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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9814-8.txt b/9814-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fa4e64 --- /dev/null +++ b/9814-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12434 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poetical Works of Akenside + +Author: Mark Akenside + +Editor: George Gilfillan + +Posting Date: November 3, 2011 [EBook #9814] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince and the Online +Distribted Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +MARK AKENSIDE. + + + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +THE LIFE OF AKENSIDE. + + +Mark Akenside was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 9th of November +1721. His family were Presbyterian Dissenters, and on the 30th of +that month he was baptized in the meeting, then held in Hanover +Square, by a Mr. Benjamin Bennet. His father, Mark, was a butcher in +respectable circumstances--his mother's name was Mary Lumsden. There +may seem something grotesque in finding the author of the "Pleasures +of Imagination" born in a place usually thought so anti-poetical as +a butcher's shop. And yet similar anomalies abound in the histories +of men of genius. Henry Kirke White, too, was a butcher's son, and +for some time carried his father's basket. The late Thomas Atkinson, +a very clever _littérateur_ of the West of Scotland, was also what +the Scotch call a "flesher's" son. The case of Cardinal Wolsey is +well known. Indeed, we do not understand why any decent calling +should be inimical to the existence--however it may be to the +adequate development--of genius. That is a spark of supernal +inspiration, lighting where it pleases, often conforming, and always +striving to conform, circumstances to itself, and sometimes even +strengthened and purified by the contradictions it meets in life. Nay, +genius has sprung up in stranger quarters than in butcher's shops or +tailor's attics--it has lived and nourished in the dens of robbers, +and in the gross and fetid atmosphere of taverns. There was an +Allen-a-Dale in Robin Hood's gang; it was in the Bell Inn, at +Gloucester, that George Whitefield, the most gifted of popular +orators, was reared; and Bunyan's Muse found him at the +disrespectable trade of a tinker, and amidst the clatter of pots, +and pans, and vulgar curses, made her whisper audible in his ear, +"Come up hither to the Mount of Vision--to the summit of Mount Clear!" + +It is said that Akenside was ashamed of his origin--and if so, he +deserved the perpetual recollection of it, produced by a life-long +lameness, originating in a cut from his father's cleaver. It is +fitting that men, and especially great men, should suffer through +their smallnesses of character. The boy was first sent to the +Free School of Newcastle, and thence to a private academy kept by +Mr. Wilson, a Dissenting minister of the place. He began rather early +to display a taste for poetry and verse-writing; and, in April 1737, +we find in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ a set of stanzas, entitled, +"The Virtuoso, in imitation of Spenser's style and stanza," prefaced +by a letter signed Marcus, in which the author, while requesting the +insertion of his piece, pleads the apology of his extreme youth. One +may see something of the future political zeal of the man in the +boy's selection of one of the names of Brutus. The _Gentleman's +Magazine_ was then rising toward that character of a readable medley +and agreeable _olla podrida_, which it long bore, although its +principal contributor--Johnson--did not join its staff till the next +year. Its old numbers will even still repay perusal--at least we +seldom enjoyed a greater treat than when in our boyhood we lighted +on and read some twenty of its brown-hued, stout-backed, +strong-bound volumes, filled with the debates in the Senate of +Lilliput--with Johnson's early Lives and Essays--with mediocre +poetry--interesting scraps of meteorological and scientific +information--ghost stories and fairy tales--alternating with timid +politics, and with sarcasms at the great, veiled under initials, +asterisks, and innuendoes; and even now many, we believe, feel it +quite a luxury to recur from the personalities and floridities of +modern periodicals to its quiet, cool, sober, and sensible pages. To +it Akenside contributed afterwards a fable, called "Ambition and +Content," a "Hymn to Science," and a few more poetical pieces +(written not, as commonly said, in Edinburgh, but in Newcastle, in +1739). It has been asserted that he composed his "Pleasures of +Imagination" while visiting some relations at Morpeth, when only +seventeen years of age; but although he himself assures us that he +spent many happy and inspired hours in that region, + + "Led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen," + +there is no direct evidence that he then fixed his vague, tumultuous, +youthful impressions in verse. Indeed, the texture and style of the +"Pleasures" forbid the thought that it was a hasty improvisation. +When nearly eighteen years old, Akenside was sent to Edinburgh, to +commence his studies for the pulpit, and received some pecuniary +assistance from the Dissenters' Society. One winter, however, served +to disgust him with the prospects of the profession--which he +resigned for the pursuit of medicine, repaying the contribution he +had received from the society. We know a similar case in the present +day of a well-known, able _littérateur_--once the editor of the +_Westminster Review_--who had been educated at the expense of the +Congregational body in Scotland, but who, after a change of +religious view and of profession, honourably refunded the whole sum. +What were the special reasons why Akenside turned aside from the +Church we are not informed. Perhaps he had fallen into youthful +indiscretions or early scepticism; or perhaps he felt that the +business of a Dissenting pastor was not then, any more than it is now, +a very lucrative one. Presbyterian Dissent at that time, besides, +did not stand very high in England. The leading Dissenting divines +were Independents--and the Presbyterian body was fast sinking into +Unitarian or Arian heresy. On the other hand, the Church of England +was in the last state of lukewarmness; the Church of Scotland was +groaning under the load of patronage; and the Secession body was +newly formed, and as yet insignificant. In such circumstances we +cannot wonder that an ardent, ambitious mind like that of Akenside +should revolt from divinity as a study, and the pulpit as a goal, +although some may think it strange how the pursuit of medicine +should commend itself instead to a genial and poetic mind. Yet let +us remember that some eminent poets have been students or practisers +of the art of medicine. Such--to name only a few--were Armstrong, +Smollett, Crabbe, Darwin, Delta, Keats, and the two Thomas Browns, +the Knight of the "Religio Medici," and the Philosopher of the +"Lectures," both genuine poets, although their best poetry is in +prose. There are, besides, connected with medicine, some departments +of thought and study peculiarly exciting to the imagination. Such is +anatomy, with its sad yet instructive revelations of the structure +of the human frame--so "fearfully and wonderfully made"--wielding in +its hand a scalpel which at first seems ruthless and disenchanting +as the scythe of death, but which afterwards becomes a key to unlock +some of the deepest mysteries, and leads us down whole galleries of +wonder. There is botany, culling from every nook and corner of the +earth weeds which are flowers, and flowers of all hues, and every +plant, from the "cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop which springs out of +the wall," and finding a terrible and imaginative pleasure in +handling the fell family of poisons, and in deriving the means of +protracting life and healing sickness from the very blossoms of death. +And there is chemistry, most poetical save astronomy of all the +sciences, seeking to spiritualise the material--to hunt the atom to +the point where it trembles over the gulf of nonentity--to weigh +gases in scales, and the elements in a balance, and, in its more +transcendental and daring shape, trying to interchange one kind of +metal with another, and all kinds of forms with all, as in a +music-led and mystic dance. Hence we find that such men as Beddoes, +the author of the "Bride's Tragedy," have turned away from poetry to +physiology, and found in it a grander if also ghastlier stimulus to +their imaginative faculty. Hence Crabbe delighted to load himself +with grasses and duckweed, and Goëthe to fill his carriage with +every variety of plant and mountain flower. Hence Davy, and the late +lamented Samuel Brown, analysed, in the spirit of poets as well as +of philosophers, and gave to the crucible what it had long lost, +something of the air of a weird cauldron, bubbling over with magical +foam, and shining, not so much in the severe light of science as in +the + + "Light that never was on sea or shore. + The consecration and the poet's dream." + +And hence, in the then state of Church matters, and of his own +effervescent soul, Akenside felt probably in medicine a deeper charm +than in theology, and imagined that it opened up a more congenial +field for his powers both of reason and of imagination. + +In December 1740, Akenside was elected a member of the Edinburgh +Medical Society. This society held meetings for discussion, and +in them our poet set himself to shine as a speaker. His ambition, +it is said, at this time, was to be a member of Parliament; and +Dr. Robertson, then a student in the University, used to attend the +meetings of the society chiefly to hear the speeches of the young +and fiery Southron. Indeed, the rhetoric of the "Pleasures of +Imagination" is finer than its poetry; and none but an orator could +have painted Brutus rising "refulgent from the stroke" which slew +Caesar, when he + + "Call'd on Tully's name, + And bade the father of his country hail!" + +Englishmen are naturally more eloquent than the Scotch; and once and +again has the Mark Akenside, the Joseph Gerald, or the George +Thompson overpowered and captivated even the sober and critical +children of the Modern Athens. While electrifying the Medical Society, +Akenside did not neglect, if he did not eminently excel in his +professional studies; and he continued to write sonorous verse, some +specimens of which, including an "Ode on the Winter Solstice," and +"Love, an Elegy," he is said to have printed for private distribution. + +In Edinburgh he became acquainted with Jeremiah Dyson, a young +law-student of fortune, who was afterwards our poet's principal +patron. He seems to have returned to Newcastle in 1741; and we find +him dating a letter to Dyson thence on the 18th of August 1742, and +directing his correspondent to address his reply to him as "Surgeon, +in Newcastle-upon-Tyne." It is doubtful, however, if he had yet +begun to practise; and there is reason to believe that he was busily +occupied with his great poem. This he completed in the close of 1743. +He offered the manuscript to Dodsley for £150. The bookseller, +although a liberal and generous man, was disposed at first to +_boggle_ a little at such a price for a didactic poem by an +unknown man. He carried the "Pleasures of Imagination" to Pope, who +glanced at it, saw its merit, and advised Dodsley not to make a +niggardly offer--for "this was no everyday writer." It appeared in +January 1744, and, in spite of its faults, nay, perhaps, partly in +consequence of them, was received with loud applause; and the +author--only twenty-three years of age--"awoke one morning, and found +himself famous;" for although his name was not attached to the poem, +it soon transpired. One Rolt, an obscure scribbler, then in Ireland, +claimed the authorship, transcribed the poem with his own hand; nay, +according to Dr. Johnson, published an edition with his own name, +and was invited to the best tables as the ingenious Mr. Rolt. His +conversation did not indeed sparkle with poetic fire, nor was his +appearance that of a poet, but people remembered that both Dryden +and Addison were dull or silent in company till warmed with wine, and +that it was not uncommon for authors to have sold all their thoughts +to their booksellers. Akenside, hearing of this, was obliged to +vindicate his claims by printing the next edition with his name, and +then the bubble of the ingenious Mr. Rolt burst. + +All fame, and especially all sudden fame, has its drawbacks. Gray +read the poem, and wrote of it to his friends, in a style thought at +the time depreciatory, although it comes pretty near the truth. He +says, "It seems to me above the middling, and now and then for a +little while rises even to the best, particularly in description. It +is often obscure and even unintelligible. In short, its great fault +is, that it was published at least nine years too early." Gray, +however, had not as yet himself emerged as a poet, and his word had +chiefly weight with his friends. Warburton was a more formidable +opponent. This divine acted then a good deal in the style of a +gigantic Church-bully, and seemed disposed to knock down all and +sundry who differed from him either on great or small theological +matters; and Humes, Churchills, Jortins, Middletons, Lowths, +Shaftesburys, Wesleys, Whitefields, and Akensides all felt the fury +of his onset, and the force of the "punishment" inflicted by his +strong fists. Akenside, in his poem, and in one of his notes, had +defended Shaftesbury's ridiculous notion that ridicule is the test +of truth, and for this Warburton assailed him in the preface to +"Remarks in Answer to Dr. Middleton." In this, while indirectly +disparaging the poem, he accuses the poet of infidelity, atheism, +and insulting the clergy. The preface appeared in March 1744, and in +the following May (Akenside being then in Holland) came forth a reply, +in "An Epistle to the Rev. Mr. Warburton, occasioned by his +Treatment of the Author of the Pleasures of Imagination," which had +been concocted between Dyson and our poet. This pamphlet was written +with considerable spirit; and although it left the question where it +found it, it augured no little courage on the part of the young +physician and the young lawyer mating themselves against the matured +author of the "Divine Legation of Moses." As to the question in +dispute, Johnson disposes of it satisfactorily in a single sentence. +"If ridicule be applied to any position as the test of truth, it +will then become a question whether such ridicule be just, and this +can only be decided by the application of truth as the test of +ridicule." How easy to make any subject or any person ridiculous! To +hold that ridicule is paramount to the discovery or attestation of +truth, is to exalt the ape-element in man above the human and the +angelic principles, which also belong to his nature, and to enthrone +a Voltaire over a Newton or a Milton. Those who laugh proverbially +do not always win, nor do they always deserve to win. Do we think +less of "Paradise Lost," and Shakspeare, because Cobbett has derided +both, or of the Old and New Testaments, because Paine has subjected +parts of them to his clumsy satire? When we find, indeed, a system +such as Jesuitism blasted by the ridicule of Pascal, we conclude +that it was not true,--but why? not merely because ridicule assailed +it, for ridicule has assailed ten thousand systems which never even +shook in the storm, but because, in the view of all candid and +liberal thinkers, the ridicule _prevailed_. Should it be said that +the question still recurs, How are we to be certain of the candour +and liberality of the men who think that Pascal's satire damaged +Jesuitism? we simply say, that it is not ridicule, but some stricter +and more satisfactory method that can determine _this_ inquiry. It +is remarkable that Akenside modified his statements on this subject +in his after revision of his poem. + +In April 1744 we find our bard in Leyden, and Mr. Dyce has published +some interesting letters dated thence to Mr. Dyson. He does not seem +to have admired Holland much, whether in its scenery, manners, taste, +or genius. On the 16th of May, he took his degree of Doctor of +Physic at Leyden, the subject of his Dissertation (which, according +to the usual custom, he published) being the "Origin and Growth of +the Human Foetus," in which he is reported to have opposed the views +then prevalent, and to have maintained the theory which is now +generally held. As soon as he received his diploma he returned to +England, signalising his departure by an "Ode to Holland," as dull +as any ditch in that country itself. In June he settled as a +physician in Northampton, where the eminent Doddridge was at the +time labouring. With him he is said to have held a friendly contest +about the opinions of the old heathens in reference to a future state, +Akenside, in keeping with the whole tenor of his intellectual history, +supporting the side of the ancients. Indeed, he never appears to +have had much religion, except that of the Pagan philosophy, Plato +being his Paul, and Socrates his Christ; and most cordially would he +have joined in Thorwaldsen's famous toast (announced at an evening +party in Rome, while the planet Jupiter was shining in great glory), +"Here's in honour of the ancient gods." In Northampton, partly owing +to the overbearing influence of Dr. Stonehouse, a long-established +practitioner, and partly to his violent political zeal, he did not +prosper. While residing there he produced his manly and spirited +"Epistle to Curio." Curio was Pulteney, who had been a flaming +patriot, but who, like the majority of such characters, had, for the +sake of a title--the earldom of Bath--subsided into a courtier. Him +Akenside lashes with unsparing energy. He committed afterwards an +egregious blunder in reference to this production. He frittered it +down into a stupid ode. Indeed, he had always an injudicious +trick--whether springing from fastidiousness or undue ambition--of +tinkering and tampering with his very best poems. + +In March 1745 he collected his odes into a quarto tract. It appeared +at a time when lyrical poetry was all but extinct. Dryden was gone; +Collins and Gray had not yet published their odes; and hence, and +partly too from the prestige of his former poem, Akenside's odes, +poor as they now seem, met with considerable acceptance, although +they did not reach a new edition till 1760. In 1747 his friend Dyson, +having been elected clerk to the House of Commons, took Akenside with +him to his house at Northend, Hampstead. Here, however, he felt +himself out of place, and in fine, in 1748, he settled down in +Bloomsbury Square, London, where Dyson very generously allowed him +£300 a-year, which, being equal to the value of twice that sum now, +enabled him to keep a chariot, and live like a gentleman. During the +years 1746, 1747, 1748, he composed a number of pieces, both in +prose and verse--his "Hymn to the Naiads," his "Ode to the Evening +Star," and several essays in _Dodsley's Museum_; such as these, +"On Correctness;" "The Table of Modern Fame, a Vision;" "Letter from +a Swiss Gentleman on English Liberty;" and "The Balance of Poets;" +besides an ode to Caleb Hardinge, M. D., and another to the Earl of +Huntingdon, which has been esteemed one of his best lyric poems. In +London he did not attain rapidly a good practice, nor was it ever +extensive. But for Mr. Dyson's aid he might have written a chapter on +"Early Struggles," nearly as rich and interesting as that famous one +in Warren's "Diary of a late Physician." Even his poetical name was +adverse to his prospects. His manners, too, were unconciliating and +haughty. At Tom's Coffeehouse, in Devereux Court, night after night, +appeared the author of the "Pleasures of Imagination," full of +knowledge, dogmatism, and a love of self-display; eager for talk, +fond of arguing--especially on politics and literature--and sometimes +narrowly escaping duels and other misadventures springing from his +hot and imperious temper. In sick chambers he was stiff, formal, and +reserved, carrying a frown about with him, which itself damped the +spirits and accelerated the pulse of his patients. It was only among +intimate friends that he descended to familiarity, and even then it +was with + + "Compulsion and laborious flight." + +One of these intimates for a while was Charles Townshend, a man +whose name now lives chiefly in the glowing encomium of Burke, a +part of which we may quote:--"Before this splendid orb (Lord Chatham) +was entirely set, and while the western horizon was in a blaze with +his descending glory, on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose +another luminary, and for his hour became lord of the ascendant. +Townshend was the delight and ornament of this House, and the charm +of every private society which he honoured with his presence. +Perhaps there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man +of more pointed and finished wit, and of a more refined, exquisite, +and penetrating judgment. He stated his matter skilfully and +powerfully. He particularly excelled in a most luminous explanation +and display of the subject. His style of argument was neither trite +and vulgar, nor subtle and abstruse. He hit the House between wind +and water. He had no failings which were not owing to a noble cause, +to an ardent, generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame; a +passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He worshipped that +goddess wheresoever she appeared: but he paid his particular +devotions to her in her favourite habitation, in her chosen temple, +the House of Commons." With this distinguished man Akenside was for +some time on friendly terms, but for causes not well known, their +friendship came to an abrupt termination; it might have been owing +to Townshend's rapid rise, or to Akenside's presumptuous and +overbearing disposition. Two odes, addressed by the latter to the +former, immortalise this incomplete and abortive amity. + +The years 1750 and 1751 were only signalised in Akenside's history +by one or two dull odes from his pen. But if not witty at that time +himself, he gave occasion to wit in others. Smollett, provoked, it +is said, by some aspersions Akenside had in conversation cast on +Scotland, and at all times prone to bitter and sarcastic views of +men and manners, fell foul of him in "Peregrine Pickle." If our +readers care for wading through that filthy novel--the most +disagreeable, although not the dullest of Smollett's fictions--they +will find a caricature of our poet in the character of the "Doctor," +who talks nonsense about liberty, quotes and praises his own poetry, +and invites his friends to an entertainment in the manner of the +ancients--a feast hideously accurate in its imitation of antique +cookery, and forming, if not an "entertainment" to the guests, a very +rich one to the readers of the tale. How Akenside bore this we are +not particularly informed. Probably he writhed in secret, but was +too proud to acknowledge his feelings. In 1753 he was consoled by +receiving a doctor's degree from Cambridge, and by being elected +Fellow of the Royal Society. The next year he became Fellow of the +College of Physicians. + +In June 1755 he read the Galstonian lectures in anatomy before the +College of Physicians, and in the next year the Croonian lectures +before the same institution. The subject of the latter course was +the "History of the Revival of Letters," which some of the learned +Thebans thought not germane to the matter; and, consequently, after +he had delivered three lectures, he desisted in disgust. This fact +seems somewhat to contradict Dr. Johnson's assertion, that "Akenside +appears not to have been wanting to his own success, and placed +himself in view by all the common methods." Had he been a thoroughly +self-seeking man, he never would have committed the blunder of +choosing literature as a subject of predilection to men who were +probably most of them materialists, or at least destitute of +literary taste. The Doctor says also, "He very eagerly forced +himself into notice, by an ambitious ostentation of elegance and +literature." But surely the author of such a popular poem as the +"Pleasures of Imagination" had no need to claim notice by an +ostentatious display of his parts, and had too much good sense to +imagine that such a vain display would conciliate any acute and +sensible person. Johnson, in fact, throughout his cursory and +careless "Life of Akenside," is manifestly labouring under deep +prejudice against the poet--prejudice founded chiefly on Akenside's +political sentiments. + +In 1759 our poet was appointed physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, +and afterwards to Christ's Hospital. Here he ruled the patients and +the under officials with a rod of iron. Dr. Lettsom became a +surgeon's dresser in St. Thomas's Hospital. He was an admirer of +poetry, especially of the "Pleasures of Imagination," and +anticipated much delight from intercourse with the author. He was +disappointed first of all with his personal appearance. He found him +a stiff-limbed, starched personage, with a lame foot, a pale +strumous face, a long sword, and a large white wig. Worse than this, +he was cruel, almost barbarous, to the patients, particularly to +females. Owing to an early love-disappointment, he had contracted a +disgust and aversion to the sex, and chose to express it in a +callous and cowardly harshness to those under his charge. It is +possible, however, that Lettsom might be influenced by some private +pique. Nothing is more common than for the hero-worshipper, +disenchanted of his early idolatry, to rush to the opposite extreme, +and to become the hero-hater; and the fault is as frequently +his own as that of his idol. And it must be granted that an +hospital--especially of that age--was no congenial atmosphere for a +poet so Platonic and ideal as Akenside. + +In October 1759 he delivered the Harveian oration before the College +of Physicians, and by their order it was published the next year. In +1761 Mr. T. Hollis presented him with a bed which had once belonged +to Milton, on the condition that he would write an ode to the memory +of that great poet. Akenside joyfully accepted the bed, had it set +up in his house, and, we suppose, slept in it; but the muse forgot +to visit _his_ "slumbers nightly," and no ode was ever produced. +We think that Akenside had sympathy enough with Milton's politics and +poetry to have written a fine blank-verse tribute to his memory, +resembling that of Thomson to Sir Isaac Newton; but odes of much +merit he could not produce, and yet at odes he was always sweltering + + "With labour dire and weary woe." + +In 1760, George the Third mounted the throne, and the author of the +"Epistle to Curio" began to follow the precise path of Pulteney. In +this he was preceded by Dyson, who became suddenly a supporter of +Lord Bute, and drew his friend in his train. By Dyson's influence +Akenside was appointed, in 1761, physician to the Queen. His +secession from the Whig ranks cost him a great deal of obloquy. +Dr. Hardinge had told the two turncoats long before "that, like a +couple of idiots, they did not leave themselves a loophole--they +could not _sidle away_ into the opposite creed." He never, however, +became a violent Tory partisan. It is singular how Johnson, with all +his aversion to Akenside, has no allusion to his apostasy, in which +we might have _à priori_ expected him to glory, as a proof of the +poet's inconsistency, if not corruption. + +In one point Akenside differed from the majority of his tuneful +brethren, before, then, or since. He was a warm and wide-hearted +commender of the works of other poets. Most of our sweet singers +rather resemble birds of prey than nightingales or doves, and are at +least as strong in their talons as they are musical in their tongues. +And hence the groves of Parnassus have in all ages rung with the +screams of wrath and contest, frightfully mingling with the melodies +of song. Akenside, by a felicitous conjunction of elements, which +you could not have expected from other parts of his character, was +entirely exempted from this defect, and not only warmly admired Pope, +Young, Thomson, and Dyer, whose "Fleece" he corrected, but had kind +words to spare for even such "small deer" as Welsted and Fenton. + +In 1763, he read a paper before the Royal Society, on the "Effects +of a Blow on the Heart," which was published in the _Philosophical +Transactions_ of the year. And, in 1764 he established his character +as a medical writer by an elegant and elaborate treatise on +"The Dysentery," still, we believe, consulted for its information, +and studied for the purity and precision of its Latin style. About +this time, too, he commenced a recasting of his "Pleasures of +Imagination," which he did not live to finish; and in which, on the +whole, there is more of laborious alteration than of felicitous +improvement. In 1766, Warburton, his old foe, who had now been made a +bishop, reprinted, in a new edition of his "Divine Legation of Moses," +his attack on Akenside's notions about ridicule, without deigning to +take any notice of the explanations he had given in his reply. This +renewal of hostilities, coming, especially as it did, from the +vantage ground of the Episcopal bench, enraged our poet, and, by way +of rejoinder, he issued a lyrical satire which he had had lying past +him in pickle for fifteen years, and which nothing but a fresh +provocation would have induced him to publish. It was entitled +"An Ode to the late Thomas Edwards, Esq." Edwards had opposed +Warburton ably in a book entitled "Canons of Criticism," and was +himself a poet. The real sting of this attack lay in Akenside's +production of a letter from Warburton to Concanen, dated 2d January +1726, which had fallen accidentally into the hands of our poet; and +in which Warburton had accused Addison of plagiarism, and said that +when "Pope borrows it is from want of genius." Concanen was one of +the "Dunces," and it was, of course, Akenside's purpose to shew +Warburton's inconsistency in the different opinions he had expressed +at different times of them and of their great adversary. We know not +if the sturdy bishop took any notice of this ode. Even his Briarean +arms were sometimes too full of the controversial work which his +overbearing temper and fierce passions were constantly giving him. + +In 1766, Akenside received the thanks of the College of Physicians +for an edition of Harvey's works, which he prepared for the press, +and to which he had prefixed a preface. In June 1767 he read before +the College two papers, one on "Cancers and Asthmas," and the other +on "White Swelling of the Joints," both of which were published the +next year in the first volume of the _Medical Transactions_. In the +same year, one Archibald Campbell, a Scotchman, a purser in the navy, +and called, from his ungainly countenance, "horrible Campbell," +produced a small _jeu d'esprit_, entitled "Lexiphanes, imitated from +Lucian, and suited to the present times," in which he tries to +ridicule Johnson's prose and Akenside's poetry. His object was +probably to attract their notice, but both passed over this grin of +the "Grim Feature" in silent contempt. Akenside was still busy with +the revisal of his poem, had finished two books, "made considerable +progress with the third, and written a fragment of the fourth;" but +death stepped in and blighted his prospects, both as a physician, +with increasing practice and reputation, and as a poet, whose +favourite work was approaching what he deemed perfection. He was +seized with putrid fever; and, after a short illness, died on the 23 +d June 1770 at an age when many men are in their very prime, both of +body and mind--that of 49. He died in his house in Burlington Street, +and was buried on the 28th in St. James's Church. + +Akenside had been, notwithstanding his many acquaintances and friends, +on the whole, a lonely man; without domestic connexions, and having, +so far as we are informed, either no surviving relations or no +intercourse with those who might be still alive. He was not +especially loved in society; he wanted humour and good-humour both, +and had little of that frank cordiality which, according to Sidney +Smith, "warms and cheers more than meat or wine." He had far less +geniality than genius. Yet, in certain select circles, his mind, +which was richly stored with all knowledge, opened delightfully, and +men felt that he _was_ the author of his splendid poem. One of his +biographers gives him the palm for learning, next to Ben Jonson, +Milton, and Gray (he might perhaps have also excepted Landor and +Coleridge), over all our English poets. + +In 1772, Mr. Dyson published an edition of his friend's poems, +containing the original form of the "Pleasures of Imagination," as +well as its half-finished second shape; his "Odes," "Inscriptions," +"Hymn to the Naiads," etc., omitting, however, his poem to Curio in +its first and best version, and some of his smaller pieces. This +edition, too, contained an account of Akenside's life by his friend, +so short and so cold as either to say little for Dyson's heart, or a +great deal for his modesty and reticence. His uniform and munificent +kindness to the poet during his lifetime, however, determines us in +favour of the latter side of the alternative. + +Of Akenside, as a man, our previous remarks have perhaps indicated +our opinion. He was rather a scholar somewhat out of his element, +and unreconciled to the world, than a thorough gentleman; irritable, +vehement, and proud--his finer traits were only known to his +intimates, who probably felt that in Wordsworth's words, + + "You must love him ere to you + He doth, seem worthy of your love." + +In religion his opinions seem to have been rather unsettled; but, of +whatever doubts he had, he gave the benefit latterly to the +Christian side--at least he was ever ready to rebuke noisy and +dogmatic infidelity. It is said that he intended to have included +the doctrine of immortality in his later version of the "Pleasures +of Imagination"--and even as the poem is, it contains some transient +allusions to that great object of human hope, although none, it must +be admitted, to its special Christian grounds. + +We have now a very few sentences to enounce about his poetry, or, +more properly speaking, about his two or three good poems, for we +must dismiss the most of his odes, in their deep-sounding dulness, +as nearly unworthy of their author's genius. Up to the days of +Keats' "Endymion" and "Hyperion," Akenside's "Hymn to the Naiads" +was thought one of the best attempts to reproduce the classical +spirit and ideas. It now takes a secondary place; and at no time +could be compared to an actual hymn of Callimachus or Pindar, any +more than Smollett's "Supper after the Manner of the Ancients" was +equal to a real Roman Coena, the ideal of which Croly has so +superbly described in "Salathiel." His "Epistle to Curio" is a +masterpiece of vigorous composition, terse sentiment, and glowing +invective. It gathers around Pulteney as a ring of fire round the +scorpion, and leaves him writhing and shrivelled. Out of Dryden and +Pope, it is perhaps the best satiric piece in our poetry. + +Of the "Pleasures of Imagination," it is not necessary to say a +great deal. A poem that has been so widely circulated, so warmly +praised, so frequently quoted and imitated--the whole of which +nearly a man like Thomas Brown has quoted in the course of his +lectures--must possess no ordinary merit. Its great beauty is its +richness of description and language--its great fault is its +obscurity; a beauty and a fault closely connected together, even as +the luxuriance of a tropical forest implies intricacy, and its +lavish loveliness creates a gloom. His attempt to express Plato's +philosophy in blank verse is not always successful. Perhaps prose +might better have answered his purpose in expressing the awfully +sublime thought of the "archetypes of all things existing in God." +We know that in certain objects of nature--in certain rocks, for +instance (such as Coleridge describes in his "Wanderings of Cain")-- +there lie silent prefigurations and aboriginal types of artificial +objects, such as ships, temples, and other orders of architecture; +and it is so also in certain shells, woods, and even in clouds. How +interesting and beautiful those painted prophecies of nature, those +quiet hieroglyphics of God, those mystic letters, which, unlike +those on the Babylonian wall, do _not_, + + "Careering shake, + And blaze IMPATIENT to be read," + +but bide calmly the time when their artificial archetypes shall +appear, and the "wisdom" in them shall be "justified" in these its +children! So, according to Plato, comparing great to small things, +there lay in the Divine mind the archetypes of all that was to be +created, with this important difference, that they lay in God +_spiritually_ and consciously. How poetical and how solemn to +approach, under the guidance of this thought, and gaze on the mind +of God as on an ancient awful mirror; and even as in a clear lake we +behold the forms of the surrounding scenery reflected from the white +strip of pebbled shore up to the gray scalp of the mountain summit, +and tremble as we look down on the "skies of a far nether world," on +an inverted sun, and on snow unmelted amidst the water; so to see +the entire history of man, from the first glance of life in the eye +of Adam, down to the last sparkle of the last ember of the general +conflagration, lying silently and inverted there--how sublime, but +at the same time how bewildering and how appalling! Our readers will +find, in the "Pleasures of Imagination," an expansion--perhaps they +may think it a dilution--of this Platonic idea. + +They will find there, too, the germ of the famous theory of Alison +and Jeffrey about Beauty. These theorists held 'that beauty resides +not so much in the object as in the mind; that we receive but what +we give; that our own soul is the urn whence beauty is showered over +the universe; that flower and star are lovely because the mind has +breathed on them; that the imagination and the heart of man are the +twin beautifiers of creation; that the dwelling of beauty is not in +the light of setting suns, nor in the beams of morning stars, nor in +the waves of summer seas, but in the human spirit; that sublimity +tabernacles not in the palaces of the thunder, walks not on the +wings of the wind, rides not on the forked lightning, but that it is +the soul which is lifted up there; that it is the soul which, in its +high aspirings,' + + "Yokes with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + and scatters grandeur around it on its way." + +All this seems anticipated, and, as it were, coiled up in the words +of our poet:-- + + "Mind, mind alone (bear witness earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime." + +That Akenside was a real poet many expressions in his "Pleasures of +Imagination" prove, such as that just quoted-- + + "Yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast + Sweeps the long tract of day;" + +but, taking his poem as a whole, it is rather a tissue of eloquence +and philosophical declamation than of imagination. He deals rather +in sheet lightning than in forked flashes. As a didactic poem it has +a high, but not the highest place. It must not be named beside the +"De Rerum Natura" of Lucretius, or the "Georgics" of Virgil, or the +"Night Thoughts" of Young; and in poetry, yields even to the +"Queen Mab" of Shelley. It ranks high, however, amongst that fine +class of works which have called themselves, by no misnomer, +"Pleasures;" and to recount all the names of which were to give an +"enumeration of sweets" as delightful as that in "Don Juan." How +cheering to think of that beautiful bead-roll--of which the +"Pleasures of Memory," "Pleasures of Hope," "Pleasures of Melancholy," +"Pleasures of Imagination," are only a few! We may class, too, with +them, Addison's essays on the "Pleasures of Imagination" in _The +Spectator_, which, although in prose, glow throughout with the +mildest and truest spirit of poetry; and if inferior to Akenside in +richness and swelling pomp of words, and in dashing rhetorical force, +far excel him in clearness, in chastened beauty, and in those +inimitable touches and unconscious felicities of thought and +expression which drop down, like ripe apples falling suddenly across +your path from a laden bough, and which could only have proceeded +from Addison's exquisite genius. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + Notes to Book III. + + +THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Book IV. + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS:-- + + Book I.-- + + Ode I. Preface. + + Ode II. On the Winter-solstice, 1740. + + Ode II. For the Winter-solstice, December 11, 1740. + As originally written. + + Ode III. To a Friend, Unsuccessful in Love. + + Ode IV. Affected Indifference. To the same. + + Ode V. Against Suspicion. + + Ode VI. Hymn to Cheerfulness. + + Ode VII. On the Use of Poetry. + + Ode VIII. On leaving Holland. + + Ode IX. To Curio. + + Ode X. To the Muse. + + Ode XI. On Love. To a Friend. + + Ode XII. To Sir Francis Henry Drake, Baronet. + + Ode XIII. On Lyric Poetry. + + Ode XIV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; from the + Country. + + Ode XV. To the Evening Star. + + Ode XVI. To Caleb Hardinge, M. D. + + Ode XVII. On a Sermon against Glory. + + Ode XVIII. To the Right Honourable Francis, Earl of Huntingdon. + + + +Book II.-- + + Ode I. The Remonstrance of Shakspeare. + + Ode II. To Sleep. + + Ode III. To the Cuckoo. + + Ode IV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; in the Country. + + Ode V. On Love of Praise. + + Ode VI. To William Hall, Esquire; with the Works of + Chaulieu. + + Ode VII. To the Right Reverend Benjamin, Lord Bishop of + Winchester. + + Ode VIII. + + Ode IX. At Study. + + Ode X. To Thomas Edwards, Esq.; on the late Edition + of Mr. Pope's Works. + + Ode XI. To the Country Gentlemen of England. + + Ode XII. On Recovering from a Fit of Sickness; in the + Country. + + Ode XIII. To the Author of Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg. + + Ode XIV. The Complaint. + + Ode XV. On Domestic Manners. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + + HYMN TO THE NAIADS. + + Notes. + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS:-- + + I. For a Grotto. + + II. For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock. + + III. + + IV. + + V. + + VI. For a Column at Runnymede. + + VII. The Wood Nymph. + + VIII. + + IX. + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. + +THE VIRTUOSO. + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. A FABLE. + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + +TO CORDELIA. + +SONG. + + + + + +AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + A POEM, IN THREE BOOKS. + + [Greek: 'Asebous men 'estin 'anthropou tas para tou theou + charitas 'atimazein.] + EPICT. apud Arrian. II. 23. + + +THE DESIGN. + +There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle +place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral +perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers +of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and +motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to +those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of +some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, +it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have +sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, +independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave +rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting +and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were +admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to +remembrance by signs universally established and understood. + +But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were, of +course, led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of +the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of +language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently +become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. +Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, +and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they, of +course, retain their original character; and all the different +pleasures which they excite, are termed, in general, Pleasures of +Imagination. + +The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the +largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination +feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various +entertainment we meet with, either in poetry, painting, music, or +any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of +those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are +here established and explained. + +In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to +distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the +next place to characterise those original forms or properties of +being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted +to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These +properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of +greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every +object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to +the imagination. But such an object may also include many other +sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will +make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides +which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their +effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the +imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, +we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths +discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and +final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to +awaken and engage the passions. It was, therefore, necessary to +enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; +especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the +noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a +little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn +of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance. + +After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, +or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very +different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be +considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the +arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it +was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to +distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of +characters is derived. Here, too, a change of style became necessary; +such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general +taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject: nor is it +an easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, +without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock +heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; +neither of which would have been proper here. + +The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now +remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise +either from the relations of different objects one to another, or +from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that +various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts +of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of +metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the +early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is +the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account +bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, +it is therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. Then +follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, +and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the +resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. +After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general +conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral +usefulness in life. + +Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this +piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two +models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as +it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary +way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a +greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of +readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, +especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more +concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of +modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest +parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure +formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending +almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to +demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This, too, appeared +more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal +precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by +exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and +harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the +minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, +morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful +to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in +every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also +to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same point of view +with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them +in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful +and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some +sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to +the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the +authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will +best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves +he makes no apology. + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Difficulty of treating it poetically. The +ideas of the Divine Mind the origin of every quality pleasing to the +imagination. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men; +with its final cause. The idea of a fine imagination, and the state +of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords. +All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the +perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. The +pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. Pleasure from novelty +or wonderfulness, with its final cause. Pleasure from beauty, with +its final cause. The connexion of beauty with truth and good, +applied to the conduct of life. Invitation to the study of moral +philosophy. The different degrees of beauty in different species of +objects; colour, shape, natural concretes, vegetables, animals, the +mind. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. The +connexion of the imagination and the moral faculty. Conclusion. + + With what attractive charms this goodly frame + Of Nature touches the consenting hearts + Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores + Which beauteous Imitation thence derives + To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, + My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle Powers + Of musical delight! and while I sing + Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. + Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, + Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks 10 + Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee + Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings + Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, + Which, by the glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend 20 + And join this festive train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, + Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come, + Her sister Liberty will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, + New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear + With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye + The bloom of Nature, and before him turn + The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 + Oft have the laws of each poetic strain + The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung + Lay this prime subject, though importing most + A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt, + By dull obedience and by creeping toil + Obscure to conquer the severe ascent + Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath + Must fire the chosen genius; Nature's hand + Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings, + Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 + High as the summit; there to breathe at large + AEthereal air, with bards and sages old, + Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes, + To this neglected labour court my song; + Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task + To paint the finest features of the mind, + And to most subtile and mysterious things + Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love + Of Nature and the Muses bids explore, + Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 + The fair poetic region, to detect + Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts, + And shade my temples with unfading flowers + Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess, + Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the human breast, + And love and beauty, and poetic joy + And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun + Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night 60 + The moon suspended her serener lamp; + Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe, + Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore; + Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retired + In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things; + The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, + The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe, + And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first + Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 + His admiration: till in time complete + What he admired and loved, his vital smile + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame; + Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares; + Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold, + And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims 80 + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wise intent + The hand of Nature on peculiar minds + Imprints a different bias, and to each + Decrees its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave + To weigh the moment of eternal things, + Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 + And will's quick impulse; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue swells the tender veins + Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn + Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind + In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds + The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 + The transcript of Himself. On every part + They trace the bright impressions of his hand: + In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form + Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd + That uncreated beauty, which delights + The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd + By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110 + Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string + Consenting, sounded through the warbling air + Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand + To certain species of external things, + Attune the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of congenial powers, + Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, + The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, + Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, + From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120 + They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul + At length discloses every tuneful spring, + To that harmonious movement from without + Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain + Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, + And vales of bliss: the intellectual power + Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, + And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away, + Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 + Alone are waking; love and joy, serene + As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, + Whose candid bosom the refining love + Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her loveliest features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140 + With love and admiration thus inflame + The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons + To three illustrious orders have referr'd; + Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, + The poet's tongue confesses--the Sublime, + The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn! + I see the radiant visions, where they rise, + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 + + Say, why was man [Endnote A] so eminently raised + Amid the vast Creation; why ordain'd + Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth + In sight of mortal and immortal powers, + As on a boundless theatre, to run + The great career of justice; to exalt + His generous aim to all diviner deeds; + To chase each partial purpose from his breast; 160 + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, + To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice + Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent + Of nature, calls him to his high reward, + The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That breathes from day to day sublimer things, + And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, + With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 + Majestic forms; impatient to be free, + Spurning the gross control of wilful might; + Proud of the strong contention of her toils; + Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns + To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 + Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? + Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye + Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey + Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave + Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, 180 + And continents of sand, will turn his gaze + To mark the windings of a scanty rill + That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul + Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing + Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth + And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft + Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; + Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens; + Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 190 + The blue profound, and hovering round the sun + Beholds him pouring the redundant stream + Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway + Bend the reluctant planets to absolve + The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused + She darts her swiftness up the long career + Of devious comets; through its burning signs + Exulting measures the perennial wheel + Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, + Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 + Invests the orient. Now amazed she views + The empyreal waste, [Endnote B] where happy spirits hold, + Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode; + And fields of radiance, whose unfading light [Endnote C] + + Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, + Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. + Even on the barriers of the world untired + She meditates the eternal depth below; 208 + Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep + She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up + In that immense of being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth + Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said, + That not in humble nor in brief delight, + Not in the fading echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find enjoyment: but from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, + Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 + And infinite perfection close the scene. + + Call now to mind what high capacious powers + Lie folded up in man; how far beyond + The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth + Of Nature to perfection half divine, + Expand the blooming soul! What pity then + Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth + Her tender blossom; choke the streams of life, + And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd + Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares 230 + The obedient heart far otherwise incline. + Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown + Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power + To brisker measures: witness the neglect + Of all familiar prospects, [Endnote D] though beheld + With transport once; the fond attentive gaze + Of young astonishment; the sober zeal + Of age, commenting on prodigious things. + For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, + In every breast implanting this desire 240 + Of objects new and strange, [Endnote E] to urge us on + With unremitted labour to pursue + Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, + In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words + To paint its power? For this the daring youth + Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, + In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage, + Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, + Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired + The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 + The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale, + From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, + Unmindful of the happy dress that stole + The wishes of the youth, when every maid + With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night + The village matron, round the blazing hearth, + Suspends the infant audience with her tales, + Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes, + And evil spirits; of the death-bed call + Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 + The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls + Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt + Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk + At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave + The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. + At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, + Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd + With shivering sighs: till eager for the event, + Around the beldame all erect they hang, + Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. 270 + + But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp, + Where Beauty onward moving claims the verse + Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse + In thy immortal praise, O form divine, + Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee + The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray + The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun! + For ever beamest on the enchanted heart + Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight + Poetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven! 280 + How shall I trace thy features? where select + The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom? + Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, + Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, + To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly + With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles, + And range with him the Hesperian field, and see + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 + The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step + Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow + With purple ripeness, and invest each hill + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, + Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades, + The smooth Penéus from his glassy flood + Reflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene? + Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers, + Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age 300 + They play'd in secret on the shady brink + With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps + Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand + Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews, + And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store + To thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watch + Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits + From thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved, + Thy smiling treasures to the green recess + Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 + Entice her forth to lend her angel form + For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn + Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid, + Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes + Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn; + And may the fanning breezes waft aside + Thy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bends + With airy softness from the marble neck, + The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, + Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 320 + With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend + Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force + Of Nature, and her kind parental care + Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth, + With each admiring virgin, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, while I point on high + Where Beauty's living image, like the Morn + That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, + Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stood + Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, 330 + Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, + To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, + And each cerulean sister of the flood + With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves, + To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band + Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze + Of young desire with rival steps pursue + This charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 + I do not mean to wake the gloomy form + Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb, + To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth + To fright you from your joys: my cheerful song + With better omens calls you to the field, + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, + Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 + And active use are strangers? Is her charm + Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? Or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart + Of idle faith? Oh, no! with better cares + The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 + Still most illustrious where the object holds + Its native powers most perfect, she by this + Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, + And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe + Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract + Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, + The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, + And every charm of animated things, + Are only pledges of a state sincere, + The integrity and order of their frame, 370 + When all is well within, and every end + Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, + The lovely ministries of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them, [Endnote F] and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, + Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand + Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene 380 + Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire + Where is the sanction of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly! Wanting these, + Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace, + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam + Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, + Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, + To learn the lore of undeceitful Good, 390 + And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms + Of baleful Superstition guide the feet + Of servile numbers, through a dreary way + To their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire; + And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn + To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom + Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells; + To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, + And to the screaming owl's accursed song + Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Your lovely search illumines. From the grove + Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, + Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then should my powerful verse at once dispel + Those monkish horrors: then in light divine + Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps + Of those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks, + Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 + Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, + Led by their winged Genius, and the choir + Of laurell'd science and harmonious art, + Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us, + Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh, let us not a moment pause to join 420 + That godlike band. And if the gracious Power + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, + Will to my invocation breathe anew + The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths, + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead, + When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 + And wake the strong divinity of soul + That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck + For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils + Upon the lofty summit, round her brow + To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise; + To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed, + Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form; + Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, 440 + Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene + In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, + Through various being's fair proportion'd scale, + To trace the rising lustre of her charms, + From their first twilight, shining forth at length + To full meridian splendour. Of degree + The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth + Of colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line + And variation of determined shape, 450 + Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + Unites this varied symmetry of parts + With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl + Shines in the concave of its azure bed, + And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. + Then more attractive rise the blooming forms + Through which the breath of Nature has infused + Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins + Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 + In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers + Their purple honours with the Spring resume; + And such the stately tree which Autumn bends + With blushing treasures. But more lovely still + Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent + Of complicated members, to the bloom + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, + And active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed 470 + With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell + There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, + Where dawns the high expression of a mind: + By steps conducting our enraptured search + To that eternal origin, whose power, + Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, + Like rays effulging from the parent sun, + This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 480 + Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand, + Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned, + Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, + Invites the soul to never-fading joy. + Look then abroad through nature, to the range + Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the void immense; + And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 + With half that kindling majesty dilate + Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose [Endnote G] + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending, like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, + And bade the father of his country, hail! + For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500 + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn, + In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair + As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush + Of him who strives with fortune to be just? + The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? + Or the mild majesty of private life, + Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns + The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse + Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 + Of Innocence and Love protect the scene? + Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound + Where Nature works in secret; view the beds + Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault + That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms + Of atoms moving with incessant change + Their elemental round; behold the seeds + Of being, and the energy of life + Kindling the mass with ever-active flame; + Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 + Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call + Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! + Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour + That saw the heavens created: then declare + If aught were found in those external scenes + To move thy wonder now. For what are all + The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, + Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? + Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows + The superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530 + And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. + Not so the moral species, nor the powers + Of genius and design; the ambitious mind + There sees herself: by these congenial forms + Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her features in the mirror. For, of all + The inhabitants of earth, to man alone + Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye + To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540 + The sacred laws of action and of will, + Discerning justice from unequal deeds, + And temperance from folly. But beyond + This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind + Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, + To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, + Has added bright Imagination's rays: + Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsake + The unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550 + And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, + Assumes a various feature, to attract, + With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, + The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, + The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires + With purest wishes, from the pensive shade + Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse + That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme + Of harmony and wonder: while among + The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 + Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, + And through the rolls of memory appeals + To ancient honour; or in act serene, + Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword + Of public Power, from dark Ambition's reach + To guard the sacred volume of the laws. + + Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps + Well pleased I follow through the sacred paths + Of Nature and of Science; nurse divine + Of all heroic deeds and fair desires! 570 + Oh! let the breath of thy extended praise + Inspire my kindling bosom to the height + Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + That soothes this vernal evening into smiles, + I steal impatient from the sordid haunts + Of strife and low ambition, to attend + Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned. + Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye! 580 + Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air, + As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung + With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth + To see thee rend the pageants of his throne; + And at the lightning of thy lifted spear + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth + Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 590 + Through fair Lycéum's [Endnote I] walk, the green retreats + Of Academus, [Endnote J] and the thymy vale, + Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, + Ilissus [Endnote K] pure devolved his tuneful stream + In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store + Of these auspicious fields, may I unblamed + Transplant some living blossoms to adorn + My native clime: while far above the flight + Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join 600 + Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise + Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth + I point the high example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The separation of the works of Imagination from Philosophy, the +cause of their abuse among the moderns. Prospect of their reunion +under the influence of public Liberty. Enumeration of accidental +pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the +Imagination. The pleasures of sense. Particular circumstances of the +mind. Discovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and design. +Emotion of the passions. All the natural passions partake of a +pleasing sensation; with the final cause of this constitution +illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, +terror, and indignation. + + When shall the laurel and the vocal string + Resume their honours? When shall we behold + The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan band + Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, + How slow the dawn of Beauty and of Truth + Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night + Which yet involves the nations! Long they groan'd + Beneath the furies of rapacious force; + Oft as the gloomy north, with iron swarms + Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, 10 + Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works + Of Liberty and Wisdom down the gulf + Of all-devouring night. As long immured + In noontide darkness, by the glimmering lamp, + Each Muse and each fair Science pined away + The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands + Their mysteries profaned, unstrung the lyre, + And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. + At last the Muses rose, [Endnote L] and spurn'd their bonds, + And, wildly warbling, scatter'd as they flew, 20 + Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's [Endnote M] bowers + To Arno's [Endnote N] myrtle border and the shore + Of soft Parthenopé. [Endnote O] But still the rage + Of dire ambition [Endnote P] and gigantic power, + From public aims and from the busy walk + Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train + Of penetrating Science to the cells, + Where studious Ease consumes the silent hour + In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. + Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts [Endnote Q] 30 + Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, + To priestly domination and the lust + Of lawless courts, their amiable toil + For three inglorious ages have resign'd, + In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue + Was tuned for slavish pasans at the throne + Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand + Effused its fair creation to enchant + The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes + To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 + The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. + But now, behold! the radiant era dawns, + When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length + For endless years on Albion's happy shore + In full proportion, once more shall extend + To all the kindred powers of social bliss + A common mansion, a parental roof. + There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, + Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, + Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 + The Muses and the Graces. Then no more + Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts + To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn + Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, + The patriot bosom; then no more the paths + Of public care or intellectual toil, + Alone by footsteps haughty and severe + In gloomy state be trod: the harmonious Muse + And her persuasive sisters then shall plant + Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 + And scatter flowers along the rugged way. + Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dared + To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, + And teach the Muse her lore; already strove + Their long-divided honours to unite, + While tempering this deep argument we sang + Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task + Impends; now urging our ambitious toil, + We hasten to recount the various springs + Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin 70 + Their grateful influence to the prime effect + Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge + The complicated joy. The sweets of sense, + Do they not oft with kind accession flow, + To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm? + So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, + Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view + Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill + Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst + Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 + Of cool refreshment, o'er the mossy brink + Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves + With sweeter music murmur as they flow? + + Nor this alone; the various lot of life + Oft from external circumstance assumes + A moment's disposition to rejoice + In those delights which, at a different hour, + Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring, + When rural songs and odours wake the morn, + To every eye; but how much more to his 90 + Round whom the bed of sickness long diffused + Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair, + When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales + The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun + Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life + Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! + + Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth + Her awful light discloses, to bestow + A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? + For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100 + More welcome touch his understanding's eye, + Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, + Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet + The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctured hues + To me have shown so pleasing, as when first + The hand of Science pointed out the path + In which the sunbeams, gleaming from the west, + Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil + Involves the orient; and that trickling shower + Piercing through every crystalline convex 110 + Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed, + Recoil at length where concave all behind + The internal surface of each glassy orb + Repels their forward passage into air; + That thence direct they seek the radiant goal + From which their course began; and, as they strike + In different lines the gazer's obvious eye, + Assume a different lustre, through the brede + Of colours changing from the splendid rose + To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 + + Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, + That springs to each fair object, while we trace, + Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim, + Disposing every part, and gaining still, + By means proportion'd, her benignant end? + Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps + The lamp of Science through the jealous maze + Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal + Her secret honours: whether in the sky, + The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 + That wheel the pensile planets round the year; + Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, + Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, + Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, + Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. + + What, when to raise the meditated scene, + The flame of passion, through the struggling soul + Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze + The object of its rapture, vast of size, + With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140 + What, like a storm from their capacious bed + The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might + Of these eruptions, working from the depth + Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame + Even to the base; from every naked sense + Of pain or pleasure, dissipating all + Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil + Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times + To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks + Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 + Big with the very motion of their souls, + Declare with what accumulated force + The impetuous nerve of passion urges on + The native weight and energy of things. + + Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims, + Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, + From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holds + Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse + Rouses the mind's whole fabric; with supplies + Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 + Intensely poised, and polishes anew + By that collision all the fine machine: + Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees + Encumbering, choke at last what heaven design'd + For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.