May: + Still in her look complacence smiled serene; + She moved the charmer of the rural scene! + "'Twas at that season when the fields resume 410 + Their loveliest hues, array'd in vernal bloom: + Yon ship, rich freighted from the Italian shore, + To Thames' fair banks her costly tribute bore: + While thus my father saw his ample hoard, + From this return, with recent treasures stored, + Me, with affairs of commerce charged, he sent + To Albert's humble mansion--soon I went! + Too soon, alas! unconscious of the event. + There, struck with sweet surprise and silent awe, + The gentle mistress of my hopes I saw; 420 + There, wounded first by love's resistless arms, + My glowing bosom throbb'd with strange alarms: + My ever charming Anna! who alone + Can all the frowns of cruel fate atone; + Oh! while all-conscious memory holds her power, + Can I forget that sweetly-painful hour, + When from those eyes, with lovely lightning fraught, + My fluttering spirits first the infection caught? + When as I gazed, my faltering tongue betray'd + The heart's quick tumults, or refused its aid; 430 + While the dim light my ravish'd eyes forsook, + And every limb, unstrung with terror, shook; + With all her powers dissenting reason strove + To tame at first the kindling flame of love: + She strove in vain; subdued by charms divine, + My soul a victim fell at beauty's shrine. + Oft from the din of bustling life I stray'd, + In happier scenes to see my lovely maid; + Full oft, where Thames his wandering current leads, + We roved at evening hour through flowery meads; 440 + There, while my heart's soft anguish I reveal'd, + To her with tender sighs my hope appeal'd. + While the sweet nymph my faithful tale believed, + Her snowy breast with secret tumult heaved; + For, train'd in rural scenes from earliest youth, + Nature was hers, and innocence and truth: + She never knew the city damsel's art, + Whose frothy pertness charms the vacant heart. + My suit prevail'd! for love inform'd my tongue, + And on his votary's lips persuasion hung. 450 + Her eyes with conscious sympathy withdrew, + And o'er her cheek the rosy current flew. + Thrice happy hours! where with no dark allay + Life's fairest sunshine gilds the vernal day; + For here the sigh that soft affection heaves, + From stings of sharper woe the soul relieves: + Elysian scenes! too happy long to last, + Too soon a storm the smiling dawn o'ercast; + Too soon some demon to my father bore + The tidings that his heart with anguish tore. 460 + My pride to kindle, with dissuasive voice + Awhile he labour'd to degrade my choice: + Then, in the whirling wave of pleasure, sought + From its loved object to divert my thought. + With equal hope he might attempt to bind + In chains of adamant the lawless wind; + For love had aim'd the fatal shaft too sure, + Hope fed the wound, and absence knew no cure. + With alienated look, each art he saw + Still baffled by superior nature's law. 470 + His anxious mind on various schemes revolved, + At last on cruel exile he resolved; + The rigorous doom was fix'd; alas, how vain + To him of tender anguish to complain! + His soul, that never love's sweet influence felt, + By social sympathy could never melt: + With stern command to Albert's charge he gave + To waft Palemon o'er the distant wave. + "The ship was laden and prepared to sail, + And only waited now the leading gale: 480 + 'Twas ours, in that sad period, first to prove + The poignant torments of despairing love, + The impatient wish that never feels repose, + Desire that with perpetual current flows, + The fluctuating pangs of hope and fear, + Joy distant still, and sorrow ever near. + Thus, while the pangs of thought severer grew, + The western breezes inauspicious blew, + Hastening the moment of our last adieu. + The vessel parted on the falling tide, 490 + Yet time one sacred hour to love supplied: + The night was silent, and advancing fast, + The moon o'er Thames her silver mantle cast; + Impatient hope the midnight path explored, + And led me to the nymph my soul adored. + Soon her quick footsteps struck my listening ear; + She came confest! the lovely maid drew near! + But, ah! what force of language can impart + The impetuous joy that glow'd in either heart? + O ye! whose melting hearts are form'd to prove 500 + The trembling ecstasies of genuine love; + When, with delicious agony, the thought + Is to the verge of high delirium wrought: + Your secret sympathy alone can tell + What raptures then the throbbing bosom swell: + O'er all the nerves what tender tumults roll, + While love with sweet enchantment melts the soul. + "In transport lost, by trembling hope imprest, + The blushing virgin sunk upon my breast, + While hers congenial beat with fond alarms; 510 + Dissolving softness! Paradise of charms! + Flash'd from our eyes, in warm transfusion flew + Our blending spirits that each other drew! + O bliss supreme! where virtue's self can melt + With joys that guilty pleasure never felt; + Form'd to refine the thought with chaste desire, + And kindle sweet affection's purest fire. + Ah! wherefore should my hopeless love, she cries,-- + While sorrow bursts with interrupting sighs,-- + For ever destined to lament in vain, 520 + Such nattering, fond ideas entertain? + My heart through scenes of fair illusion stray'd, + To joys decreed for some superior maid. + 'Tis mine, abandon'd to severe distress, + Still to complain, and never hope redress-- + Go then, dear youth! thy father's rage atone, + And let this tortured bosom beat alone. + The hovering anger yet thou mayst appease: + Go then, dear youth! nor tempt the faithless seas. + Find out some happier maid, whose equal charms 530 + With fortune's fairer joys may bless thy arms: + Where, smiling o'er thee with indulgent ray, + Prosperity shall hail each new-born day: + Too well thou know'st good Albert's niggard fate + Ill fitted to sustain thy father's hate. + Go then, I charge thee by thy generous love, + That fatal to my father thus may prove; + On me alone let dark affliction fall, + Whose heart for thee will gladly suffer all. + Then haste thee hence, Palemon, ere too late, 540 + Nor rashly hope to brave opposing fate. + "She ceased: while anguish in her angel-face + O'er all her beauties shower'd celestial grace: + Not Helen, in her bridal charms array'd, + Was half so lovely as this gentle maid.-- + O soul of all my wishes! I replied, + Can that soft fabric stem affliction's tide? + Canst thou, bright pattern of exalted truth, + To sorrow doom the summer of thy youth, + And I, ingrateful! all that sweetness see 550 + Consign'd to lasting misery for me? + Sooner this moment may the eternal doom + Palemon in the silent earth entomb: + Attest, thou moon, fair regent of the night! + Whose lustre sickens at this mournful sight: + By all the pangs divided lovers feel, + Which sweet possession only knows to heal; + By all the horrors brooding o'er the deep, + Where fate, and ruin, sad dominion keep; + Though tyrant duty o'er me threatening stands, 560 + And claims obedience to her stern commands, + Should fortune cruel or auspicious prove, + Her smile or frown shall never change my love: + My heart, that now must every joy resign, + Incapable of change, is only thine. + "Oh, cease to weep, this storm will yet decay, + And the sad clouds of sorrow melt away: + While through the rugged path of life we go, + All mortals taste the bitter draught of woe: + The famed and great, decreed to equal pain, 570 + Full oft in splendid wretchedness complain: + For this, prosperity, with brighter ray, + In smiling contrast gilds our vital day, + Thou, too, sweet maid! ere twice ten months are o'er, + Shalt hail Palemon to his native shore, + Where never interest shall divide us more.-- + "Her struggling soul, o'erwhelm'd with tender grief, + Now found an interval of short relief: + So melts the surface of the frozen stream + Beneath the wintry sun's departing beam. 580 + With cruel haste the shades of night withdrew, + And gave the signal of a sad adieu. + As on my neck the afflicted maiden hung, + A thousand racking doubts her spirit wrung: + She wept the terrors of the fearful wave, + Too oft, alas! the wandering lover's grave: + With soft persuasion I dispell'd her fear, + And from her cheek beguiled the falling tear, + While dying fondness languished in her eyes, + She pour'd her soul to heaven in suppliant sighs! 590 + 'Look down with pity, O ye powers above! + Who hear the sad complaint of bleeding love; + Ye, who the secret laws of fate explore, + Alone can tell if he returns no more; + Or if the hour of future joy remain, + Long-wish'd atonement of long-suffer'd pain; + Bid every guardian minister attend, + And from all ill the much-loved youth defend!' + With grief o'erwhelm'd we parted twice in vain, + And, urged by strong attraction, met again. 600 + At last, by cruel fortune torn apart, + While tender passion beat in either heart, + Our eyes transfix'd with agonizing look, + One sad farewell, one last embrace, we took. + Forlorn of hope the lovely maid I left, + Pensive and pale, of every joy bereft: + She to her silent couch retired to weep, + Whilst I embark'd, in sadness, on the deep." + His tale thus closed, from sympathy of grief + Palemon's bosom felt a sweet relief: 610 + To mutual friendship thus sincerely true, + No secret wish, or fear their bosoms knew; + In mutual hazards oft severely tried, + Nor hope, nor danger, could their love divide. + Ye tender maids! in whose pathetic souls + Compassion's sacred stream impetuous rolls, + Whose warm affections exquisitely feel + The secret wound you tremble to reveal; + Ah! may no wanderer of the stormy main + Pour through your breasts the soft delicious bane; 620 + May never fatal tenderness approve + The fond effusions of their ardent love: + Oh! warn'd, avoid the path that leads to woe, + Where thorns and baneful weeds alternate grow: + Let them severer stoic nymphs possess, + Whose stubborn passions feel no soft distress. + Now, as the youths returning o'er the plain + Approach'd the lonely margin of the main, + First, with attention roused, Arion eyed + The graceful lover, form'd in nature's pride. 630 + His frame the happiest symmetry display'd, + And locks of waving gold his neck array'd; + In every look the Paphian graces shine, + Soft breathing o'er his cheek their bloom divine; + With lighten'd heart he smiled serenely gay, + Like young Adonis, or the Son of May. + Not Cytherea from a fairer swain + Received her apple on the Trojan plain. +IV. The sun's bright orb, declining all serene, + Now glanced obliquely o'er the woodland scene; 640 + Creation smiles around; on every spray + The warbling birds exalt their evening lay; + Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train + Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain; + The golden lime and orange there were seen + On fragrant branches of perpetual green; + The crystal streams that velvet meadows lave, + To the green ocean roll with chiding wave. + The glassy ocean, hush'd, forgets to roar, + But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore; 650 + And, lo! his surface lovely to behold, + Glows in the west, a sea of living gold! + While all above a thousand liveries gay + The skies with pomp ineffable array. + Arabian sweets perfume the happy plains; + Above, beneath, around, enchantment reigns! + While glowing Vesper leads the starry train, + And night slow draws her veil o'er land and main, + Emerging clouds the azure east invade, + And wrap the lucid spheres in gradual shade; 660 + While yet the songsters of the vocal grove, + With dying numbers tune the soul to love: + With joyful eyes the attentive master sees + The auspicious omens of an eastern breeze. + Round the charged bowl the sailors form a ring; + By turns recount the wondrous tale, or sing, + As love, or battle, hardships of the main, + Or genial wine, awake the homely strain. + Then some the watch of night alternate keep: + The rest lie buried in oblivious sleep. 670 + Deep midnight now involves the livid skies, + When eastern breezes, yet enervate, rise: + The waning moon behind a watery shroud + Pale glimmer'd o'er the long protracted cloud; + A mighty halo round her silver throne, + With parting meteors cross'd, portentous shone: + This in the troubled sky full oft prevails, + Oft deem'd a signal of tempestuous gales. + While young Arion sleeps, before his sight + Tumultuous swim the visions of the night: 680 + Now blooming Anna with her happy swain + Approach'd the sacred hymeneal fane; + Anon tremendous lightnings flash between, + And funeral pomp, and weeping loves are seen: + Now with Palemon, up a rocky steep, + Whose summit trembles o'er the roaring deep, + With painful step he climb'd; while far above + Sweet Anna charm'd them with the voice of love: + Then sudden from the slippery height they fell, + While dreadful yawn'd beneath the jaws of hell. 690 + Amid this fearful trance, a thundering sound + He hears, and thrice the hollow decks rebound: + Upstarting from his couch, on deck he sprung, + Thrice with shrill note the boatswain's whistle rung: + All hands unmoor! proclaims a boisterous cry; + All hands unmoor! the cavern'd rocks reply. + Roused from repose, aloft the sailors swarm, + And with their levers soon the windlass arm: + The order given, up springing with a bound, + They fix the bars, and heave the windlass [3] round; 700 + At every turn the clanging pauls resound: + Up-torn reluctant from its oozy cave, + The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave. + High on the slippery masts the yards ascend, + And far abroad the canvas wings extend. + Along the glassy plain the vessel glides, + While azure radiance trembles on her sides; + The lunar rays in long reflection gleam, + With silver deluging the fluid stream. + Levant and Thracian gales alternate play, 710 + Then in the Egyptian quarter die away. + A calm ensues; adjacent shores they dread; + The boats, with rowers mann'd, are sent ahead; + With cordage fasten'd to the lofty prow, + Aloof to sea the stately ship they tow; [4] + The nervous crew their sweeping oars extend, + And pealing shouts the shore of Candia rend: + Success attends their skill! the danger's o'er! + The port is doubled, and beheld no more. + Now morn with gradual pace advanced on high, 720 + Whitening with orient beam the twilight sky: + She comes not in refulgent pomp array'd, + But frowning stern, and wrapt in sullen shade. + Above incumbent mists, tall Ida's height, + Tremendous rock! emerges on the sight; + North-east a league, the Isle of Standia bears, + And westward, Freschin's woody Cape appears. + In distant angles while the transient gales + Alternate blow, they trim the flagging sails; + The drowsy air attentive to retain, 730 + As from unnumber'd points it sweeps the main. + Now swelling stud-sails [5] on each side extend, + Then stay-sails [6] sidelong to the breeze ascend; + While all to court the veering winds are placed + With yards alternate square, and sharply braced. + The dim horizon lowering vapours shroud, + And blot the sun yet struggling in the cloud; + Through the wide atmosphere, condensed with haze, + His glaring orb emits a sanguine blaze. + The pilots now their azimuth attend, 740 + On which all courses duly form'd depend: + The compass placed to catch the rising ray, [7] + The quadrant's shadows studious they survey; + Along the arch the gradual index slides, + While Phoebus down the vertic-circle glides; + Now seen on ocean's utmost verge to swim, + He sweeps it vibrant with his nether limb. + Thus height and polar distance are obtain'd, + Then latitude and declination gain'd; + In chiliads next the analogy is sought, 750 + And on the sinical triangle wrought: + By this magnetic variance is explored, + Just angles known, and polar truth restored. + The natives, while the ship departs their land, + Ashore with admiration gazing stand. + Majestically slow, before the breeze + She moved triumphant o'er the yielding seas; + Her bottom through translucent waters shone, + White as the clouds beneath the blaze of noon; + The bending wales [8] their contrast next display'd, 760 + All fore and aft in polish'd jet array'd. + Britannia, riding awful on the prow, + Gazed o'er the vassal waves that roll'd below: + Where'er she moved the vassal waves were seen + To yield obsequious, and confess their queen. + The imperial trident graced her dexter hand, + Of power to rule the surge, like Moses' wand; + The eternal empire of the main to keep, + And guide her squadrons o'er the trembling deep. + Her left, propitious, bore a mystic shield, 770 + Around whose margin rolls the watery field; + There her bold genius in his floating car + O'er the wild billow, hurls the storm of war: + And, lo! the beasts [9] that oft with jealous rage + In bloody combat met, from age to age, + Tamed into union, yoked in friendship's chain, + Draw his proud chariot round the vanquish'd main; + From the proud margin to the centre grew + Shelves, rocks, and whirlpools, hideous to the view. + The immortal shield from Neptune she received, 780 + When first her head above the waters heaved; + Loose floated o'er her limbs an azure vest, + A figured 'scutcheon glitter'd on her breast; + There from one parent soil for ever young, + The blooming rose and hardy thistle sprung: + Around her head an oaken wreath was seen, + Inwove with laurels of unfading green. + Such was the sculptured prow; from van to rear + The artillery frown'd, a black tremendous tier! + Embalm'd with orient gum, above the wave 790 + The swelling sides a yellow radiance gave. + On the broad stern, a pencil warm and bold, + That never servile rules of art controll'd, + An allegoric tale on high portray'd; + There a young hero, here a royal maid: + Fair England's genius in the youth express'd, + Her ancient foe, but now her friend confess'd, + The warlike nymph with fond regard survey'd; + No more his hostile frown her heart dismay'd: + His look, that once shot terror from afar, 800 + Like young Alcides, or the god of war, + Serene as summer's evening skies she saw; + Serene, yet firm; though mild, impressing awe: + Her nervous arm, inured to toils severe, + Brandish'd the unconquer'd Caledonian spear: + The dreadful falchion of the hills she wore, + Sung to the harp in many a tale of yore, + That oft her rivers dyed with hostile gore. + Blue was her rocky shield; her piercing eye + Flash'd like the meteors of her native sky; 810 + Her crest high-plumed, was rough with many a scar, + And o'er her helmet gleam'd the Northern Star. + The warrior youth appear'd of noble frame, + The hardy offspring of some Runic dame: + Loose o'er his shoulders hung the slacken'd bow, + Renown'd in song, the terror of the foe! + The sword that oft the barbarous north defied, + The scourge of tyrants! glitter'd by his side: + Clad in refulgent arms in battle won, + The George emblazon'd on his corslet shone; 820 + Fast by his side was seen a golden lyre, + Pregnant with numbers of eternal fire; + Whose strings unlock the witches' midnight spell, + Or waft rapt fancy through the gulfs of hell: + Struck with contagion, kindling fancy hears + The songs of heaven, the music of the spheres! + Borne on Newtonian wing, through air she flies, + Where other suns to other systems rise. + These front the scene conspicuous; overhead + Albion's proud oak his filial branches spread: 830 + While on the sea-beat shore obsequious stood, + Beneath their feet, the father of the flood: + Here the bold native of her cliffs above, + Perch'd by the martial maid the bird of Jove; + There on the watch, sagacious of his prey, + With eyes of fire, an English mastiff lay: + Yonder fair Commerce stretch'd her winged sail, + Here frown'd the God that wakes the living gale. + High o'er the poop the flattering winds unfurl'd + The imperial flag that rules the watery world. 840 + Deep blushing armors all the tops invest, + And warlike trophies either quarter dress'd; + Then tower'd the masts, the canvas swell'd on high, + And waving streamers floated in the sky. + Thus the rich vessel moves in trim array, + Like some fair virgin on her bridal day; + Thus, like a swan, she cleaved the watery plain, + The pride and wonder of the AEgean main. + + +[Footnote 1: 'The youngest:' Falconer himself.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Mournful prospects crown'd,' &c.: these remarks allude to +the ever-memorable siege of Candia, which was taken from the Venetians +by the Turks in 1669; being then considered as impregnable, and esteemed +the most formidable fortress in the universe.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Windlass:' the windlass is a sort of large roller, used to +wind in the cable, or heave up the anchor. It is turned about +vertically, by a number of long bars or levers; in which operation it is +prevented from recoiling, by the 'pauls,' ver. 701.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Ship they tow:' towing is the operation of drawing a ship +forward by means of ropes, extending from her fore-part to one or more +of the boats rowing before her.] + +[Footnote 5: 'Stud-sails:' studding-sails are long, narrow sails, which +are only used in fine weather and fair winds, on the outside of the +larger square sails.] + +[Footnote 6: 'Stay-sails,' are three-cornered sails, which are hoisted +up on the stays, when the wind crosses the ship's course, either +directly or obliquely.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Catch the rising ray:' the operation of taking the sun's +azimuth, in order to discover the eastern or western variation of the +magnetical needle.] + +[Footnote 8: 'Bending wales:' the wales, here alluded to, are an +assemblage of strong planks which envelop the lower part of the ship's +side, wherein they are broader and thicker than the rest, and appear +somewhat like a range of hoops which separates the bottom from the upper +works.] + +[Footnote 9: 'Beasts:' the lion and unicorn.] + + + + + +CANTO II. + +THE SCENE LIES AT SEA, BETWEEN CAPE FRESCHIN IN CANDIA, AND THE ISLAND +OF FALCONERA, WHICH IS NEARLY TWELVE LEAGUES NORTHWARD OF CAPE SPADO. + +TIME, FROM NINE IN THE MORNING UNTIL ONE O'CLOCK OF THE NEXT DAY AT NOON. + +THE ARGUMENT. + +I. Reflections on leaving shore. + +II. Favourable breeze. + Water-spout. + The dying dolphin. + Breeze freshens. + Ship's rapid progress along the coast. + Top-sails reefed. + Gale of wind. + Last appearance, bearing, and distance of Cape Spado. + A squall. + Top-sails double-reefed. + Main-sail split. + The ship bears up; again hauls upon the wind. + Another main-sail bent, and set. + Porpoises. + +III. The ship driven out of her course from Candia. + Heavy gale. + Top-sails furled. + Top-gallant-yards lowered. + Heavy sea. + Threatening sun-set. + Difference of opinion respecting the mode of taking in the + main-sail. + Courses reefed. + Four seamen lost off the lee mainyard-arm. + Anxiety of the master, and his mates, on being near a lee-shore. + Mizen reefed. + +IV. A tremendous sea bursts over the deck; its consequences. + The ship labours in great distress. + Guns thrown over-board. + Dismal appearance of the weather. + Very high and dangerous sea. + Storm of lightning. + Severe fatigue of the crew at the pumps. + Critical situation of the ship near the Island of Falconera. + Consultation and resolution of the officers. + Speech and advice of Albert; his devout address to heaven. + Order given to scud. + The fore stay-sail hoisted and split. + The head yards braced aback. + The mizen-mast cut away. + + + + + +I. Adieu! ye pleasures of the sylvan scene, + Where peace and calm contentment dwell serene: + To me, in vain, on earth's prolific soil, + With summer crown'd, the Elysian valleys smile: + To me those happier scenes no joy impart, + But tantalize with hope my aching heart. + Ye tempests! o'er my head congenial roll, + To suit the mournful music of my soul; + In black progression, lo, they hover near! + Hail, social horrors! like my fate severe: 10 + Old Ocean hail! beneath whose azure zone + The secret deep lies unexplored, unknown. + Approach, ye brave companions of the sea! + And fearless view this awful scene with me. + Ye native guardians of your country's laws! + Ye brave assertors of her sacred cause! + The Muse invites you, judge if she depart, + Unequal, from the thorny rules of art. + In practice train'd, and conscious of her power, + She boldly moves to meet the trying hour: 20 + Her voice attempting themes, before unknown + To music, sings distresses all her own. +II. O'er the smooth bosom of the faithless tides, + Propell'd by flattering gales, the vessel glides: + Rodmond, exulting, felt the auspicious wind, + And by a mystic charm its aim confined. + The thoughts of home that o'er his fancy roll, + With trembling joy dilate Palemon's soul; + Hope lifts his heart, before whose vivid ray + Distress recedes, and danger melts away. 30 + Tall Ida's summit now more distant grew, + And Jove's high hill [1] was rising to the view; + When on the larboard quarter they descry + A liquid column towering shoot on high; + The foaming base the angry whirlwinds sweep, + Where curling billows rouse the fearful deep: + Still round and round the fluid vortex flies, + Diffusing briny vapours o'er the skies. + This vast phenomenon, whose lofty head, + In heaven immersed, embracing clouds o'erspread, 40 + In spiral motion first, as seamen deem, + Swells, when the raging whirlwind sweeps the stream. + The swift volution, and the enormous train, + Let sages versed in nature's lore explain. + The horrid apparition still draws nigh, + And white with foam the whirling billows fly. + The guns were primed; the vessel northward veers, + Till her black battery on the column bears: + The nitre fired; and, while the dreadful sound, + Convulsive shook the slumbering air around, 50 + The watery volume, trembling to the sky, + Burst down, a dreadful deluge, from on high! + The expanding ocean trembled as it fell, + And felt with swift recoil her surges swell; + But soon, this transient undulation o'er, + The sea subsides, the whirlwinds rage no more. + While southward now the increasing breezes veer, + Dark clouds incumbent on their wings appear: + Ahead they see the consecrated grove + Of Cyprus, sacred once to Cretan Jove. 60 + The ship beneath her lofty pressure reels, + And to the freshening gale still deeper heels. + But now, beneath the lofty vessel's stern, + A shoal of sportive dolphins they discern, + Beaming from burnish'd scales refulgent rays, + Till all the glowing ocean seems to blaze: + In curling wreaths they wanton on the tide, + Now bound aloft, now downward swiftly glide; + Awhile beneath the waves their tracks remain, + And burn in silver streams along the liquid plain. 70 + Soon to the sport of death the crew repair, + Dart the long lance, or spread the baited snare. + One in redoubling mazes wheels along, + And glides unhappy near the triple prong: + Rodmond, unerring, o'er his head suspends + The barbed steel, and every turn attends; + Unerring aim'd, the missile weapon flew, + And, plunging, struck the fated victim through: + The upturning points his ponderous bulk sustain, + On deck he struggles with convulsive pain. 80 + But while his heart the fatal javelin thrills, + And flitting life escapes in sanguine rills, + What radiant changes strike the astonish'd sight! + What glowing hues of mingled shade and light! + Not equal beauties gild the lucid west + With parting beams all o'er profusely drest; + Not lovelier colours paint the vernal dawn, + When orient dews impearl the enamell'd lawn, + Than from his sides in bright suffusion flow, + That now with gold empyreal seem to glow; 90 + Now in pellucid sapphires meet the view, + And emulate the soft celestial hue; + Now beam a flaming crimson on the eye, + And now assume the purple's deeper dye: + But here description clouds each shining ray; + What terms of art can nature's powers display! + The lighter sails, for summer winds and seas, + Are now dismiss'd, the straining masts to ease; + Swift on the deck the stud-sails all descend, + Which ready seamen from the yards unbend; 100 + The boats then hoisted in are fix'd on board, + And on the deck with fastening gripes secured. + The watchful ruler of the helm no more + With fix'd attention eyes the adjacent shore, + But by the oracle of truth below, + The wondrous magnet guides the wayward prow. + The powerful sails, with steady breezes swell'd, + Swift and more swift the yielding bark impell'd: + Across her stem the parting waters run, + As clouds, by tempests wafted, pass the sun. 110 + Impatient thus she darts along the shore, + Till Ida's mount, and Jove's, are seen no more; + And, while aloof from Retimo she steers, + Maleca foreland full in front appears. + Wide o'er yon Isthmus stands the cypress grove, + That once enclosed the hallow'd fane of Jove: + Here, too, memorial of his name! is found + A tomb in marble ruins on the ground. + This gloomy tyrant, whose despotic sway + Compell'd the trembling nations to obey, 120 + Through Greece for murder, rape, and incest known, + The Muses raised to high Olympus' throne; + For oft, alas! their venal strains adorn + The prince whom blushing virtue holds in scorn: + Still Rome and Greece record his endless fame, + And hence yon mountain yet retains his name. + But see! in confluence borne before the blast, + Clouds roll'd on clouds the dusky noon o'ercast: + The blackening ocean curls, the winds arise, + And the dark scud [2] in swift succession flies. 130 + While the swoln canvas bends the masts on high, + Low in the wave the leeward [3] cannon lie. + The master calls to give the ship relief, + The top-sails [4] lower, and form a single reef! [5] + Each lofty yard with slacken'd cordage reels; + Rattle the creaking blocks and ringing wheels. + Down the tall masts the top-sails sink amain, + Are mann'd and reef'd, then hoisted up again. + More distant grew receding Candia's shore, + And southward of the west Cape Spado bore. 140 + Four hours the sun his high meridian throne + Had left, and o'er Atlantic regions shone; + Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invade, + Draw o'er his sullied orb a dismal shade: + A lowering squall obscures the southern sky, + Before whose sweeping breath the waters fly; + Its weight the top-sails can no more sustain-- + Reef top-sails, reef! the master calls again. + The halyards and top-bow-lines [6] soon are gone, + To clue-lines and reef-tackles [7] next they run: 150 + The shivering sails descend; the yards are square; + Then quick aloft the ready crew repair: + The weather-earings [8] and the lee they past, + The reefs enroll'd, and every point made fast. + Their task above thus finish'd, they descend, + And vigilant the approaching squall attend. + It comes resistless! and with foaming sweep + Upturns the whitening surface of the deep: + In such a tempest, borne to deeds of death, + The wayward sisters scour the blasted heath. 160 + The clouds, with ruin pregnant, now impend; + And storm, and cataracts, tumultuous blend. + Deep on her side the reeling vessel lies: + Brail up the mizen [9] quick! the master cries, + Man the clue-garnets! [10] let the main-sheet fly! + It rends in thousand shivering shreds on high! + The main-sail all in streaming ruins tore, + Loud fluttering, imitates the thunder's roar: + The ship still labours in the oppressive strain, + Low bending, as if ne'er to rise again. 170 + Bear up the helm a-weather! [11] Rodmond cries: + Swift at the word the helm a-weather flies; + She feels its guiding power, and veers apace, + And now the fore-sail right athwart they brace: + With equal sheets restrain'd, the bellying sail + Spreads a broad concave to the sweeping gale. + While o'er the foam the ship impetuous flies, + The helm the attentive timoneer [12] applies: + As in pursuit along the aerial way + With, ardent eye the falcon marks his prey, 180 + Each motion watches of the doubtful chase, + Obliquely wheeling through the fluid space; + So, govern'd by the steersman's glowing hands, + The regent helm her motion still commands. + But now the transient squall to leeward past, + Again she rallies to the sullen blast: + The helm to starboard [13] moves; each shivering sail + Is sharply trimm'd to clasp the augmenting gale. + The mizen draws; she springs aloof once more, + While the fore stay-sail [14] balances before. 190 + The fore-sail braced obliquely to the wind, + They near the prow the extended tack confined; + Then on the leeward sheet the seamen bend, + And haul the bow-line to the bowsprit-end. + To top-sails next they haste; the bunt-lines gone! + Through rattling blocks the clue-lines swiftly run; + The extending sheets on either side are mann'd, + Abroad they come! the fluttering sails expand; + The yards again ascend each comrade mast. + The leeches taught, the halyards are made fast, 200 + The bow-lines haul'd, and yards to starboard braced, [15] + And straggling ropes in pendent order placed. + The main-sail, by the squall so lately rent, + In streaming pendants flying, is unbent: + With brails [16] refix'd, another soon prepared, + Ascending, spreads along beneath the yard. + To each yard-arm the head-rope [17] they extend, + And soon their earings and their robans [18] bend. + That task perform'd, they first the braces slack, [19] + Then to the chesstree drag the unwilling tack. 210 + And, while the lee clue-garnet's lower'd away, + Taught aft the sheet they tally, and belay. [20] + Now to the north from Afric's burning shore, + A troop of porpoises their course explore: + In curling wreaths they gambol on the tide, + Now bound aloft, now down the billow glide: + Their tracks awhile the hoary waves retain, + That burn in sparkling trails along the main-- + These fleetest coursers of the finny race, + When threatening clouds the ethereal vault deface, 220 + Their route to leeward still sagacious form, + To shun the fury of the approaching storm. +III. Fair Candia now no more, beneath her lee, + Protects the vessel from the insulting sea; + Round her broad arms, impatient of control, + Roused from the secret deep, the billows roll: + Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore, + And all the scene an hostile aspect wore. + The flattering wind, that late with promised aid + From Candia's bay the unwilling ship betray'd, 230 + No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise, + But like a ruffian on his quarry flies. + Tost on the tide she feels the tempest blow, + And dreads the vengeance of so fell a foe-- + As the proud horse, with costly trappings gay, + Exulting, prances to the bloody fray; + Spurning the ground he glories in his might, + But reels tumultuous in the shock of fight: + Even so, caparison'd in gaudy pride, + The bounding vessel dances on the tide. 240 + Fierce and more fierce the gathering tempest grew, + South and by west the threatening demon blew; + Auster's resistless force all air invades, + And every rolling wave more ample spreads: + The ship no longer can her top-sails bear; + No hopes of milder weather now appear. + Bow-lines and halyards are cast off again, + Clue-lines haul'd down, and sheets let fly amain: + Embrail'd each top-sail, and by braces squared, + The seamen climb aloft, and man each yard: 250 + They furl'd the sails, and pointed to the wind + The yards, by rolling tackles [21] then confined, + While o'er the ship the gallant boatswain flies; + Like a hoarse mastiff through the storm he cries-- + Prompt to direct the unskilful still appears, + The expert he praises, and the timid cheers. + Now some, to strike top-gallant-yards [22] attend, + Some, travellers up the weather-back-stays [23] send, + At each mast-head the top-ropes [24] others bend: + The parrels, lifts, [25] and clue-lines soon are gone, 260 + Topp'd and unrigg'd, they down the backstays run; + The yards secure along the booms [26] were laid, + And all the flying ropes aloft belay'd: + Their sails reduced, and all the rigging clear, + Awhile the crew relax from toils severe; + Awhile their spirits with fatigue opprest, + In vain expect the alternate hour of rest-- + But with redoubling force the tempests blow, + And watery hills in dread succession flow: + A dismal shade o'ercasts the frowning skies; 270 + New troubles grow; fresh difficulties rise; + No season this from duty to descend, + All hands on deck must now the storm attend. + His race perform'd, the sacred lamp of day + Now dipt in western clouds his parting ray! + His languid fires, half lost in ambient haze, + Refract along the dusk a crimson blaze; + Till deep immerged the sickening orb descends, + And cheerless night o'er heaven her reign extends. + Sad evening's hour, how different from the past! 280 + No flaming pomp, no blushing glories cast, + No ray of friendly light is seen around; + The moon and stars in hopeless shade are drown'd. + The ship no longer can whole courses [27] bear, + To reef them now becomes the master's care; + The sailors summon'd aft all ready stand, + And man the enfolding brails at his command: + But here the doubtful officers dispute, + Till skill and judgment prejudice confute: + For Rodmond, to new methods still a foe, 290 + Would first, at all events, the sheet let go; + To long-tried practice obstinately warm, + He doubts conviction, and relies on form. + This Albert and Arion disapprove, + And first to brail the tack up firmly move: + "The watchful seaman, whose sagacious eye + On sure experience may with truth rely, + Who from the reigning cause foretells the effect, + This barbarous practice ever will reject; + For, fluttering loose in air, the rigid sail 300 + Soon flits to ruins in the furious gale; + And he, who strives the tempest to disarm, + Will never first embrail the lee yard-arm." + So Albert spoke; to windward, at his call, + Some seamen the clue-garnet stand to haul-- + The tack's eased off, [28] while the involving clue + Between the pendent blocks ascending flew; + The sheet and weather-brace they now stand by, [29] + The lee clue-garnet and the bunt-lines ply: + Then, all prepared, Let go the sheet! he cries-- 310 + Loud rattling, jarring, through the blocks it flies! + Shivering at first, till by the blast impell'd, + High o'er the lee yard-arm the canvas swell'd; + By spilling lines [30] embraced, with brails confined, + It lies at length unshaken by the wind. + The fore-sail then secured with equal care, + Again to reef the mainsail they repair; + While some above the yard o'erhaul the tye, + Below the down-haul tackle [31] others ply; + Jears, [32] lifts, and brails, a seaman each attends, 320 + And down the mast its mighty yard descends: + When lower'd sufficient they securely brace, + And fix the rolling tackle in its place; + The reef-lines [33] and their earings now prepared, + Mounting on pliant shrouds [34] they man the yard: + Far on the extremes appear two able hands, + For no inferior skill this task demands-- + To wind, foremost, young Arion strides; + The lee yard-arm the gallant boatswain rides: + Each earing to its cringle first they bend, 330 + The reef-band [35] then along the yard extend; + The circling earings [36] round the extremes entwined, + By outer and by inner turns they bind; + The reef-lines next from hand to hand received, + Through eyelet-holes and roban-legs were reeved; + The folding reefs in plaits inroll'd they lay, + Extend the worming lines, and ends belay. + Hadst thou, Arion! held the leeward post + While on the yard by mountain billows tost, + Perhaps oblivion o'er our tragic tale 340 + Had then for ever drawn her dusky veil; + But ruling Heaven prolong'd thy vital date, + Severer ills to suffer and relate. + For, while aloft the order those attend + To furl the main-sail, or on deck descend; + A sea, [37] up-surging with stupendous roll, + To instant ruin seems to doom the whole: + O friends, secure your hold! Arion cries-- + It comes all dreadful! down the vessel lies + Half buried sideways; while, beneath it tost, 350 + Four seamen off the lee yard-arm are lost: + Torn with resistless fury from their hold, + In vain their struggling arms the yard enfold; + In vain to grapple flying ropes they try, + The ropes, alas! a solid gripe deny: + Prone on the midnight surge with panting breath + They cry for aid, and long contend with death; + High o'er their heads the rolling billows sweep, + And down they sink in everlasting sleep. + Bereft of power to help, their comrades see 360 + The wretched victims die beneath the lee; + With fruitless sorrow their lost state bemoan, + Perhaps a fatal prelude to their own! + In dark suspense on deck the pilots stand, + Nor can determine on the next command: + Though still they knew the vessel's armed side + Impenetrable to the clasping tide; + Though still the waters by no secret wound + A passage to her deep recesses found; + Surrounding evils yet they ponder o'er, 370 + A storm, a dangerous sea, and leeward shore! + "Should they, though reef'd, again their sails extend, + Again in shivering streamers they may rend; + Or, should they stand, beneath the oppressive strain, + The down-press'd ship may never rise again; + Too late to weather now Morea's land, [38] + And drifting fast on Athens' rocky strand."