-- + But say, does every passion thus to man + Administer delight? That name indeed + Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes + The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand + Of admiration: but the bitter shower 170 + That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave; + But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, + Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart + Of panting indignation, find we there + To move delight?--Then listen while my tongue + The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe + Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach + My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd + Within his learned mind whate'er the schools + Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 + O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws + Which govern and support this mighty frame + Of universal being. Oft the hours + From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away, + While mute attention hung upon his lips, + As thus the sage his awful tale began:-- + + ''Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, + When spotless youth with solitude resigns + To sweet philosophy the studious day, + What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 + Musing I roved. Of good and evil much, + And much of mortal man my thought revolved; + When starting full on fancy's gushing eye + The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, + That hour, O long beloved and long deplored! + When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts, + Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, + Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears + Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; + Thy agonising looks, thy last farewell 200 + Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul + As with the hand of Death. At once the shade + More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds + With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark + As midnight storms, the scene of human things + Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, + Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south, + And desolation blasting all the west + With rapine and with murder: tyrant power + Here sits enthroned with blood; the baleful charms 210 + Of superstition there infect the skies, + And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven! + What is the life of man? Or cannot these, + Not these portents thy awful will suffice, + That, propagated thus beyond their scope, + They rise to act their cruelties anew + In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed + The universal sensitive of pain, + The wretched heir of evils not its own?' + + Thus I impatient: when, at once effused, 220 + A flashing torrent of celestial day + Burst through the shadowy void. With slow descent + A purple cloud came floating through the sky, + And, poised at length within the circling trees, + Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide + Its lucid orb, a more than human form + Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head, + And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. + Then melted into air the liquid cloud, + And all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 + A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, + And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, + Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist + Collected with a radiant zone of gold + Aethereal: there in mystic signs engraved, + I read his office high and sacred name, + Genius of human kind! Appall'd I gazed + The godlike presence; for athwart his brow + Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, + Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 + Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air: + + 'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth! + And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span + Capacious of this universal frame?-- + Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! + Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord + Of Nature and his works--to lift thy voice + Against the sovereign order he decreed, + All good and lovely--to blaspheme the bands + Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 + Holiest of things! by which the general orb + Of being, as by adamantine links, + Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd + From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs + Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, + So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish + The ties of Nature broken from thy frame, + That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart + Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then + The wretched heir of evils not its own? 260 + O fair benevolence of generous minds! + O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!' + + He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, + As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awed + Before his presence, though my secret soul + Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground + I fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couch + He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand + My dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried, + 'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270 + + I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed; + For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, + A solitary prospect, wide and wild, + Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pile + Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, + With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. + Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, + The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springs + Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine + The crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280 + Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, + Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods + With hoarser inundation; till at last + They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts + Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, + And drank the gushing moisture, where confined + In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale + Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils + Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, + Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290 + As in a sylvan theatre enclosed + That flowery level. On the river's brink + I spied a fair pavilion, which diffused + Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade + Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd + Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, + And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, + On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light + That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers + Were awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300 + And wondering expectation. Then the voice + Of that celestial power, the mystic show + Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd:-- + + 'Inhabitant of earth, [Endnote S] to whom is given + The gracious ways of Providence to learn, + Receive my sayings with a steadfast ear-- + Know then, the Sovereign Spirit of the world, + Though, self-collected from eternal time, + Within his own deep essence he beheld + The bounds of true felicity complete, 310 + Yet by immense benignity inclined + To spread around him that primeval joy + Which fill'd himself, he raised his plastic arm, + And sounded through the hollow depths of space + The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose + These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life, + Effusive kindled by his breath divine + Through endless forms of being. Each inhaled + From him its portion of the vital flame, + In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 + Of coexistent orders, one might rise, + One order, [Endnote T] all-involving and entire. + He too, beholding in the sacred light + Of his essential reason, all the shapes + Of swift contingence, all successive ties + Of action propagated through the sum + Of possible existence, he at once, + Down the long series of eventful time, + So fix'd the dates of being, so disposed, + To every living soul of every kind 330 + The field of motion and the hour of rest, + That all conspired to his supreme design, + To universal good: with full accord + Answering the mighty model he had chose, + The best and fairest [Endnote U] of unnumber'd worlds + That lay from everlasting in the store + Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, + By one exertion of creative power + His goodness to reveal; through every age, + Through every moment up the tract of time, 340 + His parent hand with ever new increase + Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd + The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + For ever leads the generations on + To higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day with his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, [Endnote V] 350 + As bodies to their proper centre move, + As the poised ocean to the attracting moon + Obedient swells, and every headlong stream + Devolves its winding waters to the main; + So all things which have life aspire to God, + The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, + Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice + Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps + Aright; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From granting to the task proportion'd aid; 360 + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine.-- + + 'That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn + Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene + Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat + Of man, and where the Will Supreme ordain'd + His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffused + Along the shady brink; in this recess + To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 + Till riper hours should open to his toil + The high communion of superior minds, + Of consecrated heroes and of gods. + Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget + His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld + Celestial footsteps from his green abode. + Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, + He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair, + The effluence of his glory, whom he placed + Before his eyes for ever to behold; 380 + The goddess from whose inspiration flows + The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; + Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, + Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass, + Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire + Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, + The folded powers to open, to direct + The growth luxuriant of his young desires, + And from the laws of this majestic world + To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390 + Her daily care attended, by her side + With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, + The fair Euphrosyné, the gentle queen + Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights + That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men + And powers immortal. See the shining pair! + Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosed + They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.' + + I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood + Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 + Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower + Of beauty: sweetest innocence illumed + His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow + Sate young simplicity. With fond regard + He view'd the associates, as their steps they moved; + The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd, + With mild regret invoking her return. + Bright as the star of evening she appear'd + Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth + O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410 + And smiles eternal from her candid eyes + Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn + Effusive trembling on the placid waves. + The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils + To bind her sable tresses: full diffused + Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze; + And in her hand she waved a living branch + Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm + The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes + To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 + The heavenly partner moved. The prime of age + Composed her steps. The presence of a god, + High on the circle of her brow enthroned, + From each majestic motion darted awe, + Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks + Benevolent and meek, confiding love + To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. + Free in her graceful hand she poised the sword + Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown + Display'd the old simplicity of pomp 430 + Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe, + White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds, + Her stately form invested. Hand in hand + The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green, + Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light + Gleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard, + And through the fragrant air ethereal dews + Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds, + Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew + Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 + Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd, + Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scan + What object it involved. My feeble eyes + Endured not. Bending down to earth I stood, + With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, + As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, + With sacred invocation thus began: + + 'Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm + With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, + Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450 + I seek to finish thy divine decree. + With frequent steps I visit yonder seat + Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds + Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve + The latent honours of his generous frame; + Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot + From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks, + The temple of thy glory. But not me, + Not my directing voice he oft requires, + Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, 460 + The associate thou hast given me, her alone + He loves, O Father! absent, her he craves; + And but for her glad presence ever join'd, + Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes + This thy benignant purpose to fulfil, + I deem uncertain: and my daily cares + Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee + Still further aided in the work divine.' + + She ceased; a voice more awful thus replied:-- + 'O thou, in whom for ever I delight, 470 + Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven, + Best image of thy Author! far from thee + Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame; + Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil, + And no resistance find. If man refuse + To hearken to thy dictates; or, allured + By meaner joys, to any other power + Transfer the honours due to thee alone; + That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste, + That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 + Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil; + Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend + Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! + With thee the son of Nemesis I send; + The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account + Of sacred order's violated laws. + See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, + Pierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath + On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, + Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 + Thy tender charge; that when despair shall grasp + His agonising bosom, he may learn, + Then he may learn to love the gracious hand + Alone sufficient in the hour of ill, + To save his feeble spirit; then confess + Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! + When all the plagues that wait the deadly will + Of this avenging demon, all the storms + Of night infernal, serve but to display + The energy of thy superior charms 500 + With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, + And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.' + + Here ceased that awful voice, and soon I felt + The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve + Was closed once more, from that immortal fire + Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd + A vast gigantic spectre striding on + Through murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds, + With dreadful action. Black as night his brow + Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 + With sharp impatience violent he writhed, + As through convulsive anguish; and his hand, + Arm'd with a scorpion lash, full oft he raised + In madness to his bosom; while his eyes + Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook + The void with horror. Silent by his side + The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd + Her features. From the glooms which hung around, + No stain of darkness mingled with the beam + Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 + Upon the river bank; and now to hail + His wonted guests, with eager steps advanced + The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. + + As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long + Had ranged the Alpine snows, by chance at morn + Sees from a cliff, incumbent o'er the smoke + Of some lone village, a neglected kid + That strays along the wild for herb or spring; + Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, + And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage, 530 + The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. + Amazed the stripling stood: with panting breast + Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail + Of helpless consternation, struck at once, + And rooted to the ground. The Queen beheld + His terror, and with looks of tenderest care + Advanced to save him. Soon the tyrant felt + Her awful power. His keen tempestuous arm + Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage + Had aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retired 540 + With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovereign maid + Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy, + Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek; + Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue:-- + + 'Oh, wake thee, rouse thy spirit! Shall the spite + Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, + While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand + To rescue and to heal? Oh, let thy soul + Remember, what the will of heaven ordains + Is ever good for all; and if for all, 550 + Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth + And soothing sunshine of delightful things, + Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled + By that bland light, the young unpractised views + Of reason wander through a fatal road, + Far from their native aim; as if to lie + Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait + The soft access of ever circling joys, + Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, + This pleasing error did it never lull 560 + Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refused + The silken fetters of delicious ease? + Or when divine Euphrosyné appear'd + Within this dwelling, did not thy desires + Hang far below the measure of thy fate, + Which I reveal'd before thee, and thy eyes, + Impatient of my counsels, turn away + To drink the soft effusion of her smiles? + Know then, for this the everlasting Sire + Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 + O wise and still benevolent! ordains + This horrid visage hither to pursue + My steps; that so thy nature may discern + Its real good, and what alone can save + Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill + From folly and despair. O yet beloved! + Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm + Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage + Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, + While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 + Above the generous question of thy arm. + Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong, + This hour he triumphs: but confront his might, + And dare him to the combat, then with ease + Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns + To bondage and to scorn: while thus inured + By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, + The immortal mind, superior to his fate, + Amid the outrage of external things, + Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 + Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds! + Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempest on; + Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky! + Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire + Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene, + The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; + And ever stronger as the storms advance, + Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, + Where Nature calls him to the destined goal.' + + So spake the goddess; while through all her frame 600 + Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word, + In every motion kindling warmth divine + To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift + As lightning fires the aromatic shade + In Aethiopian fields, the stripling felt + Her inspiration catch his fervid soul, + And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd:-- + + 'Then let the trial come! and witness thou, + If terror be upon me; if I shrink + To meet the storm, or falter in my strength 610 + When hardest it besets me. Do not think + That I am fearful and infirm of soul, + As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast changed + My nature; thy commanding voice has waked + My languid powers to bear me boldly on, + Where'er the will divine my path ordains + Through toil or peril: only do not thou + Forsake me; Oh, be thou for ever near, + That I may listen to thy sacred voice, + And guide by thy decrees my constant feet. 620 + But say, for ever are my eyes bereft? + Say, shall the fair Euphrosyné not once + Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven! + O thou eternal arbiter of things! + Be thy great bidding done: for who am I, + To question thy appointment? Let the frowns + Of this avenger every morn o'ercast + The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp + With double night my dwelling; I will learn + To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 + His hateful presence: but permit my tongue + One glad request, and if my deeds may find + Thy awful eye propitious, oh! restore + The rosy-featured maid; again to cheer + This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.' + + He spoke; when instant through the sable glooms + With which that furious presence had involved + The ambient air, a flood of radiance came + Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds + Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 640 + Euphrosyné appear'd. With sprightly step + The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, + And to her wondering audience thus began:-- + + 'Lo! I am here to answer to your vows, + And be the meeting fortunate! I come + With joyful tidings; we shall part no more-- + Hark! how the gentle echo from her cell + Talks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream + Repeats the accents; we shall part no more.-- + O my delightful friends! well pleased on high 650 + The Father has beheld you, while the might + Of that stern foe with bitter trial proved + Your equal doings: then for ever spake + The high decree, that thou, celestial maid! + Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps + May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more + Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, + Alone endure the rancour of his arm, + Or leave thy loved Euphrosyné behind.' + + She ended, and the whole romantic scene 660 + Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills, + The mantling tent, and each mysterious form + Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, + When sunshine fills the bed. Awhile I stood + Perplex'd and giddy; till the radiant power + Who bade the visionary landscape rise, + As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks + Preventing my inquiry, thus began:-- + + 'There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint + How blind, how impious! There behold the ways 670 + Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, + For ever just, benevolent, and wise: + That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued + By vexing fortune and intrusive pain, + Should never be divided from her chaste, + Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge + Thy tardy thought through all the various round + Of this existence, that thy softening soul + At length may learn what energy the hand + Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 + Of passion swelling with distress and pain, + To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops + Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego + That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 690 + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture.--Ask the crowd + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while sacred Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; + While every mother closer to her breast 700 + Catches her child, and pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down: Oh! deemest thou indeed + No kind endearment here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No sweetly melting softness which attracts, + O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 + To this their proper action and their end?-- + Ask thy own heart, when, at the midnight hour, + Slow through that studious gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame + For Grecian heroes, where the present power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father blessing, while he reads + The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 + Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, + Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their flame, + Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, + When, rooted from the base, heroic states + Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown + Of cursed ambition; when the pious band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires, + Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To slavish empty pageants, to adorn + A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns + Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust + And storied arch, to glut the coward rage + Of regal envy, strew the public way + With hallow'd ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow + To sweep the works of glory from their base; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street + Expands his raven wings, and up the wall, + Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, + Hisses the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column; thus defaced, 750 + Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills + Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's [Endnote W] brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; + Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 + Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, + And bears aloft his gold-invested front, + And says within himself, I am a king, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?--The baleful dregs + Of these late ages, this inglorious draught + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the eternal Ruler of the world! + Defiled to such a depth of sordid shame + The native honours of the human soul, 770 + Nor so effaced the image of its Sire.' + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Pleasure in observing the tempers and manners of men, even where +vicious or absurd. The origin of Vice, from false representations of +the fancy, producing false opinions concerning good and evil. +Inquiry into ridicule. The general sources of ridicule in the minds +and characters of men, enumerated. Final cause of the sense of +ridicule. The resemblance of certain aspects of inanimate things to +the sensations and properties of the mind. The operations of the +mind in the production of the works of Imagination, described. The +secondary pleasure from Imitation. The benevolent order of the world +illustrated in the arbitrary connexion of these pleasures with the +objects which excite them. The nature and conduct of taste. +Concluding with an account of the natural and moral advantages +resulting from a sensible and well formed imagination. + + What wonder therefore, since the endearing ties + Of passion link the universal kind + Of man so close, what wonder if to search + This common nature through the various change + Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame + Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind + With unresisted charms? The spacious west, + And all the teeming regions of the south, + Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight + Of Knowledge, half so tempting or so fair, 10 + As man to man. Nor only where the smiles + Of Love invite; nor only where the applause + Of cordial Honour turns the attentive eye + On Virtue's graceful deeds. For, since the course + Of things external acts in different ways + On human apprehensions, as the hand + Of Nature temper'd to a different frame + Peculiar minds; so haply where the powers + Of Fancy [Endnote X] neither lessen nor enlarge + The images of things, but paint in all 20 + Their genuine hues, the features which they wore + In Nature; there Opinion will be true, + And Action right. For Action treads the path + In which Opinion says he follows good, + Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye, + With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 + Is there a man, who, at the sound of death, + Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, + And black before him; nought but death-bed groans + And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink + Of light and being, down the gloomy air, + An unknown depth? Alas! in such a mind, + If no bright forms of excellence attend + The image of his country; nor the pomp + Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice + Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 + The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame; + Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, + Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill + Than to betray his country? And in act + Will he not choose to be a wretch and live? + Here vice begins then. From the enchanting cup + Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst + Of youth oft swallows a Circaean draught, + That sheds a baleful tincture o'er the eye + Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 + And only guides to err. Then revel forth + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps + The empire of the soul; thus pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands + Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, + Watch to o'erturn the barrier of the laws + That keeps them from their prey; thus all the plagues + The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scone + The tragic Muse discloses, under shapes 60 + Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, + Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all + Those lying forms, which Fancy in the brain + Engenders, are the kindling passions driven + To guilty deeds; nor Reason bound in chains, + That Vice alone may lord it: oft adorn'd + With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears; a thousand ways + She wheels her giddy empire.--Lo! thus far 70 + With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre + I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well pleased + A stricter note: now haply must my song + Unbend her serious measure, and reveal + In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts [Endnote Y] + Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + The sportive province of the comic Muse. + + See! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance: + Each would outstrip the other, each prevent + Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 + Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, + My curious friends! and let us first arrange + In proper order your promiscuous throng. + + Behold the foremost band; [Endnote Z] of slender thought, + And easy faith; whom flattering Fancy soothes + With lying spectres, in themselves to view + Illustrious forms of excellence and good, + That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts + They spread their spurious treasures to the sun, + And bid the world admire! But chief the glance 90 + Of wishful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, + And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. + In number boundless as the blooms of Spring, + Behold their glaring idols, empty shades + By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up + For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, + With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, + And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate + With martial splendour, steely pikes and swords + Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 + Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port + Of stately Valour: listening by his side + There stands a female form; to her, with looks + Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, + He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, + And sulphurous mines, and ambush: then at once + Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, + And asks some wondering question of her fears. + Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'd + With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 + And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes + Take homage of the simple-minded throng; + Ambassadors of Heaven! Nor much unlike + Is he, whose visage in the lazy mist + That mantles every feature, hides a brood + Of politic conceits, of whispers, nods, + And hints deep omen'd with unwieldy schemes, + And dark portents of state. Ten thousand more, + Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues, + Pour dauntless in and swell the boastful band. 120 + + Then comes the second order; [Endnote AA] all who seek + The debt of praise, where watchful Unbelief + Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye + On some retired appearance which belies + The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause + That Justice else would pay. Here side by side + I see two leaders of the solemn train + Approaching: one a female old and gray, + With eyes demure, and wrinkle-furrow'd brow, + Pale as the cheeks of death; yet still she stuns 130 + The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, + How many youths her myrtle chains have worn, + How many virgins at her triumphs pined! + Yet how resolved she guards her cautious heart; + Such is her terror at the risks of love, + And man's seducing tongue! The other seems + A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, + And sordid all his habit; peevish Want + Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng + He stalks, resounding in magnific praise 140 + The vanity of riches, the contempt + Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, + Ye grave associates! let the silent grace + Of her who blushes at the fond regard + Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold + The praise of spotless honour: let the man, + Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp + And ample store, but as indulgent streams + To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits + Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 + The price of riches and the end of power. + + Another tribe succeeds; [Endnote BB] deluded long + By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold + The images of some peculiar things + With brighter hues resplendent, and portray'd + With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd + Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart + Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms; + Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, + Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays! 160 + And serious manhood from the towering aim + Of wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast + Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form + Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells! + Not with intenser view the Samian sage + Bent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, + When first the order of that radiant scene + Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surveys + A muckworm's entrails, or a spider's fang. + Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 170 + Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, + With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, + To win her coy regard: adieu, for him, + The dull engagements of the bustling world! + Adieu the sick impertinence of praise! + And hope, and action! for with her alone, + By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, + Is all he asks, and all that fate can give! + Thee too, facetious Momion, wandering here, + Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 + Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long + Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils + Of sly derision! till on every side + Hurling thy random bolts, offended Truth + Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves + Of Folly. Thy once formidable name + Shall grace her humble records, and be heard + In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips + Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, + So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. 190 + + But now, ye gay! [Endnote CC] to whom indulgent fate, + Of all the Muse's empire hath assign'd + The fields of folly, hither each advance + Your sickles; here the teeming soil affords + Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears, + In whom the demon, with a mother's joy, + Views all her charms reflected, all her cares + At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band! + Who, scorning Reason's tame, pedantic rules, + And Order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 + For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal + Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, + And yield Deformity the fond applause + Which Beauty wont to claim, forgive my song, + That for the blushing diffidence of youth, + It shuns the unequal province of your praise. + + Thus far triumphant [Endnote DD] in the pleasing guile + Of bland Imagination, Folly's train + Have dared our search: but now a dastard kind + Advance reluctant, and with faltering feet 210 + Shrink from the gazer's eye: enfeebled hearts + Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, + Or bends to servile tameness with conceits + Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, + Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave + Who droops abash'd when sullen Pomp surveys + His humbler habit; here the trembling wretch + Unnerved and struck with Terror's icy bolts, + Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, + At every dream of danger: here, subdued 220 + By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn + Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, + Who, blushing, half resigns the candid praise + Of Temperance and Honour; half disowns + A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride; + And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth + With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. + + Last of the motley bands [Endnote EE] on whom the power + Of gay Derision bends her hostile aim, + Is that where shameful Ignorance presides. 230 + Beneath her sordid banners, lo! they march + Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands + Attempt, Confusion straight appears behind, + And troubles all the work. Through many a maze, + Perplex'd they struggle, changing every path, + O'erturning every purpose; then at last + Sit down dismay'd, and leave the entangled scene + For Scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode + Of Folly in the mind; and such the shapes + In which she governs her obsequious train. 240 + + Through every scene of ridicule in things + To lead the tenor of my devious lay; + Through every swift occasion, which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her sallying nerves and chokes her tongue; + What were it but to count each crystal drop + Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms + Of May distil? Suffice it to have said, [Endnote FF] + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, 250 + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on the quick observer: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity are wont to dwell; + Or whether these with violation loathed, + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + + Ask we for what fair end, [Endnote GG] the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 + These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + The giddy aims of Folly? Though the light + Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mind, + At length unfolds, through many a subtile tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil! yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of truth appears 270 + To thousands; conscious what a scanty pause + From labours and from care, the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature; therefore stamp'd + The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + + Such are the various aspects of the mind-- + Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts + Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 + The etherial spirit with its mould of clay, + Oh! teach me to reveal the grateful charm + That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man + Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, + The inexpressive semblance [Endnote HH] of himself, + Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods + That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow: + With what religious awe the solemn scene + Commands your steps! as if the reverend form + Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 + The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade + Move to your pausing eye! Behold the expanse + Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds + Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze: + Now their gray cincture skirts the doubtful sun; + Now streams of splendour, through their opening veil + Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn + The aërial shadows, on the curling brook, + And on the shady margin's quivering leaves + With quickest lustre glancing; while you view 300 + The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast + Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth + With clouds and sunshine chequer'd, while the round + Of social converse, to the inspiring tongue + Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, + Moves all obsequious? Whence is this effect, + This kindred power of such discordant things? + Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone + To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers + At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 + Which artful custom twines around her frame? + + For when the different images of things, + By chance combined, have struck the attentive soul + With deeper impulse, or, connected long, + Have drawn her frequent eye; howe'er distinct + The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain + From that conjunction an eternal tie, + And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind + Recall one partner of the various league, + Immediate, lo! the firm confederates rise, 320 + And each his former station straight resumes: + One movement governs the consenting throng, + And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, + Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. + 'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, + Two faithful needles, [Endnote II] from the informing touch + Of the same parent stone, together drew + Its mystic virtue, and at first conspired + With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: + Then, though disjoin'd by kingdoms, though the main 330 + Roll'd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars + Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved + The former friendship, and remember'd still + The alliance of their birth: whate'er the line + Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew + The sure associate, ere with trembling speed + He found its path and fix'd unerring there. + Such is the secret union, when we feel + A song, a flower, a name, at once restore + Those long-connected scenes where first they moved 340 + The attention, backward through her mazy walks + Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, + To temples, courts, or fields, with all the band + Of painted forms, of passions and designs + Attendant; whence, if pleasing in itself, + The prospect from that sweet accession gains + Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. + + By these mysterious ties, [Endnote JJ] the busy power + Of Memory her ideal train preserves + Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 + Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste + Of dark oblivion; thus collecting all + The various forms of being to present, + Before the curious aim of mimic art, + Their largest choice; like Spring's unfolded blooms + Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee + May taste at will, from their selected spoils + To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse + Of living lakes in Summer's noontide calm, + Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens, 360 + With fairer semblance; not the sculptured gold + More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace, + Than he whose birth the sister powers of Art + Propitious view'd, and from his genial star + Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind, + Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve + The seal of Nature. There alone unchanged, + Her form remains. The balmy walks of May + There breathe perennial sweets; the trembling chord + Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 + Melodious; and the virgin's radiant eye, + Superior to disease, to grief, and time, + Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length + Endow'd with all that nature can bestow, + The child of Fancy oft in silence bends + O'er these mix'd treasures of his pregnant breast + With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves + To frame he knows not what excelling things, + And win he knows not what sublime reward + Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 + Feels her young nerves dilate: the plastic powers + Labour for action: blind emotions heave + His bosom; and with loveliest frenzy caught, + From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, + From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, + Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call, + Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, + From ocean's bed they come: the eternal heavens + Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss + Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 + He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares + Their different forms; now blends them, now divides, + Enlarges and extenuates by turns; + Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, + And infinitely varies. Hither now, + Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, + With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan + Begins to open. Lucid order dawns; + And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds + Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 + Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd + Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sun + Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees + Thus disentangled, his entire design + Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, + And lines converge: the fainter parts retire; + The fairer eminent in light advance; + And every image on its neighbour smiles. + Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy + Contemplates. Then with Promethéan art, 410 + Into its proper vehicle [Endnote KK] he breathes + The fair conception; which, embodied thus, + And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears + An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, + The various organs of his mimic skill, + The consonance of sounds, the featured rock, + The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, + Beyond their proper powers attract the soul + By that expressive semblance, while in sight + Of Nature's great original we scan 420 + The lively child of Art; while line by line, + And feature after feature we refer + To that sublime exemplar whence it stole + Those animating charms. Thus Beauty's palm + Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding Love + Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires + To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud + Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice + Enclosed and obvious to the beaming sun, + Collects his large effulgence; straight the heavens 430 + With equal flames present on either hand + The radiant visage; Persia stands at gaze, + Appall'd; and on the brink of Ganges doubts + The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, + To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, + To which his warbled orisons ascend. + + Such various bliss the well-tuned heart enjoys, + Favour'd of Heaven! while, plunged in sordid cares, + The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine; + And harsh Austerity, from whose rebuke 440 + Young Love and smiling Wonder shrink away + Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns + Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, + Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge + Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, + And calls the love and beauty which I sing, + The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, + Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms + Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, + To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 + Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, + Might smile with scorn while raptured vision tells + Of the gay-colour'd radiance flushing bright + O'er all creation. From the wise be far + Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song + Descend so low; but rather now unfold, + If human thought could reach, or words unfold, + By what mysterious fabric of the mind, + The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound + Result from airy motion; and from shape 460 + The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. + By what fine ties hath God connected things + When present in the mind, which in themselves + Have no connexion? Sure the rising sun + O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, + With equal brightness and with equal warmth + Might roll his fiery orb, nor yet the soul + Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers + Exulting in the splendour she beholds, + Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp 470 + Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, + Soft murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath + Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain + Attemper, could not man's discerning ear + Through all its tones the sympathy pursue, + Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy + Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd heart, + Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song? + + But were not Nature still endow'd at large + With all that life requires, though unadorn'd 480 + With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form + So exquisitely fair? her breath perfumed + With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice + Inform'd at will to raise or to depress + The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light + Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp + Than Fancy can describe? Whence but from Thee, + O source divine of ever-flowing love! + And Thy unmeasured goodness? Not content + With every food of life to nourish man, 490 + By kind illusions of the wondering sense + Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, + Or music to his ear; well pleased he scans + The goodly prospect, and with inward smiles + Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain, + Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, + And living lamps that over-arch his head + With more than regal splendour; bends his ears + To the full choir of water, air, and earth; + Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 + Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, + Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds, + Than space, or motion, or eternal time; + So sweet he feels their influence to attract + The fixed soul, to brighten the dull glooms + Of care, and make the destined road of life + Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, + The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, + Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells + Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510 + A visionary paradise disclosed + Amid the dubious wild; with streams, and shades, + And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, + Cheers his long labours and renews his frame. + + What then is taste, but these internal powers + Active, and strong, and feelingly alive + To each fine impulse,--a discerning sense + Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust + From things deform'd, or disarranged, or gross + In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 + Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; + But God alone, when first His active hand + Imprints the secret bias of the soul. + He, mighty Parent! wise and just in all, + Free as the vital breeze or light of heaven, + Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain + Who journeys homeward from a summer day's + Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils + And due repose, he loiters to behold + The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, 530 + O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, + His rude expression and untutor'd airs, + Beyond the power of language, will unfold + The form of beauty, smiling at his heart, + How lovely! how commanding! But though Heaven + In every breast hath sown these early seeds + Of love and admiration, yet in vain, + Without fair culture's kind parental aid, + Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, + And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 + The tender plant should rear its blooming head, + Or yield the harvest promised in its spring. + Nor yet will every soul with equal stores + Repay the tiller's labour, or attend + His will, obsequious, whether to produce + The olive or the laurel. Different minds + Incline to different objects; one pursues + The vast alone, [Endnote LL] the wonderful, the wild; + Another sighs for harmony, and grace, + And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 550 + The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, + When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, + And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, + Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; + Amid the mighty uproar, while below + The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad + Prom some high cliff, superior, and enjoys + The elemental war. But Waller longs, [Endnote MM] + All on the margin of some flowery stream + To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 + Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer + The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain + Resound soft-warbling all the livelong day; + Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill + Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; + And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. + Such and so various are the tastes of men. + + Oh! bless'd of Heaven, whom not the languid songs + Of Luxury, the siren! not the bribes + Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 + Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave + Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store + Of Nature fair Imagination culls + To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all + Of mortal offspring can attain the heights + Of envied life; though only few possess + Patrician treasures or imperial state; + Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, + With richer treasures and an ampler state, + Endows at large whatever happy man 580 + Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, + The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns + The princely dome, the column, and the arch, + The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, + Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, + His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring + Distils her dews, and from the silken gem + Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him, the hand + Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch + With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. 590 + Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings; + And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, + And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze [Endnote NN] + Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes + The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain + From all the tenants of the warbling shade + Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake + Fresh pleasure, unreproved. Nor thence partakes + Fresh pleasure only; for the attentive mind, + By this harmonious action on her powers 600 + Becomes herself harmonious; wont so oft + In outward things to meditate the charm + Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home + To find a kindred order, to exert + Within herself this elegance of love, + This fair-inspired delight; her temper'd powers + Refine at length, and every passion wears + A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. + But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze + On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 + These lesser graces, she assumes the port + Of that Eternal Majesty that weigh'd + The world's foundations, if to these the mind + Exalts her daring eye, then mightier far + Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms + Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? + Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth + Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down + To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? + Lo! she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620 + And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, + The elements and seasons; all declare + For what the Eternal Maker has ordain'd + The powers of man; we feel within ourselves + His energy divine; he tells the heart, + He meant, he made us to behold and love + What he beholds and loves, the general orb + Of life and being; to be great like him, + Beneficent and active. Thus the men + Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself 630 + Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, + With his conceptions, act upon his plan; + And form to his, the relish of their souls. + + + + + +_NOTES_ + + * * * * * + + +BOOK FIRST. + + +ENDNOTE A. + + _'Say why was man'_, etc.--P.8. + +In apologising for the frequent negligences of the sublimest authors +of Greece, 'Those godlike geniuses,' says Longinus, 'were well +assured, that Nature had not intended man for a low-spirited or +ignoble being: but bringing us into life and the midst of this wide +universe, as before a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, +that we might be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates +high in emulation for the prize of glory; she has therefore +implanted in our souls an inextinguishable love of everything great +and exalted, of everything which appears divine beyond our +comprehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole world is +not an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of human +imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits of all that +surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the whole circle of +our existence, and consider how especially it abounds in excellent +and grand objects, he will soon acknowledge for what enjoyments +and pursuits we were destined. Thus by the very propensity of +nature we are led to admire, not little springs or shallow rivulets, +however clear and delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, +and, much more than all, the Ocean,' etc. + --_Dionys. Longin. de Sublim_. ss. xxiv. + + +ENDNOTE B. + + _'The empyreal waste'_.--P. 9. + +'Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand espace au-delà de la région +des étoiles? Que ce soit le ciel empyrée, ou non, toujours cet +espace immense quî environne toute cette region, pourra être rempli +de bonheur et de gloire. Il pourra être conçu comme l'océan, òu se +rendent les fleuves de toutes les créatures bienheureuses, quand +elles seront venues à leur perfection dans le système des étoiles.' + --_Leibnitz dans la Theodicée_, part i. par. 19. + + +ENDNOTE C. + + _'Whose unfading light'_, etc.--P. 9. + +It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that there may be fixed +stars at such a distance from our solar system, as that their light +should not have had time to reach us, even from the creation of the +world to this day. + + + +ENDNOTE D. + + _'The neglect + Of all familiar prospects'_, etc.--P. 10. + +It is here said, that in consequence of the love of novelty, objects +which at first were highly delightful to the mind, lose that effect +by repeated attention to them. But the instance of habit is opposed +to this observation; for there, objects at first distasteful are in +time rendered entirely agreeable by repeated attention. + +The difficulty in this case will be removed if we consider, that, +when objects at first agreeable, lose that influence by frequently +recurring, the mind is wholly passive, and the perception involuntary; +but habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice and activity +accompanying it: so that the pleasure arises here not from the object, +but from the mind's conscious determination of its own activity; and +consequently increases in proportion to the frequency of that +determination. + +It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity with disagreeable +objects renders them at length acceptable, even when there is no +room for the mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the +appearance must be accounted for one of these ways. + +The pleasure from habit may be merely negative. The object at first +gave uneasiness: this uneasiness gradually wears off as the object +grows familiar: and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, +reckons its situation really pleasurable, compared with what it had +experienced before. + +The dislike conceived of the object at first, might be owing to +prejudice or want of attention. Consequently the mind being +necessitated to review it often, may at length perceive its own +mistake, and be reconciled to what it had looked on with aversion. +In which case, a sort of instinctive justice naturally leads it to +make amends for the injury, by running toward the other extreme of +fondness and attachment. + +Or lastly, though the object itself should always continue +disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure or good fortune may +occur along with it. Thus an association may arise in the mind, and +the object never be remembered without those pleasing circumstances +attending it; by which means the disagreeable impression which it at +first occasioned will in time be quite obliterated. + + + +ENDNOTE E. + + _'This desire + Of objects new and strange'_.--P. 10. + +These two ideas are oft confounded; though it is evident the mere +novelty of an object makes it agreeable, even where the mind is not +affected with the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed +always implies novelty, being never excited by common or well-known +appearances. But the pleasure in both cases is explicable from the +same final cause, the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of +our views of nature: on this account it is natural to treat of them +together. + + + +ENDNOTE F. + + _'Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them'_, etc.--P. 14. + +'Do you imagine,' says Socrates to Aristippus, 'that what is good is +not beautiful? Have you not observed that these appearances always +coincide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect as to which we +call it good, is ever acknowledged to be beautiful also. In the +characters of men we always [1] join the two denominations together. +The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in like manner, with that +economy of parts which constitutes them good; and in every +circumstance of life, the same object is constantly accounted both +beautiful and good, inasmuch as it answers the purposes for which it +was designed.' + --_Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat_. 1.iii.c.8. + +This excellent observation has been illustrated and extended by the +noble restorer of ancient philosophy. (See the _Characteristics_, vol. +ii., pp. 339 and 422, and vol. iii., p. 181.) And another ingenious +author has particularly shewn, that it holds in the general laws of +nature, in the works of art, and the conduct of the sciences +(_Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_, +treat, i. Section 8). As to the connexion between beauty and truth, +there are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers assert an +independent and invariable law in nature, in consequence of which +all rational beings must alike perceive beauty in some certain +proportions, and deformity in the contrary. And this necessity being +supposed the same with that which commands the assent or dissent of +the understanding, it follows, of course, that beauty is founded on +the universal and unchangeable law of truth. + +But others there are who believe beauty to be merely a relative and +arbitrary thing; that, indeed, it was a benevolent provision in +nature to annex so delightful a sensation to those objects which are +best and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be engaged to +the choice of them at once, and without staying to infer their +usefulness from their structure and effects; but that it is not +impossible, in a physical sense, that two beings, of equal +capacities for truth, should perceive, one of them beauty, and the +other deformity, in the same proportions. And upon this supposition, +by that truth which is always connected with beauty, nothing more +can be meant than the conformity of any object to those proportions +upon which, after careful examination, the beauty of that species is +found to depend. Polycletus, for instance, a famous ancient sculptor, +from an accurate mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect +human bodies, deduced a canon or system of proportions, which was +the rule of all succeeding artists. Suppose a statue modelled +according to this: a man of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, +without entering into its proportions, confesses and admires its +beauty; whereas a professor of the art applies his measures to the +head, the neck, or the hand, and, without attending to its beauty, +pronounces the workmanship to be just and true. + +[Footnote 1: This the Athenians did in a peculiar manner, by the +words [Greek: kalokagathus] and [Greek: kalokagathia].] + + +ENDNOTE G. + + '_As when Brutus rose_,' etc.--P. 18. + +Cicero himself describes this fact--'Cassare interfecto--statim +cruentum alte extollens M. Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim +exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus.' + --_Cic. Philipp_. ii. 12. + + +ENDNOTE H. + + '_Where Virtue rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom_,' etc.--P. 20. + +According to the opinion of those who assert moral obligation to be +founded on an immutable and universal law; and that which is usually +called the moral sense, to be determined by the peculiar temper of +the imagination and the earliest associations of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE I. + + '_Lycéum_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Aristotle. + + +ENDNOTE J. + + '_Academus_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Plato. + + +ENDNOTE K. + + '_Ilissus_.'--P. 21. + +One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. Plato, in some of +his finest dialogues, lays the scene of the conversation with +Socrates on its banks. + + * * * * * + + +BOOK SECOND. + + +ENDNOTE L + + '_At last the Muses rose_,' etc.--P. 22. + +About the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the third race of French +kings, the poets of Provence were in high reputation; a sort of +strolling bards or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes +and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with music and poetry. +They attempted both the epic, ode, and satire; and abounded in a +wild and fantastic vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly +founded on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These were the +rudiments of Italian poetry. But their taste and composition must +have been extremely barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed +the turn of their fable in much politer times; such as Boiardo, +Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, etc. + + +ENDNOTE M. + + '_Valclusa_.'--P. 22. + +The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the father of Italian +poetry, and his mistress, Laura, a lady of Avignon. + + +ENDNOTE N. + + '_Arno_.'--P. 22. + +The river which runs by Florence, the birth-place of Dante and +Boccaccio. + + +ENDNOTE O. + + '_Parthenopé_.'--P. 23. + +Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The great Torquato Tasso was +born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples. + + +ENDNOTE P. + + '_The rage + Of dire ambition_,' etc.--P. 23. + +This relates to the cruel wars among the republics of Italy, and +abominable politics of its little princes, about the fifteenth +century. These, at last, in conjunction with the papal power, +entirely extinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and +established that abuse of the fine arts which has been since +propagated over all Europe. + + +ENDNOTE Q. + + '_Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts_,' etc.--P. 23. + +Nor were they only losers by the separation. For philosophy itself, +to use the words of a noble philosopher, 'being thus severed from +the sprightly arts and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, +insipid, pedantic, useless, and directly opposite to the real +knowledge and practice of the world.' Insomuch that 'a gentleman,' +says another excellent writer, 'cannot easily bring himself to like +so austere and ungainly a form: so greatly is it changed from what +was once the delight of the finest gentlemen of antiquity, and their +recreation after the hurry of public affairs! From this condition it +cannot be recovered but by uniting it once more with the works of +imagination; and we have had the pleasure of observing a very great +progress made towards their union in England within these few years. +It is hardly possible to conceive them at a greater distance from +each other than at the Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of +one party, and Dryden of the other. But the general spirit of liberty, +which has ever since been growing, naturally invited our men of wit +and genius to improve that influence which the arts of persuasion +gave them with the people, by applying them to subjects of +importance to society. Thus poetry and eloquence became considerable; +and philosophy is now, of course, obliged to borrow of their +embellishments, in order even to gain audience with the public. + + +ENDNOTE R. + + '_From passion's power alone_,' etc.--P. 26. + +This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which is often found in the +exercise of passions generally counted painful, has been taken +notice of by several authors. Lucretius resolves it into self-love:-- + + 'Suave mari magno,' etc., lib. ii. 1. + +As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the distress of a +tragedy, without a cool reflection that though these fictitious +personages were so unhappy, yet he himself was perfectly at ease and +in safety. The ingenious author of the _Reflections Critiques sur la +Poésie et sur la Peinture_ accounts for it by the general delight +which the mind takes in its own activity, and the abhorrence it +feels of an indolent and inattentive state: and this, joined with the +moral approbation of its own temper, which attends these emotions +when natural and just, is certainly the true foundation of the +pleasure, which, as it is the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, +deserved a very particular consideration in this poem. + + +ENDNOTE S. + + '_Inhabitant of earth_,' etc.--P. 31. + +The account of the economy of Providence here introduced, as the +most proper to calm and satisfy the mind when under the compunction +of private evils, seems to have come originally from the Pythagorean +school: but of the ancient philosophers, Plato has most largely +insisted upon it, has established it with all the strength of his +capacious understanding, and ennobled it with all the magnificence +of his divine imagination. He has one passage so full and clear on +this head, that I am persuaded the reader will be pleased to see it +here, though somewhat long. Addressing himself to such as are not +satisfied concerning divine Providence: 'The Being who presides over +the whole,' says he, 'has disposed and complicated all things for +the happiness and virtue of the whole, every part of which, +according to the extent of its influence, does and suffers what is +fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, O unhappy man, which +though in itself most inconsiderable and minute, yet being connected +with the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that supreme order. +You in the meantime are ignorant of the very end for which all +particular natures are brought into existence, that the +all-comprehending nature of the whole may be perfect and happy; +existing, as it does, not for your sake, but the cause and reason of +your existence, which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, +must of necessity concur with the general design of the artist, and +be subservient to the whole of which it is a part. Your complaint +therefore is ignorant and groundless; since, according to the +various energy of creation, and the common laws of nature, there is +a constant provision of that which is best at the same time for you +and for the whole.--For the governing intelligence clearly beholding +all the actions of animated and self-moving creatures, and that +mixture of good and evil which diversifies them, considered first of +all by what disposition of things, and by what situation of each +individual in the general system, vice might be depressed and subdued, +and virtue made secure of victory and happiness with the greatest +facility and in the highest degree possible. In this manner he +ordered through the entire circle of being, the internal +constitution of every mind, where should be its station in the +universal fabric, and through what variety of circumstances it +should proceed in the whole tenor of its existence.' He goes on in +his sublime manner to assert a future state of retribution, 'as well +for those who, by the exercise of good dispositions being harmonised +and assimilated into the divine virtue, are consequently removed to +a place of unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those who by +the most flagitious arts have risen from contemptible beginnings to +the greatest affluence and power, and whom you therefore look upon +as unanswerable instances of negligence in the gods, because you are +ignorant of the purposes to which they are subservient, and in what +manner they contribute to that supreme intention of good to the whole.' + --_Plato de Leg_. x. 16. + +This theory has been delivered of late, especially abroad, in a +manner which subverts the freedom of human actions; whereas Plato +appears very careful to preserve it, and has been in that respect +imitated by the best of his followers. + +ENDNOTE T. + + '_One might rise, + One order_,' etc.--P. 31. + +See the _Meditations_ of Antoninus and the _Characteristics_, passim. + +ENDNOTE U. + + '_The best and fairest_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion is so old, that Timaeus Locrus calls the Supreme Being +[Greek: demiourgos tou beltionos], the artificer of that which is +best; and represents him as resolving in the beginning to produce +the most excellent work, and as copying the world most exactly from +his own intelligible and essential idea; 'so that it yet remains, as +it was at first, perfect in beauty, and will never stand in need of +any correction or improvement.' There can be no room for a caution +here, to understand the expressions, not of any particular +circumstances of human life separately considered, but of the sum or +universal system of life and being. See also the vision at the end +of the _Theodicée_ of Leibnitz. + +ENDNOTE V. + + '_As flame ascends_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any of the ancients, is +yet a very natural consequence of his principles. But the +disquisition is too complex and extensive to be entered upon here. + +ENDNOTE W. + + '_Philip_.'--P. 44. + +The Macedonian. + + +BOOK THIRD. + +ENDNOTE X. + + '_Where the powers + Of Fancy_,' etc.--P. 46. + +The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life is one of +the most important points in moral philosophy. It were easy, by an +induction of facts, to prove that the imagination directs almost all +the passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance of action or +pleasure. Let any man, even of the coldest head and soberest industry, +analyse the idea of what he calls his interest; he will find that it +consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, and order, +variously combined into one system, the idol which he seeks to enjoy +by labour, hazard, and self-denial. It is, on this account, of the +last consequence to regulate these images by the standard of nature +and the general good; otherwise the imagination, by heightening some +objects beyond their real excellence and beauty, or by representing +others in a more odions or terrible shape than they deserve, may, of +course, engage us in pursuits utterly inconsistent with the moral +order of things. + +If it be objected that this account of things supposes the passions +to be merely accidental, whereas there appears in some a natural and +hereditary disposition to certain passions prior to all +circumstances of education or fortune, it may be answered, that +though no man is born ambitious or a miser, yet he may inherit from +his parents a peculiar temper or complexion of mind, which shall +render his imagination more liable to be struck with some particular +objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions of good and ill, +and entertain passions of a particular turn. Some men, for instance, +by the original frame of their minds, are more delighted with the +vast and magnificent, others, on the contrary, with the elegant and +gentle aspects of nature. And it is very remarkable, that the +disposition of the moral powers is always similar to this of the +imagination; that those who are most inclined to admire prodigious +and sublime objects in the physical world, are also most inclined to +applaud examples of fortitude and heroic virtue in the moral. While +those who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweetness of +colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail in like manner to yield +the preference to the softer scenes of virtue and the sympathies of +a domestic life. And this is sufficient to account for the objection. + +Among the ancient philosophers, though we have several hints +concerning this influence of the imagination upon morals among the +remains of the Socratic school, yet the Stoics were the first who +paid it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought it impossible +to preserve any tolerable regularity in life, without frequently +inspecting those pictures or appearances of things, which the +imagination offers to the mind (_Diog. Laërt_. I. vii.) The +meditations of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, are +full of the same sentiment; insomuch that the latter makes the +[Greek: Chresis oia dei, fantasion], or right management of the +fancies, the only thing for which we are accountable to Providence, +and without which a man is no other than stupid or frantic (_Arrian_. +I. i. c. 12. and I. ii. c. 22). See also the _Characteristics_, +vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where this Stoical doctrine is embellished +with all the elegance and graces of Plato. + +ENDNOTE Y. + + '_How Folly's awkward arts_,' etc.--P. 47. + +Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule on private and +civil life, as well as on learning and the sciences, it has been +almost constantly neglected or misrepresented, by divines especially. +The manner of treating these subjects in the science of human nature, +should be precisely the same as in natural philosophy; from +particular facts to investigate the stated order in which they appear, +and then apply the general law, thus discovered, to the explication +of other appearances and the improvement of useful arts. + +ENDNOTE Z. + + '_Behold the foremost band_,' etc.--P. 48. + +The first and most general source of ridicule in the characters +of men, is vanity or self-applause for some desirable quality or +possession which evidently does not belong to those who assume it. + + +ENDNOTE AA. + + '_Then comes the second order_,' etc.