-- + Thus they lament the consequence severe, + Where perils unallay'd by hope appear: + Long pondering in their minds each fear'd event, 380 + At last to furl the courses they consent; + That done, to reef the mizen next agree, + And try [39] beneath it sidelong in the sea. + Now down the mast the yard they lower away, + Then jears and topping-lift [40] secure belay; + The head, with doubling canvas fenced around, + In balance near the lofty peak they bound; + The reef enwrapp'd, the inserting knittles tied, + The halyards throat and peak are next applied-- + The order given, the yard aloft they sway'd, 390 + The brails relax'd, the extended sheet belay'd; + The helm its post forsook, and, lash'd a-lee, [41] + Inclined the wayward prow to front the sea. +IV. When sacred Orpheus on the Stygian coast, + With notes divine deplored his consort lost; + Though round him perils grew in fell array, + And Fates and Furies stood to bar his way; + Not more adventurous was the attempt to move + The infernal powers with strains of heavenly love, + Than mine, in ornamental verse to dress 400 + The harshest sounds that terms of art express: + Such arduous toil sage Daedalus endured + In mazes, self-invented, long immured, + Till genius her superior aid bestow'd, + To guide him through that intricate abode-- + Thus, long imprison'd in a rugged way + Where Phoebus' daughters never aim'd to stray, + The Muse, that tuned to barbarous sounds her string, + Now spreads, like Daedalus, a bolder wing; + The verse begins in softer strains to flow, 410 + Replete with sad variety of woe. + As yet, amid this elemental war, + Where Desolation in his gloomy car + Triumphant rages round the starless void, + And Fate on every billow seems to ride; + Nor toil, nor hazard, nor distress appear + To sink the seamen with unmanly fear. + Though their firm hearts no pageant-honour boast, + They scorn the wretch that trembles at his post; + Who from the face of danger strives to turn, 420 + Indignant from the social hour they spurn: + Though now full oft they felt the raging tide + In proud rebellion climb the vessel's side; + Though every rising wave more dreadful grows, + And in succession dire the deck o'erflows; + No future ills unknown their souls appal, + They know no danger, or they scorn it all: + But even the generous spirits of the brave, + Subdued by toil, a friendly respite crave; + They, with severe fatigue alone opprest, 430 + Would fain indulge an interval of rest. + Far other cares the master's mind employ; + Approaching perils all his hopes destroy. + In vain he spreads the graduated chart, + And bounds the distance by the rules of art; + Across the geometric plane expands + The compasses to circumjacent lands: + Ungrateful task! for, no asylum found, + Death yawns on every leeward shore around.-- + While Albert thus, with horrid doubts dismay'd, 440 + The geometric distances survey'd; + On deck the watchful Rodmond cries aloud, + Secure your lives! grasp every man a shroud-- + Roused from his trance, he mounts with eyes aghast; + When o'er the ship, in undulation vast, + A giant surge down rushes from on high, + And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie. + As when, Britannia's empire to maintain, + Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, + Around the brazen voice of battle roars, 450 + And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores; + Beneath the storm their shatter'd navies groan; + The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone-- + Thus the torn vessel felt the enormous stroke, + The boats beneath the thundering deluge broke; + Tom from their planks the cracking ring-bolts drew, + And gripes and lashings all asunder flew; + Companion, binnacle, in floating wreck, + With compasses and glasses strew'd the deck; + The balanced mizen, rending to the head, 460 + In fluttering fragments from its bolt-rope fled; + The sides convulsive shook on groaning beams, + And, rent with labour, yawn'd their pitchy seams. + They sound the well, [42] and, terrible to hear! + Five feet immersed along the line appear: + At either pump they ply the clanking brake, [43] + And, turn by turn, the ungrateful office take: + Rodmond, Arion, and Palemon here + At this sad task all diligent appear. + As some strong citadel, begirt with foes, 470 + Tries long the tide of ruin to oppose, + Destruction near her spreads his black array, + And death and sorrow mark his horrid way; + Till, in some destined hour, against her wall + In tenfold rage the fatal thunders fall: + It breaks! it bursts before the cannonade! + And following hosts the shatter'd domes invade: + Her inmates long repel the hostile flood, + And shield their sacred charge in streams of blood: + So the brave mariners their pumps attend, 480 + And help incessant, by rotation, lend; + But all in vain! for now the sounding cord, + Updrawn, an undiminish'd depth explored. + Nor this severe distress is found alone, + The ribs opprest by ponderous cannon groan; + Deep rolling from the watery volume's height, + The tortured sides seem bursting with their weight-- + So reels Pelorus with convulsive throes, + When in his veins the burning earthquake glows; + Hoarse through his entrails roars the infernal flame, 490 + And central thunders rend his groaning frame-- + Accumulated mischiefs thus arise, + And fate, vindictive, all their skill defies: + For this, one remedy is only known, + From the torn ship her metal must be thrown; + Eventful task! which last distress requires, + And dread of instant death alone inspires: + For, while intent the yawning decks to ease, + Fill'd ever and anon with rushing seas, + Some fatal billow with recoiling sweep 500 + May whirl the helpless wretches in the deep. + No season this for counsel or delay; + Too soon the eventful moments haste away! + Here perseverance, with each help of art, + Must join the boldest efforts of the heart: + These only now their misery can relieve, + These only now a dawn of safety give. + While o'er the quivering deck, from van to rear, + Broad surges roll in terrible career, + Rodmond, Arion, and a chosen crew, 510 + This office in the face of death pursue: + The wheel'd artillery o'er the deck to guide, + Rodmond descending claim'd the weather-side; + Fearless of heart the chief his orders gave, + Fronting the rude assaults of every wave-- + Like some strong watch-tower nodding o'er the deep, + Whose rocky base the foaming waters sweep, + Untamed he stood; the stern aerial war, + Had mark'd his honest face with many a scar + Meanwhile Arion, traversing the waist, [44] 520 + The cordage of the leeward guns unbraced, + And pointed crows beneath the metal placed. + Watching the roll, their forelocks they withdrew, + And from their beds the reeling cannon threw; + Then, from the windward battlements unbound, + Rodmond's associates wheel'd the artillery round; + Pointed with iron fangs, their bars beguile + The ponderous arms across the steep defile: + Then, hurl'd from sounding hinges o'er the side + Thundering they plunge into the flashing tide. 530 + The ship, thus eased, some little respite finds + In this rude conflict of the seas and winds-- + Such ease Alcides felt, when, clogg'd with gore, + The envenom'd mantle from his side he tore; + When, stung with burning pain, he strove too late + To stop the swift career of cruel fate; + Yet then his heart one ray of hope procured, + Sad harbinger of sevenfold pangs endured-- + Such, and so short, the pause of woe she found! + Cimmerian darkness shades the deep around, 540 + Save when the lightnings in terrific blaze + Deluge the cheerless gloom with horrid rays: + Above, all ether, fraught with scenes of woe, + With grim destruction threatens all below; + Beneath, the storm-lash'd surges furious rise, + And wave uproll'd on wave assails the skies; + With ever-floating bulwarks they surround + The ship, half-swallow'd in the black profound. + With ceaseless hazard and fatigue oppress'd, + Dismay and anguish every heart possess'd; 550 + For while, with sweeping inundation, o'er + The sea-beat ship the booming waters roar, + Displaced beneath by her capacious womb, + They rage their ancient station to resume; + By secret ambushes, their force to prove, + Through many a winding channel first they rove; + Till gathering fury, like the fever'd blood, + Through her dark veins they roll a rapid flood: + When unrelenting thus the leaks they found, + The clattering pumps with clanking strokes resound; 560 + Around each leaping valve, by toil subdued, + The tough bull-hide must ever be renew'd: + Their sinking hearts unusual horrors chill, + And down their weary limbs thick dews distil; + No ray of light their dying hope redeems, + Pregnant with some new woe each moment teems. + Again the chief the instructive chart extends, + And o'er the figured plane attentive bends; + To him the motion of each orb was known, + That wheels around the sun's refulgent throne. 570 + But here, alas! his science nought avails, + Skill droops unequal, and experience fails. + The different traverses, since twilight made. + He on the hydrographic circle laid; + Then, in the graduated arch contain'd, + The angle of lee-way, [45] seven points, remain'd-- + Her place discover'd by the rules of art, + Unusual terrors shook the master's heart, + When, on the immediate line of drift, he found + The rugged isle, with rocks and breakers bound, 580 + Of Falconera; distant only now + Nine lessening leagues beneath the leeward bow: + For, if on those destructive shallows tost, + The helpless bark with all her crew are lost: + As fatal still appears, that danger o'er, + The steep St George, and rocky Gardalor. + With him the pilots, of their hopeless state, + In mournful consultation, long debate-- + Not more perplexing doubts her chiefs appal, + When some proud city verges to her fall, 590 + While ruin glares around, and pale affright + Convenes her councils in the dead of night. + No blazon'd trophies o'er their concave spread, + Nor storied pillars raised aloft their head: + But here the Queen of shade around them threw + Her dragon wing, disastrous to the view! + Dire was the scene with whirlwind, hail, and shower; + Black melancholy ruled the fearful hour: + Beneath, tremendous roll'd the flashing tide, + Where fate on every billow seem'd to ride-- 600 + Enclosed with ills, by peril unsubdued, + Great in distress the master-seaman stood! + Skill'd to command; deliberate to advise; + Expert in action; and in council wise-- + Thus to his partners, by the crew unheard, + The dictates of his soul the chief referr'd: + "Ye faithful mates! who all my troubles share, + Approved companions of your master's care! + To you, alas! 'twere fruitless now to tell + Our sad distress, already known too well: 610 + This morn with favouring gales the port we left, + Though now of every flattering hope bereft: + No skill nor long experience could forecast + The unseen approach of this destructive blast: + These seas, where storms at various seasons blow, + No reigning winds nor certain omens know-- + The hour, the occasion, all your skill demands, + A leaky ship, embay'd by dangerous lands! + Our bark no transient jeopardy surrounds, + Groaning she lies beneath unnumber'd wounds: 620 + 'Tis ours the doubtful remedy to find, + To shun the fury of the seas and wind; + For in this hollow swell, with labour sore, + Her flank can bear the bursting floods no more. + One only shift, though desperate, we must try, + And that before the boisterous storm to fly: + Then less her sides will feel the surges' power, + Which thus may soon the foundering hull devour. + 'Tis true the vessel and her costly freight + To me consign'd, my orders only wait; 630 + Yet, since the charge of every life is mine, + To equal votes our counsels I resign-- + Forbid it, Heaven! that in this dreadful hour + I claim the dangerous reins of purblind power! + But should we now resolve to bear away, + Our hopeless state can suffer no delay: + Nor can we, thus bereft of every sail, + Attempt to steer obliquely on the gale; + For then, if broaching sideway to the sea, + Our dropsied ship may founder by the lee; 640 + Vain all endeavours then to bear away, + Nor helm, nor pilot, would she more obey." + He said, the listening mates with fix'd regard + And silent reverence his opinion heard. + Important was the question in debate, + And o'er their counsels hung impending fate: + Rodmond, in many a scene of peril tried, + Had oft the master's happier skill descried, + Yet now, the hour, the scene, the occasion known, + Perhaps with equal right preferr'd his own: 650 + Of long experience in the naval art, + Blunt was his speech and naked was his heart; + Alike to him each climate, and each blast, + The first in danger, in retreat the last: + Sagacious, balancing the opposed events, + From Albert his opinion thus dissents:-- + "Too true the perils of the present hour, + Where toils succeeding toils our strength o'erpower! + Our bark, 'tis true, no shelter here can find, + Sore shatter'd by the ruffian seas and wind: 660 + Yet where with safety can we dare to scud + Before this tempest and pursuing flood? + At random driven, to present death we haste, + And one short hour perhaps may be our last. + Though Corinth's gulf extend along the lee, + To whose safe ports appears a passage free, + Yet think! this furious unremitting gale + Deprives the ship of every ruling sail; + And if before it she directly flies, + New ills enclose us, and new dangers rise: 670 + Here Falconera spreads her lurking snares, + There distant Greece her rugged shelves prepares: + Our hull, if once it strikes that iron coast, + Asunder bursts, in instant ruin lost; + Nor she alone, but with her all the crew, + Beyond relief, are doom'd to perish too: + Such mischiefs follow if we bear away; + O safer that sad refuge--to delay! + "Then of our purpose this appears the scope, + To weigh the danger with the doubtful hope: 680 + Though sorely buffeted by every sea, + Our hull unbroken long may try a-lee; + The crew, though harass'd much with toils severe, + Still at their pumps, perceive no hazards near: + Shall we, incautious, then the danger tell, + At once their courage and their hope to quell? + Prudence forbids! this southern tempest soon + May change its quarter with the changing moon; + Its rage, though terrible, may soon subside, + Nor into mountains lash the unruly tide; 690 + These leaks shall then decrease--the sails once more + Direct our course to some relieving shore." + Thus while he spoke, around from man to man + At either pump a hollow murmur ran; + For, while the vessel through unnumber'd chinks, + Above, below, the invading water drinks, + Sounding her depth they eyed the wetted scale, + And lo! the leaks o'er all their powers prevail: + Yet at their post, by terrors unsubdued, + They with redoubling force their task pursued. 700 + And now the senior pilots seem'd to wait + Arion's voice, to close the dark debate. + Not o'er his vernal life the ripening sun + Had yet progressive twice ten summers run; + Slow to debate, yet eager to excel, + In thy sad school, stern Neptune! taught too well: + With lasting pain to rend his youthful heart, + Dire fate in venom dipp'd her keenest dart; + Till his firm spirit, temper'd long to ill, + Forgot her persecuting scourge to feel; 710 + But now the horrors, that around him roll, + Thus rouse to action his rekindling soul: + "Can we, delay'd in this tremendous tide, + A moment pause what purpose to decide? + Alas! from circling horrors thus combined, + One method of relief alone we find: + Thus water-logg'd, thus helpless to remain + Amid this hollow, how ill judged! how vain! + Our sea-breach'd vessel can no longer bear + The floods that o'er her burst in dread career; 720 + The labouring hull already seems half-fill'd + With water through a hundred leaks distill'd; + Thus drench'd by every wave, her riven deck, + Stript and defenceless, floats a naked wreck; + At every pitch the o'erwhelming billows bend + Beneath their load the quivering bowsprit's end; + A fearful warning! since the masts on high + On that support with trembling hope rely; + At either pump our seamen pant for breath, + In dire dismay anticipating death; 730 + Still all our powers the increasing leaks defy, + We sink at sea, no shore, no haven nigh. + One dawn of hope yet breaks athwart the gloom, + To light and save us from a watery tomb; + That bids us shun the death impending here, + Fly from the following blast, and shoreward steer. + "'Tis urged indeed, the fury of the gale + Precludes the help of every guiding sail; + And, driven before it on the watery waste, + To rocky shores and scenes of death we haste; 740 + But haply Falconera we may shun, + And long to Grecian coasts is yet the run: + Less harass'd then, our scudding ship may bear + The assaulting surge repell'd upon her rear; + And since as soon that tempest may decay + When steering shoreward--wherefore thus delay? + Should we at last be driven by dire decree + Too near the fatal margin of the sea, + The hull dismasted there awhile may ride + With lengthen'd cables, on the raging tide; 750 + Perhaps kind Heaven, with interposing power, + May curb the tempest ere that dreadful hour; + But here, ingulf'd and foundering, while we stay, + Fate hovers o'er, and marks us for her prey." + He said: Palemon saw with grief of heart + The storm prevailing o'er the pilot's art; + In silent terror and distress involved, + He heard their last alternative resolved: + High beat his bosom. With such fear subdued, + Beneath the gloom of some enchanted wood, 760 + Oft in old time the wandering swain explored + The midnight wizards' breathing rites abhorr'd; + Trembling, approach'd their incantations fell, + And, chill'd with horror, heard the songs of hell. + Arion saw, with secret anguish moved, + The deep affliction, of the friend he loved, + And, all awake to friendship's genial heat, + His bosom felt consenting tremors beat: + Alas! no season this for tender love, + Far hence the music of the myrtle grove-- 770 + He tried with soft persuasion's melting lore + Palemon's fainting courage to restore; + His wounded spirit heal'd with friendship's balm, + And bade each conflict of the mind be calm. + Now had the pilots all the events revolved, + And on their final refuge thus resolved-- + When, like the faithful shepherd who beholds + Some prowling wolf approach his fleecy folds, + To the brave crew, whom racking doubts perplex, + The dreadful purpose Albert thus directs: 780 + "Unhappy partners in a wayward fate! + Whose courage now is known perhaps too late; + Ye! who unmoved behold this angry storm + In conflict all the rolling deep deform: + Who, patient in adversity, still bear + The firmest front when greatest ills are near; + The truth, though painful, I must now reveal, + That long in vain I purposed to conceal: + Ingulf'd, all help of art we vainly try, + To weather leeward shores, alas! too nigh: 790 + Our crazy bark no longer can abide + The seas, that thunder o'er her batter'd side: + And while the leaks a fatal warning give + That in this raging sea she cannot live, + One only refuge from despair we find-- + At once to wear, and scud before the wind. + Perhaps even then to ruin we may steer, + For rocky shores beneath our lee appear; + But that's remote, and instant death is here: + Yet there, by Heaven's assistance, we may gain 800 + Some creek or inlet of the Grecian main; + Or, shelter'd by some rock, at anchor ride + Till with abating rage the blast subside: + But if, determined by the will of Heaven, + Our helpless bark at last ashore is driven, + These councils, follow'd, from a watery grave + Our crew perhaps amid the surf may save:-- + "And first, let all our axes be secured, + To cut the masts and rigging from aboard; + Then to the quarters bind each plank and oar, 810 + To float between the vessel and the shore: + The longest cordage too must be convey'd + On deck, and to the weather-rails belay'd: + So they who haply reach alive the land, + The extended lines may fasten on the strand, + Whene'er, loud thundering on the leeward shore, + While yet aloof, we hear the breakers roar + Thus for the terrible event prepared, + Brace fore and aft to starboard every yard; + So shall our masts swim lighter on the wave, 820 + And from the broken rocks our seamen save; + Then westward turn the stem, that every mast + May shoreward fall as from the vessel cast. + When o'er her side once more the billows bound, + Ascend the rigging till she strikes the ground; + And, when you hear aloft the dreadful shock + That strikes her bottom on some pointed rock, + The boldest of our sailors must descend, + The dangerous business of the deck to tend: + Then burst the hatches off, and every stay 830 + And every fastening laniard cut away; + Planks, gratings, booms, and rafts to leeward cast; + Then with redoubled strokes attack each mast, + That buoyant lumber may sustain you o'er + The rocky shelves and ledges to the shore: + But, as your firmest succour, till the last + O cling securely on each faithful mast! + Though great the danger, and the task severe, + Yet bow not to the tyranny of fear; + If once that slavish yoke your souls subdue, 840 + Adieu to hope! to life itself adieu! + "I know among you some have oft beheld + A bloodhound train, by rapine's lust impell'd, + On England's cruel coast impatient stand, + To rob the wanderers wreck'd upon their strand! + These, while their savage office they pursue, + Oft wound to death the helpless plunder'd crew, + Who, 'scaped from every horror of the main, + Implored their mercy, but implored in vain: + Yet dread not this, a crime to Greece unknown, 850 + Such bloodhounds all her circling shores disown; + Who, though by barbarous tyranny oppress'd, + Can share affliction with the wretch distress'd: + Their hearts, by cruel fate inured to grief, + Oft to the friendless stranger yield relief." + With conscious horror struck, the naval band + Detested for a while their native land; + They cursed the sleeping vengeance of the laws, + That thus forgot her guardian sailors' cause. + Meanwhile the master's voice again they heard, 860 + Whom, as with filial duty, all revered: + "No more remains--but now a trusty band + Must ever at the pumps industrious stand; + And, while with us the rest attend to wear, + Two skilful seamen to the helm repair-- + And thou, Eternal Power! whose awful sway + The storms revere, and roaring seas obey! + On thy supreme assistance we rely; + Thy mercy supplicate, if doom'd to die! + Perhaps this storm is sent with healing breath 870 + From neighbouring shores to scourge disease and death: + 'Tis ours on thine unerring laws to trust; + With thee, great Lord! 'whatever is, is just.'" + He said: and, with consenting reverence fraught, + The sailors join'd his prayer in silent thought: + His intellectual eye, serenely bright, + Saw distant objects with prophetic light. + Thus, in a land that lasting wars oppress, + That groans beneath misfortune and distress; + Whose wealth to conquering armies falls a prey, 880 + Till all her vigour, pride, and fame decay; + Some bold sagacious statesman, from the helm, + Sees desolation gathering o'er his realm; + He darts around his penetrating eyes + Where dangers grow, and hostile unions rise; + With deep attention marks the invading foe, + Eludes their wiles and frustrates every blow, + Tries his last art the tottering state to save, + Or in its ruins find a glorious grave. + Still in the yawning trough the vessel reels, 890 + Ingulf'd beneath two fluctuating hills; + On either side they rise, tremendous scene! + A long dark melancholy vale between: + The balanced ship, now forward, now behind, + Still felt the impression of the waves and wind, + And to the right and left by turns inclined; + But Albert from behind the balance drew, + And on the prow its double efforts threw, + The order now was given to bear away! + The order given, the timoneers obey: 900 + Both stay-sail sheets to mid-ships were convey'd, + And round the foremast on each side belay'd: + Thus ready, to the halyards they apply-- + They hoist! away the flitting ruins fly: + Yet Albert new resources still prepares, + Conceals his grief, and doubles all his cares-- + "Away there! lower the mizen-yard on deck," + He calls, "and brace the foremost yards aback!" + His great example every bosom fires, + New life rekindles and new hope inspires: 910 + While to the helm unfaithful still she lies, + One desperate remedy at last he tries-- + "Haste! with your weapons cut the shrouds and stay, + And hew at once the mizen-mast away!" + He said: to cut the girding stay they run, + Soon on each side the sever'd shrouds are gone: + Fast by the fated pine bold Rodmond stands, + The impatient axe hung gleaming in his hands; + Brandish'd on high, it fell with dreadful sound, + The tall mast, groaning, felt the deadly wound; 920 + Deep gash'd beneath, the tottering structure rings, + And crashing, thundering, o'er the quarter swings. + Thus, when some limb, convulsed with pangs of death, + Imbibes the gangrene's pestilential breath, + The experienced artist from the blood betrays + The latent venom, or its course delays; + But if the infection triumphs o'er his art, + Tainting the vital stream that warms the heart, + To stop the course of death's inflaming tides, + The infected member from the trunk divides. 930 + + +[Footnote 1: 'Jove's high hill:' Dicte.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Dark scud:' scud is a name given by seamen to the lowest +clouds, which are driven with great rapidity along the atmosphere, in +squally or tempestuous weather.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Leeward:' When the wind crosses a ship's course either +directly or obliquely, that side of the ship, upon which it acts, is +called the weather-side; and the opposite one, which is then pressed +downwards, is called the lee-side. Hence all the rigging and furniture +of the ship are, at this time, distinguished by the side on which they +are situated; as the lee-cannon, the lee-braces, the weather-braces, &c.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Top-sails:' the top-sails are large square sails of the +second degree in height and magnitude.] + +[Footnote 5: 'Reef:' reefs are certain divisions or spaces by which the +principal sails are reduced when the wind increases; and again enlarged +proportionally when its force abates.] + +[Footnote 6: 'Halyards and top-bow-lines:' halyards are either single +ropes or tackles, by which the sails are hoisted up and lowered when the +sail is to be extended or reduced. Bow-lines are ropes intended to keep +the windward-edge of the sail steady, and prevent it from shaking in an +unfavourable wind.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Clue-lines and reef-tackles:' clue-lines are ropes used to +truss up the clues, or lower corners, of the principal sails to their +respective yards, particularly when the sail is to be close-reefed or +furled. Reef-tackles are ropes employed to facilitate the operation of +reefing, by confining the extremities of the reef close up to the yard, +so that the interval becomes slack, and is therefore easily rolled up +and fastened to the yard by the points employed for this purpose, ver. +154.] + +[Footnote 8: 'Earings:' small cords, by which the upper corners of the +principal sails, and also the extremities of the reefs, are fastened to +the yard-arms.] + +[Footnote 9: 'Mizen:' the mizen is a large sail of an oblong figure +extended upon the mizen-mast.] + +[Footnote 10: 'Clue-garnets,' are employed for the same purposes on the +main-sail and fore-sail as the clue-lines are upon all other square +sails; see the note on ver. 150. It is necessary in this place to +remark, that the sheets, which are universally mistaken by the English +poets and their readers, for the sails themselves, are no other than the +ropes used to extend the clues, or lower corners of the sails to which +they are attached. To the main-sail and fore-sail there is a sheet and +tack on each side; the latter of which is a thick rope serving to +confine the weather-clue of the sail down to the ship's side, whilst the +former draws out the lee-clue or lower-corner on the opposite side. +Tacks are only used in a side-wind.] + +[Footnote 11: 'Helm a-weather:' the helm is said to be a-weather when +the bar by which it is managed is turned to the side of the ship next +the wind.] + +[Footnote 12: 'Timoneer:' (from 'timonnier', Fr.) the helmsman, or +steersman.] + +[Footnote 13: 'Helm to starboard:' the helm, being turned to starboard, +or to the right side of the ship, directs the prow to the left, or to +port, and 'vice versa'. Hence the helm being put a-starboard, when the +ship is running northward, directs her prow towards the west.] + +[Footnote 14: 'Fore stay-sail:' this sail, which is with more propriety +called the fore topmast-stay-sail, is a triangular sail that runs upon +the fore topmast-stay, over the bowsprit. It is used to command the +fore-part of the ship, and counterbalance the sails extended towards the +stern.] + +[Footnote 15: 'Yards to starboard braced:' a yard is said to be braced +when it is turned about the mast horizontally, either to the right or +left; the ropes employed in this service are accordingly called braces.] + +[Footnote 16: 'Brails:' the ropes used to truss up a sail to the yard or +mast whereto it is attached, are in a general sense called brails.] + +[Footnote 17: 'Head-rope:' the head-rope is a cord to which the upper +part of the sail is sewed.] + +[Footnote 18: 'Robans:' rope-bands, pronounced roebins, are small cords, +used to fasten the upper edge of any sail to its respective yard.] + +[Footnote 19: 'Braces slack:' because the lee-brace confines the yard so +that the tack will not come down to its place till the braces are cast +loose.] + +[Footnote 20: 'Taught,' 'tally,' and 'belay:' taught implies stiff, +tense, or extended straight; and tally is a phrase particularly applied +to the operation of hauling aft the sheets, or drawing them towards the +ship's stern; to belay, is to fasten.] + +[Footnote 21: 'Rolling-tackles:' the rolling-tackle is an assemblage of +pulleys, used to confine the yard to the weather-side of the mast, and +prevent the former from rubbing against the latter by the fluctuating +motion of the ship in a turbulent sea.] + +[Footnote 22: 'Strike top-gallant-yards:' it is usual to send down the +top-gallant yards on the approach of a storm; they are the highest yards +that are rigged in a ship.] + +[Footnote 23: 'Travellers' and 'back-stays:' travellers are slender iron +rings, encircling the back-stays, and used to facilitate the hoisting or +lowering of the top-gallant-yards, by confining them to the backstays, +in their ascent or descent, so as to prevent them from swinging about by +the agitation of the vessel. Back-stays are long ropes, extending from +the right and left side of the ship to the topmast-heads, which they are +intended to secure, by counter-acting the effort of the wind upon the +sails.] + +[Footnote 24: 'Top-ropes:' cords by which the top-gallant-yards are +hoisted up from the deck, or lowered again in stormy weather.] + +[Footnote 25: 'Parrels,' and 'lifts:' the parrel, which is usually a +moveable band of rope, is employed to confine the yard to its respective +mast. Lifts are ropes extending from the head of any mast to the +extremities of its particular yard, to support the weight of the latter; +to retain it in balance; or to raise one yard-arm higher than the other, +which is accordingly called 'topping,' ver. 261.] + +[Footnote 26: 'Booms:' the booms in this place imply any masts or yards +lying on the deck in reserve, to supply the place of others which may be +carried away by distress of weather, &c.] + +[Footnote 27: 'Courses:' the courses are generally understood to be the +mainsail, fore-sail, and mizen, which are the largest and lowest sails +on their several masts: the term is however sometimes taken in a larger +sense.] + +[Footnote 28: 'Tack's eased off:' it has been remarked before, in note +to ver. 165, p. 211, that the tack is always fastened to windward; +accordingly, as soon as it is cast loose, and the clue-garnet hauled up, +the weather-clue of the sail immediately mounts to the yard; and this +operation must be carefully performed in a storm, to prevent the sail +from splitting, or being torn to pieces by shivering.] + +[Footnote 29: 'Sheet and weather-brace they now stand by:' it is +necessary to pull in the weather-brace, whenever the sheet is cast off, +to preserve the sail from shaking violently.] + +[Footnote 30: 'Spilling-lines:' the spilling-lines, which are only used +on particular occasions in tempestuous weather, are employed to draw +together and confine the belly of the sail, when it is inflated by the +wind over the yard.] + +[Footnote 31: 'Downhaul-tackle:' the violence of the wind forces the +yard so much outward from the mast on these occasions, that it cannot +easily be lowered so as to reef the sail, without the application of a +tackle to haul it down on the mast. This is afterwards converted into +rolling-tackle; see the note on ver. 252, p. 214] + +[Footnote 32: 'Jears' are the same to the mainsail, foresail, and mizen, +as the halyards (note to ver. 149, p. 210), are to all the inferior +sails. The tye is the upper part of the jears.] + +[Footnote 33: 'Reef-lines' are only used to reef the mainsail and +foresail; they are passed in spiral turns through the eye-let holes of +the reef, and over the head of the sails between the rope-band legs, +till they reach the extremities of the reef to which they are firmly +extended, so as to lace the reef close up to the yard.] + +[Footnote 34: 'Shrouds' are thick ropes, stretching from the mastheads +downwards to the outside of the ship, serving to support the masts; they +are also used as a range of rope-ladders by which the seamen ascend or +descend to perform whatever is necessary about the sails and rigging.] + +[Footnote 35: 'Reef-band:' the reef-band is a long piece of canvas sewed +across the sail, to strengthen the canvas in the place where the +eyelet-holes of the reef are formed.] + +[Footnote 36: 'Circling earings:' the outer turns of the earing serve to +extend the sail along the yard, and the inner tarns are employed to +confine its head-rope close to its surface; see note to ver. 207, p. +213.] + +[Footnote 37: 'A sea' is the general name given by sailors to a single +wave, or billow; hence when a wave bursts over the deck, the vessel is +said to have 'shipped a sea.'] + +[Footnote 38: 'To weather' a shore, is to pass to the windward of it, +which at this time is prevented by the violence of the storm.] + +[Footnote 39: 'Try:' to try, is to lay the ship with her side nearly in +the direction of the wind and sea, with the head somewhat inclined to +the windward; the helm being laid a-lee to retain her in that position.] + +[Footnote 40: 'Topping-lift:' the topping-lift, which tops the upper end +of the mizen-yard (see note to ver. 260, p. 215); this line and the six +following describe the operation of reefing and balancing the mizen. The +reef of this sail is towards the lower end, the knittles being small +short lines used in the room of points for this purpose (see notes to +ver. 134, 150, p. 210); they are accordingly knotted under the +foot-rope, or lower edge of the sail.] + +[Footnote 41: 'Lash'd a-lee:' fastened to the lee-side; see note to ver. +132, p. 209.] + +[Footnote 42: 'The well' is an apartment in a ship's hold, serving to +inclose the pumps; it is sounded by dropping a measured iron rod down +into it by a long line; hence the increase or diminution of the leaks is +easily discovered.] + +[Footnote 43: 'Brake:' the brake is the lever or handle of the pump, by +which it is wrought.] + +[Footnote 44: 'The waist' of a ship of this kind is a hollow space, of +about five feet in depth, contained between the elevations of the +quarter-deck and forecastle, and having the upper-deck for its base or +platform.] + +[Footnote 45: 'Lee-way:' the lee-way, or drift, which in this place are +synonymous terms, is the movement by which a ship is driven sideways at +the mercy of the wind and sea, when she is deprived of the government of +the sails and helm.] + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +CANTO III. + +THE SCENE IS EXTENDED FROM THAT PART OF THE ARCHIPELAGO WHICH LIES TEN +MILES TO THE NORTHWARD OF FALCONERA, TO CAPE COLONNA IN ATTICA. + +THE TIME, ABOUT SEVEN HOURS; FROM ONE UNTIL EIGHT IN THE MORNING. + + +THE ARGUMENT. + +I. The beneficial influence of poetry in the civilisation of mankind. + Diffidence of the author. + +II. Wreck of the mizen-mast cleared away. + Ship put before the wind--labours much. + Different stations of the officers. + Appearance of the island of Falconera. + +III. Excursion to the adjacent nations of Greece renowned in antiquity. + Athens. + Socrates, Plato, Aristides, Solon. + Corinth--its architecture. + Sparta. + Leonidas. + Invasion by Xerxes. + Lycurgus. + Epaminondas. + Present state of the Spartans. + Arcadia. + Former happiness, and fertility. + Its present distress the effect of slavery. + Ithaca. + Ulysses and Penelope. + Argos and Mycaene. + Agamemnon. + Macronisi. + Lemnos. + Vulcan. + Delos. + Apollo and Diana. + Troy. + Sestos. + Leander and Hero. + Delphos. + Temple of Apollo. + Parnassus. + The Muses. + +IV. Subject resumed. + Address to the spirits of the storm. + A tempest, accompanied with rain, hail, and meteors. + Darkness of the night, lightning and thunder. + Daybreak. St George's cliffs open upon them. + The ship, in great danger, passes the island of St George. + +V. Land of Athens appears. + Helmsman struck blind by lightning. + Ship laid broadside to the shore. + Bowsprit, foremast, and main top-mast carried away. + Albert, Rodmond, Arion, and Palemon strive to save themselves on + the wreck of the foremast. + The ship parts asunder. + Death of Albert and Rodmond. + Arion reaches the shore. + Finds Palemon expiring on the beach. + His dying address to Arion, who is led away by the humane natives. + + + + + +I. When, in a barbarous age, with blood defiled, + The human savage roam'd the gloomy wild; + When sullen ignorance her flag display'd, + And rapine and revenge her voice obey'd; + Sent from the shores of light, the Muses came + The dark and solitary race to tame, + The war of lawless passions to control, + To melt in tender sympathy the soul; + The heart's remote recesses to explore, + And touch its springs, when prose avail'd no more: 10 + The kindling spirit caught the empyreal ray, + And glow'd congenial with the swelling lay; + Roused from the chaos of primeval night, + At once fair truth and reason sprung to light. + When great Maeonides, in rapid song, + The thundering tide of battle rolls along, + Each ravish'd bosom feels the high alarms, + And all the burning pulses beat to arms; + Hence, war's terrific glory to display, + Became the theme of every epic lay: 20 + But when his strings with mournful magic tell + What dire distress Laertes' son befell, + The strains, meandering through the maze of woe + Bid sacred sympathy the heart o'erflow: + Far through the boundless realms of thought he springs, + From earth upborne on Pegasean wings, + While distant poets, trembling as they view + His sunward flight, the dazzling track pursue; + His magic voice, that rouses and delights, + Allures and guides to climb Olympian heights. 30 + But I, alas! through scenes bewilder'd stray, + Far from the light of his unerring ray; + While, all unused the wayward path to tread, + Darkling I wander with prophetic dread. + To me in vain the bold Maeonian lyre + Awakes the numbers fraught with living fire; + Full oft indeed that mournful harp of yore + Wept the sad wanderer lost upon the shore; + 'Tis true he lightly sketch'd the bold design, + But toils more joyless, more severe are mine; 40 + Since o'er that scene his genius swiftly ran, + Subservient only to a nobler plan: + But I, perplex'd in labyrinths of art, + Anatomize and blazon every part; + Attempt with plaintive numbers to display, + And chain the events in regular array; + Though hard the task to sing in varied strains, + When still unchanged the same sad theme remains: + O could it draw compassion's melting tear + For kindred miseries, oft beheld too near! 50 + For kindred wretches, oft in ruin cast + On Albion's strand beneath the wintry blast; + For all the pangs, the complicated woe, + Her bravest sons, her guardian sailors know; + Then every breast should sigh at our distress-- + This were the summit of my hoped success! + For this, my theme through mazes I pursue, + Which nor Maeonides, nor Maro knew. +II. Awhile the mast, in ruins dragg'd behind, + Balanced the impression of the helm and wind; 60 + The wounded serpent, agonized with pain, + Thus trails his mangled volume on the plain: + But now, the wreck, dissever'd from the rear, + The long reluctant prow began to veer; + While round before the enlarging wind it falls, + "Square fore and aft the yards," the master calls, + "You, timoneers, her motion still attend, + For on your steerage all our lives depend: + So, steady! [1] meet her! watch the curving prow, + And from the gale directly let her go." 70 + "Starboard again!" the watchful pilot cries, + "Starboard!" the obedient timoneer replies: + Then back to port, revolving at command, + The wheel [2] rolls swiftly through each glowing hand. + The ship no longer, foundering by the lee, + Bears on her side the invasions of the sea; + All lonely o'er the desert waste she flies, + Scourged on by surges, storms, and bursting skies. + As when enclosing harpooneers assail + In Hyperborean seas the slumbering whale, 80 + Soon as their javelins pierce his scaly side, + He groans, he darts impetuous down the tide; + And rack'd all o'er with lacerating pain, + He flies remote beneath the flood in vain-- + So with resistless haste the wounded ship + Scuds from pursuing waves along the deep; + While, dash'd apart by her dividing prow, + Like burning adamant the waters glow; + Her joints forget their firm elastic tone, + Her long keel trembles, and her timbers groan: 90 + Upheaved behind her in tremendous height + The billows frown, with fearful radiance bright; + Now quivering o'er the topmost waves she rides, + While deep beneath the enormous gulf divides; + Now launching headlong down the horrid vale, + Becalm'd she hears no more the howling gale; + Till up the dreadful height again she flies, + Trembling beneath the current of the skies. + As that rebellious angel, who, from heaven, 100 + To regions of eternal pain was driven, + When dreadless he forsook the Stygian shore + The distant realms of Eden to explore; + Here, on sulphureous clouds sublime upheaved, + With daring wing the infernal air he cleaved; + There, in some hideous gulf descending prone, + Far in the void abrupt of night was thrown-- + Even so she climbs the briny