--P, 49. + +Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the possession be real, +yet no merit can arise from it, because of some particular +circumstances, which, though obvious to the spectator, are yet +overlooked by the ridiculous character. + + +ENDNOTE BB. + + '_Another tribe succeeds_,' etc.--P. 50. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular objects +disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and inconsistent with the +order of nature. + + +ENDNOTE CC. + + '_But now, ye gay_,' etc.--P. 51. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the object is absolutely +odious or contemptible. This is the highest degree of the ridiculous; +as in the affectation of diseases or vices. + + +ENDNOTE DD. + + '_Thus far triumphant_,' etc.--P. 51 + +Ridicule from false shame or groundless fear. + + +ENDNOTE EE. + + '_Last of the motley bands_,' etc.--P. 52. + +Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our circumstances +require us to know. + + +ENDNOTE FF. + + '_Suffice it to have said_,' etc.--P. 52. + +By comparing these general sources of ridicule with each other, and +examining the ridiculous in other objects, we may obtain a general +definition of it, equally applicable to every species. The most +important circumstance of this definition is laid down in the lines +referred to; but others more minute we shall subjoin here. +Aristotle's account of the matter seems both imperfect and false. +[Greek: To ghar geloion], says he, [Greek: estin hamartaema ti kai +aischos]: 'The ridiculous is some certain fault or turpitude without +pain, and not destructive to its subject' (_Poet_. c. 5). For +allowing it to be true, as it is not, that the ridiculous is never +accompanied with pain, yet we might produce many instances of such a +fault or turpitude which cannot with any tolerable propriety be +called ridiculous. So that the definition does not distinguish the +thing designed. Nay, further, even when we perceive the turpitude +tending to the destruction of its subject, we may still be sensible +of a ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, and the +keener sensations of pity or terror banish the ludicrous +apprehension from our minds; for the sensation of ridicule is not a +bare perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, but a +passion or emotion of the mind consequential to that perception; so +that the mind may perceive the agreement or disagreement, and yet +not feel the ridiculous, because it is engrossed by a more violent +emotion. Thus it happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, +to which others cannot endure to apply the name, because in them +they excite a much intenser and more important feeling. And this +difference, among other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion +into this question. + +'That which makes objects ridiculous is some ground of admiration or +esteem connected with other more general circumstances comparatively +worthless or deformed; or it is some circumstance of turpitude or +deformity connected with what is in general excellent or beautiful: +the inconsistent properties existing either in the objects themselves, +or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate, belonging +always to the same order or class of being, implying sentiment or +design, and exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the heart.' + +To prove the several parts of this definition: 'The appearance of +excellence or beauty connected with a general condition +comparatively sordid or deformed' is ridiculous; for instance, +pompous pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly in the +Socrates of Aristophanes, and the ostentations of military glory +with cowardice and stupidity in the Thraso of Terence. + +'The appearance of deformity or turpitude in conjunction with what +is in general excellent or venerable,' is also ridiculous: for +instance, the personal weaknesses of a magistrate appearing in the +solemn and public functions of his station. + +'The incongruous properties may either exist in the objects +themselves, or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate:' +in the last--mentioned instance, they both exist in the objects; in +the instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of them is +objective and real, the other only founded in the apprehension of +the ridiculous character. + +'The inconsistent properties must belong to the same order or class +of being.' A coxcomb in fine clothes, bedaubed by accident in foul +weather, is a ridiculous object, because his general apprehension of +excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour and expense of +his dress. A man of sense and merit, in the same circumstances, is +not counted ridiculous, because the general ground of excellence and +esteem in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, of a +very different species. + +'Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or design.' A column +placed by an architect without a capital or base is laughed at: the +same column in a ruin causes a very different sensation. + +And lastly, 'the occurrence must excite no acute or vehement emotion +of the heart,' such as terror, pity, or indignation; for in that case, +as was observed above, the mind is not at leisure to contemplate the +ridiculous. Whether any appearance not ridiculous be involved in +this description, and whether it comprehend every species and form +of the ridiculous, must be determined by repeated applications of it +to particular instances. + + +ENDNOTE GG. + + _'Ask we for what fair end'_, etc.--P. 53. + +Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that we have a natural +sense or feeling of the ridiculous, and since so good a reason may +be assigned to justify the supreme Being for bestowing it, one cannot, +without astonishment, reflect on the conduct of those men who +imagine it is for the service of true religion to vilify and blacken +it without distinction, and endeavour to persuade us that it is +never applied but in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with +mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not in abstract +propositions or theorems, but in actions and passions, good and evil, +beauty and deformity, that we find materials for it; and all these +terms are relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask them +whether ridicule be a test of truth, is, in other words, to ask +whether that which is ridiculous can be morally true, can be just and +becoming; or whether that which is just and becoming can be +ridiculous?--a question that does not deserve a serious answer. For +it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical proposition offered +to the understanding for its assent, the faculty of reason examines +the terms of the proposition, and finding one idea, which was +supposed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of consequence +rejects the proposition as a falsehood; so, in objects offered to +the mind for its esteem or applause, the faculty of ridicule, +finding an incongruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it +with laughter and contempt. When, therefore, we observe such a claim +obtruded upon mankind, and the inconsistent circumstances carefully +concealed from the eye of the public, it is our business, if the +matter be of importance to society, to drag out those latent +circumstances, and, by setting them in full view, to convince the +world how ridiculous the claim is: and thus a double advantage is +gained; for we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the +way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds of men with a +stronger sense of the vanity and error of its authors. And this, and +no more, is meant by the application of ridicule. + +But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent +with the regard we owe to objects of real dignity and excellence. I +answer, the practice fairly managed can never be dangerous; men may +be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to the object, and +we may be inadvertent in allowing those circumstances to impose upon +us: but the sense of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of +Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever was drawn: +--true; but it is not the character of Socrates, the divine moralist +and father of ancient wisdom. What then? did the ridicule of the +poet hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaiming those +foreign circumstances which he had falsely introduced into his +character, and thus rendered the satirist doubly ridiculous in his +turn? No; but it nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of +the people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made many atheists: +he has founded it, indeed, on suppositions utterly false; but allow +him these, and his conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must +reject the use of ridicule, because, by the imposition of false +circumstances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which are not +so in themselves; why we ought not in the same manner to reject the +use of reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, +conclusions will appear true which are impossible in nature, let the +vehement and obstinate declaimers against ridicule determine. + + +ENDNOTE HH. + + _'The inexpressive semblance'_, etc.--P. 53. + +This similitude is the foundation of almost all the ornaments of +poetic diction. + + +ENDNOTE II. + + _'Two faithful needles'_, etc.--P. 55. + +See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo in the character of +Lucretius.-_Strada Prolus_. vi. _Academ_. 2. c. v. + + +ENDNOTE JJ. + + _'By these mysterious ties'_, etc.--P. 55. + +The act of remembering seems almost wholly to depend on the +association of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE KK. + + _'Into its proper vehicle'_, etc.--P. 57. + +This relates to the different sorts of corporeal mediums, by which +the ideas of the artists are rendered palpable to the senses: as by +sounds, in music; by lines and shadows, in painting; by diction, in +poetry, etc. + + +ENDNOTE LL. + + _'One pursues + The vast alone'_, etc.--P. 61. + +See the note to ver. 18 of this book. + + +ENDNOTE MM. + + _'Waller longs'_, etc.--P. 61. + + Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay + Under the plantane shade; and all the day + With amorous airs my fancy entertain, etc. + _WALLER, Battle of the Summer-Islands_, Canto I. + + And again, + While in the park I sing, the list'ning deer + Attend my passion, and forget to fear, etc. + At Pens-hurst. + +ENDNOTE NN. + + _'Not a breeze'_, etc.--P. 63. + +That this account may not appear rather poetically extravagant than +just in philosophy, it may be proper to produce the sentiment of one +of the greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head; one so little +to be suspected of partiality in the case, that he reckons it among +those favours for which he was especially thankful to the gods, that +they had not suffered him to make any great proficiency in the arts +of eloquence and poetry, lest by that means he should have been +diverted from pursuits of more importance to his high station. +Speaking of the beauty of universal nature, he observes, that there +'is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every object we perceive,' +when once we consider its connexion with that general order. He +instances in many things which at first sight would be thought +rather deformities; and then adds, 'that a man who enjoys a +sensibility of temper with a just comprehension of the universal +order--will discern many amiable things, not credible to every mind, +but to those alone who have entered into an honourable familiarity +with nature and her works.' + --_M. Antonin_. iii. 2. + + + + +THE + +PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + +A POEM. + +GENERAL ARGUMENT. + +The pleasures of the imagination proceed either from natural objects, +as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm +sea by moonlight; or from works of art, such as a noble edifice, a +musical tune, a statue, a picture, a poem. In treating of these +pleasures, we must begin with the former class; they being original +to the other; and nothing more being necessary, in order to explain +them, than a view of our natural inclination toward greatness and +beauty, and of those appearances, in the world around us, to which +that inclination is adapted. This is the subject of the first book +of the following poem. + +But the pleasures which we receive from the elegant arts, from music, +sculpture, painting, and poetry, are much more various and +complicated. In them (besides greatness and beauty, or forms proper +to the imagination) we find interwoven frequent representations of +truth, of virtue and vice, of circumstances proper to move us with +laughter, or to excite in us pity, fear, and the other passions. +These moral and intellectual objects are described in the second book; +to which the third properly belongs as an episode, though too large +to have been included in it. + +With the above-mentioned causes of pleasure, which are universal in +the course of human life, and appertain to our higher faculties, +many others do generally occur, more limited in their operation, or +of an inferior origin: such are the novelty of objects, the +association of ideas, affections of the bodily senses, influences of +education, national habits, and the like. To illustrate these, and +from the whole to determine the character of a perfect taste, is the +argument of the fourth book. + +Hitherto the pleasures of the imagination belong to the human +species in general. But there are certain particular men whose +imagination is endowed with powers, and susceptible of pleasures, +which the generality of mankind never participate. These are the men +of genius, destined by nature to excel in one or other of the arts +already mentioned. It is proposed, therefore, in the last place, to +delineate that genius which in some degree appears common to them all; +yet with a more peculiar consideration of poetry: inasmuch as poetry +is the most extensive of those arts, the most philosophical, and the +most useful. + + + + +BOOK I. 1757. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Dedication. The ideas of the Supreme Being, the +exemplars of all things. The variety of constitution in the minds of +men; with its final cause. The general character of a fine +imagination. All the immediate pleasures of the human imagination +proceed either from Greatness or Beauty in external objects. The +pleasure from Greatness; with its final cause. The natural connexion +of Beauty with truth [2] and good. The different orders of Beauty in +different objects. The infinite and all-comprehending form of Beauty, +which belongs to the Divine Mind. The partial and artificial forms +of Beauty, which belong to inferior intellectual beings. The origin +and general conduct of beauty in man. The subordination of local +beauties to the beauty of the Universe. Conclusion. + + With what enchantment Nature's goodly scene + Attracts the sense of mortals; how the mind + For its own eye doth objects nobler still + Prepare; how men by various lessons learn + To judge of Beauty's praise; what raptures fill + The breast with fancy's native arts endow'd, + And what true culture guides it to renown, + My verse unfolds. Ye gods, or godlike powers, + Ye guardians of the sacred task, attend + Propitious. Hand in hand around your bard 10 + Move in majestic measures, leading on + His doubtful step through many a solemn path, + Conscious of secrets which to human sight + Ye only can reveal. Be great in him: + And let your favour make him wise to speak + Of all your wondrous empire; with a voice + So temper'd to his theme, that those who hear + May yield perpetual homage to yourselves. + Thou chief, O daughter of eternal Love, + Whate'er thy name; or Muse, or Grace, adored 20 + By Grecian prophets; to the sons of Heaven + Known, while with deep amazement thou dost there + The perfect counsels read, the ideas old, + Of thine omniscient Father; known on earth + By the still horror and the blissful tear + With which thou seizest on the soul of man; + Thou chief, Poetic Spirit, from the banks + Of Avon, whence thy holy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present. And with thee 30 + Let Fiction come, on her aërial wings + Wafting ten thousand colours, which in sport, + By the light glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Whose awful tones control the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend, + And join this happy train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their mystic rites, + Wise Order: and, where Order deigns to come, 40 + Her sister, Liberty, will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + Of youthful bards the lonely wandering step + New to your springs and shades; who touch their ear + With finer sounds, and heighten to their eye + The pomp of nature, and before them place + The fairest, loftiest countenance of things. + + Nor thou, my Dyson, [3] to the lay refuse + Thy wonted partial audience. What though first, + In years unseason'd, haply ere the sports 50 + Of childhood yet were o'er, the adventurous lay + With many splendid prospects, many charms, + Allured my heart, nor conscious whence they sprung, + Nor heedful of their end? yet serious Truth + Her empire o'er the calm, sequester'd theme + Asserted soon; while Falsehood's evil brood, + Vice and deceitful Pleasure, she at once + Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil + Drew to the better cause. Maturer aid + Thy friendship added, in the paths of life, 60 + The busy paths, my unaccustom'd feet + Preserving: nor to Truth's recess divine, + Through this wide argument's unbeaten space, + Withholding surer guidance; while by turns + We traced the sages old, or while the queen + Of sciences (whom manners and the mind + Acknowledge) to my true companion's voice + Not unattentive, o'er the wintry lamp + Inclined her sceptre, favouring. Now the fates + Have other tasks imposed;--to thee, my friend, 70 + The ministry of freedom and the faith + Of popular decrees, in early youth, + Not vainly they committed; me they sent + To wait on pain, and silent arts to urge, + Inglorious; not ignoble, if my cares, + To such as languish on a grievous bed, + Ease and the sweet forgetfulness of ill + Conciliate; nor delightless, if the Muse, + Her shades to visit and to taste her springs, + If some distinguish'd hours the bounteous Muse 80 + Impart, and grant (what she, and she alone, + Can grant to mortals) that my hand those wreaths + Of fame and honest favour, which the bless'd + Wear in Elysium, and which never felt + The breath of envy or malignant tongues, + That these my hand for thee and for myself + May gather. Meanwhile, O my faithful friend, + O early chosen, ever found the same, + And trusted and beloved, once more the verse + Long destined, always obvious to thine ear, 90 + Attend, indulgent: so in latest years, + When time thy head with honours shall have clothed + Sacred to even virtue, may thy mind, + Amid the calm review of seasons past, + Fair offices of friendship, or kind peace, + Or public zeal, may then thy mind well pleased + Recall these happy studies of our prime. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the chosen breast, + And beauty with poetic wonder join'd, 100 + And inspiration. Ere the rising sun + Shone o'er the deep, or 'mid the vault of night + The moon her silver lamp suspended; ere + The vales with springs were water'd, or with groves + Of oak or pine the ancient hills were crown'd; + Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore, + Within his own deep essence view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things: + The radiant sun; the moon's nocturnal lamp; + The mountains and the streams; the ample stores 110 + Of earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first, + On that full scene his love divine he fix'd, + His admiration: till, in time complete, + What he admired and loved his vital power + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame: + Hence the green earth, and wild-resounding waves: + Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold; + And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. 120 + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For while the claims + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wisest care + Hath Nature on the multitude of minds + Impress'd a various bias, and to each + Decreed its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave 130 + To search the story of eternal thought; + Of space, and time; of fate's unbroken chain, + And will's quick movement; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue dwells in every vein + Of herbs or trees. But some to nobler hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds, + In fuller aspects and with fairer lights, 140 + This picture of the world. Through every part + They trace the lofty sketches of his hand; + In earth, or air, the meadow's flowery store, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's mien + Dress'd in attractive smiles, they see portray'd + (As far as mortal eyes the portrait scan) + Those lineaments of beauty which delight + The Mind Supreme. They also feel their force, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 150 + Through fabling Egypt, at the genial touch + Of morning, from its inmost frame sent forth + Spontaneous music, so doth Nature's hand, + To certain attributes which matter claims, + Adapt the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of those kindred powers + (Of form, of colour's cheerful pomp, of sound + Melodious, or of motion aptly sped), + Detains the enliven'd sense; till soon the soul + Feels the deep concord, and assents through all 160 + Her functions. Then the charm by fate prepared + Diffuseth its enchantment Fancy dreams, + Rapt into high discourse with prophets old, + And wandering through Elysium, Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains, of o'ershadowing groves, + Whose walks with godlike harmony resound: + Fountains, which Homer visits; happy groves, + Where Milton dwells; the intellectual power, + On the mind's throne, suspends his graver cares, + And smiles; the passions, to divine repose 170 + Persuaded yield, and love and joy alone + Are waking: love and joy, such as await + An angel's meditation. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art whom these delights can touch; + Whom Nature's aspect, Nature's simple garb + Can thus command; oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her blissful walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her gracious features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of the world's ancient store, 180 + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected scenes, + With love and admiration thus inspire + Attentive Fancy, her delighted sons + In two illustrious orders comprehend, + Self-taught: from him whose rustic toil the lark + Cheers warbling, to the bard whose daring thoughts + Range the full orb of being, still the form, + Which Fancy worships, or sublime or fair, + Her votaries proclaim. I see them dawn: + I see the radiant visions where they rise, 190 + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His glittering forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the Spring. + + Say, why was man so eminently raised + Amid the vast creation; why empower'd + Through life and death to dart his watchful eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth, + In sight of angels and immortal minds, + As on an ample theatre to join 200 + In contest with his equals, who shall best + The task achieve, the course of noble toils, + By wisdom and by mercy preordain'd? + Might send him forth the sovereign good to learn; + To chase each meaner purpose from his breast; + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the pelting storms of chance and pain, + To hold straight on, with constant heart and eye + Still fix'd upon his everlasting palm, + The approving smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns 210 + In mortal bosoms this unquenchèd hope, + That seeks from day to day sublimer ends, + Happy, though restless? Why departs the soul + Wide from the track and journey of her times, + To grasp the good she knows not? In the field + Of things which may be, in the spacious field + Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms, + To raise up scenes in which her own desires + Contented may repose; when things, which are, + Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale: 220 + Her temper, still demanding to be free; + Spurning the rude control of wilful might; + Proud of her dangers braved, her griefs endured, + Her strength severely proved? To these high aims, + Which reason and affection prompt in man, + Not adverse nor unapt hath Nature framed + His bold imagination. For, amid + The various forms which this full world presents + Like rivals to his choice, what human breast + E'er doubts, before the transient and minute, 230 + To prize the vast, the stable, the sublime? + Who, that from heights aërial sends his eye + Around a wild horizon, and surveys + Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave + Through mountains, plains, through spacious cities old, + And regions dark with woods, will turn away + To mark the path of some penurious rill + Which murmureth at his feet? Where does the soul + Consent her soaring fancy to restrain, + Which bears her up, as on an eagle's wings, 240 + Destined for highest heaven; or which of fate's + Tremendous barriers shall confine her flight + To any humbler quarry? The rich earth + Cannot detain her; nor the ambient air + With all its changes. For a while with joy + She hovers o'er the sun, and views the small + Attendant orbs, beneath his sacred beam, + Emerging from the deep, like cluster'd isles + Whose rocky shores to the glad sailor's eye + Reflect the gleams of morning; for a while 250 + With pride she sees his firm, paternal sway + Bend the reluctant planets to move each + Round its perpetual year. But soon she quits + That prospect; meditating loftier views, + She darts adventurous up the long career + Of comets; through the constellations holds + Her course, and now looks back on all the stars + Whose blended flames as with a milky stream + Part the blue region. Empyréan tracts, + Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven 260 + Abide, she then explores, whence purer light + For countless ages travels through the abyss, + Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived. + Upon the wide creation's utmost shore + At length she stands, and the dread space beyond + Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless, down + The gloomy void, astonish'd, yet unquell'd, + She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulf + Where God alone hath being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth 270 + Of human kind, the Sovereign Maker said + That not in humble, nor in brief delight, + Not in the fleeting echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find contentment; but, from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, + Till every bound at length should disappear, + And infinite perfection fill the scene. + + But lo, where Beauty, dress'd in gentler pomp, 280 + With comely steps advancing, claims the verse + Her charms inspire. O Beauty, source of praise, + Of honour, even to mute and lifeless things; + O thou that kindlest in each human heart + Love, and the wish of poets, when their tongue + Would teach to other bosoms what so charms + Their own; O child of Nature and the soul, + In happiest hour brought forth; the doubtful garb + Of words, of earthly language, all too mean, + Too lowly I account, in which to clothe 290 + Thy form divine; for thee the mind alone + Beholds, nor half thy brightness can reveal + Through those dim organs, whose corporeal touch + O'ershadoweth thy pure essence. Yet, my Muse, + If Fortune call thee to the task, wait thou + Thy favourable seasons; then, while fear + And doubt are absent, through wide nature's bounds + Expatiate with glad step, and choose at will + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300 + To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise, + And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend + Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles + Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime, + Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on, + And learn from him; while, as he roves around, + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, + The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot + Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell, + Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310 + In purple lights, till every hillock glows + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou that Thessalian landscape trace, + Where slow Penéus his clear glassy tide + Draws smooth along, between the winding cliffs + Of Ossa and the pathless woods unshorn + That wave o'er huge Olympus? Down the stream, + Look how the mountains with their double range + Embrace the vale of Tempé: from each side + Ascending steep to heaven, a rocky mound 320 + Cover'd with ivy and the laurel boughs + That crown'd young Phoebus for the Python slain. + Fair Tempé! on whose primrose banks the morn + Awoke most fragrant, and the noon reposed + In pomp of lights and shadows most sublime: + Whose lawns, whose glades, ere human footsteps yet + Had traced an entrance, were the hallow'd haunt + Of sylvan powers immortal: where they sate + Oft in the golden age, the Nymphs and Fauns, + Beneath some arbour branching o'er the flood, 330 + And leaning round hung on the instructive lips + Of hoary Pan, or o'er some open dale + Danced in light measures to his sevenfold pipe, + While Zephyr's wanton hand along their path + Flung showers of painted blossoms, fertile dews, + And one perpetual spring. But if our task + More lofty rites demand, with all good vows + Then let us hasten to the rural haunt + Where young Melissa dwells. Nor thou refuse + The voice which calls thee from thy loved retreat, 340 + But hither, gentle maid, thy footsteps turn: + Here, to thy own unquestionable theme, + O fair, O graceful, bend thy polish'd brow, + Assenting; and the gladness of thy eyes + Impart to me, like morning's wishèd light + Seen through the vernal air. By yonder stream, + Where beech and elm along the bordering mead + Send forth wild melody from every bough, + Together let us wander; where the hills + Cover'd with fleeces to the lowing vale 350 + Reply; where tidings of content and peace + Each echo brings. Lo, how the western sun + O'er fields and floods, o'er every living soul, + Diffuseth glad repose! There,--while I speak + Of Beauty's honours, thou, Melissa, thou + Shalt hearken, not unconscious, while I tell + How first from Heaven she came: how, after all + The works of life, the elemental scenes, + The hours, the seasons, she had oft explored, + At length her favourite mansion and her throne 360 + She fix'd in woman's form; what pleasing ties + To virtue bind her; what effectual aid + They lend each other's power; and how divine + Their union, should some unambitious maid, + To all the enchantment of the Idalian queen, + Add sanctity and wisdom; while my tongue + Prolongs the tale, Melissa, thou may'st feign + To wonder whence my rapture is inspired; + But soon the smile which dawns upon thy lip + Shall tell it, and the tenderer bloom o'er all 370 + That soft cheek springing to the marble neck, + Which bends aside in vain, revealing more + What it would thus keep silent, and in vain + The sense of praise dissembling. Then my song + Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform + With joy and love the rugged breast of man, + Should sound in numbers worthy such a theme: + While all whose souls have ever felt the force + Of those enchanting passions, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, and receive once more 380 + Their influence, unobscured by any cloud + Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand + Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm + Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn + To join his dictates to the genuine strain + Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear + Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band + Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish + And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene + Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured 390 + By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. + I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat, + Presenting Superstition's gloomy form, + To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth, + And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song + With happier omens calls you to the field, 400 + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know), + Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use + And aptitude are strangers? is her praise + Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And win each fond admirer into snares, + Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence 410 + The general mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + Thus, to the choice of credulous desire, + Doth objects the completest of their tribe + Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank + Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring, + Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask + The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill + Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock, + Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn 420 + And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool + With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine + Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage + Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl + Report of her, as of the swelling grape + Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem + When first it meets the sun. Or what are all + The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd? + Are they not pledges of a state entire, + Where native order reigns, with every part 430 + In health, and every function well perform'd? + + Thus, then, at first was Beauty sent from Heaven, + The lovely ministress of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one; + And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth, would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore with a rash and greedy aim + Seek ye to rove through every flattering scene + Which Beauty seems to deck, nor once inquire 440 + Where is the suffrage of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly? Wanting these, + Lo, Beauty withers in your void embrace; + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor yet let hope, + That kindliest inmate of the youthful breast, + Be hence appall'd, be turn'd to coward sloth + Sitting in silence, with dejected eyes + Incurious and with folded hands; far less 450 + Let scorn of wild fantastic folly's dreams, + Or hatred of the bigot's savage pride + Persuade you e'er that Beauty, or the love + Which waits on Beauty, may not brook to hear + The sacred lore of undeceitful Good + And Truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd + Though Superstition, tyranness abhorr'd, + The reverence due to this majestic pair + With threats and execration still demands; + Though the tame wretch, who asks of her the way 460 + To their celestial dwelling, she constrains + To quench or set at nought the lamp of God + Within his frame; through many a cheerless wild + Though forth she leads him credulous and dark + And awed with dubious notion; though at length + Haply she plunge him into cloister'd cells + And mansions unrelenting as the grave, + But void of quiet, there to watch the hours + Of midnight; there, amid the screaming owl's + Dire song, with spectres or with guilty shades 470 + To talk of pangs and everlasting woe; + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Presides o'er your adventure. From the bower + Where Wisdom sat with her Athenian sons, + Could but my happy hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then (for what need of cruel fear to you, + To you whom godlike love can well command?), + Then should my powerful voice at once dispel + Those monkish horrors; should in words divine 480 + Relate how favour'd minds like you inspired, + And taught their inspiration to conduct + By ruling Heaven's decree, through various walks + And prospects various, but delightful all, + Move onward; while now myrtle groves appear, + Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods + Of empire with the curule throne, or now + The domes of contemplation and the Muse. + + Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye + Through the fair toils and ornaments of earth 490 + Discerns the nobler life reserved for heaven, + Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh! let not us + By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh! let not us one moment pause to join + That chosen band. And if the gracious Power, + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 500 + Will to my invocation grant anew + The tuneful spirit, then through all our paths + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead + When Summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of Luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge free Virtue's steps, and to her side + Summon that strong divinity of soul + Which conquers Chance and Fate: or on the height, 510 + The goal assign'd her, haply to proclaim + Her triumph; on her brow to place the crown + Of uncorrupted praise; through future worlds + To follow her interminated way, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Such is the worth of Beauty; such her power, + So blameless, so revered. It now remains, + In just gradation through the various ranks + Of being, to contemplate how her gifts + Rise in due measure, watchful to attend 520 + The steps of rising Nature. Last and least, + In colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the forms + Of simplest, easiest measure; in the bounds + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + To symmetry adds colour: thus the pearl + Shines in the concave of its purple bed, + And painted shells along some winding shore + Catch with indented folds the glancing sun. + Next, as we rise, appear the blooming tribes 530 + Which clothe the fragrant earth; which draw from her + Their own nutrition; which are born and die, + Yet, in their seed, immortal; such the flowers + With which young Maia pays the village maids + That hail her natal morn; and such the groves + Which blithe Pomona rears on Vaga's bank, + To feed the bowl of Ariconian swains + Who quaff beneath her branches. Nobler still + Is Beauty's name where, to the full consent + Of members and of features, to the pride 540 + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given, + While active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed + With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp + Adorns the seat where Virtue dwells on earth, + And Truth's eternal day-light shines around, + What palm belongs to man's imperial front, 550 + And woman powerful with becoming smiles, + Chief of terrestrial natures, need we now + Strive to inculcate? Thus hath Beauty there + Her most conspicuous praise to matter lent, + Where most conspicuous through that shadowy veil + Breaks forth the bright expression of a mind, + By steps directing our enraptured search + To Him, the first of minds; the chief; the sole; + From whom, through this wide, complicated world, + Did all her various lineaments begin; 560 + To whom alone, consenting and entire, + At once their mutual influence all display. + He, God most high (bear witness, Earth and Heaven), + The living fountains in himself contains + Of beauteous and sublime; with him enthroned + Ere days or years trod their ethereal way, + In his supreme intelligence enthroned, + The queen of love holds her unclouded state, + Urania. Thee, O Father! this extent + Of matter; thee the sluggish earth and tract 570 + Of seas, the heavens and heavenly splendours feel + Pervading, quickening, moving. From the depth + Of thy great essence, forth didst thou conduct + Eternal Form: and there, where Chaos reign'd, + Gav'st her dominion to erect her seat, + And sanctify the mansion. All her works + Well pleased thou didst behold: the gloomy fires + Of storm or earthquake, and the purest light + Of summer; soft Campania's new-born rose, + And the slow weed which pines on Russian hills 580 + Comely alike to thy full vision stand: + To thy surrounding vision, which unites + All essences and powers of the great world + In one sole order, fair alike they stand, + As features well consenting, and alike + Required by Nature ere she could attain + Her just resemblance to the perfect shape + Of universal Beauty, which with thee + Dwelt from the first. Thou also, ancient Mind, + Whom love and free beneficence await 590 + In all thy doings; to inferior minds, + Thy offspring, and to man, thy youngest son, + Refusing no convenient gift nor good; + Their eyes didst open, in this earth, yon heaven, + Those starry worlds, the countenance divine + Of Beauty to behold. But not to them + Didst thou her awful magnitude reveal + Such as before thine own unbounded sight + She stands (for never shall created soul + Conceive that object), nor, to all their kinds, 600 + The same in shape or features didst thou frame + Her image. Measuring well their different spheres + Of sense and action, thy paternal hand + Hath for each race prepared a different test + Of Beauty, own'd and reverenced as their guide + Most apt, most faithful. Thence inform'd, they scan + The objects that surround them; and select, + Since the great whole disclaims their scanty view, + Each for himself selects peculiar parts + Of Nature; what the standard fix'd by Heaven 610 + Within his breast approves, acquiring thus + A partial Beauty, which becomes his lot; + A Beauty which his eye may comprehend, + His hand may copy, leaving, O Supreme, + O thou whom none hath utter'd, leaving all + To thee that infinite, consummate form, + Which the great powers, the gods around thy throne + And nearest to thy counsels, know with thee + For ever to have been; but who she is, + Or what her likeness, know not. Man surveys 620 + A narrower scene, where, by the mix'd effect + Of things corporeal on his passive mind, + He judgeth what is fair. Corporeal things + The mind of man impel with various powers, + And various features to his eye disclose. + The powers which move his sense with instant joy, + The features which attract his heart to love, + He marks, combines, reposits. Other powers + And features of the self-same thing (unless + The beauteous form, the creature of his mind, 630 + Request their close alliance) he o'erlooks + Forgotten; or with self-beguiling zeal, + Whene'er his passions mingle in the work, + Half alters, half disowns. The tribes of men + Thus from their different functions and the shapes + Familiar to their eye, with art obtain, + Unconscious of their purpose, yet with art + Obtain the Beauty fitting man to love; + Whose proud desires from Nature's homely toil + Oft turn away, fastidious, asking still 640 + His mind's high aid, to purify the form + From matter's gross communion; to secure + For ever, from the meddling hand of Change + Or rude Decay, her features; and to add + Whatever ornaments may suit her mien, + Where'er he finds them scatter'd through the paths + Of Nature or of Fortune. Then he seats + The accomplish'd image deep within his breast, + Reviews it, and accounts it good and fair. + + Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, 650 + The universal Venus, far beyond + The keenest effort of created eyes, + And their most wide horizon, dwells enthroned + In ancient silence. At her footstool stands + An altar burning with eternal fire + Unsullied, unconsumed. Here every hour, + Here every moment, in their turns arrive + Her offspring; an innumerable band + Of sisters, comely all! but differing far + In age, in stature, and expressive mien, 660 + More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. + To this maternal shrine in turns they come, + Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source + Of living flame, which here immortal flows, + Their portions of its lustre they may draw + For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; + As their great parent's discipline requires. + Then to their several mansions they depart, + In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores + Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, 670 + Even on the surface of this rolling earth, + How many make abode? The fields, the groves, + The winding rivers and the azure main, + Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, + Their rites sublime. There each her destined home + Informs with that pure radiance from the skies + Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere, + Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night + Turn toward a distant flame, so some fit eye, + Among the various tenants of the scene, 680 + Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, + And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, + Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, + Bears witness with its people, gods and men, + To Beauty's blissful power, and with the voice + Of grateful admiration still resounds: + That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine + As is the cunning of the master's hand + To the sweet accent of the well-tuned lyre. + + Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps 690 + Have led us to these awful solitudes + Of Nature and of Science; nurse revered + Of generous counsels and heroic deeds; + Oh! let some portion of thy matchless praise + Dwell in my breast, and teach me to adorn + This unattempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + Which Hesper sheds along the vernal heaven, + If I, from vulgar Superstition's walk, + Impatient steal, and from the unseemly rites 700 + Of splendid Adulation, to attend + With hymns thy presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps unprofaned. + Come, O renownèd power; thy glowing mien + Such, and so elevated all thy form, + As when the great barbaric lord, again + And yet again diminish'd, hid his face + Among the herd of satraps and of kings; + And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear, + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 710 + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of Arts, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy unconquer'd youth, + After some glorious day rejoicing round + Their new-erected trophy. Guide my feet + Through fair Lycéum's walk, the olive shades + Of Academus, and the sacred vale + Haunted by steps divine, where once, beneath + That ever living platane's ample boughs, + Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain'd, 720 + On his neglected urn attentive lay; + While Boreas, lingering on the neighbouring steep + With beauteous Orithyía, his love tale + In silent awe suspended. There let me + With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields, + Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn + My native clime; while, far beyond the meed + Of Fancy's toil aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom; while I add + (What cannot be disjoin'd from Beauty's praise) 730 + Thy name and native dress, thy works beloved + And honour'd; while to my compatriot youth + I point the great example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + +[Footnote 2: Truth is here taken, not in a logical, but in a mixed +and popular sense, or for what has been called the truth of things; +denoting as well their natural and regular condition, as a proper +estimate or judgment concerning them.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Dyson:' see _Life_.] + + + + +BOOK II. 1765. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Introduction to this more difficult part of the subject. Of Truth +and its three classes, matter of fact, experimental or scientifical +truth (contra-distinguished from opinion), and universal truth; +which last is either metaphysical or geometrical, either purely +intellectual or perfectly abstracted. On the power of discerning +truth depends that of acting with the view of an end; a circumstance +essential to virtue. Of Virtue, considered in the divine mind as a +perpetual and universal beneficence. Of human virtue, considered as +a system of particular sentiments and actions, suitable to the +design of Providence and the condition of man; to whom it +constitutes the chief good and the first beauty. Of Vice, and its +origin. Of Ridicule: its general nature and final cause. Of the +Passions; particularly of those which relate to evil natural or moral, +and which are generally accounted painful, though not always +unattended with pleasure. + + + Thus far of Beauty and the pleasing forms + Which man's untutor'd fancy, from the scenes + Imperfect of this ever changing world, + Creates; and views, enarnour'd. Now my song + Severer themes demand: mysterious Truth; + And Virtue, sovereign good: the spells, the trains, + The progeny of Error; the dread sway + Of Passion; and whatever hidden stores + From her own lofty deeds and from herself + The mind acquires. Severer argument: 10 + Not less attractive; nor deserving less + A constant ear. For what are all the forms + Educed by fancy from corporeal things, + Greatness, or pomp, or symmetry of parts? + Not tending to the heart, soon feeble grows, + As the blunt arrow 'gainst the knotty trunk, + Their impulse on the sense: while the pall'd eye + Expects in vain its tribute; asks in vain, + Where are the ornaments it once admired? + Not so the moral species, nor the powers 20 + Of Passion and of Thought. The ambitious mind + With objects boundless as her own desires + Can there converse: by these unfading forms + Touch'd and awaken'd still, with eager act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her gifts, her godlike fortune. Such the scenes + Now opening round us. May the destined verse + Maintain its equal tenor, though in tracts + Obscure and arduous! May the source of light, + All-present, all-sufficient, guide our steps 30 + Through every maze! and whom, in childish years, + From the loud throng, the beaten paths of wealth + And power, thou didst apart send forth to speak + In tuneful words concerning highest things, + Him still do thou, O Father, at those hours + Of pensive freedom, when the human soul + Shuts out the rumour of the world, him still + Touch thou with secret lessons; call thou back + Each erring thought; and let the yielding strains + From his full bosom, like a welcome rill 40 + Spontaneous from its healthy fountain, flow! + + But from what name, what favourable sign, + What heavenly auspice, rather shall I date + My perilous excursion, than from Truth, + That nearest inmate of the human soul; + Estranged from whom, the countenance divine + Of man, disfigured and dishonour'd, sinks + Among inferior things? For to the brutes + Perception and the transient boons of sense + Hath Fate imparted; but to man alone 50 + Of sublunary beings was it given. + Each fleeting impulse on the sensual powers + At leisure to review; with equal eye + To scan the passion of the stricken nerve, + Or the vague object striking; to conduct + From sense, the portal turbulent and loud, + Into the mind's wide palace one by one + The frequent, pressing, fluctuating forms, + And question and compare them. Thus he learns + Their birth and fortunes; how allied they haunt 60 + The avenues of sense; what laws direct + Their union; and what various discords rise, + Or fixed, or casual; which when his clear thought + Retains and when his faithful words express, + That living image of the external scene, + As in a polish'd mirror held to view, + Is Truth; where'er it varies from the shape + And hue of its exemplar, in that part + Dim Error lurks. Moreover, from without + When oft the same society of forms 70 + In the same order have approach'd his mind, + He deigns no more their steps with curious heed + To trace; no more their features or their garb + He now examines; but of them and their + Condition, as with some diviner's tongue, + Affirms what Heaven in every distant place, + Through every future season, will decree. + This too is Truth; where'er his prudent lips + Wait till experience diligent and slow + Has authorised their sentence, this is Truth; 80 + A second, higher kind: the parent this + Of Science; or the lofty power herself, + Science herself, on whom the wants and cares + Of social life depend; the substitute + Of God's own wisdom in this toilsome world; + The providence of man. Yet oft in vain, + To earn her aid, with fix'd and anxious eye + He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's course: + Too much in vain. His duller visual ray + The stillness and the persevering acts 90 + Of Nature oft elude; and Fortune oft + With step fantastic from her wonted walk + Turns into mazes dim; his sight is foil'd; + And the crude sentence of his faltering tongue + Is but opinion's verdict, half believed, + And prone to change. Here thou, who feel'st thine ear + Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone, + Pause, and be watchful. Hitherto the stores, + Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, + Partake the relish of their native soil, 100 + Their parent earth. But know, a nobler dower + Her Sire at birth decreed her; purer gifts + From his own treasure; forms which never deign'd + In eyes or ears to dwell, within the sense + Of earthly organs; but sublime were placed + In his essential reason, leading there + That vast ideal host which all his works + Through endless ages never will reveal. + Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, + The slave of hunger and the prey of death, 110 + Even now, even here, in earth's dim prison bound, + The language of intelligence divine + Attains; repeating oft concerning one + And many, past and present, parts and whole, + Those sovereign dictates which in furthest heaven, + Where no orb rolls, Eternity's fix'd ear + Hears from coeval Truth, when Chance nor Change, + Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's self + Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. + Ere long, o'er this corporeal world he learns 120 + To extend her sway; while calling from the deep, + From earth and air, their multitudes untold + Of figures and of motions round his walk, + For each wide family some single birth + He sets in view, the impartial type of all + Its brethren; suffering it to claim, beyond + Their common heritage, no private gift, + No proper fortune. Then whate'er his eye + In this discerns, his bold unerring tongue + Pronounceth of the kindred, without bound, 130 + Without condition. Such the rise of forms + Sequester'd far from sense and every spot + Peculiar in the realms of space or time; + Such is the throne which man for Truth amid + The paths of mutability hath built + Secure, unshaken, still; and whence he views, + In matter's mouldering structures, the pure forms + Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, + Impassive all; whose attributes nor force + Nor fate can alter. There he first conceives 140 + True being, and an intellectual world + The same this hour and ever. Thence he deems + Of his own lot; above the painted shapes + That fleeting move o'er this terrestrial scene + Looks up; beyond the adamantine gates + Of death expatiates; as his birthright claims + Inheritance in all the works of God; + Prepares for endless time his plan of life, + And counts the universe itself his home. + + Whence also but from Truth, the light of minds, 150 + Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays + Of Virtue? with the moral colours thrown + On every walk of this our social scene, + Adorning for the eye of gods and men + The passions, actions, habitudes of life, + And rendering earth like heaven, a sacred place + Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell? + Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin + The reign of Virtue. Ere the dayspring flow'd, + Like sisters link'd in Concord's golden chain, 160 + They stood before the great Eternal Mind, + Their common parent, and by him were both + Sent forth among his creatures, hand in hand, + Inseparably join'd; nor e'er did Truth + Find an apt ear to listen to her lore, + Which knew not Virtue's voice; nor, save where Truth's + Majestic words are heard and understood, + Doth Virtue deign to inhabit. Go, inquire + Of Nature; not among Tartarian rocks, + Whither the hungry vulture with its prey 170 + Returns; not where the lion's sullen roar + At noon resounds along the lonely banks + Of ancient Tigris; but her gentler scenes, + The dovecote and the shepherd's fold at morn, + Consult; or by the meadow's fragrant hedge, + In spring-time when the woodlands first are green, + Attend the linnet singing to his mate + Couch'd o'er their tender young. To this fond care + Thou dost not Virtue's honourable name + Attribute; wherefore, save that not one gleam 180 + Of Truth did e'er discover to themselves + Their little hearts, or teach them, by the effects + Of that parental love, the love itself + To judge, and measure its officious deeds? + But man, whose eyelids Truth has fill'd with day, + Discerns how skilfully to bounteous ends + His wise affections move; with free accord + Adopts their guidance; yields himself secure + To Nature's prudent impulse; and converts + Instinct to duty and to sacred law. 190 + Hence Right and Fit on earth; while thus to man + The Almighty Legislator hath explain'd + The springs of action fix'd within his breast; + Hath given him power to slacken or restrain + Their effort; and hath shewn him how they join + Their partial movements with the master-wheel + Of the great world, and serve that sacred end + Which he, the unerring reason, keeps in view. + + For (if a mortal tongue may speak of him + And his dread ways) even as his boundless eye, 200 + Connecting every form and every change, + Beholds the perfect Beauty; so his will, + Through every hour producing good to all + The family of creatures, is itself + The perfect Virtue. Let the grateful swain + Remember this, as oft with joy and praise + He looks upon the falling dews which clothe + His lawns with verdure, and the tender seed + Nourish within his furrows; when between + Dead seas and burning skies, where long unmoved 210 + The bark had languish'd, now a rustling gale + Lifts o'er the fickle waves her dancing prow, + Let the glad pilot, bursting out in thanks, + Remember this; lest blind o'erweening pride + Pollute their offerings; lest their selfish heart + Say to the heavenly ruler, 'At our call + Relents thy power; by us thy arm is moved.' + Fools! who of God as of each other deem; + Who his invariable acts deduce + From sudden counsels transient as their own; 220 + Nor further of his bounty, than the event + Which haply meets their loud and eager prayer, + Acknowledge; nor, beyond the drop minute + Which haply they have tasted, heed the source + That flows for all; the fountain of his love + Which, from the summit where he sits enthroned, + Pours health and joy, unfailing streams, throughout + The spacious region flourishing in view, + The goodly work of his eternal day, + His own fair universe; on which alone 230 + His counsels fix, and whence alone his will + Assumes her strong direction. Such is now + His sovereign purpose; such it was before + All multitude of years. For his right arm + Was never idle; his bestowing love + Knew no beginning; was not as a change + Of mood that woke at last and started up + After a deep and solitary sloth + Of boundless ages. No; he now is good, + He ever was. The feet of hoary Time 240 + Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er + No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes + Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp + Of worlds, for gladness round the Maker's throne + Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects + Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence + The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd + Were all the dates of being, so disposed + To every living soul of every kind + The field of motion and the hour of rest, 250 + That each the general happiness might serve; + And, by the discipline of laws divine + Convinced of folly or chastised from guilt, + Each might at length be happy. What remains + Shall be like what is past; but fairer still, + And still increasing in the godlike gifts + Of Life and Truth. The same paternal hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + Will ever lead the generations on 260 + Through higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day by his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, + As vapours to the earth in showers return, + As the poised ocean towards the attracting moon + Swells, and the ever-listening planets, charm'd + By the sun's call, their onward pace incline, + So all things which have life aspire to God, + Exhaustless fount of intellectual day! 270 + Centre of souls! Nor doth the mastering voice + Of Nature cease within to prompt aright + Their steps; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From sending to the toil external aid; + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine. + + But this eternal fabric was not raised + For man's inspection. Though to some be given + To catch a transient visionary glimpse 280 + Of that majestic scene which boundless power + Prepares for perfect goodness, yet in vain + Would human life her faculties expand + To embosom such an object. Nor could e'er + Virtue or praise have touch'd the hearts of men, + Had not the Sovereign Guide, through every stage + Of this their various journey, pointed out + New hopes, new toils, which, to their humble sphere + Of sight and strength, might such importance hold + As doth the wide creation to his own. 290 + Hence all the little charities of life, + With all their duties; hence that favourite palm + Of human will, when duty is sufficed, + And still the liberal soul in ampler deeds + Would manifest herself; that sacred sign + Of her revered affinity to Him + Whose bounties are his own; to whom none said, + 'Create the wisest, fullest, fairest world, + And make its offspring happy;' who, intent + Some likeness of Himself among his works 300 + To view, hath pour'd into the human breast + A ray of knowledge and of love, which guides + Earth's feeble race to act their Maker's part, + Self-judging, self-obliged; while, from before + That godlike function, the gigantic power + Necessity, though wont to curb the force + Of Chaos and the savage elements, + Retires abash'd, as from a scene too high + For her brute tyranny, and with her bears + Her scornèd followers, Terror, and base Awe 310 + Who blinds herself, and that ill-suited pair, + Obedience link'd with Hatred. Then the soul + Arises in her strength; and, looking round + Her busy sphere, whatever work she views, + Whatever counsel bearing any trace + Of her Creator's likeness, whether apt + To aid her fellows or preserve herself + In her superior functions unimpair'd, + Thither she turns exulting: that she claims + As her peculiar good: on that, through all 320 + The fickle seasons of the day, she looks + With reverence still: to that, as to a fence + Against affliction and the darts of pain, + Her drooping hopes repair--and, once opposed + To that, all other pleasure, other wealth, + Vile, as the dross upon the molten gold, + Appears, and loathsome as the briny sea + To him who languishes with thirst, and sighs + For some known fountain pure. For what can strive + With Virtue? Which of Nature's regions vast 330 + Can in so many forms produce to sight + Such powerful Beauty? Beauty, which the eye + Of Hatred cannot look upon secure: + Which Envy's self contemplates, and is turn'd + Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, + Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + The Summer's noontide groves, the purple eve + At harvest-home, or in the frosty moon + Glittering on some smooth sea; is aught so fair 340 + As virtuous friendship? as the honour'd roof + Whither, from highest heaven, immortal Love + His torch ethereal and his golden bow + Propitious brings, and there a temple holds + To whose unspotted service gladly vow'd + The social band of parent, brother, child, + With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds + Adore his power? What gift of richest clime + E'er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such + Deep wishes, as the zeal that snatcheth back 350 + From Slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown; + Or crosseth Danger in his lion walk, + A rival's life to rescue? as the young + Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, + That his great father's body might not want + A peaceful, humble tomb? the Roman wife + Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound + Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, + Who nothing more could threaten to afflict + Their faithful love? Or is there in the abyss, 360 + Is there, among the adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, + Aught that with half such majesty can fill + The human bosom, as when Brutus rose + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword + Of justice in his rapt astonish'd eye, 370 + And bade the father of his country hail, + For lo, the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free? Thus, through the paths + Of human life, in various pomp array'd + Walks the wise daughter of the judge of heaven, + Fair Virtue; from her father's throne supreme + Sent down to utter laws, such as on earth + Most apt he knew, most powerful to promote + The weal of all his works, the gracious end + Of his dread empire. And, though haply man's 380 + Obscurer sight, so far beyond himself + And the brief labours of his little home, + Extends not; yet, by the bright presence won + Of this divine instructress, to her sway + Pleased he assents, nor heeds the distant goal. + To which her voice conducts him. Thus hath God, + Still looking toward his own high purpose, fix'd + The virtues of his creatures; thus he rules + The parent's fondness and the patriot's zeal; + Thus the warm sense of honour and of shame; 390 + The vows of gratitude, the faith of love; + And all the comely intercourse of praise, + The joy of human life, the earthly heaven! + + How far unlike them must the lot of guilt + Be found! Or what terrestrial woe can match + The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought + The bane of others, or enslaved itself + With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, + Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate + Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, 400 + Were at that season an unwish'd exchange, + When the soul loathes herself; when, flying thence + To crowds, on every brow she sees portray'd + Pell demons, Hate or Scorn, which drive her back + To solitude, her judge's voice divine + To hear in secret, haply sounding through + The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still + Demanding for his violated laws + Fit recompense, or charging her own tongue + To speak the award of justice on herself. 410 + For well she knows what faithful hints within + Were whisper'd, to beware the lying forms + Which turn'd her footsteps from the safer way, + What cautions to suspect their painted dress, + And look with steady eyelid on their smiles, + Their frowns, their tears. In vain; the dazzling hues + Of Fancy, and Opinion's eager voice, + Too much prevail'd. For mortals tread the path + In which Opinion says they follow good + Or fly from evil; and Opinion gives 420 + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, pleasing or deform'd; + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye + With glaring colours and distorted lines. + Is there a man to whom the name of death + Brings terror's ghastly pageants conjured up + Before him, death-bed groans, and dismal vows, + And the frail soul plunged headlong from the brink + Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, 430 + An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire + Unvisited by mercy? Then what hand + Can snatch this dreamer from the fatal toils + Which Fancy and Opinion thus conspire + To twine around his heart? Or who shall hush + Their clamour, when they tell him that to die, + To risk those horrors, is a direr curse + Than basest life can bring? Though Love with prayers + Most tender, with affliction's sacred tears, + Beseech his aid; though Gratitude and Faith 440 + Condemn each step which loiters; yet let none + Make answer for him that if any frown + Of Danger thwart his path, he will not stay + Content, and be a wretch to be secure. + Here Vice begins then: at the gate of life, + Ere the young multitude to diverse roads + Part, like fond pilgrims on a journey unknown, + Sits Fancy, deep enchantress; and to each + With kind maternal looks presents her bowl, + A potent beverage. Heedless they comply, 450 + Till the whole soul from that mysterious draught + Is tinged, and every transient thought imbibes + Of gladness or disgust, desire or fear, + One homebred colour, which not all the lights + Of Science e'er shall change; not all the storms + Of adverse Fortune wash away, nor yet + The robe of purest Virtue quite conceal. + Thence on they pass, where, meeting frequent shapes + Of good and evil, cunning phantoms apt + To fire or freeze the breast, with them they join 460 + In dangerous parley; listening oft, and oft + Gazing with reckless passion, while its garb + The spectre heightens, and its pompous tale + Repeats, with some new circumstance to suit + That early tincture of the hearer's soul. + And should the guardian, Reason, but for one + Short moment yield to this illusive scene + His ear and eye, the intoxicating charm + Involves him, till no longer he discerns, + Or only guides to err. Then revel forth 470 + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Hence Ambition climbs + With sliding feet and hands impure, to grasp + Those solemn toys which glitter in his view + On Fortune's rugged steep; hence pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; Rapine hence + And envious Lust, by venal fraud upborne, + Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws + Which kept them from their prey; hence all the crimes + That e'er defiled the earth, and all the plagues 480 + That follow them for vengeance, in the guise + Of Honour, Safety, Pleasure, Ease, or Pomp, + Stole first into the fond believing mind. + + Yet not by Fancy's witchcraft on the brain + Are always the tumultuous passions driven + To guilty deeds, nor Reason bound in chains + That Vice alone may lord it. Oft, adorn'd + With motley pageants, Folly mounts his throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears: a thousand ways 490 + She whirls her giddy empire. Lo, thus far + With bold adventure to the Mantuan lyre + I sing for contemplation link'd with love, + A pensive theme. Now haply should my song + Unbend that serious countenance, and learn + Thalia's tripping gait, her shrill-toned voice, + Her wiles familiar: whether scorn she darts + In wanton ambush from her lip or eye, + Or whether, with a sad disguise of care + O'ermantling her gay brow, she acts in sport 500 + The deeds of Folly, and from all sides round + Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + Her province. But through every comic scene + To lead my Muse with her light pencil arm'd; + Through every swift occasion which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her labouring sides and chokes her tongue, + Were endless as to sound each grating note + With which the rooks, and chattering daws, and grave + Unwieldy inmates of the village pond, 510 + The changing seasons of the sky proclaim; + Sun, cloud, or shower. Suffice it to have said, + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on her quick perception: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty be dragg'd in and shewn + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity is wont to dwell; + Or whether these with shrewd and wayward spite 520 + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + Ask we for what fair end the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms stirs this gay contempt, + These grateful pangs of laughter; from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + Wild Folly's aims? For, though the sober light + Of Truth slow dawning on the watchful mind 530 + At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil; yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears + To thousands, conscious what a scanty pause + From labour and from care the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature, therefore stamp'd + These glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious to the passing clown 540 + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + But other evils o'er the steps of man + Through all his walks impend; against whose might + The slender darts of Laughter nought avail: + A trivial warfare. Some, like cruel guards, + On Nature's ever-moving throne attend; + With mischief arm'd for him whoe'er shall thwart + The path of her inexorable wheels, + While she pursues the work that must be done + Through ocean, earth, and air. Hence, frequent forms 550 + Of woe; the merchant, with his wealthy bark, + Buried by dashing waves; the traveller, + Pierced by the pointed lightning in his haste; + And the poor husbandman, with folded arms, + Surveying his lost labours, and a heap + Of blasted chaff the product of the field + Whence he expected bread. But worse than these, + I deem far worse, that other race of ills + Which human kind rear up among themselves; + That horrid offspring which misgovern'd Will 560 + Bears to fantastic Error; vices, crimes, + Furies that curse the earth, and make the blows, + The heaviest blows, of Nature's innocent hand + Seem sport: which are indeed but as the care + Of a wise parent, who solicits good + To all her house, though haply at the price + Of tears and froward wailing and reproach + From some unthinking child, whom not the less + Its mother destines to be happy still. + + These sources then of pain, this double lot 570 + Of evil in the inheritance of man, + Required for his protection no slight force, + No careless watch; and therefore was his breast + Fenced round with passions quick to be alarm'd, + Or stubborn to oppose; with Fear, more swift + Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill, + Where armies land: with Anger, uncontroll'd + As the young lion bounding on his prey; + With Sorrow, that locks up the struggling heart; + And Shame, that overcasts the drooping eye 580 + As with a cloud of lightning. These the part + Perform of eager monitors, and goad + The soul more sharply than with points of steel, + Her enemies to shun or to resist. + And as those passions, that converse with good, + Are good themselves; as Hope and Love and Joy, + Among the fairest and the sweetest boons + Of life, we rightly count: so these, which guard + Against invading evil, still excite + Some pain, some tumult; these, within the mind 590 + Too oft admitted or too long retain'd, + Shock their frail seat, and by their uncurb'd rage + To savages more fell than Libya breeds + Transform themselves, till human thought becomes + A gloomy ruin, haunt of shapes unbless'd, + Of self-tormenting fiends; Horror, Despair, + Hatred, and wicked Envy: foes to all + The works of Nature and the gifts of Heaven. + + But when through blameless paths to righteous ends + Those keener passions urge the awaken'd soul, 600 + I would not, as ungracious violence, + Their sway describe, nor from their free career + The fellowship of Pleasure quite exclude. + For what can render, to the self-approved, + Their temper void of comfort, though in pain? + Who knows not with what majesty divine + The forms of Truth and Justice to the mind + Appear, ennobling oft the sharpest woe + With triumph and rejoicing? Who, that bears + A human bosom, hath not often felt 610 + How dear are all those ties which bind our race + In gentleness together, and how sweet + Their force, let Fortune's wayward hand the while + Be kind or cruel? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps, silent and unseen, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 620 + Those sacred hours when, stealing from the noise + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd, + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while holy Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; 630 + While every mother closer to her breast + Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down. Oh! deemest thou indeed + No pleasing influence here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No tender charm mysterious, which attracts 640 + O'er all that edge of pain the social powers + To this their proper action and their end? + Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, + Slow through that pensive gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The reverend volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame + For Grecian heroes, where the sovereign Power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father meditating all 650 + The praises of his son, and bids the rest + Of mankind there the fairest model learn + Of their own nature, and the noblest deeds + Which yet the world hath seen. If then thy soul + Join in the lot of those diviner men; + Say, when the prospect darkens on thy view; + When, sunk by many a wound, heroic states + Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown + Of hard Ambition; when the generous band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires 660 + Lie side by side in death; when brutal Force + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of guardian power, the majesty of rule, + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To poor dishonest pageants, to adorn + A robber's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when beauteous works, + Rewards of virtue, sculptured forms which deck'd + With more than human grace the warrior's arch, + Or patriot's tomb, now victims to appease 670 + Tyrannic envy, strew the common path + With awful ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Havoc from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer stroke + To mow the monuments of Glory down; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 680 + Expands her raven wings, and, from the gate + Where senates once the weal of nations plann'd, + Hisseth the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column: thus when all + The widely-mournful scene is fix'd within + Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; 690 + Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd + Of silent flatterers bending to his nod; + And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye, + And says within himself, 'I am a King, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?' The dregs corrupt + Of barbarous ages, that Circaean draught 700 + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the Eternal Ruler of the world! + Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd + The native judgment of the human soul, + Nor so effaced the image of her Sire. + + + + +BOOK III. 1770. + + + What tongue then may explain the various fate + Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes + Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth + Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man + Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind + From passions, wants, and envy far estranged, + Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd + Each part so richly with whate'er pertains + To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he + The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 + The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, + While the poor inmate looks around and smiles + Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? + Hard is the question, and from ancient days + Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; + Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre + Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er + Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light + Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, + Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 + What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes + And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, + Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, + Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know. + Could I the speech of lawgivers assume, + One old and splendid tale I would record, + With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains + Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all + Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, + Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 + Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, + Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height + Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice + Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; + Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join + In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed + Minerva's eager people to his laws, + Which their own goddess in his breast inspired? + + 'Twas now the time when his heroic task + Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 + Of flattering service, the fond multitude + Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath + Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, + Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, + Even from his birth, to every powerful art + Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips + Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, + Could steal away suspicion from the hearts + Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day + He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 + Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd + Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, + As one less kindly treated, who had hoped + To merit favour, but submits perforce + To find another's services preferr'd, + Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. + Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, + Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd + Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, + His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 + And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, + He burst into the public place, as there, + There only, were his refuge; and declared + In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, + The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. + Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, + To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, + Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, + Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, + And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 + The generous people! Now behold him fenced + By mercenary weapons, like a king, + Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve + To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp + Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, + And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, + And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. + Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; + Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, + Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 + Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, + His train increased; till, at that fatal time + Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame + Startled, began to question what it saw, + Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice + Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd + The rocky citadel with hostile arms, + Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within + Amid his hirelings, meditating death + To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 + Where then was Solon? After ten long years + Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, + The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: + Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that + Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd + To Liberty and Concord, now profaned + By savage hate, or sunk into a den + Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, + And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. + Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 + His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined + One moment with such woman-like distress + To view the transient storms of civil war, + As thence to yield his country and her hopes + To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, + Even while the traitor's impious act is told, + He buckles on his hoary head; he girds + With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear + He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides + The assembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 + It was no time for counsel; in their spears + Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet + Was not so firmly seated on his throne, + But that one shock of their united force + Would dash him from the summit of his pride, + Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else + Can reassert the lost Athenian name, + So cheaply to the laughter of the world + Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith + So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 + And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; + Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, + And through the walks of Danger or of Death + Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all + Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye + He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard + Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen + Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust + Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down + Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 + From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime + Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, + Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last + A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, + O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, + Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd + Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!' + No more he added; but with lonely steps + Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, + And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 + Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd. + There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man + Whom from the service of the war his chief + Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, + He fix'd in general view. One wishful look + He sent, unconscious, toward the public place + At parting; then beneath his quiet roof + Without a word, without a sigh, retired. + Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays + From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 + Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores, + When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet + Of four Athenians, by the same sad care + Conducted all, than whom the state beheld + None nobler. First came Megacles, the son + Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, + The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days + Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, + Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs + And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 + Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well + That hospitable favour which erewhile + Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, + Whom he, with offerings worthy of the god, + Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere + Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles + Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, + The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand + Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far + In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 + From arms controll'd by justice, from the love + Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath + Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once + His warlike steeds the hero led, and there + Contended through the tumult of the course + With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, + Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, + High on his car he stood and waved his arm. + Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice + Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 + Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, + To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, + The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, + Within the circuit of the following year, + To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand + With his fair daughter, him among the guests + Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all + The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: + From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian shore, + Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge 190 + Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes + Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race + Of great Achilles governs, glorying still + In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse + Of men who first among the Greeks threw off + The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms + Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, + Where flows Penéus near the lofty walls + Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen + Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 + On the steep margin of Euripus, views + Across the tide the Marathonian plain, + Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, + Minerva's care, among her graceful sons + Found equal lovers for the princely maid: + Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes + Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves + That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft + Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious band + Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 + In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. + His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, + Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate + Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm + Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd + When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, + And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart + Throbb'd full of bursting passions, anger, grief + With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy + Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, 220 + Are destined for his country and himself + In riper years to bring forth fruits divine + Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd + Two brave companions, whom one mother bore + To different lords; but whom the better ties + Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more + Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew + From godlike Æacus his ancient line; + That Æacus whose unimpeach'd renown + For sanctity and justice won the lyre 230 + Of elder bards to celebrate him throned + In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees + The guilty soul within the burning gates + Of Tartarus compel, or send the good + To inhabit with eternal health and peace + The valleys of Elysium. From a stem + So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring + Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long + The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, + Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 + Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore + To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth + Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect + With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now + Save for his injured country, here he stands + In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: + Unconscious both what widely different lots + Await them, taught by nature as they are + To know one common good, one common ill. + For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 + Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts + Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; + No, not the Olympic olive, by himself + From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind + Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve + From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, + And their assassin dagger. But if death + Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, + Yet fate an ample recompense prepares + In his victorious son, that other great 260 + Miltiades, who o'er the very throne + Of Glory shall with Time's assiduous hand + In adamantine characters engrave + The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd + 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, + Shall all the achievements of the heroes old + Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd + From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought + For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy. + + Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 + Of Solon had assembled. But the gate + Now opens, and across the ample floor + Straight they proceed into an open space + Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, + Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods + Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, + Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found + Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd + With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. + He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 + Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd + Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; + Calling meantime the Muses to accept + His simple offering, by no victim tinged + With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, + But such as for himself Apollo claims + In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt + Is thence the Altar of the Pious named. + + Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd + That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 + Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay + A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd + Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, + As loath that care or tumult should approach + Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, + So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such + Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce + To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' + He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? + Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 + Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause + Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might + Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove + Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, + As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, + From impious violation to assert + The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! + What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld + The Athenian people. Many bitter days + Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 + Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room + For just resentment, or their hands indure + To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all + Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. + That time will come, however. Be it yours + To watch its fair approach, and urge it on + With honest prudence; me it ill beseems + Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd + To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold + That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 + They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge + In counsels deep and various, nor prepare + For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread + On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades + Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold + What care employs me now. My vows I pay + To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth + And solace of my age. If right I deem + Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, + The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 + Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues + With sacred silence favour what I speak, + And haply shall my faithful lips be taught + To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, + As with impenetrable steel your breasts, + For the long strife before you, and repel + The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd + The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, + Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before + The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 + Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light + Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised + Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:-- + + 'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove + And Memory divine, Pierian maids, + Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, + When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, + To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps + Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate + My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 + Of flowing harmony to soften war's + Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm + The public eye, to clothe the form austere + Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, + Neglected, and supplanted of the hope + On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, + To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved + Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach + The visions of my bed whate'er the gods + In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 + Or the first heroes acted; ye can make + The morning light more gladsome to my sense + Than ever it appear'd to active youth + Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give + To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, + A labour as sublime, as when the sons + Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, + To hear pronounced for all their future deeds + The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers! + I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 + To meet your energy divine, I bring + A high and sacred theme; not less than those + Which to the eternal custody of Fame + Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd + With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent + The groves of Hæmus or the Chian shore. + + 'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all + My various life was e'er from you estranged?) + Oft hath my solitary song to you + Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 + To willing exile; earnest to withdraw + From envy and the disappointed thirst + Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, + Which in the eye of Athens they upheld + Against her legislator, should impair + With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. + To Egypt therefore through the Ægean isles + My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile + Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes + Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 + I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, + Through many changing moons, attentive heard + The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue + At morn or midnight the deep story told + Of her who represents whate'er has been, + Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil + No mortal hand hath ever yet removed. + By him exhorted, southward to the walls + Of On I pass'd, the city of the sun, + The ever-youthful god. Twas there, amid 400 + His priests and sages, who the livelong night + Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, + Or who in wondrous fables half disclose + The secrets of the elements, 'twas there + That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears + The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, + And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd. + Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale; + And often, while I listen'd, did my mind + Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 + Should sometime for an Attic audience raise + Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs + Call forth those ancient demigods, to speak + Of Justice and the hidden Providence + That walks among mankind. But yet meantime + The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons + Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed + On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, + To which the double yoke of king and priest + Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 + Invoking our own Pallas and the gods + Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave + To Egypt, and before the southern wind + Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, + What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm + Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian shore, + The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now + Consent that I reveal. But when at length + Ten times the sun returning from the south + Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 + The groves with music, pleased I then beheld + The term of those long errors drawing nigh. + Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within + The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod + The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts + Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth + As from their ancient home, and still to Greece + Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim. + Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, + Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 + Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, + I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps + The city of Minos enter'd. O ye gods, + Who taught the leaders of the simpler time + By written words to curb the untoward will + Of mortals, how within that generous isle + Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd + Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords + Of traffic and the sea, with what delight + I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 + Of the same household, join the plainer sort + Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these + Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, + Alike was strange; but noble concord still + Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, + Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, + How pleasing to behold them in their schools, + Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, + O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye. + Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 + Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns + Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve + Their country's heroes from oblivious night, + Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; + There, on the verge of manhood, others met, + In heavy armour through the heats of noon + To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb + With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow + To send resistless arrows to their mark, + Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 + Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, + Now with the biting falchion, and the fence + Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute + Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains + Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite + To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. + Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, + So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war + Each bold invader, and in peace to guard + That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 + Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood + Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, + Could quench or slacken. First of human names + In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; + And holiest far, of what the sun surveys + Through his whole course, were those primeval seats + Which with religious footsteps he had taught + Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave + Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads + Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where 490 + His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne + Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came + Each ninth returning year, the king of gods + And mortals there in secret to consult + On justice, and the tables of his law + To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal + Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates + Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane + Built on that sacred spot, along the banks + Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 + And his majestic consort join'd their hands + And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there + That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds + I first received; what time an annual feast + Had summon'd all the genial country round, + By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind + That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths + And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, + Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke + The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 + Of strangers from those naval cities drawn + Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore, + A merchant of Ægina I descried, + My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung + To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, + Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest," + He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites + Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: + Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne." + He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 + Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct + I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold + And my eyes dim; the altars and their train + No more were present to me; how I fared, + Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall + Aught of those moments, other than the sense + Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, + And, from the toils of some distressful dream + To break away, with palpitating heart, + Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 + Makes many a painful effort. When at last + The sun and nature's face again appear'd, + Not far I found me, where the public path, + Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, + From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends. + Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts + Of Ida rose before me, and the vault + Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side. + Entering within the threshold, on the ground + I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK + OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770. + + One effort more, one cheerful sally more, + Our destined course will finish; and in peace + Then, for an offering sacred to the powers + Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then + Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, + O my adventurous song! With steady speed + Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, + Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, + Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts + Of Passion and Opinion; like a waste 10 + Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, + Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now + Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, + Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, + If haply the discourses of the gods, + A curious, but an unpresuming guest, + Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain + Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, + And apt to be conceived of man below. + A different task remains; the secret paths 20 + Of early genius to explore: to trace + Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, + Like to the demigods of old, doth nurse + Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls + Who now her tender discipline obey, + Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve + Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon + Use ye to visit, often breaking forth + In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, + Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 + Would I again were with you!-O ye dales + Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, + Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, + And his banks open, and his lawns extend, + Stops short the pleased traveller to view + Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower + Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: + O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook + The rocky pavement and the mossy falls + Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 + How gladly I recall your well-known seats + Beloved of old, and that delightful time + When all alone, for many a summer's day, + I wander'd through your calm recesses, led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen. + + Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er + The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice + Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim + Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn + Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 + For every future year: whence even now + From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, + And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd + In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts + Of honourable fame, of truth divine + Or moral, and of minds to virtue won + By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; + The themes which now expect us. For thus far + On general habits, and on arts which grow + Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 + Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, + Though seldom conscious of their own employ, + In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene + Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire + Those forms set up, as idols in the soul + For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, + In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie + These pleasing stores, unless the casual force + Of things external prompt the heedless mind + To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 + Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man + O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves + Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance + And momentary passion, can at will + Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; + Review their features; scan the secret laws + Which bind them to each other: and display + By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense + Of all the world their latent charms display; + Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 + If such a word, so bold, may from the lips + Of man proceed) as in this outward frame + Of things, the great Artificer portrays + His own immense idea. Various names + These among mortals bear, as various signs + They use, and by peculiar organs speak + To human sense. There are who, by the flight + Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, + Or by extended chords in measure taught + To vibrate, can assemble powerful sounds 90 + Expressing every temper of the mind + From every cause, and charming all the soul + With passion void of care. Others mean time + The rugged mass of metal, wood, or stone, + Patiently taming; or with easier hand + Describing lines, and with more ample scope + Uniting colours; can to general sight + Produce those permanent and perfect forms, + Those characters of heroes and of gods, + Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 + Their own high minds created. But the chief + Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth + To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves + With language and with numbers. Hence to these + A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; + Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts + Of human wit, and vast as the demands + Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, + Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, + To every organ of the copious mind, 110 + He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, + The seasons him obey, and changeful Time + Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, + At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, + He summoneth, from the uttermost extent + Of things which God hath taught him, every form + Auxiliar, every power; and all beside + Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand + Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense + And every stately function of the soul. 120 + The soul itself to him obsequious lies, + Like matter's passive heap; and as he wills, + To reason and affection he assigns + Their just alliances, their just degrees: + Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race + Of men who people his delightful world, + Men genuine and according to themselves, + Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, + As earth itself to his delightful world, + The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130 + + + * * * * * + + + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS. + +BOOK I. + + + +ODE I. + +PREFACE. + + 1 Off yonder verdant hillock laid, + Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, + O'erlook the falling stream, + O master of the Latin lyre, + A while with thee will I retire + From summer's noontide beam. + + 2 And, lo, within my lonely bower, + The industrious bee from many a flower + Collects her balmy dews: + 'For me,' she sings, 'the gems are born, + For me their silken robe adorn, + Their fragrant breath diffuse.' + + 3 Sweet murmurer! may no rude storm + This hospitable scene deform, + Nor check thy gladsome toils; + Still may the buds unsullied spring, + Still showers and sunshine court thy wing + To these ambrosial spoils. + + 4 Nor shall my Muse hereafter fail + Her fellow labourer thee to hail; + And lucky be the strains! + For long ago did Nature frame + Your seasons and your arts the same, + Your pleasures and your pains. + + 5 Like thee, in lowly, sylvan scenes, + On river banks and flowery greens, + My Muse delighted plays; + Nor through the desert of the air, + Though swans or eagles triumph there, + With fond ambition strays. + + 6 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, + Nor near the owl's unhallow'd haunts + Will she her cares employ; + But flies from ruins and from tombs, + From Superstition's horrid glooms, + To day-light and to joy. + + 7 Nor will she tempt the barren waste; + Nor deigns the lurking strength to taste + Of any noxious thing; + But leaves with scorn to Envy's use + The insipid nightshade's baneful juice, + The nettle's sordid sting. + + 8 From all which Nature fairest knows, + The vernal blooms, the summer rose, + She draws her blameless wealth; + And, when the generous task is done, + She consecrates a double boon, + To Pleasure and to Health. + + + +ODE II. + +ON THE WINTER-SOLSTICE. 1740. + + 1 The radiant ruler of the year + At length his wintry goal attains; + Soon to reverse the long career, + And northward bend his steady reins. + Now, piercing half Potosi's height, + Prone rush the fiery floods of light + Ripening the mountain's silver stores: + While, in some cavern's horrid shade, + The panting Indian hides his head, + And oft the approach of eve implores. + + 2 But lo, on this deserted coast, + How pale the sun! how thick the air! + Mustering his storms, a sordid host, + Lo, Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their latest bloom; + No more the breezes waft perfume, + No more the streams in music roll: + But snows fall dark, or rains resound; + And, while great Nature mourns around, + Her griefs infect the human soul. + + 3 Hence the loud city's busy throngs + Urge the warm bowl and splendid fire: + Harmonious dances, festive songs, + Against the spiteful heaven conspire. + Meantime, perhaps, with tender fears + Some village dame the curfew hears, + While round the hearth her children play: + At morn their father went abroad; + The moon is sunk, and deep the road; + She sighs, and vonders at his stay. + + 4 But thou, my lyre, awake, arise, + And hail the sun's returning force: + Even now he climbs the northern skies, + And health and hope attend his course. + Then louder howl the aerial waste, + Be earth with keener cold embraced, + Yet gentle hours advance their wing; + And Fancy, mocking Winter's might, + With flowers and dews and streaming light + Already decks the new-born Spring. + + 5 O fountain of the golden day, + Could mortal vows promote thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each hovering tempest fly, + Whose stores for mischief arm the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + Or, thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 6 But let not man's unequal views + Presume o'er Nature and her laws: + 'Tis his with grateful joy to use + The indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that health and beauty springs + Through this majestic frame of things, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that Heaven's all-subduing will, + With good, the progeny of ill, + Attempereth every state below. + + 7 How pleasing wears the wintry night, + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful scenes to tread + Where chiefs or legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + In arms and antique pomp array'd; + While now I taste the Ionian song, + Now bend to Plato's godlike tongue + Resounding through the olive shade. + + 8 But should some cheerful, equal friend + Bid leave the studious page a while. + Let mirth on wisdom then attend, + And social ease on learned toil. + Then while, at love's uncareful shrine, + Each dictates to the god of wine + Her name whom all his hopes obey, + What flattering dreams each bosom warm, + While absence, heightening every charm, + Invokes the slow-returning May! + + 9 May, thou delight of heaven and earth, + When will thy genial star arise? + The auspicious morn, which gives thee birth, + Shall bring Eudora to my eyes. + Within her sylvan haunt, behold, + As in the happy garden old, + She moves like that primeval fair: + Thither, ye silver-sounding lyres, + Ye tender smiles, ye chaste desires, + Fond hope and mutual faith, repair. + + 10 And if believing love can read + His better omens in her eye, + Then shall my fears, O charming maid, + And every pain of absence die: + Then shall my jocund harp, attuned + To thy true ear, with sweeter sound + Pursue the free Horatian song: + Old Tyne shall listen to my tale, + And Echo, down the bordering vale, + The liquid melody prolong. + + + +FOR THE WINTER SOLSTICE, DECEMBER 11, 1740. + AS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN. + + 1 Now to the utmost southern goal + The sun has traced his annual way, + And backward now prepares to roll, + And bless the north with earlier day. + Prone on Potosi's lofty brow + Floods of sublimer splendour flow, + Ripening the latent seeds of gold, + Whilst, panting in the lonely shade, + Th' afflicted Indian hides his head, + Nor dares the blaze of noon behold. + + 2 But lo! on this deserted coast + How faint the light, how chill the air! + Lo! arm'd with whirlwind, hail, and frost, + Fierce Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their cheerful bloom, + No more the breezes breathe perfume, + No more the warbling waters roll; + Deserts of snow fatigue the eye, + Successive tempests bloat the sky, + And gloomy damps oppress the soul. + + 3 But let my drooping genius rise, + And hail the sun's remotest ray: + Now, now he climbs the northern skies, + To-morrow nearer than to-day. + Then louder howl the stormy waste, + Be land and ocean worse defaced, + Yet brighter hours are on the wing, + And Fancy, through the wintry gloom, + Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom, + Already hails th' emerging spring. + + 4 O fountain of the golden day! + Could mortal vows but urge thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each tempest hovering fly, + That now fermenting loads the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + And thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 5 But let not man's imperfect views + Presume to tax wise Nature's laws; + 'Tis his with silent joy to use + Th' indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that from the whole of things + Beauty and good consummate springs, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that the providence of Heaven + Has some peculiar blessing given + To each allotted state below. + + 6 Even now how sweet the wintry night + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful courts to tread, + Where chiefs and legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + With every laurel fresh display'd; + While charm'd I rove in classic song, + Or bend to freedom's fearless tongue, + Or walk the academic shade. + + + +ODE III. + +TO A FRIEND, UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE. + + 1 Indeed, my Phædria, if to find + That wealth can female wishes gain, + Had e'er disturb'd your thoughtful mind, + Or caused one serious moment's pain, + I should have said that all the rules + You learn'd of moralists and schools + Were very useless, very vain. + + 2 Yet I perhaps mistake the case-- + Say, though with this heroic air, + Like one that holds a nobler chase, + You try the tender loss to bear, + Does not your heart renounce your tongue? + Seems not my censure strangely wrong + To count it such a slight affair? + + 3 When Hesper gilds the shaded sky, + Oft as you seek the well-known grove, + Methinks I see you cast your eye + Back to the morning scenes of love: + Each pleasing word you heard her say, + Her gentle look, her graceful way, + Again your struggling fancy move. + + 4 Then tell me, is your soul entire? + Does Wisdom calmly hold her throne? + Then can you question each desire, + Bid this remain, and that be gone? + No tear half-starting from your eye? + No kindling blush, you know not why? + No stealing sigh, nor stifled groan? + + 5 Away with this unmanly mood! + See where the hoary churl appears, + Whose hand hath seized the favourite good + Which you reserved for happier years: + While, side by side, the blushing maid + Shrinks from his visage, half afraid, + Spite of the sickly joy she wears. + + 6 Ye guardian powers of love and fame, + This chaste, harmonious pair behold; + And thus reward the generous flame + Of all who barter vows for gold. + O bloom of youth, O tender charms + Well-buried in a dotard's arms! + O equal price of beauty sold! + + 7 Cease then to gaze with looks of love: + Bid her adieu, the venal fair: + Unworthy she your bliss to prove; + Then wherefore should she prove your care? + No: lay your myrtle garland down; + And let a while the willow's crown + With luckier omens bind your hair. + + 8 O just escaped the faithless main, + Though driven unwilling on the land; + To guide your favour'd steps again, + Behold your better Genius stand: + Where Truth revolves her page divine, + Where Virtue leads to Honour's shrine, + Behold, he lifts his awful hand. + + 9 Fix but on these your ruling aim, + And Time, the sire of manly care, + Will fancy's dazzling colours tame; + A soberer dress will beauty wear: + Then shall esteem, by knowledge led, + Enthrone within your heart and head + Some happier love, some truer fair. + + + + +ODE IV. + +AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE. TO THE SAME. + + + 1 Yes: you contemn the perjured maid + Who all your favourite hopes betray'd: + Nor, though her heart should home return, + Her tuneful tongue its falsehood mourn, + Her winning eyes your faith implore, + Would you her hand receive again, + Or once dissemble your disdain, + Or listen to the siren's theme, + Or stoop to love: since now esteem + And confidence, and friendship, is no more. + + 2 Yet tell me, Phaedria, tell me why, + When, summoning your pride, you try + To meet her looks with cool neglect, + Or cross her walk with slight respect + (For so is falsehood best repaid), + Whence do your cheeks indignant glow? + Why is your struggling tongue so slow? + What means that darkness on your brow, + As if with all her broken vow + You meant the fair apostate to upbraid? + + + + +ODE V. + +AGAINST SUSPICION. + + + 1 Oh, fly! 'tis dire Suspicion's mien; + And, meditating plagues unseen, + The sorceress hither bends: + Behold her touch in gall imbrued: + Behold--her garment drops with blood + Of lovers and of friends. + + 2 Fly far! Already in your eyes + I see a pale suffusion rise; + And soon through every vein, + Soon will her secret venom spread, + And all your heart and all your head + Imbibe the potent stain. + + 3 Then many a demon will she raise + To vex your sleep, to haunt your ways; + While gleams of lost delight + Raise the dark tempest of the brain, + As lightning shines across the main + Through whirlwinds and through night. + + 4 No more can faith or candour move; + But each ingenuous deed of love, + Which reason would applaud, + Now, smiling o'er her dark distress, + Fancy malignant strives to dress + Like injury and fraud. + + 5 Farewell to virtue's peaceful times: + Soon will you stoop to act the crimes + Which thus you stoop to fear: + Guilt follows guilt; and where the train + Begins with wrongs of such attain, + What horrors form the rear! + + 6 'Tis thus to work her baleful power, + Suspicion waits the sullen hour + Of fretfulness and strife, + When care the infirmer bosom wrings, + Or Eurus waves his murky wings + To damp the seats of life. + + 7 But come, forsake the scene unbless'd, + Which first beheld your faithful breast + To groundless fears a prey: + Come where, with my prevailing lyre, + The skies, the streams, the groves conspire + To charm your doubts away. + + 8 Throned in the sun's descending car, + What power unseen diffuseth far + This tenderness of mind? + What Genius smiles on yonder flood? + What God, in whispers from the wood, + Bids every thought be kind? + + 9 O Thou, whate'er thy awful name, + Whose wisdom our untoward frame + With social love restrains; + Thou, who by fair affection's ties + Giv'st us to double all our joys, + And half disarm our pains; + + 10 If far from Dyson and from me + Suspicion took, by thy decree, + Her everlasting flight; + If firm on virtue's ample base + Thy parent hand has deign'd to raise + Our friendship's honour'd height; + + 11 Let universal candour still, + Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill, + Preserve my open mind; + Nor this nor that man's crooked ways + One sordid doubt within me raise + To injure human kind. + + + + + +ODE VI. + +HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS. + + + How thick the shades of evening close! + How pale the sky with weight of snows! + Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire, + And bid the joyless day retire.-- + Alas, in vain I try within + To brighten the dejected scene, + While, roused by grief, these fiery pains + Tear the frail texture of my veins; + While Winter's voice, that storms around, + And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound 10 + Renew my mind's oppressive gloom, + Till starting Horror shakes the room. + + Is there in nature no kind power + To soothe affliction's lonely hour? + To blunt the edge of dire disease, + And teach these wintry shades to please? + Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair, + Shine through the hovering cloud of care: + O sweet of language, mild of mien, + O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, 20 + Assuage the flames that burn my breast, + Compose my jarring thoughts to rest; + And while thy gracious gifts I feel, + My song shall all thy praise reveal. + + As once ('twas in Astræa's reign) + The vernal powers renew'd their train, + It happen'd that immortal Love + Was ranging through the spheres above, + And downward hither cast his eye + The year's returning pomp to spy. 30 + He saw the radiant god of day + Waft in his car the rosy May; + The fragrant Airs and genial Hours + Were shedding round him dews and flowers; + Before his wheels Aurora pass'd, + And Hesper's golden lamp was last. + But, fairest of the blooming throng, + When Health majestic moved along, + Delighted to survey below + The joys which from her presence flow, 40 + While earth enliven'd hears her voice, + And swains, and flocks, and fields rejoice; + Then mighty Love her charms confess'd, + And soon his vows inclined her breast, + And, known from that auspicious morn, + The pleasing Cheerfulness was born. + + Thou, Cheerfulness, by heaven design'd + To sway the movements of the mind, + Whatever fretful passion springs, + Whatever wayward fortune brings 50 + To disarrange the power within, + And strain the musical machine; + Thou Goddess, thy attempering hand + Doth each discordant string command, + Refines the soft, and swells the strong; + And, joining Nature's general song, + Through many a varying tone unfolds + The harmony of human souls. + + Fair guardian of domestic life, 59 + Kind banisher of homebred strife, + Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye + Deforms the scene where thou art by: + No sickening husband damns the hour + Which bound his joys to female power; + No pining mother weeps the cares + Which parents waste on thankless heirs: + The officious daughters pleased attend; + The brother adds the name of friend: + By thee with flowers their board is crown'd, + With songs from thee their walks resound; 70 + And morn with welcome lustre shines, + And evening unperceived declines. + + Is there a youth whose anxious heart + Labours with love's unpitied smart? + Though now he stray by rills and bowers, + And weeping waste the lonely hours, + Or if the nymph her audience deign, + Debase the story of his pain + With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes, + And accents faltering into sighs; 80 + Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease + Canst yield him happier arts to please, + Inform his mien with manlier charms, + Instruct his tongue with nobler arms, + With more commanding passion move, + And teach the dignity of love. + + Friend to the Muse and all her train, + For thee I court the Muse again: + The Muse for thee may well exert + Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art, 90 + Who owes to thee that pleasing sway + Which earth and peopled heaven obey. + + Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue + Repeat what later bards have sung; + But thine was Homer's ancient might, + And thine victorious Pindar's flight: + Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attired: + Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspired: + Thy spirit lent the glad perfume + Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom; 100 + Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale + Delicious blows the enlivening gale, + While Horace calls thy sportive choir, + Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre. + But see, where yonder pensive sage + (A prey perhaps to fortune's rage, + Perhaps by tender griefs oppress'd, + Or glooms congenial to his breast) + Retires in desert scenes to dwell, + And bids the joyless world farewell. 110 + + Alone he treads the autumnal shade, + Alone beneath the mountain laid + He sees the nightly damps ascend, + And gathering storms aloft impend; + He hears the neighbouring surges roll, + And raging thunders shake the pole; + Then, struck by every object round, + And stunn'd by every horrid sound, + He asks a clue for Nature's ways; + But evil haunts him through the maze: 120 + He sees ten thousand demons rise + To wield the empire of the skies, + And Chance and Fate assume the rod, + And Malice blot the throne of God.-- + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + Thy lenient influence hither bring; + Compose the storm, dispel the gloom, + Till Nature wear her wonted bloom, + Till fields and shades their sweets exhale, + And music swell each opening gale: 130 + Then o'er his breast thy softness pour, + And let him learn the timely hour + To trace the world's benignant laws, + And judge of that presiding cause + Who founds on discord beauty's reign, + Converts to pleasure every pain, + Subdues each hostile form to rest, + And bids the universe be bless'd. + + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + If right I touch the votive string, 140 + If equal praise I yield thy name, + Still govern thou thy poet's flame; + Still with the Muse my bosom share, + And soothe to peace intruding care. + But most exert thy pleasing power + On friendship's consecrated hour; + And while my Sophron points the road + To godlike wisdom's calm abode, + Or warm in freedom's ancient cause + Traceth the source of Albion's laws, 150 + Add thou o'er all the generous toil + The light of thy unclouded smile. + But if, by fortune's stubborn sway + From him and friendship torn away, + I court the Muse's healing spell + For griefs that still with absence dwell, + Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams + To such indulgent placid themes, + As just the struggling breast may cheer, + And just suspend the starting tear, 160 + Yet leave that sacred sense of woe + Which none but friends and lovers know. + + + +ODE VII. + +ON THE USE OF POETRY. + + 1 Not for themselves did human kind + Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd + On life's wide scene to play: + Not Scipio's force nor Caesar's skill + Can conquer Glory's arduous hill, + If Fortune close the way. + + 2 Yet still the self-depending soul, + Though last and least in Fortune's roll, + His proper sphere commands; + And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd, + And sees, before the throne of God, + The rank in which he stands. + + 3 Who train'd by laws the future age, + Who rescued nations from the rage + Of partial, factious power, + My heart with distant homage views; + Content, if thou, celestial Muse, + Didst rule my natal hour. + + 4 Not far beneath the hero's feet, + Nor from the legislator's seat + Stands far remote the bard. + Though not with public terrors crown'd. + Yet wider shall his rule be found, + More lasting his award. + + 5 Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, + And Pompey to the Roman name + Gave universal sway: + Where are they?--Homer's reverend page + Holds empire to the thirtieth age, + And tongues and climes obey. + + 6 And thus when William's acts divine + No longer shall from Bourbon's line + Draw one vindictive vow; + When Sydney shall with Cato rest, + And Russel move the patriot's breast + No more than Brutus now; + + 7 Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art + O'er every passion, every heart, + Confirm his awful throne: + Tyrants shall bow before his laws; + And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause, + Their dread assertor own. + + + +ODE VIII. + +ON LEAVING HOLLAND. + + I.--1. + + Farewell to Leyden's lonely bound. + The Belgian Muse's sober seat; + Where, dealing frugal gifts around + To all the favourites at her feet, + She trains the body's bulky frame + For passive persevering toils; + And lest, from any prouder aim, + The daring mind should scorn her homely spoils, + She breathes maternal fogs to damp its restless flame. + + I.--2. + + Farewell the grave, pacific air, + Where never mountain zephyr blew: + The marshy levels lank and bare, + Which Pan, which Ceres never knew: + The Naiads, with obscene attire, + Urging in vain their urns to flow; + While round them chant the croaking choir, + And haply soothe some lover's prudent woe, + Or prompt some restive bard and modulate his lyre. + + I.--3. + + Farewell, ye nymphs, whom sober care of gain + Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of Love: + She render'd all his boasted arrows vain; + And all his gifts did he in spite remove. + Ye too, the slow-eyed fathers of the land, + With whom dominion steals from hand to hand, + Unown'd, undignified by public choice, + I go where Liberty to all is known, + And tells a monarch on his throne, + He reigns not but by her preserving voice. + + II.--1 + + O my loved England, when with thee + Shall I sit down, to part no more? + Far from this pale, discolour'd sea, + That sleeps upon the reedy shore: + When shall I plough thy azure tide? + When on thy hills the flocks admire, + Like mountain snows; till down their side + I trace the village and the sacred spire, + While bowers and copses green the golden slope divide? + + II.--2. + + Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove, + Ye blue-eyed sisters of the streams, + With whom I wont at morn to rove, + With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams; + Oh! take me to your haunts again, + The rocky spring, the greenwood glade; + To guide my lonely footsteps deign, + To prompt my slumbers in the murmuring shade, + And soothe my vacant ear with many an airy strain. + + II.--3. + + And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn + Thy drooping master's inauspicious hand: + Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, + Now fairer maids thy melody demand. + Daughters of Albion, listen to my lyre! + O Phoebus, guardian of the Aonian choir, + Why sounds not mine harmonious as thy own, + When all the virgin deities above + With Venus and with Juno move + In concert round the Olympian father's throne? + + III.--1. + + Thee too, protectress of my lays, + Elate with whose majestic call + Above degenerate Latium's praise, + Above the slavish boast of Gaul, + I dare from impious thrones reclaim, + And wanton sloth's ignoble charms, + The honours of a poet's name + To Somers' counsels, or to Hampden's arms, + Thee, Freedom, I rejoin, and bless thy genuine flame. + + III.--2. + + Great citizen of Albion! Thee + Heroic Valour still attends, + And useful Science, pleased to see + How Art her studious toil extends: + While Truth, diffusing from on high + A lustre unconfined as day, + Fills and commands the public eye; + Till, pierced and sinking by her powerful ray, + Tame Faith and monkish Awe, like nightly demons, fly. + + III.--3. + + Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares: + Hence dread Religion dwells with social Joy; + And holy passions and unsullied cares, + In youth, in age, domestic life employ. + O fair Britannia, hail!--With partial love + The tribes of men their native seats approve, + Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame: + But when for generous minds and manly laws + A nation holds her prime applause, + There public zeal shall all reproof disclaim. + + + + +ODE IX. + + TO CURIO. [1] 1744. + + 1 Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame + Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: + Eager through endless years to sound thy name, + Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. + How hast thou stain'd the splendour of my choice! + Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, + Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? + What can I now of thee to Time report, + Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, + Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? + + 2 There are, with eyes unmoved and reckless heart + Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, + Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart + The public vengeance on thy private foe. + But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, + The owl-eyed race whom virtue's lustre blinds, + Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, + I still believed thy aim from blemish free, + I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee, + And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice. + + 3 'Thou didst not dream of liberty decay'd, + Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong: + But the rash many, first by thee misled, + Bore thee at length unwillingly along.' + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For faith deserted or for cities sold, + Own here one untried, unexampled, deed; + One mystery of shame from Curio learn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, + And scape in Guilt's disguise from Virtue's offer'd meed. + + 4 For saw we not that dangerous power avow'd + Whom Freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, + Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, + And but with blushes suffereth in her train? + Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, + O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, + And call'd herself the state's directing soul: + Till Curio, like a good magician, tried + With Eloquence and Reason at his side, + By strength of holier spells the enchantress to control. + + 5 Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends: + The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: + Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends: + His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns: + The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + Now with like awe doth living merit scan: + While he, whom virtue in his bless'd retreat + Bade social ease and public passions meet, + Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. + + 6 At length in view the glorious end appear'd: + We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; + And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard + Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. + Waked in the strife the public Genius rose + More keen, more ardent from his long repose; + Deep through her bounds the city felt his call; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And murmuring challenged the deciding hour + Or that too vast event, the hope and dread of all. + + 7 O ye good powers who look on human kind, + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll; + And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind, + And steer his passions steady to the goal. + O Alfred, father of the English name, + O valiant Edward, first in civil fame, + O William, height of public virtue pure, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + Behold the sum of all your labours nigh, + Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. + + 8 'Twas then--O shame! O soul from faith estranged! + O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey! + 'Twas then--Thy thought what sudden frenzy changed? + What rushing palsy took thy strength away? + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved-- + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved-- + Whom the dead envied and the living bless'd-- + This patient slave by tinsel bonds allured-- + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured-- + Whom those that fear'd him scorn; that trusted him, detest? + + 9 O lost alike to action and repose! + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Sold to the mockery of relentless foes, + And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame, + To act with burning brow and throbbing heart + A poor deserter's dull exploded part, + To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, + Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, + And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign shore. + + 10 But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, + Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, + By courtly passions try the public cause; + Nor to the forms of rule betray the end. + O race erect! by manliest passions moved, + The labours which to Virtue stand approved, + Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey; + Yet, where Injustice works her wilful claim, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay. + + 11 These thy heart owns no longer. In their room + See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuous gloom, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. + Before her rites thy sickening reason flew, + Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, + While Laughter mock'd, or Pity stole a sigh: + Can Wit her tender movements rightly frame + Where the prime function of the soul is lame? + Can Fancy's feeble springs the force of Truth supply? + + 12 But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd: + With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends, + By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd. + There vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste, + For ever through the spacious courts resound: + There long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + Assail the giant chiefs, and press them to the ground. + + 13 In sight, old Time, imperious judge, awaits: + Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just, + He urgeth onward to those guilty gates + The great, the sage, the happy, and august. + And still he asks them of the hidden plan + Whence every treaty, every war began, + Evolves their secrets and their guilt proclaims: + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, + And crush their trophies huge, and raze their sculptured names. + + 14 Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: + Here his eternal mansion Curio seeks. + Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend, + And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks:-- + 'He comes, whom fate with surer arts prepared + To accomplish all which we but vainly dared; + Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: + Who soothed with gaudy dreams their raging power + Even to its last irrevocable hour; + Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them to the chain.' + + 15 But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, + Whom for her champions o'er the world she claims + (That household godhead whom of old your sires + Sought in the woods of Elbe and bore to Thames), + Drive ye this hostile omen far away; + Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; + Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be hers alone: + Still gird your swords to combat on her side; + Still frame your laws her generous test to abide; + And win to her defence the altar and the throne. + + 16 Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood + Of golden Luxury, which Commerce pours, + Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood, + Which not her lightest discipline endures: + Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: + Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws: + A wiser founder, and a nobler plan, + O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd: + Bring to that birthright but an equal mind, + And no sublimer lot will fate reserve for man. + + +[Footnote 1: 'To Curio:' see _Life_.] + + +ODE X. + +TO THE MUSE. + + + 1 Queen of my songs, harmonious maid, + Ah! why hast thou withdrawn thy aid? + Ah! why forsaken thus my breast + With inauspicious damps oppress'd? + Where is the dread prophetic heat + With which my bosom wont to beat? + Where all the bright mysterious dreams + Of haunted groves and tuneful streams, + That woo'd my genius to divinest themes? + + 2 Say, goddess, can the festal board, + Or young Olympia's form adored; + Say, can the pomp of promised fame + Relume thy faint, thy dying flame? + Or have melodious airs the power + To give one free, poetic hour? + Or, from amid the Elysian train, + The soul of Milton shall I gain, + To win thee back with some celestial strain? + + 3 O powerful strain! O sacred soul! + His numbers every sense control: + And now again my bosom burns; + The Muse, the Muse herself returns. + Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd, + I hail'd the fair immortal guest, + When first she seal'd me for her own, + Made all her blissful treasures known, + And bade me swear to follow Her alone. + + + + +ODE XI. + +ON LOVE. TO A FRIEND. + + + 1 No, foolish youth--to virtuous fame + If now thy early hopes be vow'd, + If true ambition's nobler flame + Command thy footsteps from the crowd, + Lean not to Love's enchanting snare; + His songs, his words, his looks beware, + Nor join his votaries, the young and fair. + + 2 By thought, by dangers, and by toils, + The wreath of just renown is worn; + Nor will ambition's awful spoils + The flowery pomp of ease adorn; + But Love unbends the force of thought; + By Love unmanly fears are taught; + And Love's reward with gaudy sloth is bought. + + 3 Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays, + And heard from many a zealous breast, + The pleasing tale of beauty's praise + In wisdom's lofty language dress'd; + Of beauty powerful to impart + Each finer sense, each comelier art, + And soothe and polish man's ungentle heart. + + 4 If then, from Love's deceit secure, + Thus far alone thy wishes tend, + Go; see the white-wing'd evening hour + On Delia's vernal walk descend: + Go, while the golden light serene, + The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene + Becomes the presence of the rural queen. + + 5 Attend, while that harmonious tongue + Each bosom, each desire commands: + Apollo's lute by Hermes strung, + And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands, + Attend. I feel a force divine, + O Delia, win my thoughts to thine; + That half the colour of thy life is mine. + + 6 Yet conscious of the dangerous charm, + Soon would I turn my steps away; + Nor oft provoke the lovely harm, + Nor lull my reason's watchful sway. + But thou, my friend--I hear thy sighs: + Alas, I read thy downcast eyes; + And thy tongue falters, and thy colour flies. + + 7 So soon again to meet the fair? + So pensive all this absent hour?-- + O yet, unlucky youth, beware, + While yet to think is in thy power. + In vain with friendship's flattering name + Thy passion veils its inward shame; + Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame! + + 8 Once, I remember, new to Love, + And dreading his tyrannic chain, + I sought a gentle maid to prove + What peaceful joys in friendship reign: + Whence we forsooth might safely stand, + And pitying view the love-sick band, + And mock the wingèd boy's malicious hand. + + 9 Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day, + To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd; + While I exulted to survey + One generous woman's real mind: + Till friendship soon my languid breast + Each night with unknown cares possess'd, + Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd. + + 10 Fool that I was--And now, even now + While thus I preach the Stoic strain, + Unless I shun Olympia's view, + An hour unsays it all again. + O friend!--when Love directs her eyes + To pierce where every passion lies, + Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise? + + + + +ODE XII. + + TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET. + + + 1 Behold, the Balance in the sky + Swift on the wintry scale inclines: + To earthy caves the Dryads fly, + And the bare pastures Pan resigns. + Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread + With recent soil the twice-mown mead, + Tainting the bloom which Autumn knows: + He whets the rusty coulter now, + He binds his oxen to the plough, + And wide his future harvest throws. + + 2 Now, London's busy confines round, + By Kensington's imperial towers, + From Highgate's rough descent profound, + Essexian heaths, or Kentish bowers, + Where'er I pass, I see approach + Some rural statesman's eager coach, + Hurried by senatorial cares: + While rural nymphs (alike, within, + Aspiring courtly praise to win) + Debate their dress, reform their airs. + + 3 Say, what can now the country boast, + O Drake, thy footsteps to detain, + When peevish winds and gloomy frost + The sunshine of the temper stain? + Say, are the priests of Devon grown + Friends to this tolerating throne, + Champions for George's legal right? + Have general freedom, equal law, + Won to the glory of Nassau + Each bold Wessexian squire and knight? + + 4 I doubt it much; and guess at least + That when the day, which made us free, + Shall next return, that sacred feast + Thou better may'st observe with me. + With me the sulphurous treason old + A far inferior part shall hold + In that glad day's triumphal strain; + And generous William be revered, + Nor one untimely accent heard + Of James, or his ignoble reign. + + 5 Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine + With modest cups our joy supplies, + We'll truly thank the power divine + Who bade the chief, the patriot rise; + Rise from heroic ease (the spoil + Due, for his youth's Herculean toil, + From Belgium to her saviour son), + Rise with the same unconquer'd zeal + For our Britannia's injured weal, + Her laws defaced, her shrines o'erthrown. + + 6 He came. The tyrant from our shore, + Like a forbidden demon, fled; + And to eternal exile bore + Pontific rage and vassal dread. + There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: + New years came forth, a liberal train, + Call'd by the people's great decree. + That day, my friend, let blessings crown;-- + Fill, to the demigod's renown + From whom thou hast that thou art free. + + 7 Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part + The public and the private weal?) + In vows to her who sways thy heart, + Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal. + Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek, + Or the soft ornaments that speak + So eloquent in Daphne's smile, + Whether the piercing lights that fly + From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye, + Haply thy fancy then beguile. + + 8 For so it is:--thy stubborn breast, + Though touch'd by many a slighter wound, + Hath no full conquest yet confess'd, + Nor the one fatal charmer found; + While I, a true and loyal swain, + My fair Olympia's gentle reign + Through all the varying seasons own. + Her genius still my bosom warms: + No other maid for me hath charms, + Or I have eyes for her alone. + + + + +ODE XIII. + +ON LYRIC POETRY. + + + I.--1. + + Once more I join the Thespian choir, + And taste the inspiring fount again: + O parent of the Grecian lyre, + Admit me to thy powerful strain-- + And lo, with ease my step invades + The pathless vale and opening shades, + Till now I spy her verdant seat; + And now at large I drink the sound, + While these her offspring, listening round. + By turns her melody repeat. + + + I.--2. + + I see Anacreon smile and sing, + His silver tresses breathe perfume: + His cheek displays a second spring + Of roses, taught by wine to bloom. + Away, deceitful cares, away, + And let me listen to his lay; + Let me the wanton pomp enjoy, + While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours + Lead round his lyre its patron powers, + Kind Laughter and Convivial Joy. + + + I.--3. + + Broke from the fetters of his native land, + Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, + With louder impulse and a threatening hand + The Lesbian patriot [1] smites the sounding chords: + Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, + Ye cursed of gods and free-born men, + Ye murderers of the laws, + Though now ye glory in your lust, + Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust, + Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause. + + + II.--1. + + But lo, to Sappho's melting airs + Descends the radiant queen of love: + She smiles, and asks what fonder cares + Her suppliant's plaintive measures move: + Why is my faithful maid distress'd? + Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast? + Say, flies he?--Soon he shall pursue: + Shuns he thy gifts?--He soon shall give: + Slights he thy sorrows?--He shall grieve, + And soon to all thy wishes bow. + + + II.--2. + + But, O Melpomene, for whom + Awakes thy golden shell again? + What mortal breath shall e'er presume + To echo that unbounded strain? + Majestic in the frown of years, + Behold, the man of Thebes [2] appears: + For some there are, whose mighty frame + The hand of Jove at birth endow'd + With hopes that mock the gazing crowd; + As eagles drink the noontide flame; + + + II.--3. + + While the dim raven beats her weary wings, + And clamours far below.--Propitious Muse, + While I so late unlock thy purer springs, + And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, + Wilt thou for Albion's sons around + (Ne'er hadst thou audience more renown'd) + Thy charming arts employ, + As when the winds from shore to shore + Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore, + Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy? + + III.--1. + + Yet then did Pleasure's lawless throng, + Oft rushing forth in loose attire, + Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song + Pollute with impious revels dire. + O fair, O chaste, thy echoing shade + May no foul discord here invade: + Nor let thy strings one accent move, + Except what earth's untroubled ear + 'Mid all her social tribes may hear, + And heaven's unerring throne approve. + + III.--2. + + Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat + The fairest flowers of Pindus glow; + The vine aspires to crown thy seat, + And myrtles round thy laurel grow. + Thy strings adapt their varied strain + To every pleasure, every pain, + Which mortal tribes were born to prove; + And straight our passions rise or fall, + As at the wind's imperious call + The ocean swells, the billows move. + + + III.--3. + + When midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth, + Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear: + When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth, + With airy murmurs touch my opening ear. + And ever watchful at thy side, + Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide + The tenor of thy lay: + To her of old by Jove was given + To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven; + 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. + + + IV.--1. + + Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd, + I quit the maze where Science toils, + Do thou refresh my yielding mind + With all thy gay, delusive spoils. + But, O indulgent, come not nigh + The busy steps, the jealous eye + Of wealthy care or gainful age; + Whose barren souls thy joys disdain, + And hold as foes to reason's reign + Whome'er thy lovely works engage. + + + IV.--2. + + When friendship and when letter'd mirth + Haply partake my simple board, + Then let thy blameless hand call forth + The music of the Teian chord. + Or if invoked at softer hours, + Oh! seek with me the happy bowers + That hear Olympia's gentle tongue; + To beauty link'd with virtue's train, + To love devoid of jealous pain, + There let the Sapphic lute be strung. + + + IV.--3. + + But when from envy and from death to claim + A hero bleeding for his native land; + When to throw incense on the vestal flame + Of Liberty my genius gives command, + Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre + From thee, O Muse, do I require; + While my presaging mind, + Conscious of powers she never knew, + Astonish'd, grasps at things beyond her view, + Nor by another's fate submits to be confined. + +[Footnote 1: 'The Lesbian patriot:' Alcaeus.] + +[Footnote 2: 'The man of Thebes:' Pindar.] + + + +ODE XIV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + FROM THE COUNTRY. + + + 1 Say, Townshend, what can London boast + To pay thee for the pleasures lost, + The health to-day resign'd, + When Spring from this her favourite seat + Bade Winter hasten his retreat, + And met the western wind. + + 2 Oh, knew'st thou how the balmy air, + The sun, the azure heavens prepare + To heal thy languid frame, + No more would noisy courts engage; + In vain would lying Faction's rage + Thy sacred leisure claim. + + 3 Oft I look'd forth, and oft admired; + Till with the studious volume tired + I sought the open day; + And sure, I cried, the rural gods + Expect me in their green abodes, + And chide my tardy lay. + + 4 But ah, in vain my restless feet + Traced every silent shady seat + Which knew their forms of old: + Nor Naiad by her fountain laid, + Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, + Did now their rites unfold: + + 5 Whether to nurse some infant oak + They turn--the slowly tinkling brook, + And catch the pearly showers, + Or brush the mildew from the woods, + Or paint with noontide beams the buds, + Or breathe on opening flowers. + + 6 Such rites, which they with Spring renew, + The eyes of care can never view; + And care hath long been mine: + And hence offended with their guest, + Since grief of love my soul oppress'd, + They hide their toils divine. + + 7 But soon shall thy enlivening tongue + This heart, by dear affliction wrung, + With noble hope inspire: + Then will the sylvan powers again + Receive me in their genial train, + And listen to my lyre. + + 8 Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade + A rustic altar shall be paid, + Of turf with laurel framed; + And thou the inscription wilt approve: + 'This for the peace which, lost by love, + By friendship was reclaim'd' + + + + +ODE XV. + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + 1 To-night retired, the queen of heaven + With young Endymion stays: + And now to Hesper it is given + A while to rule the vacant sky, + Till she shall to her lamp supply + A stream of brighter rays. + + 2 O Hesper, while the starry throng + With awe thy path surrounds, + Oh, listen to my suppliant song, + If haply now the vocal sphere + Can suffer thy delighted ear + To stoop to mortal sounds. + + 3 So may the bridegroom's genial strain + Thee still invoke to shine: + So may the bride's unmarried train + To Hymen chant their flattering vow, + Still that his lucky torch may glow + With lustre pure as thine. + + 4 Far other vows must I prefer + To thy indulgent power. + Alas, but now I paid my tear + On fair Olympia's virgin tomb: + And lo, from thence, in quest I roam + Of Philomela's bower. + + 5 Propitious send thy golden ray, + Thou purest light above: + Let no false flame seduce to stray + Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm: + But lead where music's healing charm + May soothe afflicted love. + + 6 To them, by many a grateful song + In happier seasons vow'd, + These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong: + Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd, + Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, + Beneath yon copses stood. + + 7 Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs + That roofless tower invade, + We came while her enchanting Muse + The radiant moon above us held: + Till by a clamorous owl compell'd + She fled the solemn shade. + + 8 But hark; I hear her liquid tone. + Now, Hesper, guide my feet + Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown, + Through yon wild thicket next the plain, + Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane, + Which leads to her retreat. + + 9 See the green space; on either hand + Enlarged it spreads around: + See, in the midst she takes her stand, + Where one old oak his awful shade + Extends o'er half the level mead + Enclosed in woods profound. + + 10 Hark, through many a melting note + She now prolongs her lays: + How sweetly down the void they float! + The breeze their magic path attends, + The stars shine out, the forest bends, + The wakeful heifers gaze. + + 11 Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring + To this sequester'd spot, + If then the plaintive Syren sing, + Oh! softly tread beneath her bower, + And think of heaven's disposing power, + Of man's uncertain lot. + + 12 Oh! think, o'er all this mortal stage, + What mournful scenes arise: + What ruin waits on kingly rage, + How often virtue dwells with woe, + How many griefs from knowledge flow, + How swiftly pleasure flies. + + 13 O sacred bird, let me at eve, + Thus wandering all alone, + Thy tender counsel oft receive, + Bear witness to thy pensive airs, + And pity Nature's common cares, + Till I forget my own. + + + + +ODE XVI. + + TO CALEB HARDINGE, M. D. + + 1 With sordid floods the wintry Urn [1] + Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green; + Her naked hill the Dryads mourn, + No longer a poetic scene. + No longer there the raptured eye + The beauteous forms of earth or sky + Surveys as in their Author's mind; + And London shelters from the year + Those whom thy social hours to share + The Attic Muse design'd. + + 2 From Hampstead's airy summit me + Her guest the city shall behold, + What day the people's stern decree + To unbelieving kings is told, + When common men (the dread of fame) + Adjudged as one of evil name, + Before the sun, the anointed head. + Then seek thou too the pious town, + With no unworthy cares to crown + That evening's awful shade. + + 3 Deem not I call thee to deplore + The sacred martyr of the day, + By fast, and penitential lore + To purge our ancient guilt away. + For this, on humble faith I rest + That still our advocate, the priest, + From heavenly wrath will save the land; + Nor ask what rites our pardon gain, + Nor how his potent sounds restrain + The thunderer's lifted hand. + + 4 No, Hardinge; peace to church and state! + That evening, let the Muse give law; + While I anew the theme relate + Which my first youth enamour'd saw. + Then will I oft explore thy thought, + What to reject which Locke hath taught, + What to pursue in Virgil's lay; + Till hope ascends to loftiest things, + Nor envies demagogues or kings + Their frail and vulgar sway. + + 5 O versed in all the human frame, + Lead thou where'er my labour lies, + And English fancy's eager flame + To Grecian purity chastise; + While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine, + Beauty with truth I strive to join, + And grave assent with glad applause; + To paint the story of the soul, + And Plato's visions to control + By Verulamian laws. + +[Footnote 1: 'The wintry Urn:' Aquarius.] + + + +ODE XVII. + + ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY. 1747. + + 1 Come then, tell me, sage divine, + Is it an offence to own + That our bosoms e'er incline + Toward immortal Glory's throne? + For with me, nor pomp, nor pleasure, + Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, + So can Fancy's dream rejoice, + So conciliate Reason's choice, + As one approving word of her impartial voice. + + 2 If to spurn at noble praise + Be the passport to thy heaven, + Follow thou those gloomy ways; + No such law to me was given, + Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me, + Faring like my friends before me; + Nor an holier place desire + Than Timoleon's arms acquire, + And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre. + + + + +ODE XVIII. + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON, 1747. + + + I.--1. + + The wise and great of every clime, + Through all the spacious walks of time, + Where'er the Muse her power display'd, + With joy have listen'd and obey'd. + For, taught of heaven, the sacred Nine + Persuasive numbers, forms divine, + To mortal sense impart: + They best the soul with glory fire; + They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire; + And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed heart. + + I.--2. + + Nor less prevailing is their charm + The vengeful bosom to disarm; + To melt the proud with human woe, + And prompt unwilling tears to flow. + Can wealth a power like this afford? + Can Cromwell's arts or Marlborough's sword, + An equal empire claim? + No, Hastings. Thou my words wilt own: + Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known; + Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name. + + + I.--3. + + The Muse's awful art, + And the blest function of the poet's tongue, + Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert + From all that scorned vice or slavish fear hath sung. + Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings + Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; + Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings + By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, + Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign. + A different strain, + And other themes + From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams + (Thou well canst witness), meet the purgèd ear: + Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell + Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear; + To hear the sweet instructress tell + (While men and heroes throng'd around) + How life its noblest use may find, + How well for freedom be resign'd; + And how, by glory, virtue shall be crown'd. + + + II.--1. + + Such was the Chian father's strain + To many a kind domestic train, + Whose pious hearth and genial bowl + Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul: + When, every hospitable rite + With equal bounty to requite, + He struck his magic strings, + And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth, + And seized their ears with tales of ancient worth, + And fill'd their musing hearts with vast heroic things. + + + II.--2. + + Now oft, where happy spirits dwell, + Where yet he tunes his charming shell, + Oft near him, with applauding hands, + The Genius of his country stands. + To listening gods he makes him known, + That man divine, by whom were sown + The seeds of Grecian fame: + Who first the race with freedom fired; + From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspired; + From whom Plataean palms and Cyprian trophies came. + + II.