mountain's height, + Then down the black abyss precipitates her flight: + The mast, about whose tops the whirlwinds sing, 110 + With long vibration round her axle swing. + To guide her wayward course amid the gloom, + The watchful pilots different posts assume: + Albert and Rodmond on the poop appear, + There to direct each guiding timoneer; + While at the bow the watch Arion keeps, + To shun what cruisers wander o'er the deeps: + Where'er he moves Palemon still attends, + As if on him his only hope depends; + While Rodmond, fearful of some neighbouring shore, 120 + Cries, ever and anon, Look out afore! + Thus o'er the flood four hours she scudding flew, + When Falconera's rugged cliffs they view + Faintly along the larboard bow descried, + As o'er its mountain tops the lightnings glide; + High o'er its summit, through the gloom of night, + The glimmering watch-tower casts a mournful light: + In dire amazement riveted they stand, + And hear the breakers lash the rugged strand; + But scarce perceived, when past the beam it flies, 130 + Swift as the rapid eagle cleaves the skies: + That danger past reflects a feeble joy, + But soon returning fears their hope destroy. + As in the Atlantic ocean, when we find + Some Alp of ice driven southward by the wind, + The sultry air all sickening pants around, + In deluges of torrid ether drown'd; + Till when the floating isle approaches nigh, + In cooling tides the aerial billows fly: + Awhile deliver'd from the scorching heat, 140 + In gentler tides our feverish pulses beat: + Such transient pleasure, as they pass'd this strand, + A moment bade their throbbing hearts expand; + The illusive meteors of a lifeless fire, + Too soon they kindle, and too soon expire. +III. Say, Memory! thou, from whose unerring tongue + Instructive flows the animated song, + What regions now the scudding ship surround? + Regions of old through all the world renown'd; + That, once the poet's theme, the Muses' boast, 150 + Now lie in ruins, in oblivion lost! + Did they whose sad distress these lays deplore, + Unskill'd in Grecian or in Roman lore, + Unconscious pass along each famous shore? + They did: for in this desert, joyless soil, + No flowers of genial science deign to smile; + Sad Ocean's genius, in untimely hour, + Withers the bloom of every springing flower; + For native tempests here, with blasting breath, + Despoil, and doom the vernal buds to death; 160 + Here fancy droops, while sullen clouds and storm, + The generous temper of the soul deform: + Then if, among the wandering naval train, + One stripling, exiled from the Aonian plain, + Had e'er, entranced in fancy's soothing dream, + Approach'd to taste the sweet Castalian stream + (Since those salubrious streams, with power divine, + To purer sense the soften'd soul refine); + Sure he, amid unsocial mates immured, + To learning lost, severer grief endured; 170 + In vain might Phoebus' ray his mind inspire, + Since fate with torrents quench'd the kindling fire: + If one this pain of living death possess'd, + It dwelt supreme, Arion! in thy breast; + When, with Palemon, watching in the night + Beneath pale Cynthia's melancholy light, + You oft recounted those surrounding states, + Whose glory Fame with brazen tongue relates. + Immortal Athens first, in ruin spread, + Contiguous lies at Port Liono's head; 180 + Great source of science! whose immortal name + Stands foremost in the glorious roll of fame. + Here godlike Socrates and Plato shone, + And, firm to truth, eternal honour won: + The first in virtue's cause his life resign'd, + By Heaven pronounced the wisest of mankind: + The last proclaim'd the spark of vital fire, + The soul's fine essence, never could expire: + Here Solon dwelt, the philosophic sage + That fled Pisistratus' vindictive rage: + Just Aristides here maintain'd the cause, 190 + Whose sacred precepts shine through Solon's laws. + Of all her towering structures, now alone + Some columns stand, with mantling weeds o'ergrown; + The wandering stranger near the port descries + A milk-white lion of stupendous size, + Of antique marble; hence the haven's name. + Unknown to modern natives whence it came. + Next, in the gulf of Engia, Corinth lies, + Whose gorgeous fabrics seem'd to strike the skies; + Whom, though by tyrant victors oft subdued, 200 + Greece, Egypt, Rome, with admiration view'd: + Her name, for architecture long renown'd, + Spread like the foliage which her pillars crown'd; + But now, in fatal desolation laid, + Oblivion o'er it draws a dismal shade. + Then further westward, on Morea's land, + Fair Misitra! thy modern turrets stand: + Ah! who, unmoved with secret woe, can tell + That here great Lacedaemon's glory fell? + Here once she flourish'd, at whose trumpet's sound 210 + War burst his chains, and nations shook around; + Here brave Leonidas from shore to shore + Through all Achaia bade her thunders roar: + He, when imperial Xerxes from afar + Advanced with Persia's sumless hosts to war, + Till Macedonia shrunk beneath his spear, + And Greece all shudder'd as the chief drew near; + He, at Thermopylae's decisive plain, + Their force opposed with Sparta's glorious train; + Tall Oeta saw the tyrant's conquer'd bands 220 + In gasping millions bleed on hostile lands: + Thus vanquish'd, haughty Asia heard thy name, + And Thebes and Athens sicken'd at thy fame: + Thy state, supported by Lycurgus' laws, + Gain'd, like thine arms, superlative applause; + Even great Epaminondas strove in vain + To curb thy spirit with a Theban chain. + But ah! how low that free-born spirit now! + Thy abject sons to haughty tyrants bow; + A false, degenerate, superstitious race 230 + Invest thy region, and its name disgrace. + Not distant far, Arcadia's blest domains + Peloponnesus' circling shore contains: + Thrice happy soil! where, still serenely gay, + Indulgent Flora breathed perpetual May; + Where buxom Ceres bade each fertile field + Spontaneous gifts in rich profusion yield: + Then, with some rural nymph supremely blest, + While transport glow'd in each enamour'd breast, + Each faithful shepherd told his tender pain, 240 + And sung of sylvan sports in artless strain; + Soft as the happy swain's enchanting lay + That pipes among the shades of Endermay. + Now, sad reverse! oppression's iron hand + Enslaves her natives, and despoils her land; + In lawless rapine bred, a sanguine train, + With midnight ravage, scour the uncultured plain. + Westward of these, beyond the Isthmus, lies + The long-sought isle of Ithacus the wise; + Where fair Penelope, of him deprived, 250 + To guard her honour endless schemes contrived: + She, only shielded by a stripling son, + Her lord Ulysses long to Ilion gone, + Each bold attempt of suitor-kings repell'd, + And undefiled her nuptial contract held; + True to her vows, and resolutely chaste, + Met arts with art, and triumph'd at the last. + Argos, in Greece forgotten and unknown, + Still seems her cruel fortune to bemoan; + Argos, whose monarch led the Grecian hosts 260 + Across the AEgean main to Dardan coasts: + Unhappy prince! who, on a hostile shore, + Fatigue and danger ten long winters bore; + And when to native realms restored at last, + To reap the harvest of thy labours past, + There found a perjured friend, and faithless wife, + Who sacrificed to impious lust thy life; + Fast by Arcadia stretch these desert plains, + And o'er the land a gloomy tyrant reigns. + Next, Macronisi is adjacent seen, 270 + Where adverse winds detain'd the Spartan queen; + For whom, in arms combined, the Grecian host, + With vengeance fired, invaded Phrygia's coast; + For whom so long they labour'd to destroy + The lofty turrets of imperial Troy; + Here, driven by Juno's rage, the hapless dame, + Forlorn of heart, from ruin'd Ilion came: + The port an image bears of Parian stone, + Of ancient fabric, but of date unknown. + Due east from this appears the immortal shore, 280 + That sacred Phoebus and Diana bore-- + Delos! through all the AEgean seas renown'd, + Whose coast the rocky Cyclades surround; + By Phoebus honour'd, and by Greece revered, + Her hallow'd groves even distant Persia fear'd: + But now a desert unfrequented land, + No human footstep marks the trackless sand. + Thence to the north, by Asia's western bound, + Fair Lemnos stands, with rising marble crown'd; + Where, in her rage, avenging Juno hurl'd 290 + Ill-fated Vulcan from the ethereal world. + There his eternal anvils first he rear'd; + Then, forged by Cyclopean art, appear'd + Thunders that shook the skies with dire alarms, + And form'd, by skill divine, immortal arms; + There, with this crippled wretch, the foul disgrace + And living scandal of the empyreal race, + In wedlock lived the beauteous queen of love; + Can such sensations heavenly bosoms move? + Eastward of this appears the Dardan shore, 300 + That once the imperial towers of Ilium bore-- + Illustrious Troy! renown'd in every clime + Through the long records of succeeding time; + Who saw protecting gods from heaven descend + Full oft, thy royal bulwarks to defend: + Though chiefs unnumber'd in her cause were slain, + With fate the gods and heroes fought in vain! + That refuge of perfidious Helen's shame + At midnight was involved in Grecian flame; + And now, by time's deep ploughshare harrow'd o'er, 310 + The seat of sacred Troy is found no more: + No trace of her proud fabrics now remains, + But corn and vines enrich her cultured plains; + Silver Scamander laves the verdant shore, + Scamander, oft o'erflow'd with hostile gore. + Not far removed from Ilion's famous land, + In counter-view appears the Thracian strand, + Where beauteous Hero, from the turret's height, + Display'd her cresset each revolving night; + Whose gleam directed loved Leander o'er 320 + The rolling Hellespont from Asia's shore; + Till, in a fated hour, on Thracia's coast, + She saw her lover's lifeless body toss'd: + Then felt her bosom agony severe, + Her eyes, sad gazing, pour'd the incessant tear; + O'erwhelm'd with anguish, frantic with despair, + She beat her swelling breast, and tore her hair; + On dear Leander's name in vain she cried, + Then headlong plunged into the parting tide: + The exulting tide received the lovely maid, 330 + And proudly from the strand its freight convey'd. + Far west of Thrace, beyond the AEgean main, + Remote from ocean lies the Delphic plain: + The sacred oracle of Phoebus there + High o'er the mount arose, divinely fair! + Achaian marble form'd the gorgeous pile, + August the fabric! elegant in style! + On brazen hinges turn'd the silver doors, + And chequer'd marble paved the polish'd floors; + The roof, where storied tablature appear'd, 340 + On columns of Corinthian mould was rear'd; + Of shining porphyry the shafts were framed, + And round the hollow dome bright jewels flamed: + Apollo's priests before the holy shrine + Suppliant pour'd forth their orisons divine; + To front the sun's declining ray 'twas placed, + With golden harps and branching laurels graced: + Around the fane, engraved by Vulcan's hand, + The sciences and arts were seen to stand; + Here AEsculapius' snake display'd his crest, 350 + And burning glories sparkled on his breast; + While from his eye's insufferable light, + Disease and death recoil'd in headlong flight: + Of this great temple, through all time renown'd, + Sunk in oblivion, no remains are found. + Contiguous here, with hallow'd woods o'erspread, + Renown'd Parnassus lifts its honour'd head; + There roses blossom in eternal spring, + And strains celestial feather'd warblers sing; + Apollo here bestows the unfading wreath; 360 + Here Zephyrs aromatic odours breathe; + They o'er Castalian plains diffuse perfume, + Where round the scene perennial laurels bloom: + Fair daughters of the sun, the sacred Nine! + Here wake to ecstasy their harps divine, + Or bid the Paphian lute mellifluous play, + And tune to plaintive lore the liquid lay: + Their numbers every mental storm control, + And lull to harmony the afflicted soul; + With heavenly balm the tortured breast compose, 370 + And soothe the agony of latent woes: + The verdant shades that Helicon surround, + On rosy gales seraphic tunes resound! + Perpetual summers crown the happy hours, + Sweet as the breath that fans Elysian flowers: + Hence pleasure dances in an endless round, + And love and joy, ineffable, abound. +IV. Stop, wandering thought! methinks I feel their strains + Diffuse delicious languor through my veins. + Adieu, ye flowery vales, and fragrant scenes, 380 + Delightful bowers, and ever vernal greens! + Adieu, ye streams! that o'er enchanted ground + In lucid maze the Aonian hill surround; + Ye fairy scenes! where fancy loves to dwell, + And young delight, for ever, oh, farewell! + The soul with tender luxury you fill, + And o'er the sense Lethean dews distil-- + Awake, O memory! from the inglorious dream, + With brazen lungs resume the kindling theme; + Collect thy powers, arouse thy vital fire, 390 + Ye spirits of the storm my verse inspire! + Hoarse as the whirlwinds that enrage the main, + In torrents pour along the swelling strain. + Now, through the parting wave impetuous bore, + The scudding vessel stemm'd the Athenian shore; + The pilots, as the waves behind her swell, + Still with the wheeling stern their force repel; + For this assault should either quarter [3] feel, + Again to flank the tempest she might reel! + The steersmen every bidden turn apply, + To right and left the spokes alternate fly-- 400 + Thus, when some conquer'd host retreats in fear, + The bravest leaders guard the broken rear; + Indignant they retire, and long oppose + Superior armies that around them close; + Still shield the flanks, the routed squadrons join, + And guide the flight in one continued line. + Thus they direct the flying bark before + The impelling floods, that lash her to the shore: + High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire, 410 + Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire; + With labouring throes she rolls on either side, + And dips her gunnels in the yawning tide; + Her joints, unhinged, in palsied languors play, + As ice-flakes part beneath the noontide ray. + The gale howls doleful through the blocks and shrouds, + And big rain pours a deluge from the clouds; + From wintry magazines that sweep the sky, + Descending globes of hail impetuous fly; + High on the masts, with pale and livid rays, 420 + Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze; + The ethereal dome in mournful pomp array'd + Now buried lies beneath impervious shade; + Now, flashing round intolerable light, + Redoubles all the horror of the night-- + Such terror Sinai's trembling hill o'erspread, + When Heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its head: + It seem'd, the wrathful Angel of the wind + Had all the horrors of the skies combined, + And here, to one ill-fated ship opposed, 430 + At once the dreadful magazine disclosed; + And, lo! tremendous o'er the deep he springs, + The inflaming sulphur flashing from his wings; + Hark! his strong voice the dismal silence breaks, + Mad chaos from the chains of death awakes: + Loud, and more loud, the rolling peals enlarge, + And blue on deck the fiery tides discharge; + There all aghast the shivering wretches stood, + While chill suspense and fear congeal'd their blood; + Wide bursts in dazzling sheets the living flame, 440 + And dread concussion rends the ethereal frame; + Sick earth convulsive groans from shore to shore, + And nature, shuddering, feels the horrid roar. + Still the sad prospect rises on my sight, + Reveal'd in all its mournful shade and light; + Even now my ear with quick vibration feels + The explosion burst in strong rebounding peals; + Swift through my pulses glides the kindling fire, + As lightning glances on the electric wire: + Yet, ah! the languid colours vainly strive 450 + To bid the scene in native hues revive. + But, lo! at last, from tenfold darkness born, + Forth issues o'er the wave the weeping morn: + Hail, sacred vision! who, on orient wings, + The cheering dawn of light propitious brings; + All nature, smiling, hail'd the vivid ray + That gave her beauties to returning day-- + All but our ship! which, groaning on the tide, + No kind relief, no gleam of hope descried; + For now in front her trembling inmates see 460 + The hills of Greece emerging on the lee. + So the lost lover views that fatal morn, + On which, for ever from his bosom torn, + The maid, adored, resigns her blooming charms, + To bless with love some happier rival's arms. + So to Eliza [4] dawn'd that cruel day + That tore AEneas from her sight away, + That saw him parting, never to return, + Herself in funeral flames decreed to burn. + O yet in clouds, thou genial source of light! 470 + Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight; + Go, with thy smile adorn the happy plain, + And gild the scenes where health and pleasure reign: + But let not here, in scorn, thy wanton beam + Insult the dreadful grandeur of my theme. + While shoreward now the bounding vessel flies, + Full in her van St George's cliffs arise; + High o'er the rest a pointed crag is seen, + That hung projecting o'er a mossy green; + Huge breakers on the larboard bow appear, 480 + And full a-head its eastern ledges bear: + To steer more eastward Albert still commands, + And shun, if possible, the fatal strands-- + Nearer and nearer now the danger grows, + And all their skill relentless fates oppose; + For while more eastward they direct the prow, + Enormous waves the quivering deck o'erflow; + While, as she wheels, unable to subdue + Her sallies, still they dread her broaching-to: [5] + Alarming thought! for now no more a-lee 490 + Her trembling side could bear the mountain'd sea, + And if pursuing waves she scuds before, + Headlong she runs upon the frightful shore; + A shore, where shelves and hidden rocks abound, + Where death in secret ambush lurks around. + Not half so dreadful to AEneas' eyes + The straits of Sicily were seen to rise, + When Palinurus from the helm descried + The rocks of Scylla on his eastern side; + While in the west, with hideous yawn disclosed, 500 + His onward path Charybdis' gulf opposed: + The double danger he alternate view'd, + And cautiously his arduous track pursued. + Thus, while to right and left destruction lies, + Between the extremes the daring vessel flies; + With terrible irruption bursting o'er + The marble cliffs, tremendous surges roar; + Hoarse through each winding creek the tempest raves, + And hollow rocks repeat the groan of waves. + Should once the bottom strike this cruel shore, 510 + The parting ship that instant is no more! + Nor she alone, but with her all the crew + Beyond relief are doom'd to perish too: + But haply she escapes the dreadful strand, + Though scarce her length in distance from the land: + Swift as the weapon quits the Scythian bow, + She cleaves the burning billows with her prow, + And forward hurrying with impetuous haste, + Borne on the tempest's wings the isle she past: + With longing eyes, and agony of mind, 520 + The sailors view this refuge left behind; + Happy to bribe with India's richest ore + A safe accession to that barren shore. + When in the dark Peruvian mine confined, + Lost to the cheerful commerce of mankind, + The groaning captive wastes his life away, + For ever exiled from the realms of day, + Not half such pangs his bosom agonize + When up to distant light he rolls his eyes! + Where the broad sun, in his diurnal way 530 + Imparts to all beside his vivid ray; + While, all forlorn, the victim pines in vain + For scenes he never shall possess again. +V. But now Athenian mountains they descry, + And o'er the surge Colonna frowns on high; + Where marble columns, long by time defaced, + Moss-cover'd on the lofty Cape are placed: + There rear'd by fair devotion to sustain, + In elder times, Tritonia's sacred fane; + The circling beach in murderous form appears, 540 + Decisive goal of all their hopes and fears: + The seamen now in wild amazement see + The scene of ruin rise beneath their lee; + Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past, + As dumb with terror, they behold the last. + And now, while wing'd with ruin from on high, + Through the rent cloud the ragged lightnings fly, + A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light, + Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night: + Rodmond, who heard a piteous groan behind, 550 + Touch'd with compassion, gazed upon the blind; + And, while around his sad companions crowd, + He guides the unhappy victim to the shroud: + "Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend!" he cries; + "Thy only succour on the mast relies." + The helm, bereft of half its vital force, + Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course; + Quick to the abandon'd wheel Arion came, + The ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim: + The vessel, while the dread event draws nigh, 560 + Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly; + Fate spurs her on!--Thus, issuing from afar, + Advances to the sun some blazing star, + And, as it feels attraction's kindling force, + Springs onward with accelerated course. + The moment fraught with fate approaches fast! + While thronging sailors climb each quivering mast, + The ship no longer now must stem the land, + And, Hard a starboard! is the last command: + While every suppliant voice to Heaven applies, 570 + The prow, swift wheeling, to the westward flies; + Twelve sailors, on the fore-mast who depend, + High on the platform of the top ascend-- + Fatal retreat! for, while the plunging prow + Immerges headlong in the wave below, + Down prest by watery weight the bowsprit bends, + And from above the stem deep-crashing rends: + Beneath her bow the floating ruins lie; + The fore-mast totters, unsustain'd on high; + And now the ship, forelifted by the sea, 580 + Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er her lee; + While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay + Drags the main top-mast by the cap away: + Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain, + Through hostile floods, their vessel to regain; + Weak hope, alas! they buffet long the wave, + And grasp at life though sinking in the grave; + Till all exhausted, and bereft of strength, + O'erpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length; + The burying waters close around their head-- 590 + They sink! for ever number'd with the dead. + Those who remain the weather shrouds embrace, + Nor longer mourn their lost companions' case: + Transfix'd with terror at the approaching doom, + Self-pity in their breasts alone has room. + Albert, and Rodmond, and Palemon, near, + With young Arion, on the mast appear: + Even they, amid the unspeakable distress, + In every look distracting thoughts confess; + In every vein the refluent blood congeals, 600 + And every bosom mortal terror feels; + Begirt with all the horrors of the main, + They view'd the adjacent shore, but view'd in vain. + Such torments in the drear abodes of hell, + Where sad despair laments with rueful yell,-- + Such torments agonize the damned breast. + That sees remote the mansions of the blest. + It comes! the dire catastrophe draws near, + Lash'd furious on by destiny severe: + The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death, 610 + Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath! + O yet confirm my heart, ye powers above! + This last tremendous shock of fate to prove; + The tottering frame of reason yet sustain, + Nor let this total havoc whirl my brain; + Since I, all trembling in extreme distress, + Must still the horrible result express. + In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore + Would arm the mind with philosophic lore; + In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath 620 + To smile serene amid the pangs of death: + Immortal Zeno's self would trembling see + Inexorable fate beneath the lee; + And Epictetus, at the sight, in vain + Attempt his Stoic firmness to retain: + Had Socrates, for godlike virtue famed, + And wisest of the sons of men proclaim'd, + Spectator of such various horrors been, + Even he had stagger'd at this dreadful scene. + In vain the cords and axes were prepared, 630 + For every wave now smites the quivering yard; + High o'er the ship they throw a dreadful shade, + Then on her burst in terrible cascade; + Across the founder'd deck o'erwhelming roar, + And foaming, swelling, bound upon the shore. + Swift up the mounting billow now she flies, + Her shatter'd top half-buried in the skies; + Borne o'er a latent reef the hull impends, + Then thundering on the marble crags descends: + Her ponderous bulk the dire concussion feels, 640 + And o'er upheaving surges wounded reels. + Again she plunges! hark! a second shock + Bilges the splitting vessel on the rock: + Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, + The fated victims shuddering cast their eyes + In wild despair; while yet another stroke + With strong convulsion rends the solid oak: + Ah, Heaven!--behold her crashing ribs divide! + She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the tide. + Oh, were it mine with sacred Maro's art, 650 + To wake to sympathy the feeling heart; + Like him, the smooth and mournful verse to dress + In all the pomp of exquisite distress; + Then, too severely taught by cruel fate, + To share in all the perils I relate, + Then might I, with unrivall'd strains, deplore + The impervious horrors of a leeward shore. + As o'er the surf the bending mainmast hung, + Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung: + Some on a broken crag were struggling cast, 660 + And there by oozy tangles grappled fast; + Awhile they bore the o'erwhelming billows' rage, + Unequal combat with their fate to wage + Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego + Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below: + Some, from the main yard-arm impetuous thrown + On marble ridges, die without a groan: + Three, with Palemon, on their skill depend, + And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend; + Now on the mountain-wave on high they ride, 670 + Then downward plunge beneath the involving tide; + Till one, who seems in agony to strive, + The whirling breakers heave on shore alive: + The rest a speedier end of anguish knew, + And press'd the stony beach--a lifeless crew! + Next, O unhappy chief! the eternal doom + Of Heaven decreed thee to the briny tomb: + What scenes of misery torment thy view! + What painful struggles of thy dying crew! + Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood 680 + O'erspread with corses, red with human blood!-- + So, pierced with anguish, hoary Priam gazed, + When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blazed; + While he, severest sorrow doom'd to feel, + Expired beneath the victor's murdering steel-- + Thus with his helpless partners to the last, + Sad refuge! Albert grasps the floating mast: + His soul could yet sustain this mortal blow, + But droops, alas! beneath superior woe; + For now strong nature's sympathetic chain 690 + Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain: + His faithful wife, for ever doom'd to mourn + For him, alas! who never shall return, + To black adversity's approach exposed, + With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed; + His lovely daughter, left without a friend + Her innocence to succour and defend, + By youth and indigence set forth a prey + To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray-- + While these reflections rack his feeling mind, 700 + Rodmond, who hung beside, his grasp resign'd; + And, as the tumbling waters o'er him roll'd, + His outstretch'd arms the master's legs enfold. + Sad Albert feels their dissolution near, + And strives in vain his fetter'd limbs to clear, + For death bids every clenching joint adhere. + All faint, to Heaven he throws his dying eyes, + And, O protect my wife and child! he cries-- + The gushing streams roll back the unfinish'd sound, + He gasps! and sinks amid the vast profound. 710 + Five only left of all the shipwreck'd throng + Yet ride the mast which shoreward drives along; + With these Arion still his hold secures, + And all assaults of hostile waves endures; + O'er the dire prospect as for life he strives, + He looks if poor Palemon yet survives-- + "Ah! wherefore, trusting to unequal art, + Didst thou, incautious! from the wreck depart? + Alas! these rocks all human skill defy; 720 + Who strikes them once, beyond relief must die: + And now sore wounded, thou perhaps art tost + On these, or in some oozy cavern lost!" + Thus thought Arion; anxious gazing round + In vain, his eyes no more Palemon found. + The demons of destruction hover nigh, + And thick their mortal shafts commission'd fly; + When now a breaking surge, with forceful sway, + Two, next Arion, furious tears away: + Hurl'd on the crags, behold they gasp, they bleed! 730 + And, groaning, cling upon the elusive weed; + Another billow bursts in boundless roar! + Arion sinks! and Memory views no more. + Ha! total night and horror here preside, + My stunn'd ear tingles to the whizzing tide; + It is their funeral knell! and, gliding near, + Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear: + But, lo! emerging from the watery grave, + Again they float incumbent on the wave; + Again the dismal prospect opens round,-- 740 + The wreck, the shore, the dying and the drown'd! + And see! enfeebled by repeated shocks, + Those two, who scramble on the adjacent rocks, + Their faithless hold no longer can retain, + They sink o'erwhelm'd! and never rise again. + Two with Arion yet the mast upbore, + That now above the ridges reach'd the shore: + Still trembling to descend, they downward gaze + With horror pale, and torpid with amaze. + The floods recoil! the ground appears below! 750 + And life's faint embers now rekindling glow; + Awhile they wait the exhausted waves' retreat, + Then climb slow up the beach with hands and feet. + O Heaven! deliver'd by whose sovereign hand + Still on destruction's brink they shuddering stand, + Receive the languid incense they bestow, + That, damp with death, appears not yet to glow: + To thee each soul the warm oblation pays + With trembling ardour of unequal praise; + In every heart dismay with wonder strives, 760 + And hope the sicken'd spark of life revives; + Her magic powers their exiled health restore, + Till horror and despair are felt no more. + Roused by the blustering tempest of the night, + A troop of Grecians mount Colonna's height; + When, gazing down with horror on the flood, + Full to their view the scene of ruin stood-- + The surf with mangled bodies strew'd around, + And those yet breathing on the sea-wash'd ground: + Though lost to science and the nobler arts, 770 + Yet nature's lore inform'd their feeling hearts; + Straight down the vale with hastening steps they hied, + The unhappy sufferers to assist and guide. + Meanwhile those three escaped beneath explore + The first adventurous youth who reached the shore. + Panting, with eyes averted from the day, + Prone, helpless, on the tangly beach he lay. + It is Palemon! oh, what tumults roll + With hope and terror in Arion's soul!-- + "If yet unhurt he lives again to view 780 + His friend, and this sole remnant of our crew, + With us to travel through this foreign zone, + And share the future good or ill unknown?" + Arion thus; but ah, sad doom of fate! + That bleeding memory sorrows to relate; + While yet afloat, on some resisting rock + His ribs were dash'd, and fractured with the shock: + Heart-piercing sight! those cheeks so late array'd + In beauty's bloom, are pale with mortal shade; + Distilling blood his lovely breast o'erspread, 790 + And clogg'd the golden tresses of his head; + Nor yet the lungs by this pernicious stroke + Were wounded, or the vocal organs broke. + Down from his neck, with blazing gems array'd, + Thy image, lovely Anna! hung portray'd; + The unconscious figure, smiling all serene, + Suspended in a golden chain was seen. + Hadst thou, soft maiden! in this hour of woe + Beheld him writhing from the deadly blow, + What force of art, what language could express 800 + Thine agony, thine exquisite distress? + But thou, alas! art doom'd to weep in vain + For him thine eyes shall never see again. + With dumb amazement pale, Arion gazed, + And cautiously the wounded youth upraised: + Palemon then, with equal pangs oppress'd, + In faltering accents thus his friend address'd: + "O rescued from destruction late so nigh, + Beneath whose fatal influence doom'd I lie; + Are we, then, exiled to this last retreat 810 + Of life, unhappy! thus decreed to meet? + Ah! how unlike what yester-morn enjoy'd, + Enchanting hopes! for ever now destroy'd; + For wounded, far beyond all healing power, + Palemon dies, and this his final hour: + By those fell breakers, where in vain I strove, + At once cut off from fortune, life, and love! + Far other scenes must soon present my sight, + That lie deep-buried yet in tenfold night-- + Ah! wretched father of a wretched son, 820 + Whom thy paternal prudence has undone; + How will remembrance of this blinded care + Bend down thy head with anguish and despair! + Such dire effects from avarice arise, + That, deaf to nature's voice, and vainly wise, + With force severe endeavours to control + The noblest passions that inspire the soul. + But, O thou sacred power! whose law connects + The eternal chain of causes and effects, + Let not thy chastening ministers of rage + Afflict with sharp remorse his feeble age! 830 + And you, Arion! who with these the last + Of all our crew survive the shipwreck past-- + Ah! cease to mourn, those friendly tears restrain, + Nor give my dying moments keener pain! + Since Heaven may soon thy wandering steps restore, + When parted hence, to England's distant shore. + Shouldst thou, the unwilling messenger of fate, + To him the tragic story first relate; + Oh! friendship's generous ardour then suppress, + Nor hint the fatal cause of my distress; 840 + Nor let each horrid incident sustain + The lengthen'd tale to aggravate his pain: + Ah! then remember well my last request + For her who reigns for ever in my breast; + Yet let him prove a father and a friend, + The helpless maid to succour and defend-- + Say, I this suit implored with parting breath, + So Heaven befriend him at his hour of death! + But, oh! to lovely Anna shouldst thou tell + What dire untimely end thy friend befell; 850 + Draw o'er the dismal scene soft pity's veil, + And lightly touch the lamentable tale: + Say that my love, inviolably true, + No change, no diminution ever knew: + Lo! her bright image, pendent on my neck, + Is all Palemon rescued from the wreck: + Take it! and say, when panting in the wave + I struggled life and this alone to save. + "My soul, that fluttering hastens to be free, + Would yet a train of thoughts impart to thee, 860 + But strives in vain; the chilling ice of death + Congeals my blood, and chokes the stream of breath: + Resign'd, she quits her comfortless abode + To course that long, unknown, eternal road-- + O sacred source of ever-living light! + Conduct the weary wanderer in her flight; + Direct her onward to that peaceful shore, + Where peril, pain, and death prevail no more. + "When thou some tale of hapless love shalt hear, + That steals from pity's eye the melting tear; 870 + Of two chaste hearts, by mutual passion join'd, + To absence, sorrow, and despair consign'd; + Oh! then, to swell the tides of social woe + That heal the afflicted bosom they o'erflow, + While memory dictates, this sad shipwreck tell, + And what distress thy wretched friend befell: + Then, while in streams of soft compassion drown'd, + The swains lament, and maidens weeps around; + While lisping children, touch'd with infant fear, + With wonder gaze, and drop the unconscious tear; 880 + Oh! then this moral bid their souls retain, + All thoughts of happiness on earth are vain!" [6] + The last faint accents trembled on his tongue, + That now inactive to the palate clung; + His bosom heaves a mortal groan--he dies! + And shades eternal sink upon his eyes. + As thus defaced in death Palemon lay, + Arion gazed upon the lifeless clay; + Transfix'd he stood, with awful terror fill'd, + While down his cheek the silent drops distill'd: 890 + "O ill-starr'd votary of unspotted truth! + Untimely perish'd in the bloom of youth; + Should e'er thy friend arrive on Albion's land, + He will obey, though painful, thy command; + His tongue the dreadful story shall display, + And all the horrors of this dismal day: + Disastrous day! what ruin hast thou bred, + What anguish to the living and the dead! + How hast thou left the widow all forlorn; + And ever doom'd the orphan child to mourn, 900 + Through life's sad journey hopeless to complain! + Can sacred justice these events ordain? + But, O my soul! avoid that wondrous maze, + Where reason, lost in endless error, strays; + As through this thorny vale of life we run, + Great Cause of all effects, thy will be done!" + Now had the Grecians on the beach arrived, + To aid the helpless few who yet survived: + While passing, they behold the waves o'erspread + With shatter'd rafts and corses of the dead; 910 + Three still alive, benumb'd and faint they find, + In mournful silence on a rock reclined: + The generous natives, moved with social pain, + The feeble strangers in their arms sustain; + With pitying sighs their hapless lot deplore, + And lead them trembling from the fatal shore. + + +[Footnote 1: 'Steady:' the order to steer the ship according to the line +on which she advances at that instant, without deviating to the right or +left thereof.] + +[Footnote 2: 'The wheel:' in all large ships the helm is managed by a +wheel.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Quarter:' the quarter is the hinder part of a ship's side, +or that part which is near the stern.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Eliza:' or Dido.] + +[Footnote 5: 'Broaching-to:' a sudden and involuntary movement in +navigation, wherein a ship, whilst scudding or sailing before the wind, +unexpectedly turns her side to windward. It is generally occasioned by +the difficulty of steering her, or by some disaster happening to the +machinery of the helm.] + +[Footnote 6: + + ----sed scilicet ultima semper + Expectanda dies homini; _dicique beatus + Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet._ + +OVID, Metam. lib. iii.] + + + + + + + + +OCCASIONAL ELEGY, + +IN WHICH THE PRECEDING NARRATIVE IS CONCLUDED. + + + 1 + + The scene of death is closed! the mournful strains + Dissolve in dying languor on the ear; + Yet pity weeps, yet sympathy complains, + And dumb suspense awaits o'erwhelm'd with fear: + + + 2 + + But the sad Muses with prophetic eye + At once the future and the past explore; + Their harps oblivion's influence can defy, + And waft the spirit to the eternal shore-- + + + 3 + + Then, O Palemon! if thy shade can hear + The voice of friendship still lament thy doom, + Yet to the sad oblations bend thine ear, + That rise in vocal incense o'er thy tomb. + + + 4 + + From young Arion first the news received + With terror, pale unhappy Anna read; + With inconsolable distress she grieved, + And from her cheek the rose of beauty fled: + + + 5 + + In vain, alas! the gentle virgin wept, + Corrosive anguish nipt her vital bloom; + O'er her soft frame diseases sternly crept, + And gave the lovely victim to the tomb. + + + 6 + + A longer date of woe, the widow'd wife + Her lamentable lot afflicted bore; + Yet both were rescued from the chains of life + Before Arion reach'd his native shore! + + + 7 + + The father unrelenting phrenzy stung, + Untaught in virtue's school distress to bear; + Severe remorse his tortured bosom wrung, + He languish'd, groan'd, and perish'd in despair. + + + 8 + + Ye lost companions of distress, adieu! + Your toils, and pains, and dangers are no more; + The tempest now shall howl unheard by you, + While ocean smites in vain the trembling shore: + + + 9 + + On you the blast, surcharged with rain and snow, + In winter's dismal nights no more shall beat; + Unfelt by you the vertic sun may glow, + And scorch the panting earth with baneful heat; + + + 10 + + No more the joyful maid, with sprightly strain, + Shall wake the dance to give you welcome home; + Nor hopeless love impart undying pain, + When far from scenes of social joy you roam: + + + 11 + + No more on yon wide watery waste you stray, + While hunger and disease your life consume-- + While parching thirst, that burns without allay, + Forbids the blasted rose of health to bloom: + + + 12 + + No more you feel contagion's mortal breath + That taints the realms with misery severe, + No more behold pale famine, scattering death, + With cruel ravage desolate the year. + + + 13 + + The thundering drum, the trumpet's swelling strain, + Unheard, shall form the long embattled line: + Unheard, the deep foundations of the main + Shall tremble, when the hostile squadrons join. + + + 14 + + Since grief, fatigue, and hazards still molest + The wandering vassals of the faithless deep; + Oh! happier now escaped to endless rest, + Than we who still survive to wake and weep. + + + 15 + + What though no funeral pomp, no borrow'd tear, + Your hour of death to gazing crowds shall tell; + Nor weeping friends attend your sable bier, + Who sadly listen to the passing bell; + + + 16 + + The tutor'd sigh, the vain parade of woe, + No real anguish to the soul impart; + And oft, alas! the tear that friends bestow + Belies the latent feelings of the heart. + + + 17 + + What though no sculptured pile your name displays, + Like those who perish in their country's cause? + What though no epic Muse in living lays + Records your dreadful daring with applause?