--3. + + O noblest, happiest age! + When Aristides ruled, and Cimon fought; + When all the generous fruits of Homer's page + Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. + O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me: + Not that Apollo fed thee from his shrine; + Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee; + Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, + Pan danced their measure with the sylvan throng: + But that thy song + Was proud to unfold + What thy base rulers trembled to behold; + Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell + The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame: + Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell. + But thou, O faithful to thy fame, + The Muse's law didst rightly know; + That who would animate his lays, + And other minds to virtue raise, + Must feel his own with all her spirit glow. + + + III.--1. + + Are there, approved of later times, + Whose verse adorn'd a tyrant's [1] crimes? + Who saw majestic Rome betray'd, + And lent the imperial ruffian aid? + Alas! not one polluted bard, + No, not the strains that Mincius heard, + Or Tibur's hills replied, + Dare to the Muse's ear aspire; + Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre, + With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful task they hide. + + + III.--2. + + Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, + Amid the domes of modern hands: + Amid the toys of idle state, + How simply, how severely great! + Then turn, and, while each western clime + Presents her tuneful sons to Time, + So mark thou Milton's name; + And add, 'Thus differs from the throng + The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, + Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's fame.' + + + III.--3. + + Yet hence barbaric zeal + His memory with unholy rage pursues; + While from these arduous cares of public weal + She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse. + O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind + Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey; + Must join the noblest forms of every kind, + The world's most perfect image to display, + Can e'er his country's majesty behold, + Unmoved or cold! + O fool! to deem + That he, whose thought must visit every theme, + Whose heart must every strong emotion know + Inspired by Nature, or by Fortune taught; + That he, if haply some presumptuous foe, + With false ignoble science fraught, + Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band: + That he their dear defence will shun, + Or hide their glories from the sun, + Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand! + + + IV.--1. + + I care not that in Arno's plain, + Or on the sportive banks of Seine, + From public themes the Muse's choir + Content with polish'd ease retire. + Where priests the studious head command, + Where tyrants bow the warlike hand + To vile ambition's aim, + Say, what can public themes afford, + Save venal honours to a hateful lord, + Reserved for angry heaven and scorn'd of honest fame? + + + IV.--2. + + But here, where Freedom's equal throne + To all her valiant sons is known; + Where all are conscious of her cares, + And each the power, that rules him, shares; + Here let the bard, whose dastard tongue + Leaves public arguments unsung, + Bid public praise farewell: + Let him to fitter climes remove, + Far from the hero's and the patriot's love, + And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell. + + + IV.--3. + + O Hastings, not to all + Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend: + Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call, + That to one general weal their different powers they bend, + Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine + Inform the bosom of the Muse's son; + Though with new honours the patrician's line + Advance from age to age; yet thus alone + They win the suffrage of impartial fame. + + The poet's name + He best shall prove, + Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. + But thee, O progeny of heroes old, + Thee to severer toils thy fate requires: + The fate which form'd thee in a chosen mould, + The grateful country of thy sires, + Thee to sublimer paths demand; + Sublimer than thy sires could trace, + Or thy own Edward teach his race, + Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand. + + + V.--1. + + From rich domains, and subject farms, + They led the rustic youth to arms; + And kings their stern achievements fear'd, + While private strife their banners rear'd. + But loftier scenes to thee are shown, + Where empire's wide establish'd throne + No private master fills: + Where, long foretold, the People reigns; + Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; + And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills. + + + V.--2. + + Here be it thine to calm and guide + The swelling democratic tide; + To watch the state's uncertain frame, + And baffle Faction's partial aim: + But chiefly, with determined zeal, + To quell that servile band, who kneel + To Freedom's banish'd foes; + That monster, which is daily found + Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; + Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. + + + V.--3. + + 'Tis highest Heaven's command, + That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue; + That what ensnares the heart should maim the hand, + And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. + But look on Freedom;--see, through every age, + What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! + What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, + Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! + For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains + Of happy swains, + Which now resound + Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures bound, + Bear witness;--there, oft let the farmer hail + The sacred orchard which embowers his gate, + And show to strangers passing down the vale, + Where Candish, Booth, and Osborne sate; + When, bursting from their country's chain, + Even in the midst of deadly harms, + Of papal snares and lawless arms, + They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. + + + VI.--1. + + This reign, these laws, this public care, + Which Nassau gave us all to share, + Had ne'er adorn'd the English name, + Could Fear have silenced Freedom's claim. + But Fear in vain attempts to bind + Those lofty efforts of the mind + Which social good inspires; + Where men, for this, assault a throne, + Each adds the common welfare to his own; + And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acquires. + + + VI.--2. + + Say, was it thus, when late we view'd + Our fields in civil blood imbrued? + When fortune crown'd the barbarous host, + And half the astonish'd isle was lost? + Did one of all that vaunting train, + Who dare affront a peaceful reign, + Durst one in arms appear? + Durst one in counsels pledge his life? + Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife? + Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer? + + + VI.--3. + + Yet, Hastings, these are they + Who challenge to themselves thy country's love; + The true; the constant: who alone can weigh, + What glory should demand, or liberty approve! + But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, + The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, + Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, + Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. + Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise + Oft nobly sways + Ingenuous youth; + But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth, + Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone + For mortals fixeth that sublime award. + He, from the faithful records of his throne, + Bids the historian and the bard + Dispose of honour and of scorn; + Discern the patriot from the slave; + And write the good, the wise, the brave, + For lessons to the multitude unborn. + + +[Footnote 1: 'A tyrant:' Octavianus Cæsar.] + + + +BOOK II. + + +ODE I. + +THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKSPEARE: + + SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, WHILE THE + FRENCH COMEDIANS WERE ACTING BY SUBSCRIPTION. 1749. + + + If, yet regardful of your native land, + Old Shakspeare's tongue you deign to understand, + Lo, from the blissful bowers where heaven rewards + Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards, + I come, the ancient founder of the stage, + Intent to learn, in this discerning age, + What form of wit your fancies have embraced, + And whither tends your elegance of taste, + That thus at length our homely toils you spurn, + That thus to foreign scenes you proudly turn, 10 + That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim + To crown the rivals of your country's fame. + + What though the footsteps of my devious Muse + The measured walks of Grecian art refuse? + Or though the frankness of my hardy style + Mock the nice touches of the critic's file? + Yet, what my age and climate held to view, + Impartial I survey'd and fearless drew. + And say, ye skilful in the human heart, + Who know to prize a poet's noblest part, 20 + What age, what clime, could e'er an ampler field + For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield? + I saw this England break the shameful bands + Forged for the souls of men by sacred hands: + I saw each groaning realm her aid implore; + Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore: + Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard's bane) + Obey'd through all the circuit of the main. + Then, too, great Commerce, for a late found world, + Around your coast her eager sails unfurl'd! 30 + New hopes, new passions, thence the bosom fired; + New plans, new arts, the genius thence inspired; + Thence every scene, which private fortune knows, + In stronger life, with bolder spirit, rose. + + Disgraced I this full prospect which I drew, + My colours languid, or my strokes untrue? + Have not your sages, warriors, swains, and kings, + Confess'd the living draught of men and things? + What other bard in any clime appears + Alike the master of your smiles and tears? 40 + Yet have I deign'd your audience to entice + With wretched bribes to luxury and vice? + Or have my various scenes a purpose known + Which freedom, virtue, glory, might not own? + + Such from the first was my dramatic plan; + It should be yours to crown what I began: + And now that England spurns her Gothic chain, + And equal laws and social science reign, + I thought, Now surely shall my zealous eyes + View nobler bards and juster critics rise, 50 + Intent with learned labour to refine + The copious ore of Albion's native mine, + Our stately Muse more graceful airs to teach, + And form her tongue to more attractive speech, + Till rival nations listen at her feet, + And own her polish'd as they own her great. + + But do you thus my favourite hopes fulfil? + Is France at last the standard of your skill? + Alas for you! that so betray a mind + Of art unconscious and to beauty blind. 60 + Say, does her language your ambition raise, + Her barren, trivial, unharmonious phrase, + Which fetters eloquence to scantiest bounds, + And maims the cadence of poetic sounds? + Say, does your humble admiration choose + The gentle prattle of her Comic Muse, + While wits, plain-dealers, fops, and fools appear, + Charged to say nought but what the king may hear? + Or rather melt your sympathising hearts + Won by her tragic scene's romantic arts, 70 + Where old and young declaim on soft desire, + And heroes never, but for love, expire? + + No. Though the charms of novelty, a while, + Perhaps too fondly win your thoughtless smile, + Yet not for you design'd indulgent fate + The modes or manners of the Bourbon state. + And ill your minds my partial judgment reads, + And many an augury my hope misleads, + If the fair maids of yonder blooming train + To their light courtship would an audience deign, 80 + Or those chaste matrons a Parisian wife + Choose for the model of domestic life; + Or if one youth of all that generous band, + The strength and splendour of their native land, + Would yield his portion of his country's fame, + And quit old freedom's patrimonial claim, + With lying smiles oppression's pomp to see, + And judge of glory by a king's decree. + + O bless'd at home with justly-envied laws, + O long the chiefs of Europe's general cause, 90 + Whom heaven hath chosen at each dangerous hour + To check the inroads of barbaric power, + The rights of trampled nations to reclaim, + And guard the social world from bonds and shame; + Oh! let not luxury's fantastic charms + Thus give the lie to your heroic arms: + Nor for the ornaments of life embrace + Dishonest lessons from that vaunting race, + Whom fate's dread laws (for, in eternal fate + Despotic rule was heir to freedom's hate), 100 + Whom in each warlike, each commercial part, + In civil council, and in pleasing art, + The judge of earth predestined for your foes, + And made it fame and virtue to oppose. + + + + + +ODE II. + + +TO SLEEP. + + + 1 Thou silent power, whose welcome sway + Charms every anxious thought away; + In whose divine oblivion drown'd, + Sore pain and weary toil grow mild, + Love is with kinder looks beguiled, + And grief forgets her fondly cherish'd wound; + Oh, whither hast thou flown, indulgent god? + God of kind shadows and of healing dews, + Whom dost thou touch with thy Lethæan rod? + Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse? + + 2 Lo, Midnight from her starry reign + Looks awful down on earth and main. + The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, + With all that crop the verdant food, + With all that skim the crystal flood, + Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep. + No rushing winds disturb the tufted bowers; + No wakeful sound the moonlight valley knows, + Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours, + And lulls the waving scene to more profound repose. + + 3 Oh, let not me alone complain, + Alone invoke thy power in vain! + Descend, propitious, on my eyes; + Not from the couch that bears a crown, + Not from the courtly statesman's down, + Nor where the miser and his treasure lies: + Bring not the shapes that break the murderer's rest, + Nor those the hireling soldier loves to see, + Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breast: + Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams from me! + + 4 Nor yet those awful forms present, + For chiefs and heroes only meant: + The figured brass, the choral song, + The rescued people's glad applause, + The listening senate, and the laws + Fix'd by the counsels of Timoleon's [1] tongue, + Are scenes too grand for fortune's private ways; + And though they shine in youth's ingenuous view, + The sober gainful arts of modern days + To such romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu. + + 5 I ask not, god of dreams, thy care + To banish Love's presentments fair: + Nor rosy cheek nor radiant eye + Can arm him with such strong command + That the young sorcerer's fatal hand + Should round my soul his pleasing fetters tie. + Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile + (A lighter phantom, and a baser chain) + Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile + To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according strain. + + 6 But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing + Such honourable visions bring, + As soothed great Milton's injured age, + When in prophetic dreams he saw + The race unborn with pious awe + Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page: + Or such as Mead's benignant fancy knows + When health's deep treasures, by his art explored, + Have saved the infant from an orphan's woes, + Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restored. + +[Footnote: 1: After Timoleon had delivered Syracuse from the tyranny +of Dionysius, the people on every important deliberation sent for him +into the public assembly, asked his advice, and voted according to it. + --_Plutarch_.] + + + + +ODE III. + + +TO THE CUCKOO. + + + 1 O rustic herald of the spring, + At length in yonder woody vale + Fast by the brook I hear thee sing; + And, studious of thy homely tale, + Amid the vespers of the grove, + Amid the chanting choir of love, + Thy sage responses hail. + + 2 The time has been when I have frown'd + To hear thy voice the woods invade; + And while thy solemn accent drown'd + Some sweeter poet of the shade, + Thus, thought I, thus the sons of care + Some constant youth or generous fair + With dull advice upbraid. + + 3 I said, 'While Philomela's song + Proclaims the passion of the grove, + It ill beseems a cuckoo's tongue + Her charming language to reprove'-- + Alas, how much a lover's ear + Hates all the sober truth to hear, + The sober truth of love! + + 4 When hearts are in each other bless'd, + When nought but lofty faith can rule + The nymph's and swain's consenting breast, + How cuckoo-like in Cupid's school, + With store of grave prudential saws + On fortune's power and custom's laws, + Appears each friendly fool! + + 5 Yet think betimes, ye gentle train + Whom love, and hope, and fancy sway, + Who every harsher care disdain, + Who by the morning judge the day, + Think that, in April's fairest hours, + To warbling shades and painted flowers + The cuckoo joins his lay. + + + + +ODE IV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1750. + + + I.--1. + + How oft shall I survey + This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade, + The vale with sheaves o'erspread, + The glassy brook, the flocks which round thee stray? + When will thy cheerful mind + Of these have utter'd all her dear esteem? + Or, tell me, dost thou deem + No more to join in glory's toilsome race, + But here content embrace + That happy leisure which thou hadst resign'd? + + + I.--2. + + Alas, ye happy hours, + When books and youthful sport the soul could share, + Ere one ambitious care + Of civil life had awed her simpler powers; + Oft as your winged, train + Revisit here my friend in white array, + Oh, fail not to display + Each fairer scene where I perchance had part, + That so his generous heart + The abode of even friendship may remain. + + + I.--3. + + For not imprudent of my loss to come, + I saw from Contemplation's quiet cell + His feet ascending to another home, + Where public praise and envied greatness dwell. + But shall we therefore, O my lyre, + Reprove ambition's best desire,-- + Extinguish glory's flame? + Far other was the task enjoin'd + When to my hand thy strings were first assign'd: + Far other faith belongs to friendship's honour'd name. + + + II.--1. + + Thee, Townshend, not the arms + Of slumbering Ease, nor Pleasure's rosy chain, + Were destined to detain; + No, nor bright Science, nor the Muse's charms. + For them high heaven prepares + Their proper votaries, an humbler band: + And ne'er would Spenser's hand + Have deign'd to strike the warbling Tuscan shell, + Nor Harrington to tell + What habit an immortal city wears; + + + II.--2. + + Had this been born to shield + The cause which Cromwell's impious hand betray'd, + Or that, like Vere, display'd + His redcross banner o'er the Belgian field; + Yet where the will divine + Hath shut those loftiest paths, it next remains, + With reason clad in strains + Of harmony, selected minds to inspire, + And virtue's living fire + To feed and eternise in hearts like thine. + + + II.--3. + + For never shall the herd, whom envy sways, + So quell my purpose or my tongue control, + That I should fear illustrious worth to praise, + Because its master's friendship moved my soul. + Yet, if this undissembling strain + Should now perhaps thine ear detain + With any pleasing sound, + Remember thou that righteous Fame + From hoary age a strict account will claim + Of each auspicious palm with which thy youth was crown'd. + + + III.--1. + + Nor obvious is the way + Where heaven expects thee nor the traveller leads; + Through flowers or fragrant meads, + Or groves that hark to Philomela's lay. + The impartial laws of fate + To nobler virtues wed severer cares. + Is there a man who shares + The summit next where heavenly natures dwell? + Ask him (for he can tell) + What storms beat round that rough laborious height. + + + III.--2. + + Ye heroes, who of old + Did generous England Freedom's throne ordain; + From Alfred's parent reign + To Nassau, great deliverer, wise and bold; + I know your perils hard, + Your wounds, your painful marches, wintry seas, + The night estranged from ease, + The day by cowardice and falsehood vex'd, + The head with doubt perplex'd, + The indignant heart disdaining the reward, + + + III.--3. + + Which envy hardly grants. But, O renown, + O praise from judging heaven and virtuous men, + If thus they purchased thy divinest crown, + Say, who shall hesitate, or who complain? + And now they sit on thrones above: + And when among the gods they move + Before the Sovereign Mind, + 'Lo, these,' he saith, 'lo, these are they + Who to the laws of mine eternal sway + From violence and fear asserted human kind.' + + + IV.--1. + + Thus honour'd while the train + Of legislators in his presence dwell; + If I may aught foretell, + The statesman shall the second palm obtain. + For dreadful deeds of arms + Let vulgar bards, with undiscerning praise, + More glittering trophies raise: + But wisest Heaven what deeds may chiefly move + To favour and to love? + What, save wide blessings, or averted harms? + + + IV.--2. + + Nor to the embattled field + Shall these achievements of the peaceful gown, + The green immortal crown + Of valour, or the songs of conquest, yield. + Not Fairfax wildly bold, + While bare of crest he hew'd his fatal way + Through Naseby's firm array, + To heavier dangers did his breast oppose + Than Pym's free virtue chose, + When the proud force of Strafford he controll'd. + + + IV.--3. + + But what is man at enmity with truth? + What were the fruits of Wentworth's copious mind, + When (blighted all the promise of his youth) + The patriot in a tyrant's league had join'd? + Let Ireland's loud-lamenting plains, + Let Tyne's and Humber's trampled swains, + Let menaced London tell + How impious guile made wisdom base; + How generous zeal to cruel rage gave place; + And how unbless'd he lived and how dishonour'd fell. + + + V.--1. + + Thence never hath the Muse + Around his tomb Pierian roses flung: + Nor shall one poet's tongue + His name for music's pleasing labour choose. + And sure, when Nature kind + Hath deck'd some favour'd breast above the throng, + That man with grievous wrong + Affronts and wounds his genius, if he bends + To guilt's ignoble ends + The functions of his ill-submitting mind. + + + V.--2. + + For worthy of the wise + Nothing can seem but virtue; nor earth yield + Their fame an equal field, + Save where impartial freedom gives the prize. + There Somers fix'd his name, + Enroll'd the next to William. There shall Time + To every wondering clime + Point out that Somers, who from faction's crowd, + The slanderous and the loud, + Could fair assent and modest reverence claim. + + + V.--3. + + Nor aught did laws or social arts acquire, + Nor this majestic weal of Albion's land + Did aught accomplish, or to aught aspire, + Without his guidance, his superior hand. + And rightly shall the Muse's care + Wreaths like her own for him prepare, + Whose mind's enamour'd aim + Could forms of civil beauty draw + Sublime as ever sage or poet saw, + Yet still to life's rude scene the proud ideas tame. + + + VI.--1. + + Let none profane be near! + The Muse was never foreign to his breast: + On power's grave seat confess'd, + Still to her voice he bent a lover's ear. + And if the blessed know + Their ancient cares, even now the unfading groves, + Where haply Milton roves + With Spenser, hear the enchanted echoes round + Through farthest heaven resound + Wise Somers, guardian of their fame below. + + + VI.--2. + + He knew, the patriot knew, + That letters and the Muse's powerful art + Exalt the ingenuous heart, + And brighten every form of just and true. + They lend a nobler sway + To civil wisdom, than corruption's lure + Could ever yet procure: + They, too, from envy's pale malignant light + Conduct her forth to sight, + Clothed in the fairest colours of the day. + + + VI.--3. + + O Townshend, thus may Time, the judge severe, + Instruct my happy tongue of thee to tell: + And when I speak of one to Freedom dear + For planning wisely and for acting well, + Of one whom Glory loves to own, + Who still by liberal means alone + Hath liberal ends pursued; + Then, for the guerdon of my lay, + 'This man with faithful friendship,' will I say, + 'From youth to honour'd age my arts and me hath view'd.' + + + + + +ODE V. + +ON LOVE OF PRAISE. + + + 1 Of all the springs within the mind + Which prompt her steps in fortune's maze, + From none more pleasing aid we find + Than from the genuine love of praise. + + 2 Nor any partial, private end + Such reverence to the public bears; + Nor any passion, virtue's friend, + So like to virtue's self appears. + + 3 For who in glory can delight + Without delight in glorious deeds? + What man a charming voice can slight, + Who courts the echo that succeeds? + + 4 But not the echo on the voice + More than on virtue praise depends; + To which, of course, its real price + The judgment of the praiser lends. + + 5 If praise, then, with religious awe + From the sole perfect judge be sought, + A nobler aim, a purer law, + Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught. + + 6 With which in character the same, + Though in an humbler sphere it lies, + I count that soul of human fame, + The suffrage of the good and wise. + + + + + +ODE VI. + + TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQUIRE; WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU. + + + 1 Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; + While, fluent as the skylark sings + When first the morn allures its wings, + The epicure his theme pursues: + And tell me if, among the choir + Whose music charms the banks of Seine, + So full, so free, so rich a strain + E'er dictated the warbling Muse. + + 2 Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear + Admires the well-dissembled art + That can such harmony impart + To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes; + While wit from affectation clear, + Bright images, and passions true, + Recall to thy assenting view + The envied bards of nobler times; + + 3 Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong? + This priest of Pleasure, who aspires + To lead us to her sacred fires, + Knows he the ritual of her shrine? + Say (her sweet influence to thy song + So may the goddess still afford), + Doth she consent to be adored + With shameless love and frantic wine? + + 4 Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here + Need we in high indignant phrase + From their Elysian quiet raise: + But Pleasure's oracle alone + Consult; attentive, not severe. + O Pleasure, we blaspheme not thee; + Nor emulate the rigid knee + Which bends but at the Stoic throne. + + 5 We own, had fate to man assign'd + Nor sense, nor wish but what obey, + Or Venus soft, or Bacchus gay, + Then might our bard's voluptuous creed + Most aptly govern human kind: + Unless perchance what he hath sung + Of tortured joints and nerves unstrung, + Some wrangling heretic should plead. + + 6 But now, with all these proud desires + For dauntless truth and honest fame; + With that strong master of our frame, + The inexorable judge within, + What can be done? Alas, ye fires + Of love; alas, ye rosy smiles, + Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,-- + Ye have no bribe his grace to win. + + + + + +ODE VII. + + TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 1754. + + + I.--l. + + For toils which patriots have endured, + For treason quell'd and laws secured, + In every nation Time displays + The palm of honourable praise. + Envy may rail, and Faction fierce + May strive; but what, alas, can those + (Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) + To Gratitude and Love oppose, + To faithful story and persuasive verse? + + + I.--2. + + O nurse of freedom, Albion, say, + Thou tamer of despotic sway, + What man, among thy sons around, + Thus heir to glory hast thou found? + What page, in all thy annals bright, + Hast thou with purer joy survey'd + Than that where truth, by Hoadly's aid, + Shines through imposture's solemn shade, + Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? + + + I.--3. + + To him the Teacher bless'd, + Who sent religion, from the palmy field + By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, + And lifted up the veil which heaven from earth conceal'd, + To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd: + 'Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law + From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure: + Let not my peaceful name be made a lure, + Fell persecution's mortal snares to aid: + Let not my words be impious chains to draw + The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, + To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid.' + + + II.--1. + + No cold or unperforming hand + Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. + The world soon felt it; and, on high, + To William's ear with welcome joy + Did Locke among the blest unfold + The rising hope of Hoadly's name; + Godolphin then confirm'd the fame; + And Somers, when from earth he came, + And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told. + + + II.--2. + + Then drew the lawgivers around + (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd), + And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, + What private force could thus subdue + The vulgar and the great combined; + Could war with sacred folly wage; + Could a whole nation disengage + From the dread bonds of many an age, + And to new habits mould the public mind. + + + II.-3. + + For not a conqueror's sword, + Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, + Were his; but truth by faithful search explored, + And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. + Wherever it took root, the soul (restored + To freedom) freedom too for others sought. + Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, + Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine, + Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; + Nor the wild rabble to sedition wrought, + Nor synods by the papal Genius taught, + Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. + + + III.--1. + + But where shall recompense be found? + Or how such arduous merit crown'd? + For look on life's laborious scene: + What rugged spaces lie between + Adventurous Virtue's early toils + And her triumphal throne! The shade + Of death, meantime, does oft invade + Her progress; nor, to us display'd, + Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils. + + + III.--2. + + Yet born to conquer is her power;-- + O Hoadly, if that favourite hour + On earth arrive, with thankful awe + We own just Heaven's indulgent law, + And proudly thy success behold; + We attend thy reverend length of days + With benediction and with praise, + And hail thee in our public ways + Like some great spirit famed in ages old. + + + III.--3. + + While thus our vows prolong + Thy steps on earth, and when by us resign'd + Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng + Who rescued or preserved the rights of human kind, + Oh! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue + Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name: + Oh! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, + May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, + Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; + Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim + That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, + Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious guile. + + + + + +ODE VIII. + + + 1 If rightly tuneful bards decide, + If it be fix'd in Love's decrees, + That Beauty ought not to be tried + But by its native power to please, + Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, + What fair can Amoret excel? + + 2 Behold that bright unsullied smile, + And wisdom speaking in her mien: + Yet (she so artless all the while, + So little studious to be seen) + We nought but instant gladness know, + Nor think to whom the gift we owe. + + 3 But neither music, nor the powers + Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, + Add half that sunshine to the hours, + Or make life's prospect half so clear, + As memory brings it to the eye + From scenes where Amoret was by. + + 4 Yet not a satirist could there + Or fault or indiscretion find; + Nor any prouder sage declare + One virtue, pictured in his mind, + Whose form with lovelier colours glows + Than Amoret's demeanour shows. + + 5 This sure is Beauty's happiest part: + This gives the most unbounded sway: + This shall enchant the subject heart + When rose and lily fade away; + And she be still, in spite of time, + Sweet Amoret in all her prime. + + + + + +ODE IX. + +AT STUDY. + + + 1 Whither did my fancy stray? + By what magic drawn away + Have I left my studious theme, + From this philosophic page, + From the problems of the sage, + Wandering through a pleasing dream? + + 2 'Tis in vain, alas! I find, + Much in vain, my zealous mind + Would to learned Wisdom's throne + Dedicate each thoughtful hour: + Nature bids a softer power + Claim some minutes for his own. + + 3 Let the busy or the wise + View him with contemptuous eyes; + Love is native to the heart: + Guide its wishes as you will; + Without Love you'll find it still + Void in one essential part. + + 4 Me though no peculiar fair + Touches with a lover's care; + Though the pride of my desire + Asks immortal friendship's name, + Asks the palm of honest fame, + And the old heroic lyre; + + 5 Though the day have smoothly gone, + Or to letter'd leisure known, + Or in social duty spent; + Yet at eve my lonely breast + Seeks in vain for perfect rest; + Languishes for true content. + + + + + +ODE X. + + TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ESQ.; + ON THE LATE EDITION OF MR. POPE'S WORKS. 1751. + + + 1 Believe me, Edwards, to restrain + The licence of a railer's tongue + Is what but seldom men obtain + By sense or wit, by prose or song: + A task for more Herculean powers, + Nor suited to the sacred hours + Of leisure in the Muse's bowers. + + 2 In bowers where laurel weds with palm, + The Muse, the blameless queen, resides: + Fair Fame attends, and Wisdom calm + Her eloquence harmonious guides: + While, shut for ever from her gate, + Oft trying, still repining, wait + Fierce Envy and calumnious Hate. + + 3 Who, then, from her delightful bounds + Would step one moment forth to heed + What impotent and savage sounds + From their unhappy mouths proceed? + No: rather Spenser's lyre again + Prepare, and let thy pious strain + For Pope's dishonour'd shade complain. + + 4 Tell how displeased was every bard, + When lately in the Elysian grove + They of his Muse's guardian heard, + His delegate to fame above; + And what with one accord they said + Of wit in drooping age misled, + And Warburton's officious aid: + + 5 How Virgil mourn'd the sordid fate + To that melodious lyre assign'd, + Beneath a tutor who so late + With Midas and his rout combined + By spiteful clamour to confound + That very lyre's enchanting sound, + Though listening realms admired around: + + 6 How Horace own'd he thought the fire + Of his friend Pope's satiric line + Did further fuel scarce require + From such a militant divine: + How Milton scorn'd the sophist vain, + Who durst approach his hallow'd strain + With unwash'd hands and lips profane. + + 7 Then Shakspeare debonair and mild + Brought that strange comment forth to view; + Conceits more deep, he said and smiled, + Than his own fools or madmen knew: + But thank'd a generous friend above, + Who did with free adventurous love + Such pageants from his tomb remove. + + 8 And if to Pope, in equal need, + The same kind office thou wouldst pay, + Then, Edwards, all the band decreed + That future bards with frequent lay + Should call on thy auspicious name, + From each absurd intruder's claim + To keep inviolate their fame. + + + + + +ODE XI. + + TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND. 1758. + + + 1 Whither is Europe's ancient spirit fled? + Where are those valiant tenants of her shore, + Who from the warrior bow the strong dart sped, + Or with firm hand the rapid pole-axe bore? + Freeman and soldier was their common name, + Who late with reapers to the furrow came, + Now in the front of battle charged the foe: + Who taught the steer the wintry plough to endure, + Now in full councils check'd encroaching power, + And gave the guardian laws their majesty to know. + + 2 But who are ye? from Ebro's loitering sons + To Tiber's pageants, to the sports of Seine; + From Rhine's frail palaces to Danube's thrones + And cities looking on the Cimbric main, + Ye lost, ye self-deserted? whose proud lords + Have baffled your tame hands, and given your swords + To slavish ruffians, hired for their command: + These, at some greedy monk's or harlot's nod, + See rifled nations crouch beneath their rod: + These are the Public Will, the Reason of the land. + + 3 Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while + Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, + Yet vain of Freedom, how dost thou beguile, + With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? + Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, + The praise and envy of the nations round, + What care hast thou to guard from Fortune's sway? + Amid the storms of war, how soon may all + The lofty pile from its foundations fall, + Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day! + + 4 No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales + Add Industry's wise gifts to Nature's store, + And every port is crowded with thy sails, + And every wave throws treasure on thy shore. + What boots it? If luxurious Plenty charm + Thy selfish heart from Glory, if thy arm + Shrink at the frowns of Danger and of Pain, + Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine. + Oh, rather far be poor! Thy gold will shine + Tempting the eye of Force, and deck thee to thy bane. + + 5 But what hath Force or War to do with thee? + Girt by the azure tide, and throned sublime + Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou canst see, + With scorn, the fury of each hostile clime + Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe + Are thy fair fields: athwart thy guardian prow + No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand-- + Yet say, my country, will the waves and wind + Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd + To the sky's fickle faith, the pilot's wavering hand? + + 6 For, oh! may neither Fear nor stronger Love + (Love, by thy virtuous princes nobly won) + Thee, last of many wretched nations, move, + With mighty armies station'd round the throne + To trust thy safety. Then, farewell the claims + Of Freedom! Her proud records to the flames + Then bear, an offering at Ambition's shrine; + Whate'er thy ancient patriots dared demand + From furious John's, or faithless Charles' hand, + Or what great William seal'd for his adopted line. + + 7 But if thy sons be worthy of their name, + If liberal laws with liberal arts they prize, + Let them from conquest, and from servile shame, + In War's glad school their own protectors rise. + Ye chiefly, heirs of Albion's cultured plains, + Ye leaders of her bold and faithful swains, + Now not unequal to your birth be found; + The public voice bids arm your rural state, + Paternal hamlets for your ensigns wait, + And grange and fold prepare to pour their youth around. + + 8 Why are ye tardy? what inglorious care + Detains you from their head, your native post? + Who most their country's fame and fortune share, + 'Tis theirs to share her toils, her perils most. + Each man his task in social life sustains. + With partial labours, with domestic gains, + Let others dwell: to you indulgent Heaven + By counsel and by arms the public cause + To serve for public love and love's applause, + The first employment far, the noblest hire, hath given. + + 9 Have ye not heard of Lacedemon's fame? + Of Attic chiefs in Freedom's war divine? + Of Rome's dread generals? the Valerian name? + The Fabian sons? the Scipios, matchless line? + Your lot was theirs: the farmer and the swain + Met his loved patron's summons from the plain; + The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew: + Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd; + The conquerors to their household gods return'd, + And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough. + + 10 Shall, then, this glory of the antique age, + This pride of men, be lost among mankind? + Shall war's heroic arts no more engage + The unbought hand, the unsubjected mind? + Doth valour to the race no more belong? + No more with scorn of violence and wrong + Doth forming Nature now her sons inspire, + That, like some mystery to few reveal'd, + The skill of arms abash'd and awed they yield, + And from their own defence with hopeless hearts retire? + + 11 O shame to human life, to human laws! + The loose adventurer, hireling of a day, + Who his fell sword without affection draws, + Whose God, whose country, is a tyrant's pay, + This man the lessons of the field can learn; + Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn, + And every pledge of conquest: while in vain, + To guard your altars, your paternal lands, + Are social arms held out to your free hands: + Too arduous is the lore: too irksome were the pain. + + 12 Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allured, + From the bright sun and living breeze ye stray; + And deep in London's gloomy haunts immured, + Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay. + O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue! + The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields renew, + The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend; + While he doth riot's orgies haply share, + Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare, + Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend. + + 13 And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain + That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng; + That the rude village inmates now disdain + Those homely ties which ruled their fathers long. + Alas, your fathers did by other arts + Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, + And led in other paths their ductile will; + By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, + Won them the ancient manners to revere, + To prize their country's peace and heaven's due rites fulfil. + + 14 But mark the judgment of experienced Time, + Tutor of nations. Doth light discord tear + A state, and impotent sedition's crime? + The powers of warlike prudence dwell not there; + The powers who to command and to obey, + Instruct the valiant. There would civil sway + The rising race to manly concord tame? + Oft let the marshall'd field their steps unite, + And in glad splendour bring before their sight + One common cause and one hereditary fame. + + 15 Nor yet be awed, nor yet your task disown, + Though war's proud votaries look on severe; + Though secrets, taught erewhile to them alone, + They deem profaned by your intruding ear. + Let them in vain, your martial hope to quell, + Of new refinements, fiercer weapons tell, + And mock the old simplicity, in vain: + To the time's warfare, simple or refined, + The time itself adapts the warrior's mind: + And equal prowess still shall equal palms obtain. + + 16 Say then, if England's youth, in earlier days, + On glory's field with well-train'd armies vied, + Why shall they now renounce that generous praise? + Why dread the foreign mercenary's pride? + Though Valois braved young Edward's gentle hand, + And Albert rush'd on Henry's way-worn band, + With Europe's chosen sons in arms renown'd, + Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd, + Nor Audley's squires, nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd: + They saw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound. + + 17 Such were the laurels which your fathers won: + Such glory's dictates in their dauntless breast;-- + Is there no voice that speaks to every son? + No nobler, holier call to you address'd? + Oh! by majestic Freedom, righteous Laws, + By heavenly Truth's, by manly Reason's cause, + Awake; attend; be indolent no more: + By friendship, social peace, domestic love, + Rise; arm; your country's living safety prove; + And train her valiant youth, and watch around her shore. + + + + + +ODE XII. + + ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1758. + + + 1 Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's Hill, + Once more I seek, a languid guest: + With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast + Once more I climb thy steep aërial way. + O faithful cure of oft-returning ill, + Now call thy sprightly breezes round, + Dissolve this rigid cough profound, + And bid the springs of life with gentler movement play. + + 2 How gladly, 'mid the dews of dawn, + My weary lungs thy healing gale, + The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale! + How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove + Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn, + Awaked I stop, and look to find + What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind, + Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove! + + 3 Now, ere the morning walk is done, + The distant voice of Health I hear, + Welcome as beauty's to the lover's ear. + 'Droop not, nor doubt of my return,' she cries; + 'Here will I, 'mid the radiant calm of noon, + Meet thee beneath yon chestnut bower, + And lenient on thy bosom pour + That indolence divine which lulls the earth and skies.' + + 4 The goddess promised not in vain. + I found her at my favourite time. + Nor wish'd to breathe in any softer clime, + While (half-reclined, half-slumbering as I lay) + She hover'd o'er me. Then, among her train + Of Nymphs and Zephyrs, to my view + Thy gracious form appear'd anew, + Then first, O heavenly Muse, unseen for many a day. + + 5 In that soft pomp the tuneful maid + Shone like the golden star of love. + I saw her hand in careless measures move; + I heard sweet preludes dancing on her lyre, + While my whole frame the sacred sound obey'd. + New sunshine o'er my fancy springs, + New colours clothe external things, + And the last glooms of pain and sickly plaint retire. + + 6 O Goulder's Hill, by thee restored + Once more to this enliven'd hand, + My harp, which late resounded o'er the land + The voice of glory, solemn and severe, + My Dorian harp shall now with mild accord + To thee her joyful tribute pay, + And send a less ambitious lay + Of friendship and of love to greet thy master's ear. + + 7 For when within thy shady seat + First from the sultry town he chose, + And the tired senate's cares, his wish'd repose, + Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home + For social leisure: where my welcome feet, + Estranged from all the entangling ways + In which the restless vulgar strays, + Through Nature's simple paths with ancient Faith might roam. + + 8 And while around his sylvan scene + My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours, + Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers + Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk + The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: + And oft did Tully's reverend shade, + Though much for liberty afraid, + With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk. + + 9 But other guests were on their way, + And reach'd ere long this favour'd grove; + Even the celestial progeny of Jove, + Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son, + Whose golden shaft most willingly obey + The best and wisest. As they came, + Glad Hymen waved his genial flame, + And sang their happy gifts, and praised their spotless throne. + + 10 I saw when through yon festive gate + He led along his chosen maid, + And to my friend with smiles presenting said:-- + 'Receive that fairest wealth which Heaven assign'd + To human fortune. Did thy lonely state + One wish, one utmost hope, confess? + Behold, she comes, to adorn and bless: + Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind.' + + + + + +ODE XIII. + + TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE OF BRANDENBURG. 1751. + + + 1 The men renown'd as chiefs of human race, + And born to lead in counsels or in arms, + Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chase + To dwell with books, or court the Muse's charms. + Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought + Some genuine transcript of their calmer thought, + There still we own the wise, the great, or good; + And Cæsar there and Xenophon are seen, + As clear in spirit and sublime of mien, + As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood. + + 2 Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? + Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage, + Except for this, except that future Fame + Might read thy genius in the faithful page? + That if hereafter Envy shall presume + With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb, + And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling, + That hence posterity may try thy reign, + Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain, + And view in native lights the hero and the king. + + 3 O evil foresight and pernicious care! + Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal? + Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare + With private honour or with public zeal? + Whence, then, at things divine those darts of scorn? + Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne + For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given? + What fiend, what foe of Nature urged thy arm + The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm, + To push this earth adrift and leave it loose from Heaven? + + 4 Ye godlike shades of legislators old, + Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise, + Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd, + Say, did not horror in your bosoms rise, + When thus, by impious vanity impell'd, + A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld + Affronting civil order's holiest bands, + Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve, + Those hopes and fears of justice from above, + Which tamed the savage world to your divine commands? + + + + +ODE XIV. + +THE COMPLAINT. + + + 1 Away! away! + Tempt me no more, insidious love: + Thy soothing sway + Long did my youthful bosom prove: + At length thy treason is discern'd, + At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: + Away! nor hope my riper age to move. + + 2 I know, I see + Her merit. Needs it now be shown, + Alas, to me? + How often, to myself unknown, + The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid + Have I admired! How often said, + What joy to call a heart like hers one's own! + + 3 But, flattering god, + O squanderer of content and ease, + In thy abode + Will care's rude lesson learn to please? + O say, deceiver, hast thou won + Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, + Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? + + + + + +ODE XV. + +ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. + + (UNFINISHED.) + + + 1 Meek Honour, female shame, + Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, + From Albion dost thou fly, + Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? + O beauty's only friend, + Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; + Who selfish, bold desire + Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; + Alas, of thee forlorn + What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend? + + 2 Behold, our youths in vain + Concerning nuptial happiness inquire: + Our maids no more aspire + The arts of bashful Hymen to attain; + But with triumphant eyes + And cheeks impassive, as they move along, + Ask homage of the throng. + The lover swears that in a harlot's arms + Are found the self-same charms, + And worthless and deserted lives and dies. + + 3 Behold, unbless'd at home, + The father of the cheerless household mourns: + The night in vain returns, + For Love and glad Content at distance roam; + While she, in whom his mind + Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares, + To meet him she prepares, + Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, + A listless, harass'd heart, + Where not one tender thought can welcome find. + + 4 'Twas thus, along the shore + Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard, + From many a tongue preferr'd, + Of strife and grief the fond invective lore: + At which the queen divine + Indignant, with her adamantine spear + Like thunder sounding near, + Smote the red cross upon her silver shield, + And thus her wrath reveal'd; + (I watch'd her awful words, and made them mine.) + + * * * * * + + + + + +NOTES. + + +BOOK FIRST. + +ODE XVIII, STANZA II.--2. + +Lycurgus the Lacedemonian lawgiver brought into Greece from Asia +Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works. At Plataea was +fought the decisive battle between the Persian army and the united +militia of Greece under Pausanias and Aristides. Cimon the Athenian +erected a trophy in Cyprus for two great victories gained on the +same day over the Persians by sea and land. Diodorus Siculus has +preserved the inscription which the Athenians affixed to the +consecrated spoils, after this great success; in which it is very +remarkable that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner +of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other +ancient inscriptions. It is this:-- + + [Greek: + EX. OU. G. EUROPAeN. ASIAS. DIChA. PONTOS. ENEIME. + KAI. POLEAS. ONAeTON. ThOUROS. ARAeS. EPEChEI. + OUDEN. PO. TOIOUTON. EPIChThONION. GENET. ANDRON. + ERGON. EN. AePEIROI. KAI. KATA. PONOTON. AMA. + OIAE. GAR. EN. KUPROI. MAeDOUS. POLLOUS. OLESANTES. + PhOINIKON. EKATON. NAUS. ELON. EN. PELAGEI. + ANDRON. PLAeThOUSAS. META. D. ESENEN. ASIS. UP. AUTON. + PLAeGEIS. AMPhOTERAIS. ChERSI. KRATEI. POLEMOU.] + + The following translation is almost literal:-- + + Since first the sea from Asia's hostile coast + Divided Europe, and the god of war + Assail'd imperious cities; never yet, + At once among the waves and on the shore, + Hath such a labour been achieved by men + Who earth inhabit. They, whose arms the Medes + In Cyprus felt pernicious, they, the same, + Have won from skilful Tyre an hundred ships + Crowded with warriors. Asia groans, in both + Her hands sore smitten, by the might of war. + + + +STANZA II.--3. + +Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cimon, in whom the glory +of ancient Greece was at its height. When Xerxes invaded Greece, +Pindar was true to the common interest of his country; though his +fellow-citizens, the Thebans, had sold themselves to the Persian king. +In one of his odes he expresses the great distress and anxiety of +his mind, occasioned by the vast preparations of Xerxes against +Greece (_Isthm_. 8). In another he celebrates the victories of +Salamis, Plataea, and Himera (_Pyth_. 1). It will be necessary to +add two or three other particulars of his life, real or fabulous, in +order to explain what follows in the text concerning him. First, then, +he was thought to be so great a favourite of Apollo, that the +priests of that deity allotted him a constant share of their +offerings. It was said of him, as of some other illustrious men, +that at his birth a swarm of bees lighted on his lips, and fed him +with their honey. It was also a tradition concerning him, that Pan +was heard to recite his poetry, and seen dancing to one of his hymns +on the mountains near Thebes. But a real historical fact in his life +is, that the Thebans imposed a large fine upon him on account of the +veneration which he expressed in his poems for that heroic spirit +shown by the people of Athens in defence of the common liberty, +which his own fellow-citizens had shamefully betrayed. And as the +argument of this ode implies, that great poetical talents and high +sentiments of liberty do reciprocally produce and assist each other, +so Pindar is perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connexion which +occurs in history. The Thebans were remarkable, in general, for a +slavish disposition through all the fortunes of their commonwealth; +at the time of its ruin by Philip; and even in its best state, under +the administration of Pelopidas and Epaminondas: and every one knows +they were no less remarkable for great dulness and want of all genius. +That Pindar should have equally distinguished himself from the rest +of his fellow-citizens in both these respects seems somewhat +extraordinary, and is scarce to be accounted for but by the +preceding observation. + + +STANZA III.--3. + +Alluding to his defence of the people of England against Salmasins. +See particularly the manner in which he himself speaks of that +undertaking, in the introduction to his reply to Morus. + + +STANZA IV.--3. + +Edward the Third; from whom descended Henry Hastings, third Earl of +Huntingdon, by the daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother to +Edward the Fourth. + + +STANZA V.--3. + +At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale in Derbyshire, +the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the Lord Delamere, privately +concerted the plan of the Revolution. The house in which they met is +at present a farmhouse, and the country people distinguish the room +where they sat by the name of _the plotting parlour_. + + * * * * * + + + +BOOK SECOND. + +ODE VII. STANZA II.--1. + +Mr. Locke died in 1704, when Mr. Hoadly was beginning to distinguish +himself in the cause of civil and religious liberty: Lord Godolphin +in 1712, when the doctrines of the Jacobite faction were chiefly +favoured by those in power: Lord Somers in 1716, amid the practices +of the nonjoining clergy against the Protestant establishment; and +Lord Stanhope in 1721, during the controversy with the lower house +of convocation. + + +ODE X. STANZA V. + +During Mr. Pope's war with Theobald, Concanen, and the rest of their +tribe, Mr. Warburton, the present Lord Bishop of Gloucester, did +with great zeal cultivate their friendship, having been introduced, +forsooth, at the meetings of that respectable confederacy--a favour +which he afterwards spoke of in very high terms of complacency and +thankfulness. At the same time, in his intercourse with them, he +treated Mr. Pope in a most contemptuous manner, and as a writer +without genius. Of the truth of these assertions his lordship can +have no doubt, if he recollects his own correspondence with Concanen, +a part of which is still in being, and will probably be remembered +as long as any of this prelate's writings. + + +ODE XIII. + +In the year 1751 appeared a very splendid edition, in quarto, of +'Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire de la Maison de Brandebourg, +à Berlin et à la Haye,' with a privilege, signed Frederic, the same +being engraved in imitation of handwriting. In this edition, among +other extraordinary passages, are the two following, to which the +third stanza of this ode more particularly refers:-- + +'Il se fit une migration' (the author is speaking of what happened +at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes), 'dont on n'avoit guère vu +d'exemples dans l'histoire: un peuple entier sortit du royaume par +l'esprit de parti en haine du pape, et pour reçevoir sous un autre +ciel la communion sous les deux espèces: quatre cens mille âmes +s'expatrierent ainsi et abandonnerent tous leur biens pour détonner +dans d'autres temples les vieux pseaumes de Clément Marot.'--Page 163. + +'La crainte donna le jour à la crédulité, et l'amour propre +interessa bientôt le ciel au destin des hommes.'--Page 242. + + + + +HYMN TO THE NAIADS. 1746. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at +daybreak, in honour of their several functions, and of the relations +which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin +is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature, +according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning +the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then +successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting +summer breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; +as contributing to the fulness of navigable rivers, and consequently +to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means to the maritime +part of military power. Next is represented their favourable +influence upon health when assisted by rural exercise, which +introduces their connexion with the art of physic, and the happy +effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated +for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true +inspiration which temperance only can receive, in opposition to the +enthusiasm of the more licentious poets. + + + O'er yonder eastern bill the twilight pale + Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day, + With bright Astraea seated by his side, + Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, + Ye Nymphs, ye blue-eyed progeny of Thames, + Who now the mazes of this rugged heath + Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long + Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air, + Your lonely murmurs, tarry, and receive + My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, 10 + I leave the gates of sleep; nor shall my lyre + Too far into the splendid hours of morn + Engage your audience; my observant hand + Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam + Approach you. To your subterranean haunts + Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care + The humid sands; to loosen from the soil + The bubbling sources; to direct the rills + To meet in wider channels; or beneath + Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon 20 + To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven. + + Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs, or end? + Wide is your praise and copious--first of things, + First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, + Were Love and Chaos. Love,[A] the sire of Fate; [B] + Elder than Chaos. [C] Born of Fate was Time, [D] + Who many sons and many comely births + Devour'd, [E] relentless father; till the child + Of Rhea [F] drove him from the upper sky, [G] + And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd 30 + The kindred powers, [H] Tethys, and reverend Ops, + And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway + Remain'd the Cloud-Compeller. From the couch + Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, [I] + Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, + Send tribute to their parent; and from them + Are ye, O Naiads: [J] Arethusa fair, + And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name, + Bandusia; that soft family which dwelt + With Syrian Daphne; [K] and the honour'd tribes 40 + Beloved of Pæon. [L] Listen to my strain, + Daughters of Tethys: listen to your praise. + + You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, [M] which of old + Aurora to divine Astræus bore, + Owns, and your aid beseecheth. When the might + Of Hyperíon, [N] from his noontide throne, + Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you + They ask; Pavonius and the mild South-west + Prom you relief implore. Your sallying streams [O] + Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart. 50 + Again they fly, disporting; from the mead + Half-ripen'd and the tender blades of corn, + To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel + Contagious steams, which oft the parched earth + Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to eve. + Along the river and the pavèd brook, + Ascend the cheerful breezes: hail'd of bards + Who, fast by learned Cam, the Æolian lyre + Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth + Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclined 60 + O'er rushing Arno, with a pious hand + The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes, + Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp + Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans + The ruins, with a silent tear revolves + The fame and fortune of imperious Rome. + + You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid + The rural powers confess, and still prepare + For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, + Oft as the Delian king [P] with Sirius holds 70 + The central heavens, the father of the grove + Commands his Dryads over your abodes + To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god + Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied + Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. + + Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, + Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path + With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts + The laughing Chloris, [Q] with profusest hand, + Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you 80 + Pomona seeks to dwell; and o'er the lawns, + And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames + Ye love to wander, Amalthea [R] pours, + Well-pleased, the wealth of that Ammonian horn, + Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles + Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou + (Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock + The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, + O Bromius, O Lenæan), nor canst thou + Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, 90 + With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me, + Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, + Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, + Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. [S] + + For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, + As down the verdant slope your duteous rills + Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, + Delighted; and your piety applauds; + And bids his copious tide roll on secure, + For faithful are his daughters; and with words 100 + Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now + His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings + Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts + Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, + When Hermes, [T] from Olympus bent o'er earth + To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill + Stoops lightly sailing; oft intent your springs + He views: and waving o'er some new-born stream + His bless'd pacific wand, 'And yet,' he cries, + 'Yet,' cries the son of Maia, 'though recluse 110 + And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs, + Flows wealth and kind society to men. + By you my function and my honour'd name + Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic rale, + Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms + By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct + The English merchant; with the buxom fleece + Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe + Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods + Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, 120 + Dispense the mineral treasure [U] which of old + Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land + Was yet unconscious of those generous arts, + Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime + Transplanted to a more indulgent heaven.' + + Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, + O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits + Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: + And those who, sedulous in prudent works, + Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays 130 + With noble wealth, and his own seat on earth, + Pit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might + Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns + Not vainly to the hospitable arts + Of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, + Hath he not won [V] the unconquerable queen + Of arms to court your friendship You she owns + The fair associates who extend her sway + Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things + Of you she littereth, oft as from the shore 140 + Of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks + Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads + To Calpe's [W] foaming channel, or the rough + Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine + Imparting to the senate and the prince + Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, + The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings + Was ever scorn'd by Pallas; and of old + Rejoiced the virgin, from the brazen prow + Of Athens o'er Ægina's gloomy surge, [X] 150 + To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all + The Persian's promised glory, when the realms + Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime, + When Libya's torrid champaign and the rocks + Of cold Imaüs join'd their servile bands, + To sweep the sons of Liberty from earth. + In vain; Minerva on the bounding prow + Of Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice + Denounced her terrors on their impious heads, + And shook her burning ægis. Xerxes saw; [Y] 160 + From Heracléum, on the mountain's height + Throned in his golden car, he knew the sign + Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake + His faltering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. + + Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power; + Who arm the hand of Liberty for war, + And give to the renown'd Britannic name + To awe contending monarchs: yet benign, + Yet mild of nature, to the works of peace + More prone, and lenient of the many ills 170 + Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid + Hygeia well can witness; she who saves, + From poisonous dates and cups of pleasing bane, + The wretch, devoted to the entangling snares + Of Bacchus and of Comus. Him she leads + To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils, + To beat the coverts, with the jovial horn + At dawn of day to summon the loud hounds, + She calls the lingering sluggard from his dreams, + And where his breast may drink the mountain breeze, 180 + And where the fervour of the sunny vale + May beat upon his brow, through devious paths + Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, + Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd + His eager bosom, does the queen of health + Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board + She guards, presiding, and the frugal powers + With joy sedate leads in; and while the brown + Ennæan dame with Pan presents her stores, + While changing still, and comely in the change, 190 + Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread + The garden's banquet, you to crown his feast, + To crown his feast, O Naiads, you the fair + Hygeia calls; and from your shelving seats, + And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring, + To slake his veins, till soon a purer tide + Flows down those loaded channels, washeth off + The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds + Of crude disease, and through the abodes of life + Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads, hail! 200 + Who give to labour, health; to stooping age, + The joys which youth had squander'd. Oft your urns + Will I invoke; and frequent in your praise, + Abash the frantic thyrsus [Z] with my song. + + For not estranged from your benignant arts + Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine + My youth was sacred, and my votive cares + Belong, the learned Pæon. Oft when all + His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain; + When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm 210 + Rich with the genial influence of the sun + (To rouse dark fancy from her plaintive dreams, + To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win + Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast + Which pines with silent passion), he in vain + Hath proved; to your deep mansions he descends. + Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, + He entereth; where empurpled veins of ore + Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine + Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god 220 + From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl + Wafts to his pale-eyed suppliants; wafts the seeds + Metallic and the elemental salts + Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink, and soon + Flies pain; flies inauspicious care; and soon + The social haunt or unfrequented shade + Hears Io, Io Pæan, [AA] as of old, + When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, + Oft as for hapless mortals I implore + Your sultry springs, through every urn, 230 + Oh, shed your healing treasures! With the first + And finest breath, which from the genial strife + Of mineral fermentation springs, like light + O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then + The fountain, and inform the rising wave. + + My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye + That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand + Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes + Not unregarded of celestial powers, + I frame their language; and the Muses deign 240 + To guide the pious tenor of my lay. + The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine) + In early days did to my wondering sense + Their secrets oft reveal; oft my raised ear + In slumber felt their music; oft at noon, + Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream, + In field or shady grove, they taught me words + Of power from death and envy to preserve + The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful mind, + And offerings unprofaned by ruder eye, 250 + My vows I send, my homage, to the seats + Of rocky Cirrha, [BB] where with you they dwell, + Where you their chaste companions they admit, + Through all the hallow'd scene; where oft intent, + And leaning o'er Castalia's mossy verge, + They mark the cadence of your confluent urns, + How tuneful, yielding gratefullest repose + To their consorted measure, till again, + With emulation all the sounding choir, + And bright Apollo, leader of the song, 260 + Their voices through the liquid air exalt, + And sweep their lofty strings; those powerful strings + That charm the mind of gods, [CC] that fill the courts + Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet + Of evils, with immortal rest from cares, + Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove, + And quench the formidable thunderbolt + Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, + While now the solemn concert breathes around, + Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord 270 + Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number'd notes, + Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone, + Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, + His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels + That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, + Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, + Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men + In that great moment of divine delight, + Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er + He loves not, o'er the peopled earth and o'er 280 + The interminated ocean, he beholds + Cursed with abhorrence by his doom severe, + And troubled at the sound. Ye, Naiads, ye + With ravish'd ears the melody attend + Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves + Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive + To drown the heavenly strains, of highest Jove + Irreverent, and by mad presumption fired + Their own discordant raptures to advance + With hostile emulation. Down they rush 290 + From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames + Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, + With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd + Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild + Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air + The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch + Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's [DD] + Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd + With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods + From every unpolluted ear avert 300 + Their orgies! If within the seats of men, + Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds [EE] + The guardian key, if haply there be found + Who loves to mingle with the revel-band + And hearken to their accents, who aspires + From such instructors to inform his breast + With verse, let him, fit votarist, implore + Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts + Of young Lyæus, and the dread exploits, + May sing in aptest numbers; he the fate 310 + Of sober Pentheus, [FF] he the Paphian rites, + And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, + And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, + May celebrate, applauded. But with you, + O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, + Must dwell the man whoe'er to praisèd themes + Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse + To your calm habitations, to the cave + Corycian[GG] or the Delphic mount, [HH] will guide + His footsteps, and with your unsullied streams 320 + His lips will bathe; whether the eternal lore + Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove, + To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre + The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils, + In those unfading islands of the bless'd, + Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nymphs; + Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaïc shell, [II] + Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs + Be present ye with favourable feet, + And all profaner audience far remove. 330 + + + + +NOTES. + + * * * * * + + +[Footnote A: '_Love,.... Elder than Chaos_.'--L. 25. +Hesiod in his Theogony gives a different account, and makes Chaos the +eldest of beings, though he assigns to Love neither father nor +superior; which circumstance is particularly mentioned by Phædrus, +in Plato's Banquet, as being observable not only in Hesiod, but in +all other writers both of verse and prose; and on the same occasion +he cites a line from Parmenides, in which Love is expressly styled +the eldest of all the gods. Yet Aristophanes, in 'The Birds,' affirms, +that 'Chaos, and Night, and Erebus, and Tartarus were first; and +that Love was produced from an egg, which the sable-winged Night +deposited in the immense bosom of Erebus.' But it must be observed, +that the Love designed by this comic poet was always distinguished +from the other, from that original and self-existent being the TO ON +[Greek] or AGAThON [Greek] of Plato, and meant only the +DAeMIOURGOS [Greek] or second person of the old Grecian Trinity; to +whom is inscribed a hymn among those which pass under the name of +Orpheus, where he is called Protogonos, or the first-begotten, is +said to have been born of an egg, and is represented as the +principal or origin of all these external appearances of nature. In +the fragments of Orpheus, collected by Henry Stephens, he is named +Phanes, the discoverer or discloser, who unfolded the ideas of the +supreme intelligence, and exposed them to the perception of inferior +beings in this visible frame of the world; as Macrobius, and Proclus, +and Athenagoras, all agree to interpret the several passages of +Orpheus which they have preserved. + +But the Love designed in our text is the one self-existent and +infinite mind; whom if the generality of ancient mythologists have +not introduced or truly described in accounting for the production +of the world and its appearances, yet, to a modern poet, it can be +no objection that he hath ventured to differ from them in this +particular, though in other respects he professeth to imitate their +manner and conform to their opinions; for, in these great points of +natural theology, they differ no less remarkably among themselves, +and are perpetually confounding the philosophical relations of +things with the traditionary circumstances of mythic history; upon +which very account Callimachus, in his hymn to Jupiter, declareth +his dissent from them concerning even an article of the national +creed, adding, that the ancient bards were by no means to be +depended on. And yet in the exordium of the old Argonautic poem, +ascribed to Orpheus, it is said, that 'Love, whom mortals in later +times call Phanes, was the father of the eternally-begotten Night;' +who is generally represented by these mythological poets as being +herself the parent of all things; and who, in the 'Indigitamenta,' +or Orphic Hymns, is said to be the same with Cypris, or Love itself. +Moreover, in the body of this Argonautic poem, where the personated +Orpheus introduceth himself singing to his lyre in reply to Chiron, +he celebrateth 'the obscure memory of Chaos, and the natures which +it contained within itself in a state of perpetual vicissitude; how +the heaven had its boundary determined, the generation of the earth, +the depth of the ocean, and also the sapient Love, the most ancient, +the self-sufficient, with all the beings which he produced when he +separated one thing from another.' Which noble passage is more +directly to Aristotle's purpose in the first book of his metaphysics +than any of those which he has there quoted, to show that the +ancient poets and mythologists agreed with Empedocles, Anaxagoras, +and the other more sober philosophers, in that natural anticipation +and common notion of mankind concerning the necessity of mind and +reason to account for the connexion, motion, and good order of the +world. For though neither this poem, nor the hymns which pass under +the same name, are, it should seem, the work of the real Orpheus, +yet beyond all question they are very ancient. The hymns, more +particularly, are allowed to be older than the invasion of Greece by +Xerxes, and were probably a set of public and solemn forms of +devotion, as appears by a passage in one of them which Demosthenes +hath almost literally cited in his first oration against Aristogiton, +as the saying of Orpheus, the founder of their most holy mysteries. +On this account, they are of higher authority than any other +mythological work now extant, the Theogony of Hesiod himself not +excepted. The poetry of them is often extremely noble; and the +mysterious air which prevails in them, together with its delightful +impression upon the mind, cannot be better expressed than in that +remarkable description with which they inspired the German editor, +Eschenbach, when he accidentally met with them at Leipsic: +--'Thesaurum me reperisse credidi,' says he, 'et profecto thesaurum +reperi. Incredibile dictu quo me sacro horrore afflaverint +indigitamenta ista deorum: nam et tempus ad illorum lectionem +eligere cogebar, quod vel solum horrorem incutere animo potest, +nocturnum; cum enim totam diem consumserim in contemplando urbis +splendore, et in adeundis, quibus scatet urbs illa, viris doctis; +sola nox restabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. In abyesum quendam +mysteriorum venerandæ antiquitatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque +silente mundo, solis vigilantibus astris et luna, [Greek: +melanaephutous] istos hymnos ad manus sumsi.'] + +[Footnote B: '_Love, the sire of Fate_.'--L. 25. Fate is the +universal system of natural causes; the work of the Omnipotent Mind, +or of Love: so Minucius Felix:--'Quid enim aliud est fatum, quam +quod de unoquoque nostrum deus fatus est.' So also Cicero, in the +First Book on Divination:--'Fatum autem id appello, quod Graeci +EIMAPMENIIN: id est, ordinem seriemque causarum, cum causa causæ nexa +rem ex se gignat--ex quo intelligitur, ut fatum sit non id quod +superstitiose, sed id quod physice dicitur causa asterna rerum.' To +the same purpose is the doctrine of Hierocles, in that excellent +fragment concerning Providence and Destiny. As to the three Fates, +or Destinies of the poets, they represented that part of the general +system of natural causes which relates to man, and to other mortal +beings: for so we are told in the hymn addressed to them among the +Orphic Indigitamenta, where they are called the daughters of Night +(or Love), and, contrary to the vulgar notion, are distinguished by +the epithets of gentle and tender-hearted. According to Hesiod, Theog. +ver. 904, they were the daughters of Jupiter and Themis: but in the +Orphic hymn to Venus, or Love, that goddess is directly styled the +mother of Necessity, and is represented, immediately after, as +governing the three Destinies, and conducting the whole system of +natural causes.] + +[Footnote C: '_Chaos_.'--L. 26. The unformed, undigested mass of +Moses and Plato; which Milton calls 'The womb of nature.'] + +[Footnote D: '_Born of Fate was Time_.'--L. 26. Chronos, Saturn, or +Time, was, according to Apollodorus, the son of Cælum and Tellus. +But the author of the hymns gives it quite undisguised by +mythological language, and calls him plainly the offspring of the +earth and the starry heaven; that is, of Fate, as explained in the +preceding note.] + +[Footnote E: '_Who many sons ... devour'd_.'--L. 27. The known fable +of Saturn devouring his children was certainly meant to imply the +dissolution of natural bodies, which are produced and destroyed by +Time.] + +[Footnote F: '_The Child of Rhea_.'-L. 29. Jupiter, so called by +Pindar.] + +[Footnote G: '_Drove him from the upper sky_.'