-- + + + 18 + + Full oft the nattering marble bids renown + With blazon'd trophies deck the spotted name; + And oft, too oft, the venal Muses crown + The slaves of vice with never-dying fame. + + + 19 + + Yet shall remembrance from oblivion's veil + Relieve your scene, and sigh with grief sincere; + And soft compassion at your tragic tale + In silent tribute pay her kindred tear. + + + + + + + + + + + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. + + + + +THE DEMAGOGUE. [1] + + + Bold is the attempt, in these licentious times, + When with such towering strides sedition climbs, + With sense or satire to confront her power, + And charge her in the great decisive hour. + Bold is the man, who, on her conquering day, + Stands in the pass of fate to bar her way: + Whose heart, by frowning arrogance unawed, + Or the deep-lurking snares of specious fraud, + The threats of giant-faction can deride, + And stem with stubborn arm her roaring tide. 10 + For him unnumber'd brooding ills await, + Scorn, malice, insolence, reproach, and hate: + At him, who dares this legion to defy, + A thousand mortal shafts in secret fly: + Revenge, exulting with malignant joy, + Pursues the incautious victim to destroy: + And slander strives, with unrelenting aim, + To spit her blasting venom on his name: + Around him faction's harpies flap their wings, + And rhyming vermin dart their feeble stings: 20 + In vain the wretch retreats, while in full cry + Fierce on his throat the hungry bloodhounds fly. + Enclosed with perils, thus the conscious Muse, + Alarm'd, though undismay'd, her danger views. + Nor shall unmanly Terror now control + The strong resentment struggling in her soul. + While Indignation, with resistless strain, + Pours her full deluge through each swelling vein; + By the vile fear that chills the coward breast, + By sordid caution is her voice suppress'd. 30 + While Arrogance, with big theatric rage, + Audacious struts on power's imperial stage; + While o'er our country, at her dread command, + Black Discord, screaming, shakes her fatal brand; + While, in defiance of maternal laws, + The sacrilegious sword rebellion draws: + Shall she at this important hour retire, + And quench in Lethe's wave her genuine fire? + Honour forbid! she fears no threat'ning foe, + When conscious justice bids her bosom glow: 40 + And while she kindles the reluctant flame, + Let not the prudent voice of friendship blame! + She feels the sting of keen resentment goad, + Though guiltless yet of satire's thorny road. + Let other Quixotes, frantic with renown, + Plant on their brows a tawdry paper crown! + While fools adore, and vassal-bards obey, + Let the great monarch ass through Gotham bray! + Our poet brandishes no mimic sword, + To rule a realm of dunces self-explored; 50 + No bleeding victims curse his iron sway; + Nor murder'd reputation marks his way. + True to herself, unarm'd, the fearless Muse + Through reason's path her steady course pursues: + True to herself advances, undeterr'd + By the rude clamours of the savage herd. + As some bold surgeon, with inserted steel, + Probes deep the putrid sore, intent to heal; + So the rank ulcers that our patriot load, + Shall she with caustic's healing fires corrode. 60 + Yet ere from patient slumber satire wakes, + And brandishes the avenging scourge of snakes; + Yet ere her eyes, with lightning's vivid ray, + The dark recesses of his heart display; + Let candour own the undaunted pilot's power, + Felt in severest danger's trying hour! + Let truth consenting, with the trump of fame, + His glory, in auspicious strains, proclaim! + He bade the tempest of the battle roar, + That thunder'd o'er the deep from shore to shore. 70 + How oft, amid the horrors of the war, + Chain'd to the bloody wheels of danger's car, + How oft my bosom at thy name has glow'd, + And from my beating heart applause bestow'd; + Applause, that, genuine as the blush of youth + Unknown to guile, was sanctified by truth! + How oft I blest the patriot's honest rage, + That greatly dared to lash the guilty age; + That, rapt with zeal, pathetic, bold, and strong, + Roll'd the full tide of eloquence along; 80 + That power's big torrent braved with manly pride, + And all corruption's venal arts defied! + When from afar those penetrating eyes + Beheld each secret hostile scheme arise; + Watch'd every motion of the faithless foe, + Each plot o'erturned, and baffled every blow: + A fond enthusiast, kindling at thy name, + I glow'd in secret with congenial flame; + While my young bosom, to deceit unknown, + Believed all real virtue thine alone. 90 + Such then he seem'd, and such indeed might be, + If truth with error ever could agree! + Sure satire never with a fairer hand + Portray'd the object she design'd to brand. + Alas! that virtue should so soon decay, + And faction's wild applause thy heart betray! + The Muse with secret sympathy relents, + And human failings, as a friend, laments: + But when those dangerous errors, big with fate, + Spread discord and distraction through the state, 100 + Reason should then exert her utmost power + To guard our passions in that fatal hour. + There was a time, ere yet his conscious heart + Durst from the hardy path of truth depart; + While yet with generous sentiment it glow'd, + A stranger to corruption's slippery road; + There was a time our patriot durst avow + Those honest maxims he despises now. + How did he then his country's wounds bewail, + And at the insatiate German vulture rail! 110 + Whose cruel talons Albion's entrails tore, + Whose hungry maw was glutted with her gore! + The mists of error, that in darkness held + Our reason, like the sun, his voice dispell'd. + And lo! exhausted, with no power to save, + We view Britannia panting on the wave: + Hung round her neck, a millstone's pond'rous weight + Drags down the struggling victim to her fate! + While horror at the thought our bosom feels, + We bless the man this horror who reveals. 120 + But what alarming thoughts the heart amaze, + When on this Janus' other face we gaze! + For, lo, possess'd of power's imperial reins, + Our chief those visionary ills disdains! + Alas, how soon the steady patriot turns! + In vain this change astonish'd England mourns! + Her vital blood, that pour'd from every vein, + So late, to fill the accursed Westphalian drain, + Then ceased to flow; the vulture now no more + With unrelenting rage her bowels tore. 130 + His magic rod transforms the bird of prey! + The millstone feels the touch, and melts away! + And, strange to tell, still stranger to believe, + What eyes ne'er saw, and heart could ne'er conceive, + At once, transplanted by the sorcerer's wand, + Columbian hills in distant Austria stand! + America, with pangs before unknown, + Now with Westphalia utters groan for groan: + By sympathy she fevers with her fires, + Burns as she burns, and as she dies expires. 140 + From maxims long adopted thus he flew, + For ever changing, yet for ever true: + Swoln with success, and with applause imflamed, + He scorn'd all caution, all advice disclaim'd: + Arm'd with war's thunder, he embraced no more + Those patriot principles maintain'd before. + Perverse, inconstant, obstinate, and proud, + Drunk with ambition, turbulent and loud, + He wrecks us headlong on that dreadful strand + He once devoted all his powers to brand! 150 + Our hapless country views with weeping eyes, + On every side, o'erwhelming horrors rise; + Drain'd of her wealth, exhausted of her power, + And agonized as in the mortal hour; + Her armies, wasted with incessant toils, + Or doom'd to perish in contagious soils, + To guard some needy royal plunderer's throne, + And sent to fall in battles not their own. + The enormous debt at home, though long o'ercharged, + With grievous burdens annually enlarged: 160 + Crush'd with increasing taxes to the ground, + That suck, like vampires, every bleeding wound: + Ground with severe distress the industrious poor + Driven by the ruthless landlord to the door. + While thus our land her hapless fate bemoans + In secret, and with inward sorrow groans; + Though deck'd with tinsel trophies of renown, + All gash'd with sores, with anguish bending down; + Can yet some impious parricide appear, + Who strives to make this anguish more severe? 170 + Can one exist, so much his country's foe, + To bid her wounds with fresh effusion flow? + There can; to him in vain she lifts her eyes, + His soul relentless hears her piercing sighs! + Shameless of front, impatient of control, + He spurs her onward to destruction's goal! + Nor yet content on curst Westphalia's shore + With mad profusion to exhaust her store, + Still peace his pompous fulminations brand, + As pirates tremble at the sight of land: 180 + Still to new wars the public eye he turns, + Defies all peril, and at reason spurns; + Till press'd with danger, by distress assail'd, + That baffled courage, and o'er skill prevail'd; + Till foundering in the storm himself had brew'd, + He strives at last its horrors to elude. + Some wretched shift must still protect his name, + And to the guiltless head transfer his shame: + Then hearing modest diffidence oppose + His rash advice, that golden time he chose; 190 + And while big surges threaten'd to o'erwhelm + The ship, ingloriously forsook the helm. + But all the events collected to relate, + Let us his actions recapitulate. + He first assumed, by mean perfidious art, + Those patriot tenets foreign to his heart: + Next, by his country's fond applauses swell'd, + Thrust himself forward into power, and held + The reins on principles which he alone, + Grown drunk and wanton with success, could own; 200 + Betray'd her interest and abused her trust; + Then, deaf to prayers, forsook her in disgust; + With tragic mummery, and most vile grimace, + Rode through the city with a woful face, + As in distress, a patriot out of place! + Insults his generous prince, and in the day + Of trouble skulks, because he cannot sway! + In foreign climes embroils him with allies, + And bids at home the flames of discord rise! + She comes! from hell the exulting fury springs, 210 + With grim destruction sailing on her wings! + Around her scream a hundred harpies fell! + A hundred demons shriek with hideous yell! + From where, in mortal venom dipt on high, + Full-drawn the deadliest shafts of satire fly; + Where Churchill brandishes his clumsy club, + And Wilkes unloads his excremental tub, + Down to where Entick, awkward and unclean, + Crawls on his native dust, a worm obscene! + While with unnumber'd wings from van to rear 220 + Myriads of nameless buzzing drones appear: + From their dark cells the angry insects swarm, + And every little sting attempt to arm. + Here Chaplains, Privileges, moulder round, + And feeble Scourges, [2] rot upon the ground: + Here hungry Kenrick strives, with fruitless aim, + With Grub-street slander to extend his name: + At Bruin flies the slavering, snarling cur, + But only fills his famish'd jaws with fur. + Here Baldwin spreads the assassinating cloak, 230 + Where lurking rancour gives the secret stroke; + While gorged with filth, around this senseless block, + A swarm of spider-bards obsequious flock: + While his demure Welch goat, with lifted hoof, + In Poet's corner hangs each flimsy woof; + And frisky grown, attempts, with awkward prance, + On wit's gay theatre to bleat and dance. + Here, seized with iliac passion, mouthing Leech, + Too low, alas! for satire's whip to reach, + From his black entrails, faction's common sewer, 240 + Disgorges all her excremental store. + With equal pity and regret the Muse + The thundering storms that rage around her views; + Impartial views the tides of discord blend, + Where lordly rogues for power and place contend; + Were not her patriot-heart with anguish torn, + Would eye the opposing chiefs with equal scorn. + Let freedom's deadliest foes for freedom bawl, + Alike to her who govern or who fall! + Aloof she stands, all unconcern'd and mute, 250 + While the rude rabble bellow, "Down with Bute!" + While villany the scourge of justice bilks, + Howl on, ye ruffians! "Liberty and Wilkes." + Let some soft mummy of a peer, who stains + His rank, some sodden lump of ass's brains, + To that abandon'd wretch his sanction give; + Support his slander, and his wants relieve! + Let the great hydra roar aloud for Pitt, + And power and wisdom all to him submit! + Let proud ambition's sons, with hearts severe, 260 + Like parricides, their mother's bowels tear! + Sedition her triumphant flag display, + And in embodied ranks her troops array! + While coward justice, trembling on her seat, + Like a vile slave descends to lick her feet! + Nor here let censure draw her awful blade, + If from her theme the wayward Muse has stray'd! + Sometimes the impetuous torrent, o'er its mounds + Redundant bursting, swamps the adjacent grounds; + But rapid, and impatient of delay, 270 + Through the deep channel still pursues its way. + Our pilot now retired, no pleasure knows, + But every man and measure to oppose; + Like AEsop's cur, still snarling and perverse, + Bloated with envy, to mankind a curse, + No more at council his advice will lend, + But with all others who advise contend: + He bids distraction o'er his country blaze, + Then, swelter'd with revenge, retreats to Hayes: + Swallows the pension; but, aware of blame, 280 + Transfers the proffer'd peerage to his dame. + The felon thus of old, his name to save, + His pilfer'd mutton to a brother gave. + But should some frantic wretch whom all men know + To nature and humanity a foe, + Deaf to the widow's moan and orphan's cry, + And dead to shame and friendship's social tie; + Should such a miscreant, at the hour of death, + To thee his fortunes and domains bequeath; + With cruel rancour wresting from his heirs 290 + What nature taught them to expect as theirs; + Wouldst thou with this detested robber join, + Their legal wealth to plunder and purloin? + Forbid it, Heaven! thou canst not be so base, + To blast thy name with infamous disgrace! + The Muse who wakes, yet triumphs o'er thy hate, + Dares not so black a thought anticipate: + By Heaven, the Muse her ignorance betrays; + For while a thousand eyes with wonder gaze, + Though gorged and glutted with his country's store, 300 + The vulture pounces on the shining ore; + In his strong talons gripes the golden prey, + And from the weeping orphan bears away. + The great, the alarming deed is yet to come, + That, big with fate, strikes expectation dumb. + Oh, patient, injured England, yet unveil + Thy eyes, and listen to the Muse's tale, + That true as honour, unadorn'd with art, + Thy wrongs in fair succession shall impart! + Ere yet the desolating god of war 310 + Had crush'd pale Europe with his iron car, + Had shook her shores with terrible alarms, + And thunder'd o'er the trembling deep, "To arms!" + In climes remote, beyond the setting sun, + Beyond the Atlantic wave, his rage begun. + Alas! poor country, how with pangs unknown + To Britain did thy filial bosom groan! + What savage armies did thy realms invade, + Unarm'd, and distant from maternal aid! + Thy cottages with cruel flames consumed, 320 + And the sad owner to destruction doom'd; + Mangled with wounds, with pungent anguish torn, + Or left to perish naked and forlorn! + What carnage reek'd upon thy ruin'd plain! + What infants bled! what virgins shriek'd in vain! + In every look distraction seem'd to glare, + Each heart was rack'd with horror and despair. + To Albion then, with groans and piercing cries, + America lift up her dying eyes; + To generous Albion pour'd forth all her pain, 330 + To whom the wretched never wept in vain. + She heard, and instant to relieve her flew, + Her arm the gleaming sword of vengeance drew; + Far o'er the ocean wave her voice was known, + That shook the deep abyss from zone to zone: + She bade the thunder of the battle glow, + And pour'd the storm of lightning on the foe; + Nor ceased till, crown'd with victory complete, + Pale Spain and France lay trembling at her feet. + Her fears dispell'd, and all her foes removed, 340 + Her fertile grounds industriously improved, + Her towns with trade, with fleets her harbours crown'd, + And plenty smiling on her plains around: + Thus blest with all that commerce could supply, + America regards with jealous eye, + And canker'd heart, the parent, who so late + Had snatch'd her gasping from the jaws of fate; + Who now, with wars for her begun, relax'd, + With grievous aggravated burthens tax'd, + Her treasures wasted by a hungry brood 350 + Of cormorants, that suck her vital blood; + Who now of her demands that tribute due, + For whom alone the avenging sword she drew. + Scarce had America the just request + Received, when, kindling in her faithless breast, + Resentment glows, enraged sedition burns, + And, lo! the mandate of our laws she spurns! + Her secret hate, incapable of shame + Or gratitude, incenses to a flame, + Derides our power, bids insurrection rise, 360 + Insults our honour, and our laws defies; + O'er all her coasts is heard the audacious roar, + "England shall rule America no more!" + Soon as on Britain's shore the alarm was heard, + Stern indignation in her look appear'd; + Yet, both to punish, she her scourge withheld + From her perfidious sons who thus rebell'd; + Now stung with anguish, now with rage assail'd, + Till pity in her soul at last prevail'd, + Determined not to draw her penal steel 370 + Till fair persuasion made her last appeal. + And now the great decisive hour drew nigh, + She on her darling patriot cast her eye; + His voice like thunder will support her cause, + Enforce her dictates, and sustain her laws; + Rich with her spoils, his sanction will dismay, + And bid the insurgents tremble and obey. + He comes!--but where, the amazing theme to hit, + Discover language or ideas fit? + Splay-footed words, that hector, bounce, and swagger, 380 + The sense to puzzle, and the brain to stagger? + Our patriot comes! with frenzy fired, the Muse + With allegoric eye his figure views! + Like the grim portress of hell-gate he stands, + Bellona's scourge hangs trembling in his hands! + Around him, fiercer than the ravenous shark, + "A cry of hell-hounds' never-ceasing bark;" + And lo! the enormous giant to bedeck, + A golden millstone hangs upon his neck! + On him ambition's vulture darts her claws, 390 + And with voracious rage his liver gnaws. + Our patriot comes!--the buckles of whose shoes + Not Cromwell's self was worthy to unloose. + Repeat his name in thunder to the skies! + Ye hills fall prostrate, and ye vales arise! + Through faction's wilderness prepare the way! + Prepare, ye listening senates, to obey! + The idol of the mob, behold him stand, + The Alpha and Omega of the land! + Methinks I hear the bellowing demagogue 400 + Dumb-sounding declamations disembogue, + Expressions of immeasurable length, + Where pompous jargon fills the place of strength; + Where fulminating, rumbling eloquence, + With loud theatric rage, bombards the sense; + And words, deep rank'd in horrible array, + Exasperated metaphors convey! + With these auxiliaries, drawn up at large, + He bids enraged sedition beat the charge: + From England's sanguine hope his aid withdraws, 410 + And lists to guide in insurrection's cause. + And lo! where, in her sacrilegious hand, + The parricide lifts high her burning brand! + Go, while she yet suspends her impious aim, + With those infernal lungs arouse the flame! + Though England merits not her least regard, + Thy friendly voice gold boxes shall reward! + Arise, embark! prepare thy martial car, + To lead her armies and provoke the war! + Rebellion wakes, impatient of delay, 420 + The signal her black ensigns to display. + To thee, whose soul, all steadfast and serene, + Beholds the tumults that distract our scene; + And, in the calmer seats of wisdom placed, + Enjoys the sweets of sentiment and taste: + To thee, O Marius! whom no factions sway, + The impartial Muse devotes her honest lay! + In her fond breast no prostituted aim, + Nor venal hope, assumes fair friendship's name: + Sooner shall Churchill's feeble meteor-ray, 430 + That led our foundering demagogue astray, + Darkling to grope and flounce in Error's night, + Eclipse great Mansfield's strong meridian light, + Than shall the change of fortune, time, or place, + Thy generous friendship in my heart efface! + Oh! whether wandering from thy country far, + And plunged amid the murdering scenes of war; + Or in the blest retreat of virtue laid, + Where contemplation spreads her awful shade; + If ever to forget thee I have power, 440 + May Heaven desert me at my latest hour! + Still satire bids my bosom beat to arms, + And throb with irresistible alarms. + Like some full river charged with falling showers, + Still o'er my breast her swelling deluge pours. + But rest and silence now, who wait beside, + With their strong flood-gates bar the impetuous tide. + + +[Footnote 1: This poem was intended by the author to be a political +satire on Lord Chatham, Wilkes, and Churchill, and to refute the +opinions expressed in the poems of Churchill.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Chaplains,' 'Privileges,' 'Scourges:' certain poems +intended to be very satirical.] + + + + + + + + + + + +A POEM, + +SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS +FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES. + + + From the big horror of War's hoarse alarms, + And the tremendous clang of clashing arms, + Descend, my Muse! a deeper scene to draw + (A scene will hold the listening world in awe) + Is my intent: Melpomene inspire, + While, with sad notes, I strike the trembling lyre! + And may my lines with easy motion flow, + Melt as they move, and fill each heart with woe: + Big with the sorrow it describes, my song, + In solemn pomp, majestic, move along. 10 + O bear me to some awful silent glade, + Where cedars form an unremitting shade; + Where never track of human feet was known; + Where never cheerful light of Phoebus shone; + Where chirping linnets warble tales of love, + And hoarser winds howl murmuring through the grove; + Where some unhappy wretch aye mourns his doom, + Deep melancholy wandering through the gloom; + Where solitude and meditation roam, + And where no dawning glimpse of hope can come! 20 + Place me in such an unfrequented shade, + To speak to none but with the mighty dead; + To assist the pouring rains with brimful eyes, + And aid hoarse howling Boreas with my sighs. + When Winter's horrors left Britannia's isle, + And Spring in blooming vendure 'gan to smile; + When rills, unbound, began to purl along, + And warbling larks renew'd the vernal song; + When sprouting roses, deck'd in crimson dye, + Began to bloom, ... 30 + Hard fate! then, noble Frederic, didst thou die: + Doom'd by inexorable fate's decree, + The approaching summer ne'er on earth to see: + In thy parch'd vitals burning fevers rage, + Whose flame the virtue of no herbs assuage; + No cooling medicine can its heat allay, + Relentless destiny cries, "No delay!" + Ye powers! and must a prince so noble die? + (Whose equal breathes not under the ambient sky:) + Ah! must he die, then, in youth's full-blown prime, 40 + Cut by the scythe of all-devouring Time? + Yes, fate has doom'd! his soul now leaves its weight, + And all are under the decree of fate; + The irrevocable doom of destiny + Pronounced, "All mortals must submissive die." + The princes wait around with weeping eyes, + And the dome echoes all with piercing cries: + With doleful noise the matrons scream around, + With female shrieks the vaulted roofs rebound: + A dismal noise! Now one promiscuous roar 50 + Cries, "Ah! the noble Frederic is no more!" + The chief reluctant yields his latest breath; + His eye-lids settle in the shades of death; + Dark sable shades present before each eye, + And the deep vast abyss, Eternity! + Through perpetuity's expanse he springs; + And o'er the vast profound he shoots on wings; + The soul to distant regions steers her flight, + And sails incumbent on inferior night: + With vast celerity she shoots away, 60 + And meets the regions of eternal day, + To shine for ever in the heavenly birth, + And leave the body here to rot on earth. + The melancholy patriots round it wait, + And mourn the royal hero's timeless fate. + Disconsolate they move, a mournful band! + In solemn pomp they march along the strand: + The noble chief, interr'd in youthful bloom, + Lies in the dreary regions of the tomb. + Adown Augusta's pallid visage flow 70 + The living pearls with unaffected woe: + Disconsolate, hapless, see pale Britain mourn, + Abandon'd isle! forsaken and forlorn + With desperate hands her bleeding breast she beats; + While o'er her, frowning, grim destruction threats. + She mourns with heart-felt grief, she rends her hair, + And fills with piercing cries the echoing air. + Well mayst thou mourn thy patriot's timeless end, + Thy Muse's patron, and thy merchant's friend! + What heart shall pity thy full-flowing grief? 80 + What hand now deign to give thy poor relief? + To encourage arts, whose bounty now shall flow, + And learned science to promote, bestow? + Who now protect thee from the hostile frown, + And to the injured just return his own? + From usury and oppression who shall guard + The helpless, and the threatening ruin ward? + Alas! the truly noble Briton's gone, + And left us here in ceaseless woe to moan! + Impending desolation hangs around, 90 + And ruin hovers o'er the trembling ground: + The blooming spring droops her enamell'd head, + Her glories wither, and her flowers all fade: + The sprouting leaves already drop away; + Languish the living herbs with pale decay: + The bowing trees, see! o'er the blasted heath, + Depending, bend beneath the weight of death: + Wrapp'd in the expansive gloom, the lightnings play, + Hoarse thunder mutters through the aerial way: + All Nature feels the pangs, the storms renew, 100 + And sprouts, with fatal haste, the baleful yew. + Some power avert the threatening horrid weight, + And, godlike, prop Britannia's sinking state! + Minerva, hover o'er young George's soul; + May sacred wisdom all his deeds control! + Exalted grandeur in each action shine, + His conduct all declare the youth divine! + Methinks I see him shine a glorious star, + Gentle in peace, but terrible in war! + Methinks each region does his praise resound, 110 + And nations tremble at his name around! + His fame, through every distant kingdom rung, + Proclaims him of the race from whence he sprung: + So sable smoke in volumes curls on high; + Heaps roll on heaps, and blacken all the sky: + Already so, his fame, methinks, is hurl'd + Around the admiring, venerating world. + So the benighted wanderer, on his way, + Laments the absence of all-cheering day; + Far distant from his friends and native home, 120 + And not one glimpse does glimmer through the gloom: + In thought he breathes, each sigh his latest breath, + Present, each meditation, pits of death: + Irregular, wild chimeras fill his soul, + And death, and dying, every step control. + Till from the east there breaks a purple gleam, + His fears then vanish as a fleeting dream: + Hid in a cloud the sun first shoots his ray, + Then breaks effulgent on the illumined day; + We see no spot then in the flaming rays, 130 + Confused and lost within the excessive blaze. + + + + + + + + + + + +ODE ON THE DUKE OF YORK'S SECOND DEPARTURE +FROM ENGLAND AS REAR-ADMIRAL. + +WRITTEN ABOARD THE ROYAL GEORGE. + + +[Note: line-numbering counts lines of poetry only, blank lines are not +counted. text Ed.] + + + + Again the royal streamers play, + To glory Edward hastes away; + Adieu, ye happy silvan bowers, + Where pleasure's sprightly throng await! + Ye domes, where regal grandeur towers + In purple ornaments of state! + Ye scenes where virtue's sacred strain + Bids the tragic Muse complain! + Where satire treads the comic stage, + To scourge and mend a venal age; 10 + Where music pours the soft, melodious lay, + And melting symphonies congenial play: + Ye silken sons of ease, who dwell + In flowery vales of peace, farewell! + In vain the goddess of the myrtle grove + Her charms ineffable displays; + In vain she calls to happier realms of love, + Which Spring's unfading bloom arrays; + In vain her living roses blow, + And ever-vernal pleasures grow; 20 + The gentle sports of youth no more + Allure him to the peaceful shore; + Arcadian ease no longer charms, + For war and fame alone can please: + His throbbing bosom beats to arms, + To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas. + + CHORUS. The gentle sports of youth no more + Allure him to the peaceful shore, + For war and fame alone can please: + To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas. 30 + + Though danger's hostile train appears + To thwart the course that honour steers; + Unmoved he leads the rugged way, + Despising peril and dismay. + His country calls; to guard her laws, + Lo! every joy the gallant youth resigns; + The avenging naval sword he draws, + And o'er the waves conducts her martial lines: + Hark! his sprightly clarions play; + Follow where he leads the way! 40 + The piercing fife, the sounding drum, + Tell the deeps their master's come. + + CHORUS. Hark! his sprightly clarions play, + Follow where he leads the way! + The piercing fife, the sounding drum, + Tell the deeps their master's come. + + Thus Alcmena's warlike son + The thorny course of virtue run, + When, taught by her unerring voice, + He made the glorious choice: 50 + Severe, indeed, the attempt he knew, + Youth's genial ardours to subdue: + For pleasure, Venus' lovely form assumed; + Her glowing charms, divinely bright, + In all the pride of beauty bloom'd, + And struck his ravish'd sight. + Transfix'd, amazed, + Alcides gazed: + Enchanting grace + Adorn'd her face, 60 + And all his changing looks confess'd + The alternate passions in his breast: + Her swelling bosom half reveal'd, + Her eyes that kindling raptures fired, + A thousand tender pains instill'd, + A thousand flattering thoughts inspired: + Persuasion's sweetest language hung + In melting accent on her tongue: + Deep in his heart the winning tale + Infused a magic power; 70 + She press'd him to the rosy vale, + And show'd the Elysian bower: + Her hand that trembling ardours move, + Conducts him blushing to the blest alcove: + Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms, + And won by love's resistless arms, + The captive yields to nature's soft alarms! + + CHORUS. Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms, + And won by love's resistless arms, + The captive yields to nature's soft alarms! 80 + + Assist, ye guardian powers above! + From ruin save the son of Jove! + By heavenly mandate virtue came, + And check'd the fatal flame: + Swift as the quivering needle wheels, + Whose point the magnet's influence feels, + Inspired with awe, + He, turning, saw + The nymph divine + Transcendent shine; 90 + And, while he view'd the godlike maid, + His heart a sacred impulse sway'd: + His eyes with ardent motion roll, + And love, regret, and hope, divide his soul. + But soon her words his pain destroy, + And all the numbers of his heart, + Return'd by her celestial art, + Now swell'd to strains of nobler joy. + Instructed thus by virtue's lore, + His happy steps the realms explore, 100 + Where guilt and error are no more: + The clouds that veil'd his intellectual ray, + Before his breath dispelling, melt away: + Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain, + He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign: + Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd, + And in his breast paternal glory burn'd. + + CHORUS. Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain, + He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign: + Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd, 110 + And in his breast paternal glory burn'd. + + So when on Britain's other hope she shone, + Like him the royal youth she won: + Thus taught, he bids his fleet advance + To curb the power of Spain and France: + Aloft his martial ensigns flow, + And hark! his brazen trumpets blow! + The watery profound, + Awaked by the sound, + All trembles around: 120 + While Edward o'er the azure fields + Fraternal wonder wields: + High on the deck behold he stands, + And views around his floating bands + In awful order join: + They, while the warlike trumpet's strain, + Deep sounding, swells along the main, + Extend the embattled line. + Then Britain triumphantly saw + His armament ride 130 + Supreme on the tide, + And o'er the vast ocean give law. + + CHORUS. Then Britain triumphantly saw + His armament ride, + Supreme on the tide, + And o'er the vast ocean give law. + + Now with shouting peals of joy, + The ships their horrid tubes display, + Tier over tier in terrible array, + And wait the signal to destroy. 140 + The sailors all burn to engage: + Hark! hark! their shouts arise, + And shake the vaulted skies! + Exulting with bacchanal rage. + Then, Neptune, the hero revere, + Whose power is superior to thine! + And, when his proud squadrons appear, + The trident and chariot resign! + + CHORUS. Then, Neptune, the hero revere, + Whose power is superior to thine! 150 + And, when his proud squadrons appear, + The trident and chariot resign! + + Albion, wake thy grateful voice! + Let thy hills and vales rejoice! + O'er remotest hostile regions + Thy victorious flags are known; + Thy resistless martial legions + Dreadful move from zone to zone. + Thy flaming bolts unerring roll, + And all the trembling globe control: 160 + Thy seamen, invincibly true, + No menace, no fraud, can subdue: + To thy great trust + Severely just, + All dissonant strife they disclaim: + To meet the foe, + Their bosoms glow; + Who only are rivals in fame. + + CHORUS. Thy seamen, invincibly true, + No menace, no fraud, can subdue: 170 + All dissonant strife they disclaim, + And only are rivals in fame. + + For Edward tune your harps, ye Nine! + Triumphant strike each living string; + For him, in ecstasy divine, + Your choral Io Paeans sing! + For him your festive concerts breathe! + For him your flowery garlands wreath! + Wake! O wake the joyful song! + Ye Fauns of the woods, 180 + Ye Nymphs of the floods, + The musical current prolong! + Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain, + To swell the grand chorus accord! + Ye Tritons, that sport on the main, + Exulting, acknowledge your lord! + Till all the wild numbers combined, + That floating proclaim + Our Admiral's name, + In symphony roll on the wind! 190 + + CHORUS. Wake! O wake the joyful song! + Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain, + Ye Tritons, that sport on the main, + The musical current prolong! + + Oh, while consenting Britons praise, + These votive measures deign to hear! + For thee my Muse awakes her lays, + For thee the unequal viol plays, + The tribute of a soul sincere. + Nor thou, illustrious chief, refuse 200 + The incense of a nautic Muse! + For ah! to whom shall Neptune's sons complain, + But him whose arms unrivall'd rule the main? + Deep on my grateful breast + Thy favour is imprest: + No happy son of wealth or fame + To court a royal patron came! + A hapless youth, whose vital page + Was one sad lengthen'd tale of woe; + Where ruthless fate, impelling tides of rage, 210 + Bade wave on wave in dire succession flow; + To glittering stars and titled names unknown, + Preferr'd his suit to thee alone. + The tale your sacred pity moved; + You felt, consented, and approved. + Then touch my strings, ye blest Pierian choir! + Exalt to rapture every happy line; + My bosom kindle with Promethean fire; + And swell each note with energy divine! + No more to plaintive sounds of woe 220 + Let the vocal numbers flow! + Perhaps the chief to whom I sing + May yet ordain auspicious days, + To wake the lyre with nobler lays, + And tune to war the nervous string. + For who, untaught in Neptune's school, + Though all the powers of genius he possess, + Though disciplined by classic rule, + With daring pencil can display + The fight that thunders on the watery way; 230 + And all its horrid incidents express? + To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong; + Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song! + + CHORUS. To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong; + Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song! + + + + + + + + + + + +THE FOND LOVER. + +A BALLAD. + + + 1 + + A nymph of every charm possess'd, + That native virtue gives, + Within my bosom all confess'd, + In bright idea lives. + For her my trembling numbers play + Along the pathless deep, + While, sadly social with my lay, + The winds in concert weep. + + + 2 + + If beauty's sacred influence charms + The rage of adverse fate; + Say why the pleasing soft alarms + Such cruel pangs create? + Since all her thoughts by sense refined, + Unartful truth express; + Say wherefore sense and truth are join'd + To give my soul distress? + + + 3 + + If when her blooming lips I press, + Which vernal fragrance fills, + Through all my veins the sweet excess + In trembling motion thrills; + Say whence this secret anguish grows, + Congenial with my joy? + And why the touch, where pleasure glows, + Should vital peace destroy? + + + 4 + + If, when my fair, in melting song, + Awakes the vocal lay, + Not all your notes, ye Phocian throng, + Such pleasing sounds convey; + Thus wrapt all o'er with fondest love, + Why heaves this broken sigh? + For then my blood forgets to move, + I gaze, adore, and die. + + + 5 + + Accept, my charming maid, the strain + Which you alone inspire; + To thee the dying strings complain + That quiver on my lyre. + O give this bleeding bosom ease, + That knows no joy but thee; + Teach me thy happy art to please, + Or deign to love like me. + + + + + + + + + +ON THE UNCOMMON SCARCITY OF POETRY. + +IN THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE FOE DECEMBER LAST, 1755, BY I.W., A SAILOR. + + + + The springs of Helicon can winter bind, + And chill the fervour of a poet's mind? + What though the lowering skies and driving storm + The scenes of nature wide around deform, + The birds no longer sing, nor roses blow, + And all the landscape lies conceal'd in snow; + Yet rigid Winter still is known to spare + The brighter beauties of the lovely fair: + Ye lovely fair, your sacred influence bring, + And with your smiles anticipate the Spring! 10 + Yet what avail the smiles of lovely maids, + Or vernal suns that glad the flowery glades? + The wood's green foliage, or the varying scene + Of fields and lawns, and gliding streams between? + What, to the wretch whom harder fates ordain + Through the long year to plough the stormy main? + No murmuring streams, no sound of distant sheep, + Or song of birds invite his eyes to sleep. + By toil exhausted, when he sinks to rest, + Beneath his sun-burnt head no flowers are prest: 20 + Down on the deck his fainting limbs are laid, + No spreading trees dispense their cooling shade, + No zephyrs round his aching temples play, + No fragrant breezes noxious heats allay. + The rude, rough wind which stern AEolus sends, + Drives on in blasts, and while it cools, offends. + He wakes, but hears no music from the grove; + No varied landscape courts his eye to rove. + O'er the wide main he looks to distant skies, + Where nought but waves on rolling waves arise; 30 + The boundless view fatigues his aching sight, + Nor yields his eye one object of delight. + No "female face divine," with cheering smiles, + The lingering hours of dangerous toil beguiles. + Yet distant beauty oft his genius fires, + And oft with love of sacred song inspires. + Even I, the least of all the tuneful train, + On the rough ocean try this artless strain: + Rouse then, ye bards, who happier fortunes prove, + And tune the lyre to Nature or to Love! 40 + + + + + + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF A NINETY-GUN SHIP. + +FROM THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE, MAY 1759. + + + Amidst a wood of oaks with canvas leaves, + Which form'd a floating forest on the waves, + There stood a tower, whose vast stupendous size + Rear'd its huge mast, and seem'd to gore the skies, + From which a bloody pendant stretch'd afar + Its comet-tail, denouncing ample war: + Two younger giants, [1] of inferior height, + Display'd their sporting streamers to the sight: + The base below, another island rose, + To pour Britannia's thunder on her foes: 10 + With bulk immense, like AEtna, she surveys + Above the rest, the lesser Cyclades: + Profuse of gold, in lustre like the sun, + Splendid with regal luxury she shone, + Lavish in wealth, luxuriant in her pride, + Behold the gilded mass exulting ride! + Her curious prow divides the silver waves, + In the salt ooze her radiant sides she laves; + From stem to stern, her wondrous length survey, + Rising a beauteous Venus from the sea: 20 + Her stem, with naval drapery engraved, + Show'd mimic warriors, who the tempest braved; + Whose visage fierce defied the lashing surge, + Of Gallic pride the emblematic scourge. + Tremendous figures, lo! her stern displays, + And holds a Pharos [2] of distinguish'd blaze: + By night it shines a star of brightest form, + To point her way, and light her through the storm: + See dread engagements pictured to the life, + See admirals maintain the glorious strife: 30 + Here breathing images in painted ire, + Seem for their country's freedom to expire: + Victorious fleets the flying fleets pursue-- + Here strikes a ship, and there exults a crew: + A frigate here blows up with hideous glare, + And adds fresh terrors to the bleeding war. + But leaving feigned ornaments, behold! + Eight hundred youths, of heart and sinew bold, + Mount up her shrouds, or to her tops ascend, + Some haul her braces, some her foresail bend; 40 + Full ninety brazen guns her port-holes fill, + Ready with nitrous magazines to kill; + From dread embrazures formidably peep, + And seem to threaten ruin to the deep: + On pivots fix'd, the well-ranged swivels lie, + Or to point downward, or to brave the sky; + While peteraroes swell with infant rage, + Prepared, though small, with fury to engage. + Thus arm'd, may Britain long her state maintain, + And with triumphant navies rule the main! 50 + + +[Footnote 1: 'Younger giants:' fore and mizen masts.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Pharos:' her poop lanthorn.] + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair, +and Falconer, by Rev. 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