--L. 29. That Jupiter +dethroned his father Saturn is recorded by all the mythologists. +Phurnutus, or Cornutus, the author of a little Greek treatise on the +nature of the gods, informs us that by Jupiter was meant the +vegetable soul of the world, which restrained and prevented those +uncertain alterations which Saturn, or Time, used formerly to cause +in the mundane system.] + +[Footnote H: '_Then social reign'd The kindred powers_.'--L. 31. +Our mythology here supposeth, that before the establishment of the +vital, vegetative, plastic nature (represented by Jupiter), the four +elements were in a variable and unsettled condition, but afterwards +well-disposed, and at peace among themselves. Tethys was the wife +of the Ocean; Ops, or Rhea, the Earth; Vesta, the eldest daughter +of Saturn, Fire; and the Cloud-Compeller, or [Greek: Zeus +nephelaegeretaes], the Air, though he also represented the plastic +principle of nature, as may be seen in the Orphic hymn inscribed to +him.] + + +NOTE I. + + '_The sedgy-crowned race_.'--L. 34. + +The river-gods, who, according to Hesiod's Theogony, were the sons of +Oceanus and Tethys. + + +NOTE J. + + '_From them are ye, O Naiads_.'--L. 37. + +The descent of the Naiads is less certain than most points of the +Greek mythology. Homer, Odyss. xiii. [Greek: kourai Dios]. Virgil, +in the eighth book of the Æneid, speaks as if the Nymphs, or Naiads, +were the parents of the rivers: but in this he contradicts the +testimony of Hesiod, and evidently departs from the orthodox system, +which represented several nymphs as retaining to every single river. +On the other hand, Callimachus, who was very learned in all the +school-divinity of those times, in his hymn to Delos, maketh Peneus, +the great Thessalian river-god, the father of his nymphs: and Ovid, +in the fourteenth book of his Metamorphoses, mentions the Naiads of +Latium as the immediate daughters of the neighbouring river-gods. +Accordingly, the Naiads of particular rivers are occasionally, both +by Ovid and Statius, called by patronymic, from the name of the +river to which they belong. + + +NOTE K. + + '_Syrian Daphne_.'--L. 40. + +The grove of Daphne in Syria, near Antioch, was famous for its +delightful fountains. + + +NOTE L. + + '_The tribes beloved by Pæon_.'--L. 40. + +Mineral and medicinal springs. Pæon was the physician of the gods. + + +NOTE M. + + '_The winged offspring_.'--L. 43. + +The winds; who, according to Hesiod and Apollodorus, were the sons of +Astræus and Aurora. + + +NOTE N. + + '_Hyperíon_.'--L. 46. + +A son of Cælum and Tellus, and father of the Sun, who is thence +called, by Pindar, Hyperionides. But Hyperion is put by Homer in the +same manner as here, for the Sun himself. + + +NOTE O. + + '_Your sallying streams_.'--L. 49. + +The state of the atmosphere with respect to rest and motion is, in +several ways, affected by rivers and running streams; and that more +especially in hot seasons: first, they destroy its equilibrium, by +cooling those parts of it with which they are in contact; and +secondly, they communicate their own motion: and the air which is +thus moved by them, being left heated, is of consequence more +elastic than other parts of the atmosphere, and therefore fitter to +preserve and to propagate that motion. + +NOTE P. + + '_Delian king_.'--L. 70. + +One of the epithets of Apollo, or the Sun, in the Orphic hymn +inscribed to him. + +NOTE Q. + + '_Chloris_.'--L. 79. + +The ancient Greek name for Flora. + +NOTE R. + + '_Amalthea_.'--L. 83. + +The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was +written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic +character, by Thymoetes, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with +Orpheus. Thymoetes had travelled over Libya to the country which +borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and +learned from the inhabitants, that 'Ammon, King of Libya, was +married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: +that he afterwards fell in love with a beautiful virgin whose name +was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a +neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape +nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian +horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that fearing the jealousy +of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus in the island of Nysa;' the +beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of +style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, +and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of +Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to +except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic +story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and +solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he +prefers it even to-- + + 'That Nysean isle + Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham + (Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove) + Hid Amalthea and her florid son, + Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.' + + +NOTE S. + + '_Edonian band_.'--L. 94. + +The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus: so called from Edonus, +a mountain of Thrace, where his rites were celebrated. + +NOTE T. + + '_When Hermes_.'--L. 105. + +Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent +character he is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta in +these beautiful lines:-- + +[Greek: + _Ermaeuen panton, kerdempore, lusimerimue, + O? cheiresthiu echei? oplun aremphe_?] + + +NOTE U. + + _'Dispense the mineral treasure'_.--L. 121. + +The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of +Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin. + +NOTE V. + + _'Hath he not won'_?--L. 136. + +Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the +good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the +friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war: for military power, at +least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the +establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, +that 'from bounty issueth power.' + +NOTE W. + + _'C'alpe ... Cantabrian surge'_--L. 143. + +Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay. + +NOTE X. + + _'Ægina's gloomy surge'_--L. 150. + +Near this island, the Athenians obtained the victory of Salamis, +over the Persian navy. + +NOTE Y. + + _'Xerxes saw'_--L. 160. + +This circumstance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most +splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, +in his Life of Themistocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium +and Salamis. + +NOTE Z. + + _'Thyrsus'_--L. 204. + +A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the +bacchanalian mysteries. + +NOTE AA. + + _'Io Pæan.'_--L. 227. + +An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's +encounter with Python. + +NOTE BB. + + _'Rocky Cirrha'_--L. 252. + +One of the summits of Parnassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were +several fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses. Nysa, the +other eminence of the same mountain, was dedicated to Bacchus. + +NOTE CC. + + _'Charm the mind of gods'_--L. 263. + +This whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred music among the +gods, is taken from Pindar's first Pythian ode. + +NOTE DD. + + '_Phrygian pipe_.'--L. 297. + +The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite +disorderly passions. + + +NOTE EE. + + '_The gates where Pallas holds + The guardian key_.'--L. 302. + +It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; +whence she was named IIOAIAS and HOAIOYXOS, and had her statues +placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that +account styled KAHAOYXOS. + + +NOTE FF. + + 'Fate of sober Pentheus.'--L. 311. + +Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanalian priests and women, +for despising their mysteries. + + +NOTE GG. + + 'The cave Corycian:--L. 318. + +Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following +description:--'Between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus is a +road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph +Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One +may walk a great way into it without a torch. 'Tis of a considerable +height, and hath several springs within it; and yet a much greater +quantity of water distils from the shell and roof, so as to be +continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold +it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan.' + + +NOTE HH. + + 'Delphic mount.'--L. 319. + +Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky +situation, on the skirts of Parnassus. + + +NOTE II. + + 'Cyrenaïc shell.'--L. 327. + +Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the +most remarkable example of that mythological passion which is +assumed in the preceding poem, and have always afforded particular +pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity +with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to +attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the +manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as +the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, +could have been but little interesting to a modern reader, it was +therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the +history of nature, and to employ these ancient divinities as it is +probable they were first employed; to wit, in personifying natural +causes, and in representing the mutual agreement or opposition of +the corporeal and moral powers of the world: which hath been +accounted the very highest office of poetry. + + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS. + + + +I. + +FOR A GROTTO. + + To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call + Actæa, daughter of the neighbouring stream, + This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, + Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, + Were placed by Glycou. He with cowslips pale, + Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green + Before my threshold, and my shelving walls + With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, + Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, + I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend; + Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, + Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds + Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in, + O stranger, undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad + Here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts + Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread + My quiet mansion; chiefly, if thy name + Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own. + + +II. + +FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK. + + Such was old Chaucer; such the placid mien + Of him who first with harmony inform'd + The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt + For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls + Have often heard him, while his legends blithe + He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles + Of homely life; through each estate and age, + The fashions and the follies of the world + With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance + From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come + Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain + Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold + To him, this other hero; who, in times + Dark and untaught, began with charming verse + To tame the rudeness of his native land. + + + +III. + + Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies + Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove + Of branching oaks a rural palace old + Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord + Of all the harvest round. And onward thence + A low plain chapel fronts the morning light + Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk, + O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground; + And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest + Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand + Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew + Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest, + The learned shepherd; for each rural art + Famed, and for songs harmonious, and the woes + Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride + Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave + In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven, + With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care, + Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold + And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith + From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, + Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside + The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate + The mournful story. Haply some fair maid + May hold it in remembrance, and be taught + That riches cannot pay for truth or love. + + +IV. + + O youths and virgins: O declining eld: + O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell + Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait + In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: + O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch + That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds + Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand + Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam + In exile; ye who through the embattled field + Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms + Contend, the leaders of a public cause; + Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not + The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue + Told you the fashion of your own estate, + The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round + His monument with reverence while ye stand, + Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; + Who walk'd in every path of human life, + Felt every passion; and to all mankind + Doth now, will ever, that experience yield + Which his own genius only could acquire.' + + +V. + + GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE + AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; + CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS + ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE + NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE + DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, + GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS + P.G. A.M. A. + + +VI. + +FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE. + + Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, + While Thames among his willows from thy view + Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene + Around contemplate well. This is the place + Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms + And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king + (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure + The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on + Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid + Those thanks which God appointed the reward + Of public virtue. And if chance thy home + Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, + Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt + They owe their ancestors; and make them swear + To pay it, by transmitting down entire + Those sacred rights to which themselves were born. + + + + + +VII. + + +THE WOOD NYMPH. + + Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale + Which I, the Dryad of this hoary oak, + Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age + Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose + On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale + Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards + The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, + Obeys me. Many changes have I seen + In human things, and many awful deeds + Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove + Against the tyrants of the land, against + The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, + Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length + Expert in laws divine, I know the paths + Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end + Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait + Each evening till a noble youth, who loves + My shade, a while released from public cares, + Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down + Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind + I prompt, unseen; and place before his view + Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart + With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme + Of gods and men, with freedom's generous deeds, + The lofty voice of glory and the faith + Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told + My function. If within thy bosom dwell + Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave + Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear + A sparing benediction from thy tongue. + + +VIII. + + Ye powers unseen, to whom, the bards of Greece + Erected altars; ye who to the mind + More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart + With more divine emotions; if erewhile + Not quite uupleasing have my votive rites + Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat + To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe + Here with your instant energy to crown + My happy solitude. It is the hour + When most I love to invoke you, and have felt + Most frequent your glad ministry divine. + The air is calm: the sun's unveiled orb + Shines in the middle heaven. The harvest round + Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves + The reapers lie reclined. The neighbouring groves + Are mute, nor even a linnet's random strain + Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel + Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in heaven, + Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds + Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades + Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below + Do you converse retired? From what loved haunt + Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel + Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers: + And I will guard it well; nor shall a thought + Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move + Across my bosom unobserved, unstored + By faithful memory. And then at some + More active moment, will I call them forth + Anew; and join them in majestic forms, + And give them utterance in harmonious strains; + That all mankind shall wonder at your sway. + + +IX. + + Me though in life's sequester'd vale + The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, + Remote from glory's toilsome ways, + And the great scenes of public praise; + Yet let me still with grateful pride + Remember how my infant frame + He temper'd with prophetic flame, + And early music to my tongue supplied. + 'Twas then my future fate he weigh'd, + And, this be thy concern, he said, + At once with Passion's keen alarms, + And Beauty's pleasurable charms, + And sacred Truth's eternal light, + To move the various mind of Man; + Till, under one unblemish'd plan, + His Reason, Fancy, and his Heart unite. + + + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. [1] + + Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, + And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, + Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, + In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; + Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, + And proud to mix my memory with thine. + But now the cause that waked my song before, + With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. + If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, + Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 + Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, + And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; + If every tongue its large applauses owed, + And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; + If public Justice urged the high reward, + And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; + Say then, to him whose levity or lust + Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; + Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, + And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 + Does not each tongue its execrations owe? + Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, + And public Justice sanctify th' award, + And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard? + + Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, + Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, + Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, + And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise. + But since thy guilt still more entire appears, + Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 + Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, + And the first rage of party-hate is past; + Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come + To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: + So may my trust from all reproach be free; + And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree. + + There are who say they view'd without amaze + The sad reverse of all thy former praise: + That through the pageants of a patriot's name, + They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40 + Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw + The public thunder on a private foe. + But I, whose soul consented to thy cause, + Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause, + Who saw the spirits of each glorious age + Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage; + I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds, + The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds. + Spite of the learned in the ways of vice, + And all who prove that each man has his price, 50 + I still believed thy end was just and free; + And yet, even yet, believe it--spite of thee. + Even though thy mouth impure has dared disclaim, + Urged by the wretched impotence of shame, + Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid + To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd; + Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show; + Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe; + Has boasted in thy country's awful ear, + Her gross delusion when she held thee dear; 60 + How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous call, + And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-- + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For laws subverted, and for cities sold! + Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt, + The oaths you perjured, and the blood you spilt; + Yet must you one untempted vileness own, + One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; + With studied arts his country's praise to spurn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, 70 + To challenge hate when honour was his due, + And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew. + Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose + From each fair feeling human nature knows? + Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear + To all that reason, all that sense would hear? + Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, + In such unthankful baseness to be lost? + Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, + And yield thy glories at an idiot's price? 80 + + When they who, loud for liberty and laws, + In doubtful times had fought their country's cause, + When now of conquest and dominion sure, + They sought alone to hold their fruits secure; + When taught by these, Oppression hid the face, + To leave Corruption stronger in her place, + By silent spells to work the public fate, + And taint the vitals of the passive state, + Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, + And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd shore: 90 + Then, like some guardian god that flies to save + The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, + Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake + Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake; + Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, + To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, + Against Corruption Liberty to arm, + And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm. + + Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, + And with thy country's hopes thy honours grew. 100 + Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; + Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd; + Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds; + The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns; + Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires, + To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires; + The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + With new amazement hears a living name + Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; 110 + And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways, + Left the tame track of these dejected days, + The life of nobler ages to renew + In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, + Roused by thy labours from the bless'd retreat, + Where social ease and public passions meet, + Again ascending treads the civil scene, + To act and be a man, as thou hadst been. + + Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, + And the great end appear'd at last in view: 120 + We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, + We saw the senate bending to thy voice; + The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching reign + Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain; + While venal Faction, struck with new dismay, + Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay. + Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, + Abash'd and keener from his long repose; + Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear + Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear; 130 + The city felt his call: from man to man, + From street to street, the glorious horror ran; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And, murmuring, challenged the deciding hour. + + Lo! the deciding hour at last appears; + The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears! + Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name, + O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame! + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, + And guide each movement steady to the goal. 140 + Ye spirits by whose providential art + Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, + Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, + And watch his fancy, and his passions bind! + Ye shades immortal, who by Freedom led, + Or in the field or on the scaffold bled, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + And view the crown of all your labours nigh. + See Freedom mounting her eternal throne! + The sword submitted, and the laws her own: 150 + See! public Power chastised beneath her stands, + With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands! + See private Life by wisest arts reclaim'd! + See ardent youth to noblest manners framed! + See us acquire whate'er was sought by you, + If Curio, only Curio will be true. + + 'Twas then--o shame! O trust how ill repaid! + O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!-- + 'Twas then--What frenzy on thy reason stole? + What spells unsinewed thy determined soul?-- 160 + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved, + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved, + This patient slave by tinsel chains allured, + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured, + This Curio, hated and despised by all, + Who fell himself to work his country's fall? + O lost, alike to action and repose! + Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! + With all that conscious, undissembled pride, + Sold to the insults of a foe defied! 170 + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame! + The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art + To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, + Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, + Display thy virtue, though without a dower, + Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + And shut thy eyes that others may be blind.-- + Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, + When shameless mouths your majesty defile, 180 + Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, + And cast their own impieties on you. + For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power + My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, + How have I stood exulting, to survey + My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! + How with the sons of every foreign shore + The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the more! + O race erect! whose native strength of soul, + Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, 190 + Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, + And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; + Intent the laws of life to comprehend, + And fix dominion's limits by its end. + Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, + By conscious reason judging every state, + The man forget not, though in rags he lies, + And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: + Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view + Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, 200 + Or, all awake at pity's soft command, + Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand: + Thence large of heart, from envy far removed, + When public toils to virtue stand approved, + Not the young lover fonder to admire, + Not more indulgent the delighted sire; + Yet high and jealous of their free-born name, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway, + Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. 210 + But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, + My country must with him renounce her cause, + Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, + Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod; + Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail, + Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail: + Else, ere he change the style, bear me away + To where the Gracchi [2], where the Bruti stay! + + O long revered, and late resign'd to shame! + If this uncourtly page thy notice claim 220 + When the loud cares of business are withdrawn, + Nor well-dress'd beggars round thy footsteps fawn; + In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour, + When Truth exerts her unresisted power, + Breaks the false optics tinged with fortune's glare, + Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions bare; + Then turn thy eyes on that important scene, + And ask thyself--if all be well within. + Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of soul, + Which labour could not stop, nor fear control? 230 + Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe, + Which, half-abash'd, the proud and venal saw? + Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause? + Where the delightful taste of just applause? + Where the strong reason, the commanding tongue, + On which the senate fired or trembling hung? + All vanish'd, all are sold--and in their room, + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted gloom, + See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur dwell, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! 210 + To her in chains thy dignity was led; + At her polluted shrine thy honour bled; + With blasted weeds thy awful brow she crown'd, + Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound, + That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, + And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew: + For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; + No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; + No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, + With all her conscious majesty confess'd, 250 + Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty flame, + To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame, + And where she sees the catching glimpses roll, + Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the soul; + But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill, + And formal passions mock thy struggling will; + Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain, + And reach impatient at a nobler strain, + Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth + Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous birth, 260 + Till, blind with smart, from truth to frenzy toss'd, + And all the tenor of thy reason lost, + Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear; + While some with pity, some with laughter hear.-- + Can art, alas! or genius, guide the head, + Where truth and freedom from the heart are fled? + Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, + When the prime function of the soul is broke? + + But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend; + Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend; 270 + Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine, + Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; + For see the hand of Destiny display'd + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd! + See the dire fane of Infamy arise! + Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; + Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, + The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. + Eternal barriers guard the pathless road + To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode; 280 + But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, + The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. + There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, + And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates; + And still he asks them of their unknown aims, + Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, + Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, + And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. 290 + + At last the gates his potent voice obey; + Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey; + Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, + The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, + O'er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, + The great, the sage, the happy, and august [3]. + No gleam of hope their baleful mansion cheers, + No sound of honour hails their unbless'd ears; + But dire reproaches from the friend betray'd, + The childless sire and violated maid; 300 + But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From towns enslaved, and continents laid waste; + But long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + For ever through the trembling space resound, + And sink each impious forehead to the ground. + + Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, + Give way, do homage to a mightier guest! + Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, + See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface!-- 310 + Awed at the name, fierce Appius [4] rising bends, + And hardy Cinna from his throne attends: + 'He comes,' they cry, 'to whom the fates assign'd + With surer arts to work what we design'd, + From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, + Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage obey; + Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their power, + He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; + Then, tired and yielding, led them to the chain, + And quench'd the spirit we provoked in vain.' 320 + + But thou, Supreme, by whose eternal hands + Fair Liberty's heroic empire stands; + Whose thunders the rebellious deep control, + And quell the triumphs of the traitor's soul, + Oh! turn this dreadful omen far away: + On Freedom's foes their own attempts repay: + Relume her sacred fire so near suppress'd, + And fix her shrine in every Roman breast: + Though bold Corruption boast around the land, + 'Let virtue, if she can, my baits withstand!' 330 + Though bolder now she urge the accursed claim, + Gay with her trophies raised on Curio's shame; + Yet some there are who scorn her impious mirth, + Who know what conscience and a heart are worth.-- + O friend and father of the human mind, + Whose art for noblest ends our frame design'd! + If I, though fated to the studious shade + Which party-strife, nor anxious power invade, + If I aspire in public virtue's cause, + To guide the Muses by sublimer laws, 340 + Do thou her own authority impart, + And give my numbers entrance to the heart. + Perhaps the verse might rouse her smother'd flame, + And snatch the fainting patriot back to fame; + Perhaps by worthy thoughts of human kind, + To worthy deeds exalt the conscious mind; + Or dash Corruption in her proud career, + And teach her slaves that Vice was born to fear. + + +[Footnote 1: Curio was a young Roman senator, of distinguished +birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had +been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, +he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want +of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of +Csesar against the liberties of his country, although he had before +been a professed enemy to him. Cicero exerted himself with great +energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of +the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published +in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at +last successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted +the cause of his country, and became the foremost in support and +defence of the same measures he had so steadily and for such a +length of time contended against.] + +[Fotnote 2: The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, lost +their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that +could give stability and good order to the Roman republic. L. Junius +Brutus founded the commonwealth, and died in its defence.] + +[Footnote 3: Titles which have been generally ascribed to the most +pernicious of men.] + +[Footnote 4: Appius Claudius the Decemvir, and L. Cornelius Cinna +both attempted to establish a tyrannical dominion in Rome, and both +perished by the treason.] + + + + +THE VIRTUOSO. + + IN IMITATION OP SPENSER'S STYLE AND STANZA. + + + 'Videmus + Nugari solitos.'--PERSIUS. + + + + 1 Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream, + In London town there dwelt a subtile wight; + A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame, + Book-learn'd and quaint; a Virtuoso hight. + Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight; + From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten ease, + Nor ceasen he from study, day or night; + Until (advancing onward by degrees) + He knew whatever breeds on earth, or air, or seas. + + 2 He many a creature did anatomise, + Almost unpeopling water, air, and land; + Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies, + Were laid full low by his relentless hand, + That oft with gory crimson was distain'd: + He many a dog destroy'd, and many a cat; + Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drain'd, + Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat, + And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a gnat. + + 3 He knew the various modes of ancient times, + Their arts and fashions of each different guise, + Their weddings, funerals, punishments for crimes, + Their strength, their learning eke, and rarities; + Of old habiliments, each sort and size, + Male, female, high and low, to him were known; + Each gladiator-dress, and stage disguise; + With learned, clerkly phrase he could have shown + How the Greek tunic differ'd from the Roman gown. + + 4 A curious medalist, I wot, he was, + And boasted many a course of ancient coin; + Well as his wife's he knewen every face, + From Julius Caesar down to Constantine: + For some rare sculptor he would oft ypine + (As green-sick damosels for husbands do); + And when obtained, with enraptured eyne, + He'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, + And look, and look again, as he would look it through. + + 5 His rich museum, of dimensions fair, + With goods that spoke the owner's mind was fraught: + Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare, + From sea and land, from Greece and Rome were brought, + Which he with mighty sums of gold had bought: + On these all tides with joyous eyes he pored; + And, sooth to say, himself he greater thought, + When he beheld his cabinets thus stored, + Than if he'd been of Albion's wealthy cities lord. + + 6 Here in a corner stood a rich scrutoire, + With many a curiosity replete; + In seemly order furnish'd every drawer, + Products of art or nature as was meet; + Air-pumps and prisms were placed beneath his feet, + A Memphian mummy-king hung o'er his head; + Here phials with live insects small and great, + There stood a tripod of the Pythian maid; + Above, a crocodile diffused a grateful shade. + + 7 Fast by the window did a table stand, + Where modern and antique rarities, + From Egypt, Greece, and Rome, from sea and land, + Were thick-besprent, of every sort and size: + Here a Bahaman-spider's carcass lies, + There a dire serpent's golden skin doth shine; + Here Indian feathers, fruits, and glittering flies; + There gums and amber found beneath the line, + The beak of Ibis here, and there an Antonine. + + 8 Close at his back, or whispering in his ear, + There stood a sprite ycleped Phantasy; + Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near: + Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; + Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye; + Her glistering robes were of more various hue + Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky, + Or all the spangled drops of morning dew; + Their colour changing still at every different view. + + 9 Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay, + Various as the chameleon that she bore; + Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay, + Now mendicant in silks and golden ore: + A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar, + Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed; + A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore; + Now scribbling dunce, in sacred laurel clad, + Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd. + + 10 The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill, + On whom she doth with constant care attend, + Will for a dreadful giant take a mill, + Or a grand palace in a hog-sty find: + (From her dire influence me may heaven defend!) + All things with vitiated sight he spies; + Neglects his family, forgets his friend, + Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, + And eagerly pursues imaginary joys. + + + + + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. + + A FABLE. + + 'Optat quietem.'-HOR. + + While yet the world was young, and men were few, + Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew, + In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd, + Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: + No sumptuous fabrics yet were seen to rise, + Nor gushing fountains taught to invade the skies; + With nature, art had not begun the strife, + Nor swelling marble rose to mimic life; + No pencil yet had learn'd to express the fair; + The bounteous earth was all their homely care. 10 + + Then did Content exert her genial sway, + And taught the peaceful world her power to obey-- + Content, a female of celestial race, + Bright and complete in each celestial grace. + Serenely fair she was, as rising day, + And brighter than the sun's meridian ray; + Joy of all hearts, delight of every eye, + Nor grief nor pain appear'd when she was by; + Her presence from the wretched banish'd care, + Dispersed the swelling sigh, and stopp'd the falling tear. 20 + + Long did the nymph her regal state maintain, + As long mankind were bless'd beneath her reign; + Till dire Ambition, hellish fiend, arose + To plague the world, and banish man's repose, + A monster sprung from that rebellious crew + Which mighty Jove's Phlegraean thunder slew. + Resolved to dispossess the royal fair, + On all her friends he threaten'd open war; + Fond of the novelty, vain, fickle man + In crowds to his infernal standard ran; 30 + And the weak maid, defenceless left alone, + To avoid his rage, was forced to quit the throne. + + It chanced, as wandering through the fields she stray'd, + Forsook of all, and destitute of aid, + Upon a rising mountain's flowery side, + A pleasant cottage, roof'd with turf, she spied: + Fast by a gloomy, venerable wood + Of shady planes and ancient oaks it stood. + Around, a various prospect charm'd the sight; + Here waving harvests clad the field with white, 40 + Here a rough shaggy rock the clouds did pierce, + From which a torrent rush'd with rapid force; + Here mountain-woods diffused a dusky shade; + Here flocks and herds in flowery valleys play'd, + While o'er the matted grass the liquid crystal stray'd. + In this sweet place there dwelt a cheerful pair, + Though bent beneath the weight of many a year; + Who, wisely flying public noise and strife, + In this obscure retreat had pass'd their life; + The husband Industry was call'd, Frugality the wife. 50 + With tenderest friendship mutually bless'd, + No household jars had e'er disturbed their rest. + A numerous offspring graced their homely board, + That still with nature's simple gifts was stored. + + The father rural business only knew; + The sons the same delightful art pursue. + An only daughter, as a goddess fair, + Above the rest was the fond mother's care, + Plenty; the brightest nymph of all the plain, + Each heart's delight, adored by every swain. 60 + Soon as Content this charming scene espied, + Joyful within herself the goddess cried:-- + 'This happy sight my drooping heart doth raise; + The gods, I hope, will grant me gentler days. + When with prosperity my life was bless'd, + In yonder house I've been a welcome guest: + There now, perhaps, I may protection find; + For royalty is banish'd from my mind; + I'll thither haste: how happy should I be, + If such a refuge were reserved for me!' 70 + + Thus spoke the fair; and straight she bent her way + To the tall mountain, where the cottage lay: + Arrived, she makes her changed condition known; + Tells how the rebels drove her from the throne; + What painful, dreary wilds she'd wander'd o'er; + And shelter from the tyrant doth implore. + + The faithful, aged pair at once were seized + With joy and grief, at once were pain'd and pleased; + Grief for their banish'd queen their hearts' possess'd, + And joy succeeded for their future guest: 80 + 'And if you'll deign, bright goddess, here to dwell, + And with your presence grace our humble cell, + Whate'er the gods have given with bounteous hand, + Our harvest, fields, and flocks, our all command.' + + Meantime, Ambition, on his rival's flight, + Sole lord of man, attain'd his wish's height; + Of all dependence on his subjects eased, + He raged without a curb, and did whate'er he pleased; + As some wild flame, driven on by furious winds, + Wide spreads destruction, nor resistance finds; 90 + So rush'd the fiend destructive o'er the plain, + Defaced the labours of th' industrious swain; + Polluted every stream with human gore, + And scatter'd plagues and death from shore to shore. + + Great Jove beheld it from the Olympian towers, + Where sate assembled all the heavenly powers; + Then with a nod that shook the empyrean throne, + Thus the Saturnian thunderer begun:-- + 'You see, immortal inmates of the skies, + How this vile wretch almighty power defies; 100 + His daring crimes, the blood which he has spilt, + Demand a torment equal to his guilt. + Then, Cyprian goddess, let thy mighty boy + Swift to the tyrant's guilty palace fly; + There let him choose his sharpest, hottest dart, + And with his former rival wound his heart. + And thou, my son (the god to Hermes said), + Snatch up thy wand, and plume thy heels and head; + Dart through the yielding air with all thy force, + And down to Pluto's realms direct thy course; 110 + There rouse Oblivion from her sable cave, + Where dull she sits by Lethe's sluggish wave; + Command her to secure the sacred bound. + Where lives Content retired, and all around + Diffuse the deepest glooms of Stygian night, + And screen the virgin from the tyrant's sight; + That the vain purpose of his life may try + Still to explore, what still eludes his eye.' + He spoke; loud praises shake the bright abode, + And all applaud the justice of the god. 120 + + + + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + + Of all the various lots around the ball, + Which fate to man distributes, absolute, + Avert, ye gods! that of the Muse's son, + Cursed with dire poverty! poor hungry wretch! + What shall he do for life? He cannot work + With manual labour; shall those sacred hands, + That brought the counsels of the gods to light; + Shall that inspirèd tongue, which every Muse + Has touch'd divine, to charm the sons of men; + These hallow'd organs! these! be prostitute 10 + To the vile service of some fool in power, + All his behests submissive to perform, + Howe'er to him ungrateful? Oh! he scorns + The ignoble thought; with generous disdain, + More eligible deeming it to starve, + Like his famed ancestors renown'd in verse, + Than poorly bend to be another's slave,-- + Than feed and fatten in obscurity.-- + These are his firm resolves, which fate, nor time, + Nor poverty can shake. Exalted high 20 + In garret vile he lives; with remnants hung + Of tapestry. But oh! precarious state + Of this vain transient world! all-powerful Time, + What dost thou not subdue? See what a chasm + Gapes wide, tremendous! see where Saul, enraged, + High on his throne, encompass'd by his guards, + With levell'd spear, and arm extended, sits, + Ready to pierce old Jesse's valiant son, + Spoil'd of his nose!--around in tottering ranks, + On shelves pulverulent, majestic stands 30 + His library; in ragged plight, and old; + Replete with many a load of criticism, + Elaborate products of the midnight toil + Of Belgian brains; snatch'd from the deadly hands + Of murderous grocer, or the careful wight, + Who vends the plant, that clads the happy shore + Of Indian Patomac; which citizens + In balmy fumes exhale, when, o'er a pot + Of sage-inspiring coffee, they dispose + Of kings and crowns, and settle Europe's fate. 40 + + Elsewhere the dome is fill'd with various heaps + Of old domestic lumber; that huge chair + Has seen six monarchs fill the British throne: + Here a broad massy table stands, o'erspread + With ink and pens, and scrolls replete with rhyme: + Chests, stools, old razors, fractured jars, half-full + Of muddy Zythum, sour and spiritless: + Fragments of verse, hose, sandals, utensils + Of various fashion, and of various use, + With friendly influence hide the sable floor. 50 + + This is the bard's museum, this the fane + To Phoebus sacred, and the Aonian maids: + But, oh! it stabs his heart, that niggard fate + To him in such small measure should dispense + Her better gifts: to him! whose generous soul + Could relish, with as fine an elegance, + The golden joys of grandeur, and of wealth; + He who could tyrannise o'er menial slaves, + Or swell beneath a coronet of state, + Or grace a gilded chariot with a mien, 60 + Grand as the haughtiest Timon of them all. + + But 'tis in vain to rave at destiny: + Here he must rest and brook the best he can, + To live remote from grandeur, learning, wit; + Immured amongst th' ignoble, vulgar herd, + Of lowest intellect; whose stupid souls + But half inform their bodies; brains of lead + And tongues of thunder; whose insensate breasts + Ne'er felt the rapturous, soul-entrancing fire + Of the celestial Muse; whose savage ears 70 + Ne'er heard the sacred rules, nor even the names + Of the Venusian bard, or critic sage + Full-famed of Stagyra: whose clamorous tongues + Stun the tormented ear with colloquy, + Vociferate, trivial, or impertinent; + Replete with boorish scandal; yet, alas! + This, this! he must endure, or muse alone, + Pensive and moping o'er the stubborn rhyme, + Or line imperfect--No! the door is free, + And calls him to evade their deafening clang, 80 + By private ambulation;--'tis resolved: + Off from his waist he throws the tatter'd gown, + Beheld with indignation; and unloads + His pericranium of the weighty cap, + With sweat and grease discolour'd: then explores + The spacious chest, and from its hollow womb + Draws his best robe, yet not from tincture free + Of age's reverend russet, scant and bare; + Then down his meagre visage waving flows + The shadowy peruke; crown'd with gummy hat 90 + Clean brush'd; a cane supports him. Thus equipp'd + He sallies forth; swift traverses the streets, + And seeks the lonely walk.--'Hail, sylvan scenes, + Ye groves, ye valleys, ye meandering brooks, + Admit me to your joys!' in rapturous phrase, + Loud he exclaims; while with the inspiring Muse + His bosom labours; and all other thoughts, + Pleasure and wealth, and poverty itself, + Before her influence vanish. Rapt in thought, + Fancy presents before his ravish'd eyes 100 + Distant posterity, upon his page + With transport dwelling; while bright learning's sons + That ages hence must tread this earthly ball, + Indignant, seem to curse the thankless age, + That starved such merit. Meantime swallow'd up, + In meditation deep, he wanders on, + Unweeting of his way.--But, ah! he starts + With sudden fright! his glaring eyeballs roll, + Pale turn his cheeks, and shake his loosen'd joints; + His cogitations vanish into air, 110 + Like painted bubbles, or a morning dream. + Behold the cause! see! through the opening glade, + With rosy visage, and abdomen grand, + A cit, a dun!--As in Apulia's wilds, + Or where the Thracian Hebrus rolls his wave, + A heedless kid, disportive, roves around, + Unheeding, till upon the hideous cave + On the dire wolf she treads; half-dead she views + His bloodshot eyeballs, and his dreadful fangs, + And swift as Eurus from the monster flies. 120 + So fares the trembling bard; amazed he turns, + Scarce by his legs upborne; yet fear supplies + The place of strength; straight home he bends his course, + Nor looks behind him till he safe regain + His faithful citadel; there, spent, fatigued, + He lays him down to ease his heaving lungs, + Quaking, and of his safety scarce convinced. + Soon as the panic leaves his panting breast, + Down to the Muse's sacred rites he sits, + Volumes piled round him; see! upon his brow 130 + Perplex'd anxiety, and struggling thought, + Painful as female throes: whether the bard + Display the deeds of heroes; or the fall + Of vice, in lay dramatic; or expand + The lyric wing; or in elegiac strains + Lament the fair; or lash the stubborn age, + With laughing satire; or in rural scenes + With shepherds sport; or rack his hard-bound brains + For the unexpected turn. Arachne so, + In dusty kitchen corner, from her bowels 140 + Spins the fine web, but spins with better fate, + Than the poor bard: she! caitiff! spreads her snares, + And with their aid enjoys luxurious life, + Bloated with fat of insects, flesh'd in blood: + He! hard, hard lot! for all his toil and care, + And painful watchings, scarce protracts a while + His meagre, hungry days! ungrateful world! + If with his drama he adorn the stage, + No worth-discerning concourse pays the charge. + Or of the orchestra, or the enlightening torch. 150 + He who supports the luxury and pride + Of craving Lais; he! whose carnage fills + Dogs, eagles, lions; has not yet enough, + Wherewith to satisfy the greedier maw + Of that most ravenous, that devouring beast, + Ycleped a poet. What new Halifax, + What Somers, or what Dorset canst thou find, + Thou hungry mortal? Break, wretch, break thy quill, + Blot out the studied image; to the flames + + Commit the Stagyrite; leave this thankless trade; 160 + Erect some pedling stall, with trinkets stock'd, + There earn thy daily halfpence, nor again + Trust the false Muse; so shall the cleanly meal + Repel intruding hunger.--Oh! 'tis vain, + The friendly admonition's all in vain; + The scribbling itch has seized him, he is lost + To all advice, and starves for starving's sake. + + Thus sung the sportful Muse, in mirthful mood, + Indulging gay the frolic vein of youth; + But, oh! ye gods, avert th' impending stroke 170 + This luckless omen threatens! Hark! methinks + I hear my better angel cry, 'Retreat, + Rash youth! in time retreat; let those poor bards, + Who slighted all, all! for the flattering Muse, + Yet cursed with pining want, as landmarks stand, + To warn thee from the service of the ingrate.' + + + + + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + + OCCASIONED BY THE INSULTS OF THE SPANIARDS, + AND THE PRESENT PREPARATIONS + FOR WAR. 1738. + + Whence this unwonted transport in my breast? + Why glow my thoughts, and whither would the Muse + Aspire with rapid wing? Her country's cause + Demands her efforts: at that sacred call + She summons all her ardour, throws aside + The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump + She means to thunder in each British ear; + And if one spark of honour or of fame, + Disdain of insult, dread of infamy, + One thought of public virtue yet survive, 10 + She means to wake it, rouse the generous flame, + With patriot zeal inspirit every breast, + And fire each British heart with British wrongs. + + Alas, the vain attempt! what influence now + Can the Muse boast! or what attention now + Is paid to fame or virtue? Where is now + The British spirit, generous, warm, and brave, + So frequent wont from tyranny and woe + To free the suppliant nations? Where, indeed! + If that protection, once to strangers given, 20 + Be now withheld from sons? Each nobler thought, + That warrn'd our sires, is lost and buried now + In luxury and avarice. Baneful vice! + How it unmans a nation! yet I'll try, + I'll aim to shake this vile degenerate sloth; + I'll dare to rouse Britannia's dreaming sons + To fame, to virtue, and impart around + A generous feeling of compatriot woes. + + Come, then, the various powers of forceful speech, + All that can move, awaken, fire, transport! 30 + Come the bold ardour of the Theban bard! + The arousing thunder of the patriot Greek! + The soft persuasion of the Roman sage! + Come all! and raise me to an equal height, + A rapture worthy of my glorious cause! + Lest my best efforts, failing, should debase + The sacred theme; for with no common wing + The Muse attempts to soar. Yet what need these? + My country's fame, my free-born British heart, + Shall be my best inspirers, raise my flight 40 + High as the Theban's pinion, and with more + Than Greek or Roman flame exalt my soul. + Oh! could I give the vast ideas birth + Expressive of the thoughts that flame within, + No more should lazy Luxury detain + Our ardent youth; no more should Britain's sons + Sit tamely passive by, and careless hear + The prayers, sighs, groans, (immortal infamy!) + Of fellow Britons, with oppression sunk, + In bitterness of soul demanding aid, 50 + Calling on Britain, their dear native land, + The land of Liberty; so greatly famed + For just redress; the land so often dyed + With her best blood, for that arousing cause, + The freedom of her sons; those sons that now + Far from the manly blessings of her sway, + Drag the vile fetters of a Spanish lord. + And dare they, dare the vanquish'd sons of Spain + Enslave a Briton? Have they then forgot, + So soon forgot, the great, the immortal day, 60 + When rescued Sicily with joy beheld + The swift-wing'd thunder of the British arm + Disperse their navies? when their coward bands + Fled, like the raven from the bird of Jove, + From swift impending vengeance fled in vain? + Are these our lords? And can Britannia see + Her foes oft vanquish'd, thus defy her power, + Insult her standard, and enslave her sons, + And not arise to justice? Did our sires, + Unawed by chains, by exile, or by death, 70 + Preserve inviolate her guardian rights, + To Britons ever sacred, that her sons + Might give them up to Spaniards?--Turn your eyes, + Turn, ye degenerate, who with haughty boast + Call yourselves Britons, to that dismal gloom, + That dungeon dark and deep, where never thought + Of joy or peace can enter; see the gates + Harsh-creaking open; what a hideous void, + Dark as the yawning grave, while still as death + A frightful silence reigns! There on the ground 80 + Behold your brethren chain'd like beasts of prey: + There mark your numerous glories, there behold + The look that speaks unutterable woe; + The mangled limb, the faint, the deathful eye, + With famine sunk, the deep heart-bursting groan, + Suppress'd in silence; view the loathsome food, + Refused by dogs, and oh! the stinging thought! + View the dark Spaniard glorying in their wrongs, + The deadly priest triumphant in their woes, + And thundering worse damnation on their souls: 90 + While that pale form, in all the pangs of death, + Too faint to speak, yet eloquent of all, + His native British spirit yet untamed, + Raises his head; and with indignant frown + Of great defiance, and superior scorn, + Looks up and dies.--Oh! I am all on fire! + But let me spare the theme, lest future times + Should blush to hear that either conquer'd Spain + Durst offer Britain such outrageous wrong, + Or Britain tamely bore it-- 100 + Descend, ye guardian heroes of the land! + Scourges of Spain, descend! Behold your sons; + See! how they run the same heroic race, + How prompt, how ardent in their country's cause, + How greatly proud to assert their British blood, + And in their deeds reflect their fathers' fame! + Ah! would to heaven ye did not rather see + How dead to virtue in the public cause, + How cold, how careless, how to glory deaf, + They shame your laurels, and belie their birth! 110 + + Come, ye great spirits, Candish, Raleigh, Blake! + And ye of latter name, your country's pride, + Oh! come, disperse these lazy fumes of sloth, + Teach British hearts with British fires to glow! + In wakening whispers rouse our ardent youth, + Blazon the triumphs of your better days, + Paint all the glorious scenes of rightful war + In all its splendours; to their swelling souls + Say how ye bow'd th' insulting Spaniards' pride, + Say how ye thunder'd o'er their prostrate heads, 120 + Say how ye broke their lines and fired their ports, + Say how not death, in all its frightful shapes, + Could damp your souls, or shake the great resolve + For right and Britain: then display the joys + The patriot's soul exalting, while he views + Transported millions hail with loud acclaim + The guardian of their civil, sacred rights. + How greatly welcome to the virtuous man + Is death for others' good! the radiant thoughts + That beam celestial on his passing soul, 130 + The unfading crowns awaiting him above, + The exalting plaudit of the Great Supreme, + Who in his actions with complacence views + His own reflected splendour; then descend, + Though to a lower, yet a nobler scene; + Paint the just honours to his relics paid, + Show grateful millions weeping o'er his grave; + While his fair fame in each progressive age + For ever brightens; and the wise and good + Of every land in universal choir 140 + With richest incense of undying praise + His urn encircle, to the wondering world + His numerous triumphs blazon; while with awe, + With filial reverence, in his steps they tread, + And, copying every virtue, every fame, + Transplant his glories into second life, + And, with unsparing hand, make nations bless'd + By his example. Vast, immense rewards! + For all the turmoils which the virtuous mind + Encounters here. Yet, Britons, are ye cold? 150 + Yet deaf to glory, virtue, and the call + Of your poor injured countrymen? Ah! no: + I see ye are not; every bosom glows + With native greatness, and in all its state + The British spirit rises: glorious change! + Fame, virtue, freedom, welcome! Oh, forgive + The Muse, that, ardent in her sacred cause, + Your glory question'd; she beholds with joy, + She owns, she triumphs in her wish'd mistake. + See! from her sea-beat throne in awful march 160 + Britannia towers: upon her laurel crest + The plumes majestic nod; behold, she heaves + Her guardian shield, and terrible in arms + For battle shakes her adamantine spear: + Loud at her foot the British lion roars, + Frighting the nations; haughty Spain full soon + Shall hear and tremble. Go then, Britons, forth, + Your country's daring champions: tell your foes + Tell them in thunders o'er their prostrate land, + You were not born for slaves: let all your deeds 170 + Show that the sons of those immortal men, + The stars of shining story, are not slow + In virtue's path to emulate their sires, + To assert their country's rights, avenge her sons, + And hurl the bolts of justice on her foes. + + + + + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + + 'O vitas Philosophia dux! O virtutis indagatrix, expultrixque + vitiorum. Tu urbes peperisti; tu inventrix legum, tu magistra morum + et disciplinae fuisti: ad te confugimus, a te opem petimus.'-- + _Cic. Tusc. Quaest_. + + 1 Science! thou fair effusive ray + From the great source of mental day, + Free, generous, and refined! + Descend with all thy treasures fraught, + Illumine each bewilder'd thought, + And bless my labouring mind. + + 2 But first with thy resistless light, + Disperse those phantoms from my sight, + Those mimic shades of thee: + The scholiast's learning, sophist's cant, + The visionary bigot's rant, + The monk's philosophy. + + 3 Oh! let thy powerful charms impart + The patient head, the candid heart, + Devoted to thy sway; + Which no weak passions e'er mislead, + Which still with dauntless steps proceed + Where reason points the way. + + 4 Give me to learn each secret cause; + Let Number's, Figure's, Motion's laws + Reveal'd before me stand; + These to great Nature's scenes apply, + And round the globe, and through the sky, + Disclose her working hand. + + 5 Next, to thy nobler search resign'd, + The busy, restless, Human Mind + Through every maze pursue; + Detect Perception where it lies, + Catch the Ideas as they rise, + And all their changes view. + + 6 Say from what simple springs began + The vast ambitious thoughts of man, + Which range beyond control, + Which seek eternity to trace, + Dive through the infinity of space, + And strain to grasp the whole. + + 7 Her secret stores let Memory tell, + Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell, + In all her colours dress'd; + While prompt her sallies to control, + Reason, the judge, recalls the soul + To Truth's severest test. + + 8 Then launch through Being's wide extent; + Let the fair scale with just ascent + And cautious steps be trod; + And from the dead, corporeal mass, + Through each progressive order pass + To Instinct, Reason, God. + + 9 There, Science! veil thy daring eye; + Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high, + In that divine abyss; + To Faith content thy beams to lend, + Her hopes to assure, her steps befriend + And light her way to bliss. + + 10 Then downwards take thy flight again, + Mix with the policies of men, + And social Nature's ties; + The plan, the genius of each state, + Its interest and its powers relate, + Its fortunes and its rise. + + 11 Through private life pursue thy course, + Trace every action to its source, + And means and motives weigh: + Put tempers, passions, in the scale; + Mark what degrees in each prevail, + And fix the doubtful sway. + + 12 That last best effort of thy skill, + To form the life, and rule the will, + Propitious power! impart: + Teach me to cool my passion's fires, + Make me the judge of my desires, + The master of my heart. + + 13 Raise me above the Vulgar's breath, + Pursuit of fortune, fear of death, + And all in life that's mean: + Still true to reason be my plan, + Still let my actions speak the man, + Through every various scene. + + 14 Hail! queen of manners, light of truth; + Hail! charm of age, and guide of youth; + Sweet refuge of distress: + In business, thou! exact, polite; + Thou giv'st retirement its delight, + Prosperity its grace. + + 15 Of wealth, power, freedom, thou the cause; + Foundress of order, cities, laws, + Of arts inventress thou! + Without thee, what were human-kind? + How vast their wants, their thoughts how blind! + Their joys how mean, how few! + + 16 Sun of the soul! thy beams unveil: + Let others spread the daring sail + On Fortune's faithless sea: + While, undeluded, happier I + From the rain tumult timely fly, + And sit in peace with thee. + + + + + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + + Too much my heart of Beauty's power hath known, + Too long to Love hath reason left her throne; + Too long my genius mourn'd his myrtle chain, + And three rich years of youth consumed in vain. + My wishes, lull'd with soft inglorious dreams, + Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes: + Through each Elysian vale and fairy grove, + Through all the enchanted paradise of love, + Misled by sickly Hope's deceitful flame, + Averse to action, and renouncing fame. 10 + + At last the visionary scenes decay, + My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day, + Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road + In which my heedless feet securely trod, + And strip the phantoms of their lying charms + That lured my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms. + + For silver streams and banks bespread with flowers, + For mossy couches and harmonious bowers, + Lo! barren heaths appear, and pathless woods, + And rocks hung dreadful o'er unfathom'd floods: 20 + For openness of heart, for tender smiles, + Looks fraught with love, and wrath-disarming wiles; + Lo! sullen Spite, and perjured Lust of Gain, + And cruel Pride, and crueller Disdain; + Lo! cordial Faith to idiot airs refined, + Now coolly civil, now transporting kind. + For graceful Ease, lo! Affectation walks; + And dull Half-sense, for Wit and Wisdom talks. + New to each hour what low delight succeeds, + What precious furniture of hearts and heads! 30 + By nought their prudence, but by getting, known, + And all their courage in deceiving shown. + + See next what plagues attend the lover's state, + What frightful forms of Terror, Scorn, and Hate! + See burning Fury heaven and earth defy! + See dumb Despair in icy fetters lie! + See black Suspicion bend his gloomy brow, + The hideous image of himself to view! + And fond Belief, with all a lover's flame, + Sink in those arms that point his head with shame! 40 + There wan Dejection, faltering as he goes, + In shades and silence vainly seeks repose; + Musing through pathless wilds, consumes the day, + Then lost in darkness weeps the hours away. + Here the gay crowd of Luxury advance, + Some touch the lyre, and others urge the dance: + On every head the rosy garland glows, + In every hand the golden goblet flows. + The Syren views them with exulting eyes, + And laughs at bashful Virtue as she flies. 50 + But see behind, where Scorn and Want appear, + The grave remonstrance and the witty sneer; + See fell Remorse in action, prompt to dart + Her snaky poison through the conscious heart; + And Sloth to cancel, with oblivious shame, + The fair memorial of recording Fame. + + Are these delights that one would wish to gain? + Is this the Elysium of a sober brain? + To wait for happiness in female smiles, + Bear all her scorn, be caught with all her wiles, 60 + With prayers, with bribes, with lies, her pity crave, + Bless her hard bonds, and boast to be her slave; + To feel, for trifles, a distracting train + Of hopes and terrors equally in vain; + This hour to tremble, and the next to glow; + Can Pride, can Sense, can Reason, stoop so low: + When Virtue, at an easier price, displays + The sacred wreaths of honourable praise; + When Wisdom utters her divine decree, + To laugh at pompous Folly, and be free? 70 + + I bid adieu, then, to these woeful scenes; + I bid adieu to all the sex of queens; + Adieu to every suffering, simple soul, + That lets a woman's will his ease control. + There laugh, ye witty; and rebuke, ye grave! + For me, I scorn to boast that I'm a slave. + I bid the whining brotherhood be gone; + Joy to my heart! my wishes are my own! + Farewell the female heaven, the female hell; + To the great God of Love a glad farewell. 80 + Is this the triumph of thy awful name? + Are these the splendid hopes that urged thy aim, + When first my bosom own'd thy haughty sway? + When thus Minerva heard thee, boasting, say-- + 'Go, martial maid, elsewhere thy arts employ, + Nor hope to shelter that devoted boy. + Go teach the solemn sons of Care and Age, + The pensive statesman, and the midnight sage; + The young with me must other lessons prove, + Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love. 90 + Behold, his heart thy grave advice disdains; + Behold, I bind him in eternal chains.'-- + Alas! great Love, how idle was the boast! + Thy chains are broken, and thy lessons lost; + Thy wilful rage has tired my suffering heart, + And passion, reason, forced thee to depart. + But wherefore dost thou linger on thy way? + Why vainly search for some pretence to stay, + When crowds of vassals court thy pleasing yoke, + And countless victims bow them to the stroke? 100 + Lo! round thy shrine a thousand youths advance, + Warm with the gentle ardours of romance; + Each longs to assert thy cause with feats of arms, + And make the world confess Dulcinea's charms. + Ten thousand girls with flowery chaplets crown'd, + To groves and streams thy tender triumph sound: + Each bids the stream in murmurs speak her flame, + Each calls the grove to sigh her shepherd's name. + But, if thy pride such easy honour scorn, + If nobler trophies must thy toil adorn, 110 + Behold yon flowery antiquated maid + Bright in the bloom of threescore years display'd; + Her shalt thou bind in thy delightful chains, + And thrill with gentle pangs her wither'd veins, + Her frosty cheek with crimson blushes dye, + With dreams of rapture melt her maudlin eye. + + Turn then thy labours to the servile crowd, + Entice the wary, and control the proud; + Make the sad miser his best gains forego, + The solemn statesman sigh to be a beau, 120 + The bold coquette with fondest passion burn, + The Bacchanalian o'er his bottle mourn; + And that chief glory of thy power maintain, + 'To poise ambition in a female brain.' + Be these thy triumphs; but no more presume + That my rebellious heart will yield thee room: + I know thy puny force, thy simple wiles; + I break triumphant through thy flimsy toils; + I see thy dying lamp's last languid glow, + Thy arrows blunted and unbraced thy bow. 130 + I feel diviner fires my breast inflame, + To active science, and ingenuous fame; + Resume the paths my earliest choice began, + And lose, with pride, the lover in the man. + + + + + +TO CORDELIA. + + JULY 1740. + + 1 From pompous life's dull masquerade, + From Pride's pursuits, and Passion's war, + Far, my Cordelia, very far, + To thee and me may Heaven assign + The silent pleasures of the shade, + The joys of peace, unenvied, though divine! + + 2 Safe in the calm embowering grove, + As thy own lovely brow serene; + Behold the world's fantastic scene! + What low pursuits employ the great, + What tinsel things their wishes move, + The forms of Fashion, and the toys of State. + + 3 In vain are all Contentment's charms, + Her placid mien, her cheerful eye, + For look, Cordelia, how they fly! + Allured by Power, Applause, or Gain, + They fly her kind protecting arms; + Ah, blind to pleasure, and in love with pain! + + 4 Turn, and indulge a fairer view, + Smile on the joys which here conspire; + O joys harmonious as my lyre! + O prospect of enchanting things, + As ever slumbering poet knew, + When Love and Fancy wrapt him in their wings! + + 5 Here, no rude storm of Passion blows, + But Sports and Smiles, and Virtues play, + Cheer'd by Affection's purest ray; + The air still breathes Contentment's balm, + And the clear stream of Pleasure flows + For ever active, yet for ever calm. + + + + + +SONG. + + 1 The shape alone let others prize, + The features of the fair; + I look for spirit in her eyes, + And meaning in her air; + + 2 A damask cheek, an ivory arm, + Shall ne'er my wishes win: + Give me an animated form, + That speaks a mind within; + + 3 A face where awful honour shines, + Where sense and sweetness move, + And angel innocence refines + The tenderness of love. + + 4 These are the soul of Beauty's frame; + Without whose vital aid, + Unfinish'd all her features seem, + And all her roses dead. + + 5 But, ah! where both their charms unite, + How perfect is the view, + With every image of delight, + With graces ever new: + + 6 Of power to charm the greatest woe, + The wildest rage control, + Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, + And rapture through the soul. + + 7 Their power but faintly to express, + All language must despair; + But go, behold Arpasia's face, + And read it perfect there. + + + +END OF AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 9814-8.txt or 9814-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/1/9814/ + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince and the Online +Distribted Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/9814-8.zip b/9814-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3817358 --- /dev/null +++ b/9814-8.zip diff --git a/9814.txt b/9814.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5106998 --- /dev/null +++ b/9814.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12434 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poetical Works of Akenside + +Author: Mark Akenside + +Editor: George Gilfillan + +Posting Date: November 3, 2011 [EBook #9814] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince and the Online +Distribted Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +MARK AKENSIDE. + + + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +THE LIFE OF AKENSIDE. + + +Mark Akenside was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 9th of November +1721. His family were Presbyterian Dissenters, and on the 30th of +that month he was baptized in the meeting, then held in Hanover +Square, by a Mr. Benjamin Bennet. His father, Mark, was a butcher in +respectable circumstances--his mother's name was Mary Lumsden. There +may seem something grotesque in finding the author of the "Pleasures +of Imagination" born in a place usually thought so anti-poetical as +a butcher's shop. And yet similar anomalies abound in the histories +of men of genius. Henry Kirke White, too, was a butcher's son, and +for some time carried his father's basket. The late Thomas Atkinson, +a very clever _litterateur_ of the West of Scotland, was also what +the Scotch call a "flesher's" son. The case of Cardinal Wolsey is +well known. Indeed, we do not understand why any decent calling +should be inimical to the existence--however it may be to the +adequate development--of genius. That is a spark of supernal +inspiration, lighting where it pleases, often conforming, and always +striving to conform, circumstances to itself, and sometimes even +strengthened and purified by the contradictions it meets in life. Nay, +genius has sprung up in stranger quarters than in butcher's shops or +tailor's attics--it has lived and nourished in the dens of robbers, +and in the gross and fetid atmosphere of taverns. There was an +Allen-a-Dale in Robin Hood's gang; it was in the Bell Inn, at +Gloucester, that George Whitefield, the most gifted of popular +orators, was reared; and Bunyan's Muse found him at the +disrespectable trade of a tinker, and amidst the clatter of pots, +and pans, and vulgar curses, made her whisper audible in his ear, +"Come up hither to the Mount of Vision--to the summit of Mount Clear!" + +It is said that Akenside was ashamed of his origin--and if so, he +deserved the perpetual recollection of it, produced by a life-long +lameness, originating in a cut from his father's cleaver. It is +fitting that men, and especially great men, should suffer through +their smallnesses of character. The boy was first sent to the +Free School of Newcastle, and thence to a private academy kept by +Mr. Wilson, a Dissenting minister of the place. He began rather early +to display a taste for poetry and verse-writing; and, in April 1737, +we find in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ a set of stanzas, entitled, +"The Virtuoso, in imitation of Spenser's style and stanza," prefaced +by a letter signed Marcus, in which the author, while requesting the +insertion of his piece, pleads the apology of his extreme youth. One +may see something of the future political zeal of the man in the +boy's selection of one of the names of Brutus. The _Gentleman's +Magazine_ was then rising toward that character of a readable medley +and agreeable _olla podrida_, which it long bore, although its +principal contributor--Johnson--did not join its staff till the next +year. Its old numbers will even still repay perusal--at least we +seldom enjoyed a greater treat than when in our boyhood we lighted +on and read some twenty of its brown-hued, stout-backed, +strong-bound volumes, filled with the debates in the Senate of +Lilliput--with Johnson's early Lives and Essays--with mediocre +poetry--interesting scraps of meteorological and scientific +information--ghost stories and fairy tales--alternating with timid +politics, and with sarcasms at the great, veiled under initials, +asterisks, and innuendoes; and even now many, we believe, feel it +quite a luxury to recur from the personalities and floridities of +modern periodicals to its quiet, cool, sober, and sensible pages. To +it Akenside contributed afterwards a fable, called "Ambition and +Content," a "Hymn to Science," and a few more poetical pieces +(written not, as commonly said, in Edinburgh, but in Newcastle, in +1739). It has been asserted that he composed his "Pleasures of +Imagination" while visiting some relations at Morpeth, when only +seventeen years of age; but although he himself assures us that he +spent many happy and inspired hours in that region, + + "Led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen," + +there is no direct evidence that he then fixed his vague, tumultuous, +youthful impressions in verse. Indeed, the texture and style of the +"Pleasures" forbid the thought that it was a hasty improvisation. +When nearly eighteen years old, Akenside was sent to Edinburgh, to +commence his studies for the pulpit, and received some pecuniary +assistance from the Dissenters' Society. One winter, however, served +to disgust him with the prospects of the profession--which he +resigned for the pursuit of medicine, repaying the contribution he +had received from the society. We know a similar case in the present +day of a well-known, able _litterateur_--once the editor of the +_Westminster Review_--who had been educated at the expense of the +Congregational body in Scotland, but who, after a change of +religious view and of profession, honourably refunded the whole sum. +What were the special reasons why Akenside turned aside from the +Church we are not informed. Perhaps he had fallen into youthful +indiscretions or early scepticism; or perhaps he felt that the +business of a Dissenting pastor was not then, any more than it is now, +a very lucrative one. Presbyterian Dissent at that time, besides, +did not stand very high in England. The leading Dissenting divines +were Independents--and the Presbyterian body was fast sinking into +Unitarian or Arian heresy. On the other hand, the Church of England +was in the last state of lukewarmness; the Church of Scotland was +groaning under the load of patronage; and the Secession body was +newly formed, and as yet insignificant. In such circumstances we +cannot wonder that an ardent, ambitious mind like that of Akenside +should revolt from divinity as a study, and the pulpit as a goal, +although some may think it strange how the pursuit of medicine +should commend itself instead to a genial and poetic mind. Yet let +us remember that some eminent poets have been students or practisers +of the art of medicine. Such--to name only a few--were Armstrong, +Smollett, Crabbe, Darwin, Delta, Keats, and the two Thomas Browns, +the Knight of the "Religio Medici," and the Philosopher of the +"Lectures," both genuine poets, although their best poetry is in +prose. There are, besides, connected with medicine, some departments +of thought and study peculiarly exciting to the imagination. Such is +anatomy, with its sad yet instructive revelations of the structure +of the human frame--so "fearfully and wonderfully made"--wielding in +its hand a scalpel which at first seems ruthless and disenchanting +as the scythe of death, but which afterwards becomes a key to unlock +some of the deepest mysteries, and leads us down whole galleries of +wonder. There is botany, culling from every nook and corner of the +earth weeds which are flowers, and flowers of all hues, and every +plant, from the "cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop which springs out of +the wall," and finding a terrible and imaginative pleasure in +handling the fell family of poisons, and in deriving the means of +protracting life and healing sickness from the very blossoms of death. +And there is chemistry, most poetical save astronomy of all the +sciences, seeking to spiritualise the material--to hunt the atom to +the point where it trembles over the gulf of nonentity--to weigh +gases in scales, and the elements in a balance, and, in its more +transcendental and daring shape, trying to interchange one kind of +metal with another, and all kinds of forms with all, as in a +music-led and mystic dance. Hence we find that such men as Beddoes, +the author of the "Bride's Tragedy," have turned away from poetry to +physiology, and found in it a grander if also ghastlier stimulus to +their imaginative faculty. Hence Crabbe delighted to load himself +with grasses and duckweed, and Goethe to fill his carriage with +every variety of plant and mountain flower. Hence Davy, and the late +lamented Samuel Brown, analysed, in the spirit of poets as well as +of philosophers, and gave to the crucible what it had long lost, +something of the air of a weird cauldron, bubbling over with magical +foam, and shining, not so much in the severe light of science as in +the + + "Light that never was on sea or shore. + The consecration and the poet's dream." + +And hence, in the then state of Church matters, and of his own +effervescent soul, Akenside felt probably in medicine a deeper charm +than in theology, and imagined that it opened up a more congenial +field for his powers both of reason and of imagination. + +In December 1740, Akenside was elected a member of the Edinburgh +Medical Society. This society held meetings for discussion, and +in them our poet set himself to shine as a speaker. His ambition, +it is said, at this time, was to be a member of Parliament; and +Dr. Robertson, then a student in the University, used to attend the +meetings of the society chiefly to hear the speeches of the young +and fiery Southron. Indeed, the rhetoric of the "Pleasures of +Imagination" is finer than its poetry; and none but an orator could +have painted Brutus rising "refulgent from the stroke" which slew +Caesar, when he + + "Call'd on Tully's name, + And bade the father of his country hail!" + +Englishmen are naturally more eloquent than the Scotch; and once and +again has the Mark Akenside, the Joseph Gerald, or the George +Thompson overpowered and captivated even the sober and critical +children of the Modern Athens. While electrifying the Medical Society, +Akenside did not neglect, if he did not eminently excel in his +professional studies; and he continued to write sonorous verse, some +specimens of which, including an "Ode on the Winter Solstice," and +"Love, an Elegy," he is said to have printed for private distribution. + +In Edinburgh he became acquainted with Jeremiah Dyson, a young +law-student of fortune, who was afterwards our poet's principal +patron. He seems to have returned to Newcastle in 1741; and we find +him dating a letter to Dyson thence on the 18th of August 1742, and +directing his correspondent to address his reply to him as "Surgeon, +in Newcastle-upon-Tyne." It is doubtful, however, if he had yet +begun to practise; and there is reason to believe that he was busily +occupied with his great poem. This he completed in the close of 1743. +He offered the manuscript to Dodsley for L150. The bookseller, +although a liberal and generous man, was disposed at first to +_boggle_ a little at such a price for a didactic poem by an +unknown man. He carried the "Pleasures of Imagination" to Pope, who +glanced at it, saw its merit, and advised Dodsley not to make a +niggardly offer--for "this was no everyday writer." It appeared in +January 1744, and, in spite of its faults, nay, perhaps, partly in +consequence of them, was received with loud applause; and the +author--only twenty-three years of age--"awoke one morning, and found +himself famous;" for although his name was not attached to the poem, +it soon transpired. One Rolt, an obscure scribbler, then in Ireland, +claimed the authorship, transcribed the poem with his own hand; nay, +according to Dr. Johnson, published an edition with his own name, +and was invited to the best tables as the ingenious Mr. Rolt. His +conversation did not indeed sparkle with poetic fire, nor was his +appearance that of a poet, but people remembered that both Dryden +and Addison were dull or silent in company till warmed with wine, and +that it was not uncommon for authors to have sold all their thoughts +to their booksellers. Akenside, hearing of this, was obliged to +vindicate his claims by printing the next edition with his name, and +then the bubble of the ingenious Mr. Rolt burst. + +All fame, and especially all sudden fame, has its drawbacks. Gray +read the poem, and wrote of it to his friends, in a style thought at +the time depreciatory, although it comes pretty near the truth. He +says, "It seems to me above the middling, and now and then for a +little while rises even to the best, particularly in description. It +is often obscure and even unintelligible. In short, its great fault +is, that it was published at least nine years too early." Gray, +however, had not as yet himself emerged as a poet, and his word had +chiefly weight with his friends. Warburton was a more formidable +opponent. This divine acted then a good deal in the style of a +gigantic Church-bully, and seemed disposed to knock down all and +sundry who differed from him either on great or small theological +matters; and Humes, Churchills, Jortins, Middletons, Lowths, +Shaftesburys, Wesleys, Whitefields, and Akensides all felt the fury +of his onset, and the force of the "punishment" inflicted by his +strong fists. Akenside, in his poem, and in one of his notes, had +defended Shaftesbury's ridiculous notion that ridicule is the test +of truth, and for this Warburton assailed him in the preface to +"Remarks in Answer to Dr. Middleton." In this, while indirectly +disparaging the poem, he accuses the poet of infidelity, atheism, +and insulting the clergy. The preface appeared in March 1744, and in +the following May (Akenside being then in Holland) came forth a reply, +in "An Epistle to the Rev. Mr. Warburton, occasioned by his +Treatment of the Author of the Pleasures of Imagination," which had +been concocted between Dyson and our poet. This pamphlet was written +with considerable spirit; and although it left the question where it +found it, it augured no little courage on the part of the young +physician and the young lawyer mating themselves against the matured +author of the "Divine Legation of Moses." As to the question in +dispute, Johnson disposes of it satisfactorily in a single sentence. +"If ridicule be applied to any position as the test of truth, it +will then become a question whether such ridicule be just, and this +can only be decided by the application of truth as the test of +ridicule." How easy to make any subject or any person ridiculous! To +hold that ridicule is paramount to the discovery or attestation of +truth, is to exalt the ape-element in man above the human and the +angelic principles, which also belong to his nature, and to enthrone +a Voltaire over a Newton or a Milton. Those who laugh proverbially +do not always win, nor do they always deserve to win. Do we think +less of "Paradise Lost," and Shakspeare, because Cobbett has derided +both, or of the Old and New Testaments, because Paine has subjected +parts of them to his clumsy satire? When we find, indeed, a system +such as Jesuitism blasted by the ridicule of Pascal, we conclude +that it was not true,--but why? not merely because ridicule assailed +it, for ridicule has assailed ten thousand systems which never even +shook in the storm, but because, in the view of all candid and +liberal thinkers, the ridicule _prevailed_. Should it be said that +the question still recurs, How are we to be certain of the candour +and liberality of the men who think that Pascal's satire damaged +Jesuitism? we simply say, that it is not ridicule, but some stricter +and more satisfactory method that can determine _this_ inquiry. It +is remarkable that Akenside modified his statements on this subject +in his after revision of his poem. + +In April 1744 we find our bard in Leyden, and Mr. Dyce has published +some interesting letters dated thence to Mr. Dyson. He does not seem +to have admired Holland much, whether in its scenery, manners, taste, +or genius. On the 16th of May, he took his degree of Doctor of +Physic at Leyden, the subject of his Dissertation (which, according +to the usual custom, he published) being the "Origin and Growth of +the Human Foetus," in which he is reported to have opposed the views +then prevalent, and to have maintained the theory which is now +generally held. As soon as he received his diploma he returned to +England, signalising his departure by an "Ode to Holland," as dull +as any ditch in that country itself. In June he settled as a +physician in Northampton, where the eminent Doddridge was at the +time labouring. With him he is said to have held a friendly contest +about the opinions of the old heathens in reference to a future state, +Akenside, in keeping with the whole tenor of his intellectual history, +supporting the side of the ancients. Indeed, he never appears to +have had much religion, except that of the Pagan philosophy, Plato +being his Paul, and Socrates his Christ; and most cordially would he +have joined in Thorwaldsen's famous toast (announced at an evening +party in Rome, while the planet Jupiter was shining in great glory), +"Here's in honour of the ancient gods." In Northampton, partly owing +to the overbearing influence of Dr. Stonehouse, a long-established +practitioner, and partly to his violent political zeal, he did not +prosper. While residing there he produced his manly and spirited +"Epistle to Curio." Curio was Pulteney, who had been a flaming +patriot, but who, like the majority of such characters, had, for the +sake of a title--the earldom of Bath--subsided into a courtier. Him +Akenside lashes with unsparing energy. He committed afterwards an +egregious blunder in reference to this production. He frittered it +down into a stupid ode. Indeed, he had always an injudicious +trick--whether springing from fastidiousness or undue ambition--of +tinkering and tampering with his very best poems. + +In March 1745 he collected his odes into a quarto tract. It appeared +at a time when lyrical poetry was all but extinct. Dryden was gone; +Collins and Gray had not yet published their odes; and hence, and +partly too from the prestige of his former poem, Akenside's odes, +poor as they now seem, met with considerable acceptance, although +they did not reach a new edition till 1760. In 1747 his friend Dyson, +having been elected clerk to the House of Commons, took Akenside with +him to his house at Northend, Hampstead. Here, however, he felt +himself out of place, and in fine, in 1748, he settled down in +Bloomsbury Square, London, where Dyson very generously allowed him +L300 a-year, which, being equal to the value of twice that sum now, +enabled him to keep a chariot, and live like a gentleman. During the +years 1746, 1747, 1748, he composed a number of pieces, both in +prose and verse--his "Hymn to the Naiads," his "Ode to the Evening +Star," and several essays in _Dodsley's Museum_; such as these, +"On Correctness;" "The Table of Modern Fame, a Vision;" "Letter from +a Swiss Gentleman on English Liberty;" and "The Balance of Poets;" +besides an ode to Caleb Hardinge, M. D., and another to the Earl of +Huntingdon, which has been esteemed one of his best lyric poems. In +London he did not attain rapidly a good practice, nor was it ever +extensive. But for Mr. Dyson's aid he might have written a chapter on +"Early Struggles," nearly as rich and interesting as that famous one +in Warren's "Diary of a late Physician." Even his poetical name was +adverse to his prospects. His manners, too, were unconciliating and +haughty. At Tom's Coffeehouse, in Devereux Court, night after night, +appeared the author of the "Pleasures of Imagination," full of +knowledge, dogmatism, and a love of self-display; eager for talk, +fond of arguing--especially on politics and literature--and sometimes +narrowly escaping duels and other misadventures springing from his +hot and imperious temper. In sick chambers he was stiff, formal, and +reserved, carrying a frown about with him, which itself damped the +spirits and accelerated the pulse of his patients. It was only among +intimate friends that he descended to familiarity, and even then it +was with + + "Compulsion and laborious flight." + +One of these intimates for a while was Charles Townshend, a man +whose name now lives chiefly in the glowing encomium of Burke, a +part of which we may quote:--"Before this splendid orb (Lord Chatham) +was entirely set, and while the western horizon was in a blaze with +his descending glory, on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose +another luminary, and for his hour became lord of the ascendant. +Townshend was the delight and ornament of this House, and the charm +of every private society which he honoured with his presence. +Perhaps there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man +of more pointed and finished wit, and of a more refined, exquisite, +and penetrating judgment. He stated his matter skilfully and +powerfully. He particularly excelled in a most luminous explanation +and display of the subject. His style of argument was neither trite +and vulgar, nor subtle and abstruse. He hit the House between wind +and water. He had no failings which were not owing to a noble cause, +to an ardent, generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame; a +passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He worshipped that +goddess wheresoever she appeared: but he paid his particular +devotions to her in her favourite habitation, in her chosen temple, +the House of Commons." With this distinguished man Akenside was for +some time on friendly terms, but for causes not well known, their +friendship came to an abrupt termination; it might have been owing +to Townshend's rapid rise, or to Akenside's presumptuous and +overbearing disposition. Two odes, addressed by the latter to the +former, immortalise this incomplete and abortive amity. + +The years 1750 and 1751 were only signalised in Akenside's history +by one or two dull odes from his pen. But if not witty at that time +himself, he gave occasion to wit in others. Smollett, provoked, it +is said, by some aspersions Akenside had in conversation cast on +Scotland, and at all times prone to bitter and sarcastic views of +men and manners, fell foul of him in "Peregrine Pickle." If our +readers care for wading through that filthy novel--the most +disagreeable, although not the dullest of Smollett's fictions--they +will find a caricature of our poet in the character of the "Doctor," +who talks nonsense about liberty, quotes and praises his own poetry, +and invites his friends to an entertainment in the manner of the +ancients--a feast hideously accurate in its imitation of antique +cookery, and forming, if not an "entertainment" to the guests, a very +rich one to the readers of the tale. How Akenside bore this we are +not particularly informed. Probably he writhed in secret, but was +too proud to acknowledge his feelings. In 1753 he was consoled by +receiving a doctor's degree from Cambridge, and by being elected +Fellow of the Royal Society. The next year he became Fellow of the +College of Physicians. + +In June 1755 he read the Galstonian lectures in anatomy before the +College of Physicians, and in the next year the Croonian lectures +before the same institution. The subject of the latter course was +the "History of the Revival of Letters," which some of the learned +Thebans thought not germane to the matter; and, consequently, after +he had delivered three lectures, he desisted in disgust. This fact +seems somewhat to contradict Dr. Johnson's assertion, that "Akenside +appears not to have been wanting to his own success, and placed +himself in view by all the common methods." Had he been a thoroughly +self-seeking man, he never would have committed the blunder of +choosing literature as a subject of predilection to men who were +probably most of them materialists, or at least destitute of +literary taste. The Doctor says also, "He very eagerly forced +himself into notice, by an ambitious ostentation of elegance and +literature." But surely the author of such a popular poem as the +"Pleasures of Imagination" had no need to claim notice by an +ostentatious display of his parts, and had too much good sense to +imagine that such a vain display would conciliate any acute and +sensible person. Johnson, in fact, throughout his cursory and +careless "Life of Akenside," is manifestly labouring under deep +prejudice against the poet--prejudice founded chiefly on Akenside's +political sentiments. + +In 1759 our poet was appointed physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, +and afterwards to Christ's Hospital. Here he ruled the patients and +the under officials with a rod of iron. Dr. Lettsom became a +surgeon's dresser in St. Thomas's Hospital. He was an admirer of +poetry, especially of the "Pleasures of Imagination," and +anticipated much delight from intercourse with the author. He was +disappointed first of all with his personal appearance. He found him +a stiff-limbed, starched personage, with a lame foot, a pale +strumous face, a long sword, and a large white wig. Worse than this, +he was cruel, almost barbarous, to the patients, particularly to +females. Owing to an early love-disappointment, he had contracted a +disgust and aversion to the sex, and chose to express it in a +callous and cowardly harshness to those under his charge. It is +possible, however, that Lettsom might be influenced by some private +pique. Nothing is more common than for the hero-worshipper, +disenchanted of his early idolatry, to rush to the opposite extreme, +and to become the hero-hater; and the fault is as frequently +his own as that of his idol. And it must be granted that an +hospital--especially of that age--was no congenial atmosphere for a +poet so Platonic and ideal as Akenside. + +In October 1759 he delivered the Harveian oration before the College +of Physicians, and by their order it was published the next year. In +1761 Mr. T. Hollis presented him with a bed which had once belonged +to Milton, on the condition that he would write an ode to the memory +of that great poet. Akenside joyfully accepted the bed, had it set +up in his house, and, we suppose, slept in it; but the muse forgot +to visit _his_ "slumbers nightly," and no ode was ever produced. +We think that Akenside had sympathy enough with Milton's politics and +poetry to have written a fine blank-verse tribute to his memory, +resembling that of Thomson to Sir Isaac Newton; but odes of much +merit he could not produce, and yet at odes he was always sweltering + + "With labour dire and weary woe." + +In 1760, George the Third mounted the throne, and the author of the +"Epistle to Curio" began to follow the precise path of Pulteney. In +this he was preceded by Dyson, who became suddenly a supporter of +Lord Bute, and drew his friend in his train. By Dyson's influence +Akenside was appointed, in 1761, physician to the Queen. His +secession from the Whig ranks cost him a great deal of obloquy. +Dr. Hardinge had told the two turncoats long before "that, like a +couple of idiots, they did not leave themselves a loophole--they +could not _sidle away_ into the opposite creed." He never, however, +became a violent Tory partisan. It is singular how Johnson, with all +his aversion to Akenside, has no allusion to his apostasy, in which +we might have _a priori_ expected him to glory, as a proof of the +poet's inconsistency, if not corruption. + +In one point Akenside differed from the majority of his tuneful +brethren, before, then, or since. He was a warm and wide-hearted +commender of the works of other poets. Most of our sweet singers +rather resemble birds of prey than nightingales or doves, and are at +least as strong in their talons as they are musical in their tongues. +And hence the groves of Parnassus have in all ages rung with the +screams of wrath and contest, frightfully mingling with the melodies +of song. Akenside, by a felicitous conjunction of elements, which +you could not have expected from other parts of his character, was +entirely exempted from this defect, and not only warmly admired Pope, +Young, Thomson, and Dyer, whose "Fleece" he corrected, but had kind +words to spare for even such "small deer" as Welsted and Fenton. + +In 1763, he read a paper before the Royal Society, on the "Effects +of a Blow on the Heart," which was published in the _Philosophical +Transactions_ of the year. And, in 1764 he established his character +as a medical writer by an elegant and elaborate treatise on +"The Dysentery," still, we believe, consulted for its information, +and studied for the purity and precision of its Latin style. About +this time, too, he commenced a recasting of his "Pleasures of +Imagination," which he did not live to finish; and in which, on the +whole, there is more of laborious alteration than of felicitous +improvement. In 1766, Warburton, his old foe, who had now been made a +bishop, reprinted, in a new edition of his "Divine Legation of Moses," +his attack on Akenside's notions about ridicule, without deigning to +take any notice of the explanations he had given in his reply. This +renewal of hostilities, coming, especially as it did, from the +vantage ground of the Episcopal bench, enraged our poet, and, by way +of rejoinder, he issued a lyrical satire which he had had lying past +him in pickle for fifteen years, and which nothing but a fresh +provocation would have induced him to publish. It was entitled +"An Ode to the late Thomas Edwards, Esq." Edwards had opposed +Warburton ably in a book entitled "Canons of Criticism," and was +himself a poet. The real sting of this attack lay in Akenside's +production of a letter from Warburton to Concanen, dated 2d January +1726, which had fallen accidentally into the hands of our poet; and +in which Warburton had accused Addison of plagiarism, and said that +when "Pope borrows it is from want of genius." Concanen was one of +the "Dunces," and it was, of course, Akenside's purpose to shew +Warburton's inconsistency in the different opinions he had expressed +at different times of them and of their great adversary. We know not +if the sturdy bishop took any notice of this ode. Even his Briarean +arms were sometimes too full of the controversial work which his +overbearing temper and fierce passions were constantly giving him. + +In 1766, Akenside received the thanks of the College of Physicians +for an edition of Harvey's works, which he prepared for the press, +and to which he had prefixed a preface. In June 1767 he read before +the College two papers, one on "Cancers and Asthmas," and the other +on "White Swelling of the Joints," both of which were published the +next year in the first volume of the _Medical Transactions_. In the +same year, one Archibald Campbell, a Scotchman, a purser in the navy, +and called, from his ungainly countenance, "horrible Campbell," +produced a small _jeu d'esprit_, entitled "Lexiphanes, imitated from +Lucian, and suited to the present times," in which he tries to +ridicule Johnson's prose and Akenside's poetry. His object was +probably to attract their notice, but both passed over this grin of +the "Grim Feature" in silent contempt. Akenside was still busy with +the revisal of his poem, had finished two books, "made considerable +progress with the third, and written a fragment of the fourth;" but +death stepped in and blighted his prospects, both as a physician, +with increasing practice and reputation, and as a poet, whose +favourite work was approaching what he deemed perfection. He was +seized with putrid fever; and, after a short illness, died on the 23 +d June 1770 at an age when many men are in their very prime, both of +body and mind--that of 49. He died in his house in Burlington Street, +and was buried on the 28th in St. James's Church. + +Akenside had been, notwithstanding his many acquaintances and friends, +on the whole, a lonely man; without domestic connexions, and having, +so far as we are informed, either no surviving relations or no +intercourse with those who might be still alive. He was not +especially loved in society; he wanted humour and good-humour both, +and had little of that frank cordiality which, according to Sidney +Smith, "warms and cheers more than meat or wine." He had far less +geniality than genius. Yet, in certain select circles, his mind, +which was richly stored with all knowledge, opened delightfully, and +men felt that he _was_ the author of his splendid poem. One of his +biographers gives him the palm for learning, next to Ben Jonson, +Milton, and Gray (he might perhaps have also excepted Landor and +Coleridge), over all our English poets. + +In 1772, Mr. Dyson published an edition of his friend's poems, +containing the original form of the "Pleasures of Imagination," as +well as its half-finished second shape; his "Odes," "Inscriptions," +"Hymn to the Naiads," etc., omitting, however, his poem to Curio in +its first and best version, and some of his smaller pieces. This +edition, too, contained an account of Akenside's life by his friend, +so short and so cold as either to say little for Dyson's heart, or a +great deal for his modesty and reticence. His uniform and munificent +kindness to the poet during his lifetime, however, determines us in +favour of the latter side of the alternative. + +Of Akenside, as a man, our previous remarks have perhaps indicated +our opinion. He was rather a scholar somewhat out of his element, +and unreconciled to the world, than a thorough gentleman; irritable, +vehement, and proud--his finer traits were only known to his +intimates, who probably felt that in Wordsworth's words, + + "You must love him ere to you + He doth, seem worthy of your love." + +In religion his opinions seem to have been rather unsettled; but, of +whatever doubts he had, he gave the benefit latterly to the +Christian side--at least he was ever ready to rebuke noisy and +dogmatic infidelity. It is said that he intended to have included +the doctrine of immortality in his later version of the "Pleasures +of Imagination"--and even as the poem is, it contains some transient +allusions to that great object of human hope, although none, it must +be admitted, to its special Christian grounds. + +We have now a very few sentences to enounce about his poetry, or, +more properly speaking, about his two or three good poems, for we +must dismiss the most of his odes, in their deep-sounding dulness, +as nearly unworthy of their author's genius. Up to the days of +Keats' "Endymion" and "Hyperion," Akenside's "Hymn to the Naiads" +was thought one of the best attempts to reproduce the classical +spirit and ideas. It now takes a secondary place; and at no time +could be compared to an actual hymn of Callimachus or Pindar, any +more than Smollett's "Supper after the Manner of the Ancients" was +equal to a real Roman Coena, the ideal of which Croly has so +superbly described in "Salathiel." His "Epistle to Curio" is a +masterpiece of vigorous composition, terse sentiment, and glowing +invective. It gathers around Pulteney as a ring of fire round the +scorpion, and leaves him writhing and shrivelled. Out of Dryden and +Pope, it is perhaps the best satiric piece in our poetry. + +Of the "Pleasures of Imagination," it is not necessary to say a +great deal. A poem that has been so widely circulated, so warmly +praised, so frequently quoted and imitated--the whole of which +nearly a man like Thomas Brown has quoted in the course of his +lectures--must possess no ordinary merit. Its great beauty is its +richness of description and language--its great fault is its +obscurity; a beauty and a fault closely connected together, even as +the luxuriance of a tropical forest implies intricacy, and its +lavish loveliness creates a gloom. His attempt to express Plato's +philosophy in blank verse is not always successful. Perhaps prose +might better have answered his purpose in expressing the awfully +sublime thought of the "archetypes of all things existing in God." +We know that in certain objects of nature--in certain rocks, for +instance (such as Coleridge describes in his "Wanderings of Cain")-- +there lie silent prefigurations and aboriginal types of artificial +objects, such as ships, temples, and other orders of architecture; +and it is so also in certain shells, woods, and even in clouds. How +interesting and beautiful those painted prophecies of nature, those +quiet hieroglyphics of God, those mystic letters, which, unlike +those on the Babylonian wall, do _not_, + + "Careering shake, + And blaze IMPATIENT to be read," + +but bide calmly the time when their artificial archetypes shall +appear, and the "wisdom" in them shall be "justified" in these its +children! So, according to Plato, comparing great to small things, +there lay in the Divine mind the archetypes of all that was to be +created, with this important difference, that they lay in God +_spiritually_ and consciously. How poetical and how solemn to +approach, under the guidance of this thought, and gaze on the mind +of God as on an ancient awful mirror; and even as in a clear lake we +behold the forms of the surrounding scenery reflected from the white +strip of pebbled shore up to the gray scalp of the mountain summit, +and tremble as we look down on the "skies of a far nether world," on +an inverted sun, and on snow unmelted amidst the water; so to see +the entire history of man, from the first glance of life in the eye +of Adam, down to the last sparkle of the last ember of the general +conflagration, lying silently and inverted there--how sublime, but +at the same time how bewildering and how appalling! Our readers will +find, in the "Pleasures of Imagination," an expansion--perhaps they +may think it a dilution--of this Platonic idea. + +They will find there, too, the germ of the famous theory of Alison +and Jeffrey about Beauty. These theorists held 'that beauty resides +not so much in the object as in the mind; that we receive but what +we give; that our own soul is the urn whence beauty is showered over +the universe; that flower and star are lovely because the mind has +breathed on them; that the imagination and the heart of man are the +twin beautifiers of creation; that the dwelling of beauty is not in +the light of setting suns, nor in the beams of morning stars, nor in +the waves of summer seas, but in the human spirit; that sublimity +tabernacles not in the palaces of the thunder, walks not on the +wings of the wind, rides not on the forked lightning, but that it is +the soul which is lifted up there; that it is the soul which, in its +high aspirings,' + + "Yokes with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + and scatters grandeur around it on its way." + +All this seems anticipated, and, as it were, coiled up in the words +of our poet:-- + + "Mind, mind alone (bear witness earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime." + +That Akenside was a real poet many expressions in his "Pleasures of +Imagination" prove, such as that just quoted-- + + "Yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast + Sweeps the long tract of day;" + +but, taking his poem as a whole, it is rather a tissue of eloquence +and philosophical declamation than of imagination. He deals rather +in sheet lightning than in forked flashes. As a didactic poem it has +a high, but not the highest place. It must not be named beside the +"De Rerum Natura" of Lucretius, or the "Georgics" of Virgil, or the +"Night Thoughts" of Young; and in poetry, yields even to the +"Queen Mab" of Shelley. It ranks high, however, amongst that fine +class of works which have called themselves, by no misnomer, +"Pleasures;" and to recount all the names of which were to give an +"enumeration of sweets" as delightful as that in "Don Juan." How +cheering to think of that beautiful bead-roll--of which the +"Pleasures of Memory," "Pleasures of Hope," "Pleasures of Melancholy," +"Pleasures of Imagination," are only a few! We may class, too, with +them, Addison's essays on the "Pleasures of Imagination" in _The +Spectator_, which, although in prose, glow throughout with the +mildest and truest spirit of poetry; and if inferior to Akenside in +richness and swelling pomp of words, and in dashing rhetorical force, +far excel him in clearness, in chastened beauty, and in those +inimitable touches and unconscious felicities of thought and +expression which drop down, like ripe apples falling suddenly across +your path from a laden bough, and which could only have proceeded +from Addison's exquisite genius. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + Notes to Book III. + + +THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Book IV. + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS:-- + + Book I.-- + + Ode I. Preface. + + Ode II. On the Winter-solstice, 1740. + + Ode II. For the Winter-solstice, December 11, 1740. + As originally written. + + Ode III. To a Friend, Unsuccessful in Love. + + Ode IV. Affected Indifference. To the same. + + Ode V. Against Suspicion. + + Ode VI. Hymn to Cheerfulness. + + Ode VII. On the Use of Poetry. + + Ode VIII. On leaving Holland. + + Ode IX. To Curio. + + Ode X. To the Muse. + + Ode XI. On Love. To a Friend. + + Ode XII. To Sir Francis Henry Drake, Baronet. + + Ode XIII. On Lyric Poetry. + + Ode XIV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; from the + Country. + + Ode XV. To the Evening Star. + + Ode XVI. To Caleb Hardinge, M. D. + + Ode XVII. On a Sermon against Glory. + + Ode XVIII. To the Right Honourable Francis, Earl of Huntingdon. + + + +Book II.-- + + Ode I. The Remonstrance of Shakspeare. + + Ode II. To Sleep. + + Ode III. To the Cuckoo. + + Ode IV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; in the Country. + + Ode V. On Love of Praise. + + Ode VI. To William Hall, Esquire; with the Works of + Chaulieu. + + Ode VII. To the Right Reverend Benjamin, Lord Bishop of + Winchester. + + Ode VIII. + + Ode IX. At Study. + + Ode X. To Thomas Edwards, Esq.; on the late Edition + of Mr. Pope's Works. + + Ode XI. To the Country Gentlemen of England. + + Ode XII. On Recovering from a Fit of Sickness; in the + Country. + + Ode XIII. To the Author of Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg. + + Ode XIV. The Complaint. + + Ode XV. On Domestic Manners. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + + HYMN TO THE NAIADS. + + Notes. + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS:-- + + I. For a Grotto. + + II. For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock. + + III. + + IV. + + V. + + VI. For a Column at Runnymede. + + VII. The Wood Nymph. + + VIII. + + IX. + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. + +THE VIRTUOSO. + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. A FABLE. + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + +TO CORDELIA. + +SONG. + + + + + +AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + A POEM, IN THREE BOOKS. + + [Greek: 'Asebous men 'estin 'anthropou tas para tou theou + charitas 'atimazein.] + EPICT. apud Arrian. II. 23. + + +THE DESIGN. + +There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle +place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral +perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers +of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and +motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to +those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of +some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, +it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have +sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, +independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave +rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting +and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were +admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to +remembrance by signs universally established and understood. + +But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were, of +course, led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of +the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of +language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently +become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. +Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, +and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they, of +course, retain their original character; and all the different +pleasures which they excite, are termed, in general, Pleasures of +Imagination. + +The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the +largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination +feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various +entertainment we meet with, either in poetry, painting, music, or +any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of +those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are +here established and explained. + +In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to +distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the +next place to characterise those original forms or properties of +being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted +to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These +properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of +greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every +object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to +the imagination. But such an object may also include many other +sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will +make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides +which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their +effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the +imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, +we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths +discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and +final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to +awaken and engage the passions. It was, therefore, necessary to +enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; +especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the +noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a +little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn +of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance. + +After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, +or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very +different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be +considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the +arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it +was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to +distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of +characters is derived. Here, too, a change of style became necessary; +such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general +taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject: nor is it +an easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, +without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock +heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; +neither of which would have been proper here. + +The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now +remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise +either from the relations of different objects one to another, or +from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that +various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts +of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of +metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the +early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is +the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account +bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, +it is therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. Then +follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, +and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the +resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. +After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general +conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral +usefulness in life. + +Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this +piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two +models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as +it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary +way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a +greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of +readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, +especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more +concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of +modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest +parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure +formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending +almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to +demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This, too, appeared +more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal +precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by +exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and +harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the +minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, +morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful +to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in +every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also +to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same point of view +with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them +in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful +and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some +sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to +the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the +authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will +best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves +he makes no apology. + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Difficulty of treating it poetically. The +ideas of the Divine Mind the origin of every quality pleasing to the +imagination. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men; +with its final cause. The idea of a fine imagination, and the state +of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords. +All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the +perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. The +pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. Pleasure from novelty +or wonderfulness, with its final cause. Pleasure from beauty, with +its final cause. The connexion of beauty with truth and good, +applied to the conduct of life. Invitation to the study of moral +philosophy. The different degrees of beauty in different species of +objects; colour, shape, natural concretes, vegetables, animals, the +mind. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. The +connexion of the imagination and the moral faculty. Conclusion. + + With what attractive charms this goodly frame + Of Nature touches the consenting hearts + Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores + Which beauteous Imitation thence derives + To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, + My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle Powers + Of musical delight! and while I sing + Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. + Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, + Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks 10 + Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee + Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings + Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, + Which, by the glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend 20 + And join this festive train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, + Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come, + Her sister Liberty will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, + New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear + With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye + The bloom of Nature, and before him turn + The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 + Oft have the laws of each poetic strain + The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung + Lay this prime subject, though importing most + A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt, + By dull obedience and by creeping toil + Obscure to conquer the severe ascent + Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath + Must fire the chosen genius; Nature's hand + Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings, + Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 + High as the summit; there to breathe at large + AEthereal air, with bards and sages old, + Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes, + To this neglected labour court my song; + Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task + To paint the finest features of the mind, + And to most subtile and mysterious things + Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love + Of Nature and the Muses bids explore, + Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 + The fair poetic region, to detect + Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts, + And shade my temples with unfading flowers + Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess, + Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the human breast, + And love and beauty, and poetic joy + And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun + Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night 60 + The moon suspended her serener lamp; + Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe, + Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore; + Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retired + In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things; + The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, + The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe, + And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first + Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 + His admiration: till in time complete + What he admired and loved, his vital smile + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame; + Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares; + Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold, + And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims 80 + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wise intent + The hand of Nature on peculiar minds + Imprints a different bias, and to each + Decrees its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave + To weigh the moment of eternal things, + Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 + And will's quick impulse; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue swells the tender veins + Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn + Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind + In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds + The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 + The transcript of Himself. On every part + They trace the bright impressions of his hand: + In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form + Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd + That uncreated beauty, which delights + The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd + By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110 + Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string + Consenting, sounded through the warbling air + Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand + To certain species of external things, + Attune the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of congenial powers, + Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, + The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, + Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, + From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120 + They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul + At length discloses every tuneful spring, + To that harmonious movement from without + Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain + Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, + And vales of bliss: the intellectual power + Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, + And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away, + Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 + Alone are waking; love and joy, serene + As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, + Whose candid bosom the refining love + Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her loveliest features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140 + With love and admiration thus inflame + The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons + To three illustrious orders have referr'd; + Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, + The poet's tongue confesses--the Sublime, + The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn! + I see the radiant visions, where they rise, + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 + + Say, why was man [Endnote A] so eminently raised + Amid the vast Creation; why ordain'd + Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth + In sight of mortal and immortal powers, + As on a boundless theatre, to run + The great career of justice; to exalt + His generous aim to all diviner deeds; + To chase each partial purpose from his breast; 160 + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, + To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice + Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent + Of nature, calls him to his high reward, + The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That breathes from day to day sublimer things, + And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, + With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 + Majestic forms; impatient to be free, + Spurning the gross control of wilful might; + Proud of the strong contention of her toils; + Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns + To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 + Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? + Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye + Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey + Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave + Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, 180 + And continents of sand, will turn his gaze + To mark the windings of a scanty rill + That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul + Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing + Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth + And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft + Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; + Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens; + Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 190 + The blue profound, and hovering round the sun + Beholds him pouring the redundant stream + Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway + Bend the reluctant planets to absolve + The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused + She darts her swiftness up the long career + Of devious comets; through its burning signs + Exulting measures the perennial wheel + Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, + Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 + Invests the orient. Now amazed she views + The empyreal waste, [Endnote B] where happy spirits hold, + Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode; + And fields of radiance, whose unfading light [Endnote C] + + Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, + Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. + Even on the barriers of the world untired + She meditates the eternal depth below; 208 + Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep + She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up + In that immense of being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth + Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said, + That not in humble nor in brief delight, + Not in the fading echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find enjoyment: but from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, + Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 + And infinite perfection close the scene. + + Call now to mind what high capacious powers + Lie folded up in man; how far beyond + The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth + Of Nature to perfection half divine, + Expand the blooming soul! What pity then + Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth + Her tender blossom; choke the streams of life, + And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd + Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares 230 + The obedient heart far otherwise incline. + Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown + Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power + To brisker measures: witness the neglect + Of all familiar prospects, [Endnote D] though beheld + With transport once; the fond attentive gaze + Of young astonishment; the sober zeal + Of age, commenting on prodigious things. + For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, + In every breast implanting this desire 240 + Of objects new and strange, [Endnote E] to urge us on + With unremitted labour to pursue + Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, + In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words + To paint its power? For this the daring youth + Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, + In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage, + Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, + Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired + The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 + The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale, + From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, + Unmindful of the happy dress that stole + The wishes of the youth, when every maid + With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night + The village matron, round the blazing hearth, + Suspends the infant audience with her tales, + Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes, + And evil spirits; of the death-bed call + Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 + The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls + Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt + Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk + At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave + The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. + At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, + Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd + With shivering sighs: till eager for the event, + Around the beldame all erect they hang, + Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. 270 + + But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp, + Where Beauty onward moving claims the verse + Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse + In thy immortal praise, O form divine, + Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee + The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray + The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun! + For ever beamest on the enchanted heart + Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight + Poetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven! 280 + How shall I trace thy features? where select + The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom? + Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, + Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, + To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly + With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles, + And range with him the Hesperian field, and see + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 + The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step + Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow + With purple ripeness, and invest each hill + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, + Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades, + The smooth Peneus from his glassy flood + Reflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene? + Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers, + Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age 300 + They play'd in secret on the shady brink + With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps + Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand + Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews, + And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store + To thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watch + Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits + From thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved, + Thy smiling treasures to the green recess + Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 + Entice her forth to lend her angel form + For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn + Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid, + Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes + Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn; + And may the fanning breezes waft aside + Thy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bends + With airy softness from the marble neck, + The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, + Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 320 + With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend + Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force + Of Nature, and her kind parental care + Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth, + With each admiring virgin, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, while I point on high + Where Beauty's living image, like the Morn + That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, + Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stood + Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, 330 + Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, + To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, + And each cerulean sister of the flood + With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves, + To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band + Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze + Of young desire with rival steps pursue + This charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 + I do not mean to wake the gloomy form + Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb, + To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth + To fright you from your joys: my cheerful song + With better omens calls you to the field, + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, + Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 + And active use are strangers? Is her charm + Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? Or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart + Of idle faith? Oh, no! with better cares + The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 + Still most illustrious where the object holds + Its native powers most perfect, she by this + Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, + And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe + Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract + Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, + The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, + And every charm of animated things, + Are only pledges of a state sincere, + The integrity and order of their frame, 370 + When all is well within, and every end + Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, + The lovely ministries of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them, [Endnote F] and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, + Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand + Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene 380 + Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire + Where is the sanction of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly! Wanting these, + Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace, + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam + Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, + Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, + To learn the lore of undeceitful Good, 390 + And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms + Of baleful Superstition guide the feet + Of servile numbers, through a dreary way + To their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire; + And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn + To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom + Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells; + To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, + And to the screaming owl's accursed song + Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Your lovely search illumines. From the grove + Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, + Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then should my powerful verse at once dispel + Those monkish horrors: then in light divine + Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps + Of those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks, + Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 + Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, + Led by their winged Genius, and the choir + Of laurell'd science and harmonious art, + Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us, + Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh, let us not a moment pause to join 420 + That godlike band. And if the gracious Power + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, + Will to my invocation breathe anew + The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths, + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead, + When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 + And wake the strong divinity of soul + That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck + For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils + Upon the lofty summit, round her brow + To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise; + To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed, + Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form; + Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, 440 + Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene + In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, + Through various being's fair proportion'd scale, + To trace the rising lustre of her charms, + From their first twilight, shining forth at length + To full meridian splendour. Of degree + The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth + Of colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line + And variation of determined shape, 450 + Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + Unites this varied symmetry of parts + With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl + Shines in the concave of its azure bed, + And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. + Then more attractive rise the blooming forms + Through which the breath of Nature has infused + Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins + Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 + In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers + Their purple honours with the Spring resume; + And such the stately tree which Autumn bends + With blushing treasures. But more lovely still + Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent + Of complicated members, to the bloom + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, + And active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed 470 + With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell + There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, + Where dawns the high expression of a mind: + By steps conducting our enraptured search + To that eternal origin, whose power, + Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, + Like rays effulging from the parent sun, + This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 480 + Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand, + Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned, + Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, + Invites the soul to never-fading joy. + Look then abroad through nature, to the range + Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the void immense; + And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 + With half that kindling majesty dilate + Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose [Endnote G] + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending, like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, + And bade the father of his country, hail! + For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500 + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn, + In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair + As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush + Of him who strives with fortune to be just? + The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? + Or the mild majesty of private life, + Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns + The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse + Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 + Of Innocence and Love protect the scene? + Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound + Where Nature works in secret; view the beds + Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault + That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms + Of atoms moving with incessant change + Their elemental round; behold the seeds + Of being, and the energy of life + Kindling the mass with ever-active flame; + Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 + Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call + Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! + Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour + That saw the heavens created: then declare + If aught were found in those external scenes + To move thy wonder now. For what are all + The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, + Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? + Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows + The superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530 + And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. + Not so the moral species, nor the powers + Of genius and design; the ambitious mind + There sees herself: by these congenial forms + Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her features in the mirror. For, of all + The inhabitants of earth, to man alone + Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye + To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540 + The sacred laws of action and of will, + Discerning justice from unequal deeds, + And temperance from folly. But beyond + This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind + Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, + To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, + Has added bright Imagination's rays: + Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsake + The unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550 + And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, + Assumes a various feature, to attract, + With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, + The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, + The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires + With purest wishes, from the pensive shade + Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse + That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme + Of harmony and wonder: while among + The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 + Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, + And through the rolls of memory appeals + To ancient honour; or in act serene, + Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword + Of public Power, from dark Ambition's reach + To guard the sacred volume of the laws. + + Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps + Well pleased I follow through the sacred paths + Of Nature and of Science; nurse divine + Of all heroic deeds and fair desires! 570 + Oh! let the breath of thy extended praise + Inspire my kindling bosom to the height + Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + That soothes this vernal evening into smiles, + I steal impatient from the sordid haunts + Of strife and low ambition, to attend + Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned. + Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye! 580 + Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air, + As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung + With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth + To see thee rend the pageants of his throne; + And at the lightning of thy lifted spear + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth + Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 590 + Through fair Lyceum's [Endnote I] walk, the green retreats + Of Academus, [Endnote J] and the thymy vale, + Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, + Ilissus [Endnote K] pure devolved his tuneful stream + In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store + Of these auspicious fields, may I unblamed + Transplant some living blossoms to adorn + My native clime: while far above the flight + Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join 600 + Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise + Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth + I point the high example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The separation of the works of Imagination from Philosophy, the +cause of their abuse among the moderns. Prospect of their reunion +under the influence of public Liberty. Enumeration of accidental +pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the +Imagination. The pleasures of sense. Particular circumstances of the +mind. Discovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and design. +Emotion of the passions. All the natural passions partake of a +pleasing sensation; with the final cause of this constitution +illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, +terror, and indignation. + + When shall the laurel and the vocal string + Resume their honours? When shall we behold + The tuneful tongue, the Promethean band + Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, + How slow the dawn of Beauty and of Truth + Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night + Which yet involves the nations! Long they groan'd + Beneath the furies of rapacious force; + Oft as the gloomy north, with iron swarms + Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, 10 + Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works + Of Liberty and Wisdom down the gulf + Of all-devouring night. As long immured + In noontide darkness, by the glimmering lamp, + Each Muse and each fair Science pined away + The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands + Their mysteries profaned, unstrung the lyre, + And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. + At last the Muses rose, [Endnote L] and spurn'd their bonds, + And, wildly warbling, scatter'd as they flew, 20 + Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's [Endnote M] bowers + To Arno's [Endnote N] myrtle border and the shore + Of soft Parthenope. [Endnote O] But still the rage + Of dire ambition [Endnote P] and gigantic power, + From public aims and from the busy walk + Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train + Of penetrating Science to the cells, + Where studious Ease consumes the silent hour + In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. + Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts [Endnote Q] 30 + Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, + To priestly domination and the lust + Of lawless courts, their amiable toil + For three inglorious ages have resign'd, + In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue + Was tuned for slavish pasans at the throne + Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand + Effused its fair creation to enchant + The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes + To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 + The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. + But now, behold! the radiant era dawns, + When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length + For endless years on Albion's happy shore + In full proportion, once more shall extend + To all the kindred powers of social bliss + A common mansion, a parental roof. + There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, + Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, + Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 + The Muses and the Graces. Then no more + Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts + To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn + Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, + The patriot bosom; then no more the paths + Of public care or intellectual toil, + Alone by footsteps haughty and severe + In gloomy state be trod: the harmonious Muse + And her persuasive sisters then shall plant + Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 + And scatter flowers along the rugged way. + Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dared + To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, + And teach the Muse her lore; already strove + Their long-divided honours to unite, + While tempering this deep argument we sang + Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task + Impends; now urging our ambitious toil, + We hasten to recount the various springs + Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin 70 + Their grateful influence to the prime effect + Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge + The complicated joy. The sweets of sense, + Do they not oft with kind accession flow, + To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm? + So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, + Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view + Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill + Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst + Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 + Of cool refreshment, o'er the mossy brink + Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves + With sweeter music murmur as they flow? + + Nor this alone; the various lot of life + Oft from external circumstance assumes + A moment's disposition to rejoice + In those delights which, at a different hour, + Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring, + When rural songs and odours wake the morn, + To every eye; but how much more to his 90 + Round whom the bed of sickness long diffused + Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair, + When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales + The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun + Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life + Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! + + Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth + Her awful light discloses, to bestow + A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? + For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100 + More welcome touch his understanding's eye, + Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, + Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet + The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctured hues + To me have shown so pleasing, as when first + The hand of Science pointed out the path + In which the sunbeams, gleaming from the west, + Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil + Involves the orient; and that trickling shower + Piercing through every crystalline convex 110 + Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed, + Recoil at length where concave all behind + The internal surface of each glassy orb + Repels their forward passage into air; + That thence direct they seek the radiant goal + From which their course began; and, as they strike + In different lines the gazer's obvious eye, + Assume a different lustre, through the brede + Of colours changing from the splendid rose + To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 + + Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, + That springs to each fair object, while we trace, + Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim, + Disposing every part, and gaining still, + By means proportion'd, her benignant end? + Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps + The lamp of Science through the jealous maze + Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal + Her secret honours: whether in the sky, + The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 + That wheel the pensile planets round the year; + Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, + Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, + Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, + Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. + + What, when to raise the meditated scene, + The flame of passion, through the struggling soul + Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze + The object of its rapture, vast of size, + With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140 + What, like a storm from their capacious bed + The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might + Of these eruptions, working from the depth + Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame + Even to the base; from every naked sense + Of pain or pleasure, dissipating all + Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil + Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times + To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks + Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 + Big with the very motion of their souls, + Declare with what accumulated force + The impetuous nerve of passion urges on + The native weight and energy of things. + + Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims, + Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, + From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holds + Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse + Rouses the mind's whole fabric; with supplies + Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 + Intensely poised, and polishes anew + By that collision all the fine machine: + Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees + Encumbering, choke at last what heaven design'd + For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.-- + But say, does every passion thus to man + Administer delight? That name indeed + Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes + The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand + Of admiration: but the bitter shower 170 + That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave; + But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, + Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart + Of panting indignation, find we there + To move delight?--Then listen while my tongue + The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe + Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach + My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd + Within his learned mind whate'er the schools + Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 + O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws + Which govern and support this mighty frame + Of universal being. Oft the hours + From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away, + While mute attention hung upon his lips, + As thus the sage his awful tale began:-- + + ''Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, + When spotless youth with solitude resigns + To sweet philosophy the studious day, + What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 + Musing I roved. Of good and evil much, + And much of mortal man my thought revolved; + When starting full on fancy's gushing eye + The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, + That hour, O long beloved and long deplored! + When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts, + Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, + Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears + Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; + Thy agonising looks, thy last farewell 200 + Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul + As with the hand of Death. At once the shade + More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds + With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark + As midnight storms, the scene of human things + Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, + Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south, + And desolation blasting all the west + With rapine and with murder: tyrant power + Here sits enthroned with blood; the baleful charms 210 + Of superstition there infect the skies, + And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven! + What is the life of man? Or cannot these, + Not these portents thy awful will suffice, + That, propagated thus beyond their scope, + They rise to act their cruelties anew + In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed + The universal sensitive of pain, + The wretched heir of evils not its own?' + + Thus I impatient: when, at once effused, 220 + A flashing torrent of celestial day + Burst through the shadowy void. With slow descent + A purple cloud came floating through the sky, + And, poised at length within the circling trees, + Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide + Its lucid orb, a more than human form + Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head, + And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. + Then melted into air the liquid cloud, + And all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 + A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, + And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, + Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist + Collected with a radiant zone of gold + Aethereal: there in mystic signs engraved, + I read his office high and sacred name, + Genius of human kind! Appall'd I gazed + The godlike presence; for athwart his brow + Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, + Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 + Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air: + + 'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth! + And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span + Capacious of this universal frame?-- + Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! + Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord + Of Nature and his works--to lift thy voice + Against the sovereign order he decreed, + All good and lovely--to blaspheme the bands + Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 + Holiest of things! by which the general orb + Of being, as by adamantine links, + Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd + From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs + Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, + So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish + The ties of Nature broken from thy frame, + That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart + Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then + The wretched heir of evils not its own? 260 + O fair benevolence of generous minds! + O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!' + + He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, + As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awed + Before his presence, though my secret soul + Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground + I fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couch + He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand + My dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried, + 'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270 + + I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed; + For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, + A solitary prospect, wide and wild, + Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pile + Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, + With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. + Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, + The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springs + Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine + The crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280 + Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, + Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods + With hoarser inundation; till at last + They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts + Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, + And drank the gushing moisture, where confined + In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale + Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils + Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, + Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290 + As in a sylvan theatre enclosed + That flowery level. On the river's brink + I spied a fair pavilion, which diffused + Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade + Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd + Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, + And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, + On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light + That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers + Were awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300 + And wondering expectation. Then the voice + Of that celestial power, the mystic show + Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd:-- + + 'Inhabitant of earth, [Endnote S] to whom is given + The gracious ways of Providence to learn, + Receive my sayings with a steadfast ear-- + Know then, the Sovereign Spirit of the world, + Though, self-collected from eternal time, + Within his own deep essence he beheld + The bounds of true felicity complete, 310 + Yet by immense benignity inclined + To spread around him that primeval joy + Which fill'd himself, he raised his plastic arm, + And sounded through the hollow depths of space + The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose + These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life, + Effusive kindled by his breath divine + Through endless forms of being. Each inhaled + From him its portion of the vital flame, + In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 + Of coexistent orders, one might rise, + One order, [Endnote T] all-involving and entire. + He too, beholding in the sacred light + Of his essential reason, all the shapes + Of swift contingence, all successive ties + Of action propagated through the sum + Of possible existence, he at once, + Down the long series of eventful time, + So fix'd the dates of being, so disposed, + To every living soul of every kind 330 + The field of motion and the hour of rest, + That all conspired to his supreme design, + To universal good: with full accord + Answering the mighty model he had chose, + The best and fairest [Endnote U] of unnumber'd worlds + That lay from everlasting in the store + Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, + By one exertion of creative power + His goodness to reveal; through every age, + Through every moment up the tract of time, 340 + His parent hand with ever new increase + Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd + The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + For ever leads the generations on + To higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day with his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, [Endnote V] 350 + As bodies to their proper centre move, + As the poised ocean to the attracting moon + Obedient swells, and every headlong stream + Devolves its winding waters to the main; + So all things which have life aspire to God, + The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, + Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice + Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps + Aright; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From granting to the task proportion'd aid; 360 + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine.-- + + 'That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn + Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene + Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat + Of man, and where the Will Supreme ordain'd + His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffused + Along the shady brink; in this recess + To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 + Till riper hours should open to his toil + The high communion of superior minds, + Of consecrated heroes and of gods. + Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget + His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld + Celestial footsteps from his green abode. + Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, + He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair, + The effluence of his glory, whom he placed + Before his eyes for ever to behold; 380 + The goddess from whose inspiration flows + The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; + Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, + Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass, + Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire + Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, + The folded powers to open, to direct + The growth luxuriant of his young desires, + And from the laws of this majestic world + To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390 + Her daily care attended, by her side + With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, + The fair Euphrosyne, the gentle queen + Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights + That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men + And powers immortal. See the shining pair! + Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosed + They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.' + + I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood + Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 + Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower + Of beauty: sweetest innocence illumed + His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow + Sate young simplicity. With fond regard + He view'd the associates, as their steps they moved; + The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd, + With mild regret invoking her return. + Bright as the star of evening she appear'd + Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth + O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410 + And smiles eternal from her candid eyes + Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn + Effusive trembling on the placid waves. + The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils + To bind her sable tresses: full diffused + Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze; + And in her hand she waved a living branch + Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm + The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes + To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 + The heavenly partner moved. The prime of age + Composed her steps. The presence of a god, + High on the circle of her brow enthroned, + From each majestic motion darted awe, + Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks + Benevolent and meek, confiding love + To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. + Free in her graceful hand she poised the sword + Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown + Display'd the old simplicity of pomp 430 + Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe, + White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds, + Her stately form invested. Hand in hand + The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green, + Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light + Gleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard, + And through the fragrant air ethereal dews + Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds, + Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew + Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 + Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd, + Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scan + What object it involved. My feeble eyes + Endured not. Bending down to earth I stood, + With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, + As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, + With sacred invocation thus began: + + 'Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm + With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, + Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450 + I seek to finish thy divine decree. + With frequent steps I visit yonder seat + Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds + Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve + The latent honours of his generous frame; + Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot + From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks, + The temple of thy glory. But not me, + Not my directing voice he oft requires, + Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, 460 + The associate thou hast given me, her alone + He loves, O Father! absent, her he craves; + And but for her glad presence ever join'd, + Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes + This thy benignant purpose to fulfil, + I deem uncertain: and my daily cares + Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee + Still further aided in the work divine.' + + She ceased; a voice more awful thus replied:-- + 'O thou, in whom for ever I delight, 470 + Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven, + Best image of thy Author! far from thee + Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame; + Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil, + And no resistance find. If man refuse + To hearken to thy dictates; or, allured + By meaner joys, to any other power + Transfer the honours due to thee alone; + That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste, + That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 + Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil; + Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend + Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! + With thee the son of Nemesis I send; + The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account + Of sacred order's violated laws. + See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, + Pierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath + On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, + Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 + Thy tender charge; that when despair shall grasp + His agonising bosom, he may learn, + Then he may learn to love the gracious hand + Alone sufficient in the hour of ill, + To save his feeble spirit; then confess + Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! + When all the plagues that wait the deadly will + Of this avenging demon, all the storms + Of night infernal, serve but to display + The energy of thy superior charms 500 + With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, + And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.' + + Here ceased that awful voice, and soon I felt + The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve + Was closed once more, from that immortal fire + Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd + A vast gigantic spectre striding on + Through murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds, + With dreadful action. Black as night his brow + Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 + With sharp impatience violent he writhed, + As through convulsive anguish; and his hand, + Arm'd with a scorpion lash, full oft he raised + In madness to his bosom; while his eyes + Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook + The void with horror. Silent by his side + The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd + Her features. From the glooms which hung around, + No stain of darkness mingled with the beam + Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 + Upon the river bank; and now to hail + His wonted guests, with eager steps advanced + The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. + + As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long + Had ranged the Alpine snows, by chance at morn + Sees from a cliff, incumbent o'er the smoke + Of some lone village, a neglected kid + That strays along the wild for herb or spring; + Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, + And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage, 530 + The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. + Amazed the stripling stood: with panting breast + Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail + Of helpless consternation, struck at once, + And rooted to the ground. The Queen beheld + His terror, and with looks of tenderest care + Advanced to save him. Soon the tyrant felt + Her awful power. His keen tempestuous arm + Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage + Had aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retired 540 + With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovereign maid + Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy, + Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek; + Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue:-- + + 'Oh, wake thee, rouse thy spirit! Shall the spite + Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, + While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand + To rescue and to heal? Oh, let thy soul + Remember, what the will of heaven ordains + Is ever good for all; and if for all, 550 + Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth + And soothing sunshine of delightful things, + Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled + By that bland light, the young unpractised views + Of reason wander through a fatal road, + Far from their native aim; as if to lie + Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait + The soft access of ever circling joys, + Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, + This pleasing error did it never lull 560 + Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refused + The silken fetters of delicious ease? + Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd + Within this dwelling, did not thy desires + Hang far below the measure of thy fate, + Which I reveal'd before thee, and thy eyes, + Impatient of my counsels, turn away + To drink the soft effusion of her smiles? + Know then, for this the everlasting Sire + Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 + O wise and still benevolent! ordains + This horrid visage hither to pursue + My steps; that so thy nature may discern + Its real good, and what alone can save + Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill + From folly and despair. O yet beloved! + Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm + Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage + Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, + While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 + Above the generous question of thy arm. + Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong, + This hour he triumphs: but confront his might, + And dare him to the combat, then with ease + Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns + To bondage and to scorn: while thus inured + By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, + The immortal mind, superior to his fate, + Amid the outrage of external things, + Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 + Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds! + Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempest on; + Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky! + Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire + Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene, + The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; + And ever stronger as the storms advance, + Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, + Where Nature calls him to the destined goal.' + + So spake the goddess; while through all her frame 600 + Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word, + In every motion kindling warmth divine + To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift + As lightning fires the aromatic shade + In Aethiopian fields, the stripling felt + Her inspiration catch his fervid soul, + And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd:-- + + 'Then let the trial come! and witness thou, + If terror be upon me; if I shrink + To meet the storm, or falter in my strength 610 + When hardest it besets me. Do not think + That I am fearful and infirm of soul, + As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast changed + My nature; thy commanding voice has waked + My languid powers to bear me boldly on, + Where'er the will divine my path ordains + Through toil or peril: only do not thou + Forsake me; Oh, be thou for ever near, + That I may listen to thy sacred voice, + And guide by thy decrees my constant feet. 620 + But say, for ever are my eyes bereft? + Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once + Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven! + O thou eternal arbiter of things! + Be thy great bidding done: for who am I, + To question thy appointment? Let the frowns + Of this avenger every morn o'ercast + The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp + With double night my dwelling; I will learn + To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 + His hateful presence: but permit my tongue + One glad request, and if my deeds may find + Thy awful eye propitious, oh! restore + The rosy-featured maid; again to cheer + This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.' + + He spoke; when instant through the sable glooms + With which that furious presence had involved + The ambient air, a flood of radiance came + Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds + Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 640 + Euphrosyne appear'd. With sprightly step + The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, + And to her wondering audience thus began:-- + + 'Lo! I am here to answer to your vows, + And be the meeting fortunate! I come + With joyful tidings; we shall part no more-- + Hark! how the gentle echo from her cell + Talks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream + Repeats the accents; we shall part no more.-- + O my delightful friends! well pleased on high 650 + The Father has beheld you, while the might + Of that stern foe with bitter trial proved + Your equal doings: then for ever spake + The high decree, that thou, celestial maid! + Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps + May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more + Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, + Alone endure the rancour of his arm, + Or leave thy loved Euphrosyne behind.' + + She ended, and the whole romantic scene 660 + Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills, + The mantling tent, and each mysterious form + Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, + When sunshine fills the bed. Awhile I stood + Perplex'd and giddy; till the radiant power + Who bade the visionary landscape rise, + As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks + Preventing my inquiry, thus began:-- + + 'There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint + How blind, how impious! There behold the ways 670 + Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, + For ever just, benevolent, and wise: + That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued + By vexing fortune and intrusive pain, + Should never be divided from her chaste, + Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge + Thy tardy thought through all the various round + Of this existence, that thy softening soul + At length may learn what energy the hand + Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 + Of passion swelling with distress and pain, + To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops + Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego + That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 690 + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture.--Ask the crowd + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while sacred Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; + While every mother closer to her breast 700 + Catches her child, and pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down: Oh! deemest thou indeed + No kind endearment here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No sweetly melting softness which attracts, + O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 + To this their proper action and their end?-- + Ask thy own heart, when, at the midnight hour, + Slow through that studious gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame + For Grecian heroes, where the present power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father blessing, while he reads + The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 + Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, + Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their flame, + Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, + When, rooted from the base, heroic states + Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown + Of cursed ambition; when the pious band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires, + Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To slavish empty pageants, to adorn + A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns + Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust + And storied arch, to glut the coward rage + Of regal envy, strew the public way + With hallow'd ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow + To sweep the works of glory from their base; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street + Expands his raven wings, and up the wall, + Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, + Hisses the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column; thus defaced, 750 + Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills + Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's [Endnote W] brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; + Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 + Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, + And bears aloft his gold-invested front, + And says within himself, I am a king, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?--The baleful dregs + Of these late ages, this inglorious draught + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the eternal Ruler of the world! + Defiled to such a depth of sordid shame + The native honours of the human soul, 770 + Nor so effaced the image of its Sire.' + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Pleasure in observing the tempers and manners of men, even where +vicious or absurd. The origin of Vice, from false representations of +the fancy, producing false opinions concerning good and evil. +Inquiry into ridicule. The general sources of ridicule in the minds +and characters of men, enumerated. Final cause of the sense of +ridicule. The resemblance of certain aspects of inanimate things to +the sensations and properties of the mind. The operations of the +mind in the production of the works of Imagination, described. The +secondary pleasure from Imitation. The benevolent order of the world +illustrated in the arbitrary connexion of these pleasures with the +objects which excite them. The nature and conduct of taste. +Concluding with an account of the natural and moral advantages +resulting from a sensible and well formed imagination. + + What wonder therefore, since the endearing ties + Of passion link the universal kind + Of man so close, what wonder if to search + This common nature through the various change + Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame + Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind + With unresisted charms? The spacious west, + And all the teeming regions of the south, + Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight + Of Knowledge, half so tempting or so fair, 10 + As man to man. Nor only where the smiles + Of Love invite; nor only where the applause + Of cordial Honour turns the attentive eye + On Virtue's graceful deeds. For, since the course + Of things external acts in different ways + On human apprehensions, as the hand + Of Nature temper'd to a different frame + Peculiar minds; so haply where the powers + Of Fancy [Endnote X] neither lessen nor enlarge + The images of things, but paint in all 20 + Their genuine hues, the features which they wore + In Nature; there Opinion will be true, + And Action right. For Action treads the path + In which Opinion says he follows good, + Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye, + With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 + Is there a man, who, at the sound of death, + Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, + And black before him; nought but death-bed groans + And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink + Of light and being, down the gloomy air, + An unknown depth? Alas! in such a mind, + If no bright forms of excellence attend + The image of his country; nor the pomp + Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice + Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 + The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame; + Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, + Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill + Than to betray his country? And in act + Will he not choose to be a wretch and live? + Here vice begins then. From the enchanting cup + Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst + Of youth oft swallows a Circaean draught, + That sheds a baleful tincture o'er the eye + Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 + And only guides to err. Then revel forth + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps + The empire of the soul; thus pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands + Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, + Watch to o'erturn the barrier of the laws + That keeps them from their prey; thus all the plagues + The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scone + The tragic Muse discloses, under shapes 60 + Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, + Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all + Those lying forms, which Fancy in the brain + Engenders, are the kindling passions driven + To guilty deeds; nor Reason bound in chains, + That Vice alone may lord it: oft adorn'd + With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears; a thousand ways + She wheels her giddy empire.--Lo! thus far 70 + With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre + I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well pleased + A stricter note: now haply must my song + Unbend her serious measure, and reveal + In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts [Endnote Y] + Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + The sportive province of the comic Muse. + + See! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance: + Each would outstrip the other, each prevent + Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 + Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, + My curious friends! and let us first arrange + In proper order your promiscuous throng. + + Behold the foremost band; [Endnote Z] of slender thought, + And easy faith; whom flattering Fancy soothes + With lying spectres, in themselves to view + Illustrious forms of excellence and good, + That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts + They spread their spurious treasures to the sun, + And bid the world admire! But chief the glance 90 + Of wishful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, + And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. + In number boundless as the blooms of Spring, + Behold their glaring idols, empty shades + By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up + For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, + With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, + And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate + With martial splendour, steely pikes and swords + Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 + Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port + Of stately Valour: listening by his side + There stands a female form; to her, with looks + Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, + He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, + And sulphurous mines, and ambush: then at once + Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, + And asks some wondering question of her fears. + Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'd + With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 + And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes + Take homage of the simple-minded throng; + Ambassadors of Heaven! Nor much unlike + Is he, whose visage in the lazy mist + That mantles every feature, hides a brood + Of politic conceits, of whispers, nods, + And hints deep omen'd with unwieldy schemes, + And dark portents of state. Ten thousand more, + Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues, + Pour dauntless in and swell the boastful band. 120 + + Then comes the second order; [Endnote AA] all who seek + The debt of praise, where watchful Unbelief + Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye + On some retired appearance which belies + The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause + That Justice else would pay. Here side by side + I see two leaders of the solemn train + Approaching: one a female old and gray, + With eyes demure, and wrinkle-furrow'd brow, + Pale as the cheeks of death; yet still she stuns 130 + The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, + How many youths her myrtle chains have worn, + How many virgins at her triumphs pined! + Yet how resolved she guards her cautious heart; + Such is her terror at the risks of love, + And man's seducing tongue! The other seems + A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, + And sordid all his habit; peevish Want + Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng + He stalks, resounding in magnific praise 140 + The vanity of riches, the contempt + Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, + Ye grave associates! let the silent grace + Of her who blushes at the fond regard + Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold + The praise of spotless honour: let the man, + Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp + And ample store, but as indulgent streams + To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits + Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 + The price of riches and the end of power. + + Another tribe succeeds; [Endnote BB] deluded long + By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold + The images of some peculiar things + With brighter hues resplendent, and portray'd + With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd + Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart + Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms; + Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, + Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays! 160 + And serious manhood from the towering aim + Of wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast + Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form + Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells! + Not with intenser view the Samian sage + Bent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, + When first the order of that radiant scene + Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surveys + A muckworm's entrails, or a spider's fang. + Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 170 + Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, + With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, + To win her coy regard: adieu, for him, + The dull engagements of the bustling world! + Adieu the sick impertinence of praise! + And hope, and action! for with her alone, + By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, + Is all he asks, and all that fate can give! + Thee too, facetious Momion, wandering here, + Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 + Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long + Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils + Of sly derision! till on every side + Hurling thy random bolts, offended Truth + Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves + Of Folly. Thy once formidable name + Shall grace her humble records, and be heard + In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips + Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, + So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. 190 + + But now, ye gay! [Endnote CC] to whom indulgent fate, + Of all the Muse's empire hath assign'd + The fields of folly, hither each advance + Your sickles; here the teeming soil affords + Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears, + In whom the demon, with a mother's joy, + Views all her charms reflected, all her cares + At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band! + Who, scorning Reason's tame, pedantic rules, + And Order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 + For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal + Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, + And yield Deformity the fond applause + Which Beauty wont to claim, forgive my song, + That for the blushing diffidence of youth, + It shuns the unequal province of your praise. + + Thus far triumphant [Endnote DD] in the pleasing guile + Of bland Imagination, Folly's train + Have dared our search: but now a dastard kind + Advance reluctant, and with faltering feet 210 + Shrink from the gazer's eye: enfeebled hearts + Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, + Or bends to servile tameness with conceits + Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, + Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave + Who droops abash'd when sullen Pomp surveys + His humbler habit; here the trembling wretch + Unnerved and struck with Terror's icy bolts, + Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, + At every dream of danger: here, subdued 220 + By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn + Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, + Who, blushing, half resigns the candid praise + Of Temperance and Honour; half disowns + A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride; + And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth + With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. + + Last of the motley bands [Endnote EE] on whom the power + Of gay Derision bends her hostile aim, + Is that where shameful Ignorance presides. 230 + Beneath her sordid banners, lo! they march + Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands + Attempt, Confusion straight appears behind, + And troubles all the work. Through many a maze, + Perplex'd they struggle, changing every path, + O'erturning every purpose; then at last + Sit down dismay'd, and leave the entangled scene + For Scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode + Of Folly in the mind; and such the shapes + In which she governs her obsequious train. 240 + + Through every scene of ridicule in things + To lead the tenor of my devious lay; + Through every swift occasion, which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her sallying nerves and chokes her tongue; + What were it but to count each crystal drop + Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms + Of May distil? Suffice it to have said, [Endnote FF] + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, 250 + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on the quick observer: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity are wont to dwell; + Or whether these with violation loathed, + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + + Ask we for what fair end, [Endnote GG] the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 + These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + The giddy aims of Folly? Though the light + Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mind, + At length unfolds, through many a subtile tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil! yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of truth appears 270 + To thousands; conscious what a scanty pause + From labours and from care, the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature; therefore stamp'd + The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + + Such are the various aspects of the mind-- + Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts + Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 + The etherial spirit with its mould of clay, + Oh! teach me to reveal the grateful charm + That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man + Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, + The inexpressive semblance [Endnote HH] of himself, + Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods + That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow: + With what religious awe the solemn scene + Commands your steps! as if the reverend form + Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 + The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade + Move to your pausing eye! Behold the expanse + Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds + Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze: + Now their gray cincture skirts the doubtful sun; + Now streams of splendour, through their opening veil + Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn + The aerial shadows, on the curling brook, + And on the shady margin's quivering leaves + With quickest lustre glancing; while you view 300 + The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast + Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth + With clouds and sunshine chequer'd, while the round + Of social converse, to the inspiring tongue + Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, + Moves all obsequious? Whence is this effect, + This kindred power of such discordant things? + Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone + To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers + At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 + Which artful custom twines around her frame? + + For when the different images of things, + By chance combined, have struck the attentive soul + With deeper impulse, or, connected long, + Have drawn her frequent eye; howe'er distinct + The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain + From that conjunction an eternal tie, + And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind + Recall one partner of the various league, + Immediate, lo! the firm confederates rise, 320 + And each his former station straight resumes: + One movement governs the consenting throng, + And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, + Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. + 'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, + Two faithful needles, [Endnote II] from the informing touch + Of the same parent stone, together drew + Its mystic virtue, and at first conspired + With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: + Then, though disjoin'd by kingdoms, though the main 330 + Roll'd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars + Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved + The former friendship, and remember'd still + The alliance of their birth: whate'er the line + Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew + The sure associate, ere with trembling speed + He found its path and fix'd unerring there. + Such is the secret union, when we feel + A song, a flower, a name, at once restore + Those long-connected scenes where first they moved 340 + The attention, backward through her mazy walks + Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, + To temples, courts, or fields, with all the band + Of painted forms, of passions and designs + Attendant; whence, if pleasing in itself, + The prospect from that sweet accession gains + Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. + + By these mysterious ties, [Endnote JJ] the busy power + Of Memory her ideal train preserves + Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 + Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste + Of dark oblivion; thus collecting all + The various forms of being to present, + Before the curious aim of mimic art, + Their largest choice; like Spring's unfolded blooms + Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee + May taste at will, from their selected spoils + To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse + Of living lakes in Summer's noontide calm, + Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens, 360 + With fairer semblance; not the sculptured gold + More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace, + Than he whose birth the sister powers of Art + Propitious view'd, and from his genial star + Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind, + Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve + The seal of Nature. There alone unchanged, + Her form remains. The balmy walks of May + There breathe perennial sweets; the trembling chord + Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 + Melodious; and the virgin's radiant eye, + Superior to disease, to grief, and time, + Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length + Endow'd with all that nature can bestow, + The child of Fancy oft in silence bends + O'er these mix'd treasures of his pregnant breast + With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves + To frame he knows not what excelling things, + And win he knows not what sublime reward + Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 + Feels her young nerves dilate: the plastic powers + Labour for action: blind emotions heave + His bosom; and with loveliest frenzy caught, + From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, + From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, + Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call, + Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, + From ocean's bed they come: the eternal heavens + Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss + Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 + He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares + Their different forms; now blends them, now divides, + Enlarges and extenuates by turns; + Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, + And infinitely varies. Hither now, + Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, + With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan + Begins to open. Lucid order dawns; + And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds + Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 + Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd + Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sun + Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees + Thus disentangled, his entire design + Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, + And lines converge: the fainter parts retire; + The fairer eminent in light advance; + And every image on its neighbour smiles. + Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy + Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, 410 + Into its proper vehicle [Endnote KK] he breathes + The fair conception; which, embodied thus, + And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears + An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, + The various organs of his mimic skill, + The consonance of sounds, the featured rock, + The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, + Beyond their proper powers attract the soul + By that expressive semblance, while in sight + Of Nature's great original we scan 420 + The lively child of Art; while line by line, + And feature after feature we refer + To that sublime exemplar whence it stole + Those animating charms. Thus Beauty's palm + Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding Love + Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires + To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud + Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice + Enclosed and obvious to the beaming sun, + Collects his large effulgence; straight the heavens 430 + With equal flames present on either hand + The radiant visage; Persia stands at gaze, + Appall'd; and on the brink of Ganges doubts + The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, + To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, + To which his warbled orisons ascend. + + Such various bliss the well-tuned heart enjoys, + Favour'd of Heaven! while, plunged in sordid cares, + The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine; + And harsh Austerity, from whose rebuke 440 + Young Love and smiling Wonder shrink away + Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns + Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, + Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge + Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, + And calls the love and beauty which I sing, + The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, + Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms + Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, + To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 + Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, + Might smile with scorn while raptured vision tells + Of the gay-colour'd radiance flushing bright + O'er all creation. From the wise be far + Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song + Descend so low; but rather now unfold, + If human thought could reach, or words unfold, + By what mysterious fabric of the mind, + The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound + Result from airy motion; and from shape 460 + The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. + By what fine ties hath God connected things + When present in the mind, which in themselves + Have no connexion? Sure the rising sun + O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, + With equal brightness and with equal warmth + Might roll his fiery orb, nor yet the soul + Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers + Exulting in the splendour she beholds, + Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp 470 + Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, + Soft murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath + Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain + Attemper, could not man's discerning ear + Through all its tones the sympathy pursue, + Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy + Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd heart, + Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song? + + But were not Nature still endow'd at large + With all that life requires, though unadorn'd 480 + With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form + So exquisitely fair? her breath perfumed + With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice + Inform'd at will to raise or to depress + The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light + Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp + Than Fancy can describe? Whence but from Thee, + O source divine of ever-flowing love! + And Thy unmeasured goodness? Not content + With every food of life to nourish man, 490 + By kind illusions of the wondering sense + Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, + Or music to his ear; well pleased he scans + The goodly prospect, and with inward smiles + Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain, + Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, + And living lamps that over-arch his head + With more than regal splendour; bends his ears + To the full choir of water, air, and earth; + Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 + Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, + Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds, + Than space, or motion, or eternal time; + So sweet he feels their influence to attract + The fixed soul, to brighten the dull glooms + Of care, and make the destined road of life + Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, + The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, + Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells + Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510 + A visionary paradise disclosed + Amid the dubious wild; with streams, and shades, + And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, + Cheers his long labours and renews his frame. + + What then is taste, but these internal powers + Active, and strong, and feelingly alive + To each fine impulse,--a discerning sense + Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust + From things deform'd, or disarranged, or gross + In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 + Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; + But God alone, when first His active hand + Imprints the secret bias of the soul. + He, mighty Parent! wise and just in all, + Free as the vital breeze or light of heaven, + Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain + Who journeys homeward from a summer day's + Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils + And due repose, he loiters to behold + The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, 530 + O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, + His rude expression and untutor'd airs, + Beyond the power of language, will unfold + The form of beauty, smiling at his heart, + How lovely! how commanding! But though Heaven + In every breast hath sown these early seeds + Of love and admiration, yet in vain, + Without fair culture's kind parental aid, + Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, + And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 + The tender plant should rear its blooming head, + Or yield the harvest promised in its spring. + Nor yet will every soul with equal stores + Repay the tiller's labour, or attend + His will, obsequious, whether to produce + The olive or the laurel. Different minds + Incline to different objects; one pursues + The vast alone, [Endnote LL] the wonderful, the wild; + Another sighs for harmony, and grace, + And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 550 + The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, + When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, + And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, + Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; + Amid the mighty uproar, while below + The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad + Prom some high cliff, superior, and enjoys + The elemental war. But Waller longs, [Endnote MM] + All on the margin of some flowery stream + To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 + Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer + The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain + Resound soft-warbling all the livelong day; + Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill + Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; + And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. + Such and so various are the tastes of men. + + Oh! bless'd of Heaven, whom not the languid songs + Of Luxury, the siren! not the bribes + Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 + Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave + Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store + Of Nature fair Imagination culls + To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all + Of mortal offspring can attain the heights + Of envied life; though only few possess + Patrician treasures or imperial state; + Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, + With richer treasures and an ampler state, + Endows at large whatever happy man 580 + Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, + The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns + The princely dome, the column, and the arch, + The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, + Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, + His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring + Distils her dews, and from the silken gem + Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him, the hand + Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch + With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. 590 + Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings; + And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, + And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze [Endnote NN] + Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes + The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain + From all the tenants of the warbling shade + Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake + Fresh pleasure, unreproved. Nor thence partakes + Fresh pleasure only; for the attentive mind, + By this harmonious action on her powers 600 + Becomes herself harmonious; wont so oft + In outward things to meditate the charm + Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home + To find a kindred order, to exert + Within herself this elegance of love, + This fair-inspired delight; her temper'd powers + Refine at length, and every passion wears + A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. + But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze + On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 + These lesser graces, she assumes the port + Of that Eternal Majesty that weigh'd + The world's foundations, if to these the mind + Exalts her daring eye, then mightier far + Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms + Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? + Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth + Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down + To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? + Lo! she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620 + And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, + The elements and seasons; all declare + For what the Eternal Maker has ordain'd + The powers of man; we feel within ourselves + His energy divine; he tells the heart, + He meant, he made us to behold and love + What he beholds and loves, the general orb + Of life and being; to be great like him, + Beneficent and active. Thus the men + Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself 630 + Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, + With his conceptions, act upon his plan; + And form to his, the relish of their souls. + + + + + +_NOTES_ + + * * * * * + + +BOOK FIRST. + + +ENDNOTE A. + + _'Say why was man'_, etc.--P.8. + +In apologising for the frequent negligences of the sublimest authors +of Greece, 'Those godlike geniuses,' says Longinus, 'were well +assured, that Nature had not intended man for a low-spirited or +ignoble being: but bringing us into life and the midst of this wide +universe, as before a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, +that we might be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates +high in emulation for the prize of glory; she has therefore +implanted in our souls an inextinguishable love of everything great +and exalted, of everything which appears divine beyond our +comprehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole world is +not an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of human +imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits of all that +surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the whole circle of +our existence, and consider how especially it abounds in excellent +and grand objects, he will soon acknowledge for what enjoyments +and pursuits we were destined. Thus by the very propensity of +nature we are led to admire, not little springs or shallow rivulets, +however clear and delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, +and, much more than all, the Ocean,' etc. + --_Dionys. Longin. de Sublim_. ss. xxiv. + + +ENDNOTE B. + + _'The empyreal waste'_.--P. 9. + +'Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand espace au-dela de la region +des etoiles? Que ce soit le ciel empyree, ou non, toujours cet +espace immense qui environne toute cette region, pourra etre rempli +de bonheur et de gloire. Il pourra etre concu comme l'ocean, ou se +rendent les fleuves de toutes les creatures bienheureuses, quand +elles seront venues a leur perfection dans le systeme des etoiles.' + --_Leibnitz dans la Theodicee_, part i. par. 19. + + +ENDNOTE C. + + _'Whose unfading light'_, etc.--P. 9. + +It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that there may be fixed +stars at such a distance from our solar system, as that their light +should not have had time to reach us, even from the creation of the +world to this day. + + + +ENDNOTE D. + + _'The neglect + Of all familiar prospects'_, etc.--P. 10. + +It is here said, that in consequence of the love of novelty, objects +which at first were highly delightful to the mind, lose that effect +by repeated attention to them. But the instance of habit is opposed +to this observation; for there, objects at first distasteful are in +time rendered entirely agreeable by repeated attention. + +The difficulty in this case will be removed if we consider, that, +when objects at first agreeable, lose that influence by frequently +recurring, the mind is wholly passive, and the perception involuntary; +but habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice and activity +accompanying it: so that the pleasure arises here not from the object, +but from the mind's conscious determination of its own activity; and +consequently increases in proportion to the frequency of that +determination. + +It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity with disagreeable +objects renders them at length acceptable, even when there is no +room for the mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the +appearance must be accounted for one of these ways. + +The pleasure from habit may be merely negative. The object at first +gave uneasiness: this uneasiness gradually wears off as the object +grows familiar: and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, +reckons its situation really pleasurable, compared with what it had +experienced before. + +The dislike conceived of the object at first, might be owing to +prejudice or want of attention. Consequently the mind being +necessitated to review it often, may at length perceive its own +mistake, and be reconciled to what it had looked on with aversion. +In which case, a sort of instinctive justice naturally leads it to +make amends for the injury, by running toward the other extreme of +fondness and attachment. + +Or lastly, though the object itself should always continue +disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure or good fortune may +occur along with it. Thus an association may arise in the mind, and +the object never be remembered without those pleasing circumstances +attending it; by which means the disagreeable impression which it at +first occasioned will in time be quite obliterated. + + + +ENDNOTE E. + + _'This desire + Of objects new and strange'_.--P. 10. + +These two ideas are oft confounded; though it is evident the mere +novelty of an object makes it agreeable, even where the mind is not +affected with the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed +always implies novelty, being never excited by common or well-known +appearances. But the pleasure in both cases is explicable from the +same final cause, the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of +our views of nature: on this account it is natural to treat of them +together. + + + +ENDNOTE F. + + _'Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them'_, etc.--P. 14. + +'Do you imagine,' says Socrates to Aristippus, 'that what is good is +not beautiful? Have you not observed that these appearances always +coincide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect as to which we +call it good, is ever acknowledged to be beautiful also. In the +characters of men we always [1] join the two denominations together. +The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in like manner, with that +economy of parts which constitutes them good; and in every +circumstance of life, the same object is constantly accounted both +beautiful and good, inasmuch as it answers the purposes for which it +was designed.' + --_Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat_. 1.iii.c.8. + +This excellent observation has been illustrated and extended by the +noble restorer of ancient philosophy. (See the _Characteristics_, vol. +ii., pp. 339 and 422, and vol. iii., p. 181.) And another ingenious +author has particularly shewn, that it holds in the general laws of +nature, in the works of art, and the conduct of the sciences +(_Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_, +treat, i. Section 8). As to the connexion between beauty and truth, +there are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers assert an +independent and invariable law in nature, in consequence of which +all rational beings must alike perceive beauty in some certain +proportions, and deformity in the contrary. And this necessity being +supposed the same with that which commands the assent or dissent of +the understanding, it follows, of course, that beauty is founded on +the universal and unchangeable law of truth. + +But others there are who believe beauty to be merely a relative and +arbitrary thing; that, indeed, it was a benevolent provision in +nature to annex so delightful a sensation to those objects which are +best and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be engaged to +the choice of them at once, and without staying to infer their +usefulness from their structure and effects; but that it is not +impossible, in a physical sense, that two beings, of equal +capacities for truth, should perceive, one of them beauty, and the +other deformity, in the same proportions. And upon this supposition, +by that truth which is always connected with beauty, nothing more +can be meant than the conformity of any object to those proportions +upon which, after careful examination, the beauty of that species is +found to depend. Polycletus, for instance, a famous ancient sculptor, +from an accurate mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect +human bodies, deduced a canon or system of proportions, which was +the rule of all succeeding artists. Suppose a statue modelled +according to this: a man of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, +without entering into its proportions, confesses and admires its +beauty; whereas a professor of the art applies his measures to the +head, the neck, or the hand, and, without attending to its beauty, +pronounces the workmanship to be just and true. + +[Footnote 1: This the Athenians did in a peculiar manner, by the +words [Greek: kalokagathus] and [Greek: kalokagathia].] + + +ENDNOTE G. + + '_As when Brutus rose_,' etc.--P. 18. + +Cicero himself describes this fact--'Cassare interfecto--statim +cruentum alte extollens M. Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim +exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus.' + --_Cic. Philipp_. ii. 12. + + +ENDNOTE H. + + '_Where Virtue rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom_,' etc.--P. 20. + +According to the opinion of those who assert moral obligation to be +founded on an immutable and universal law; and that which is usually +called the moral sense, to be determined by the peculiar temper of +the imagination and the earliest associations of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE I. + + '_Lyceum_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Aristotle. + + +ENDNOTE J. + + '_Academus_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Plato. + + +ENDNOTE K. + + '_Ilissus_.'--P. 21. + +One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. Plato, in some of +his finest dialogues, lays the scene of the conversation with +Socrates on its banks. + + * * * * * + + +BOOK SECOND. + + +ENDNOTE L + + '_At last the Muses rose_,' etc.--P. 22. + +About the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the third race of French +kings, the poets of Provence were in high reputation; a sort of +strolling bards or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes +and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with music and poetry. +They attempted both the epic, ode, and satire; and abounded in a +wild and fantastic vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly +founded on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These were the +rudiments of Italian poetry. But their taste and composition must +have been extremely barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed +the turn of their fable in much politer times; such as Boiardo, +Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, etc. + + +ENDNOTE M. + + '_Valclusa_.'--P. 22. + +The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the father of Italian +poetry, and his mistress, Laura, a lady of Avignon. + + +ENDNOTE N. + + '_Arno_.'--P. 22. + +The river which runs by Florence, the birth-place of Dante and +Boccaccio. + + +ENDNOTE O. + + '_Parthenope_.'--P. 23. + +Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The great Torquato Tasso was +born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples. + + +ENDNOTE P. + + '_The rage + Of dire ambition_,' etc.--P. 23. + +This relates to the cruel wars among the republics of Italy, and +abominable politics of its little princes, about the fifteenth +century. These, at last, in conjunction with the papal power, +entirely extinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and +established that abuse of the fine arts which has been since +propagated over all Europe. + + +ENDNOTE Q. + + '_Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts_,' etc.--P. 23. + +Nor were they only losers by the separation. For philosophy itself, +to use the words of a noble philosopher, 'being thus severed from +the sprightly arts and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, +insipid, pedantic, useless, and directly opposite to the real +knowledge and practice of the world.' Insomuch that 'a gentleman,' +says another excellent writer, 'cannot easily bring himself to like +so austere and ungainly a form: so greatly is it changed from what +was once the delight of the finest gentlemen of antiquity, and their +recreation after the hurry of public affairs! From this condition it +cannot be recovered but by uniting it once more with the works of +imagination; and we have had the pleasure of observing a very great +progress made towards their union in England within these few years. +It is hardly possible to conceive them at a greater distance from +each other than at the Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of +one party, and Dryden of the other. But the general spirit of liberty, +which has ever since been growing, naturally invited our men of wit +and genius to improve that influence which the arts of persuasion +gave them with the people, by applying them to subjects of +importance to society. Thus poetry and eloquence became considerable; +and philosophy is now, of course, obliged to borrow of their +embellishments, in order even to gain audience with the public. + + +ENDNOTE R. + + '_From passion's power alone_,' etc.--P. 26. + +This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which is often found in the +exercise of passions generally counted painful, has been taken +notice of by several authors. Lucretius resolves it into self-love:-- + + 'Suave mari magno,' etc., lib. ii. 1. + +As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the distress of a +tragedy, without a cool reflection that though these fictitious +personages were so unhappy, yet he himself was perfectly at ease and +in safety. The ingenious author of the _Reflections Critiques sur la +Poesie et sur la Peinture_ accounts for it by the general delight +which the mind takes in its own activity, and the abhorrence it +feels of an indolent and inattentive state: and this, joined with the +moral approbation of its own temper, which attends these emotions +when natural and just, is certainly the true foundation of the +pleasure, which, as it is the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, +deserved a very particular consideration in this poem. + + +ENDNOTE S. + + '_Inhabitant of earth_,' etc.--P. 31. + +The account of the economy of Providence here introduced, as the +most proper to calm and satisfy the mind when under the compunction +of private evils, seems to have come originally from the Pythagorean +school: but of the ancient philosophers, Plato has most largely +insisted upon it, has established it with all the strength of his +capacious understanding, and ennobled it with all the magnificence +of his divine imagination. He has one passage so full and clear on +this head, that I am persuaded the reader will be pleased to see it +here, though somewhat long. Addressing himself to such as are not +satisfied concerning divine Providence: 'The Being who presides over +the whole,' says he, 'has disposed and complicated all things for +the happiness and virtue of the whole, every part of which, +according to the extent of its influence, does and suffers what is +fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, O unhappy man, which +though in itself most inconsiderable and minute, yet being connected +with the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that supreme order. +You in the meantime are ignorant of the very end for which all +particular natures are brought into existence, that the +all-comprehending nature of the whole may be perfect and happy; +existing, as it does, not for your sake, but the cause and reason of +your existence, which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, +must of necessity concur with the general design of the artist, and +be subservient to the whole of which it is a part. Your complaint +therefore is ignorant and groundless; since, according to the +various energy of creation, and the common laws of nature, there is +a constant provision of that which is best at the same time for you +and for the whole.--For the governing intelligence clearly beholding +all the actions of animated and self-moving creatures, and that +mixture of good and evil which diversifies them, considered first of +all by what disposition of things, and by what situation of each +individual in the general system, vice might be depressed and subdued, +and virtue made secure of victory and happiness with the greatest +facility and in the highest degree possible. In this manner he +ordered through the entire circle of being, the internal +constitution of every mind, where should be its station in the +universal fabric, and through what variety of circumstances it +should proceed in the whole tenor of its existence.' He goes on in +his sublime manner to assert a future state of retribution, 'as well +for those who, by the exercise of good dispositions being harmonised +and assimilated into the divine virtue, are consequently removed to +a place of unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those who by +the most flagitious arts have risen from contemptible beginnings to +the greatest affluence and power, and whom you therefore look upon +as unanswerable instances of negligence in the gods, because you are +ignorant of the purposes to which they are subservient, and in what +manner they contribute to that supreme intention of good to the whole.' + --_Plato de Leg_. x. 16. + +This theory has been delivered of late, especially abroad, in a +manner which subverts the freedom of human actions; whereas Plato +appears very careful to preserve it, and has been in that respect +imitated by the best of his followers. + +ENDNOTE T. + + '_One might rise, + One order_,' etc.--P. 31. + +See the _Meditations_ of Antoninus and the _Characteristics_, passim. + +ENDNOTE U. + + '_The best and fairest_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion is so old, that Timaeus Locrus calls the Supreme Being +[Greek: demiourgos tou beltionos], the artificer of that which is +best; and represents him as resolving in the beginning to produce +the most excellent work, and as copying the world most exactly from +his own intelligible and essential idea; 'so that it yet remains, as +it was at first, perfect in beauty, and will never stand in need of +any correction or improvement.' There can be no room for a caution +here, to understand the expressions, not of any particular +circumstances of human life separately considered, but of the sum or +universal system of life and being. See also the vision at the end +of the _Theodicee_ of Leibnitz. + +ENDNOTE V. + + '_As flame ascends_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any of the ancients, is +yet a very natural consequence of his principles. But the +disquisition is too complex and extensive to be entered upon here. + +ENDNOTE W. + + '_Philip_.'--P. 44. + +The Macedonian. + + +BOOK THIRD. + +ENDNOTE X. + + '_Where the powers + Of Fancy_,' etc.--P. 46. + +The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life is one of +the most important points in moral philosophy. It were easy, by an +induction of facts, to prove that the imagination directs almost all +the passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance of action or +pleasure. Let any man, even of the coldest head and soberest industry, +analyse the idea of what he calls his interest; he will find that it +consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, and order, +variously combined into one system, the idol which he seeks to enjoy +by labour, hazard, and self-denial. It is, on this account, of the +last consequence to regulate these images by the standard of nature +and the general good; otherwise the imagination, by heightening some +objects beyond their real excellence and beauty, or by representing +others in a more odions or terrible shape than they deserve, may, of +course, engage us in pursuits utterly inconsistent with the moral +order of things. + +If it be objected that this account of things supposes the passions +to be merely accidental, whereas there appears in some a natural and +hereditary disposition to certain passions prior to all +circumstances of education or fortune, it may be answered, that +though no man is born ambitious or a miser, yet he may inherit from +his parents a peculiar temper or complexion of mind, which shall +render his imagination more liable to be struck with some particular +objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions of good and ill, +and entertain passions of a particular turn. Some men, for instance, +by the original frame of their minds, are more delighted with the +vast and magnificent, others, on the contrary, with the elegant and +gentle aspects of nature. And it is very remarkable, that the +disposition of the moral powers is always similar to this of the +imagination; that those who are most inclined to admire prodigious +and sublime objects in the physical world, are also most inclined to +applaud examples of fortitude and heroic virtue in the moral. While +those who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweetness of +colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail in like manner to yield +the preference to the softer scenes of virtue and the sympathies of +a domestic life. And this is sufficient to account for the objection. + +Among the ancient philosophers, though we have several hints +concerning this influence of the imagination upon morals among the +remains of the Socratic school, yet the Stoics were the first who +paid it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought it impossible +to preserve any tolerable regularity in life, without frequently +inspecting those pictures or appearances of things, which the +imagination offers to the mind (_Diog. Laert_. I. vii.) The +meditations of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, are +full of the same sentiment; insomuch that the latter makes the +[Greek: Chresis oia dei, fantasion], or right management of the +fancies, the only thing for which we are accountable to Providence, +and without which a man is no other than stupid or frantic (_Arrian_. +I. i. c. 12. and I. ii. c. 22). See also the _Characteristics_, +vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where this Stoical doctrine is embellished +with all the elegance and graces of Plato. + +ENDNOTE Y. + + '_How Folly's awkward arts_,' etc.--P. 47. + +Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule on private and +civil life, as well as on learning and the sciences, it has been +almost constantly neglected or misrepresented, by divines especially. +The manner of treating these subjects in the science of human nature, +should be precisely the same as in natural philosophy; from +particular facts to investigate the stated order in which they appear, +and then apply the general law, thus discovered, to the explication +of other appearances and the improvement of useful arts. + +ENDNOTE Z. + + '_Behold the foremost band_,' etc.--P. 48. + +The first and most general source of ridicule in the characters +of men, is vanity or self-applause for some desirable quality or +possession which evidently does not belong to those who assume it. + + +ENDNOTE AA. + + '_Then comes the second order_,' etc.--P, 49. + +Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the possession be real, +yet no merit can arise from it, because of some particular +circumstances, which, though obvious to the spectator, are yet +overlooked by the ridiculous character. + + +ENDNOTE BB. + + '_Another tribe succeeds_,' etc.--P. 50. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular objects +disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and inconsistent with the +order of nature. + + +ENDNOTE CC. + + '_But now, ye gay_,' etc.--P. 51. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the object is absolutely +odious or contemptible. This is the highest degree of the ridiculous; +as in the affectation of diseases or vices. + + +ENDNOTE DD. + + '_Thus far triumphant_,' etc.--P. 51 + +Ridicule from false shame or groundless fear. + + +ENDNOTE EE. + + '_Last of the motley bands_,' etc.--P. 52. + +Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our circumstances +require us to know. + + +ENDNOTE FF. + + '_Suffice it to have said_,' etc.--P. 52. + +By comparing these general sources of ridicule with each other, and +examining the ridiculous in other objects, we may obtain a general +definition of it, equally applicable to every species. The most +important circumstance of this definition is laid down in the lines +referred to; but others more minute we shall subjoin here. +Aristotle's account of the matter seems both imperfect and false. +[Greek: To ghar geloion], says he, [Greek: estin hamartaema ti kai +aischos]: 'The ridiculous is some certain fault or turpitude without +pain, and not destructive to its subject' (_Poet_. c. 5). For +allowing it to be true, as it is not, that the ridiculous is never +accompanied with pain, yet we might produce many instances of such a +fault or turpitude which cannot with any tolerable propriety be +called ridiculous. So that the definition does not distinguish the +thing designed. Nay, further, even when we perceive the turpitude +tending to the destruction of its subject, we may still be sensible +of a ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, and the +keener sensations of pity or terror banish the ludicrous +apprehension from our minds; for the sensation of ridicule is not a +bare perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, but a +passion or emotion of the mind consequential to that perception; so +that the mind may perceive the agreement or disagreement, and yet +not feel the ridiculous, because it is engrossed by a more violent +emotion. Thus it happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, +to which others cannot endure to apply the name, because in them +they excite a much intenser and more important feeling. And this +difference, among other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion +into this question. + +'That which makes objects ridiculous is some ground of admiration or +esteem connected with other more general circumstances comparatively +worthless or deformed; or it is some circumstance of turpitude or +deformity connected with what is in general excellent or beautiful: +the inconsistent properties existing either in the objects themselves, +or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate, belonging +always to the same order or class of being, implying sentiment or +design, and exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the heart.' + +To prove the several parts of this definition: 'The appearance of +excellence or beauty connected with a general condition +comparatively sordid or deformed' is ridiculous; for instance, +pompous pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly in the +Socrates of Aristophanes, and the ostentations of military glory +with cowardice and stupidity in the Thraso of Terence. + +'The appearance of deformity or turpitude in conjunction with what +is in general excellent or venerable,' is also ridiculous: for +instance, the personal weaknesses of a magistrate appearing in the +solemn and public functions of his station. + +'The incongruous properties may either exist in the objects +themselves, or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate:' +in the last--mentioned instance, they both exist in the objects; in +the instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of them is +objective and real, the other only founded in the apprehension of +the ridiculous character. + +'The inconsistent properties must belong to the same order or class +of being.' A coxcomb in fine clothes, bedaubed by accident in foul +weather, is a ridiculous object, because his general apprehension of +excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour and expense of +his dress. A man of sense and merit, in the same circumstances, is +not counted ridiculous, because the general ground of excellence and +esteem in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, of a +very different species. + +'Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or design.' A column +placed by an architect without a capital or base is laughed at: the +same column in a ruin causes a very different sensation. + +And lastly, 'the occurrence must excite no acute or vehement emotion +of the heart,' such as terror, pity, or indignation; for in that case, +as was observed above, the mind is not at leisure to contemplate the +ridiculous. Whether any appearance not ridiculous be involved in +this description, and whether it comprehend every species and form +of the ridiculous, must be determined by repeated applications of it +to particular instances. + + +ENDNOTE GG. + + _'Ask we for what fair end'_, etc.--P. 53. + +Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that we have a natural +sense or feeling of the ridiculous, and since so good a reason may +be assigned to justify the supreme Being for bestowing it, one cannot, +without astonishment, reflect on the conduct of those men who +imagine it is for the service of true religion to vilify and blacken +it without distinction, and endeavour to persuade us that it is +never applied but in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with +mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not in abstract +propositions or theorems, but in actions and passions, good and evil, +beauty and deformity, that we find materials for it; and all these +terms are relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask them +whether ridicule be a test of truth, is, in other words, to ask +whether that which is ridiculous can be morally true, can be just and +becoming; or whether that which is just and becoming can be +ridiculous?--a question that does not deserve a serious answer. For +it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical proposition offered +to the understanding for its assent, the faculty of reason examines +the terms of the proposition, and finding one idea, which was +supposed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of consequence +rejects the proposition as a falsehood; so, in objects offered to +the mind for its esteem or applause, the faculty of ridicule, +finding an incongruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it +with laughter and contempt. When, therefore, we observe such a claim +obtruded upon mankind, and the inconsistent circumstances carefully +concealed from the eye of the public, it is our business, if the +matter be of importance to society, to drag out those latent +circumstances, and, by setting them in full view, to convince the +world how ridiculous the claim is: and thus a double advantage is +gained; for we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the +way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds of men with a +stronger sense of the vanity and error of its authors. And this, and +no more, is meant by the application of ridicule. + +But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent +with the regard we owe to objects of real dignity and excellence. I +answer, the practice fairly managed can never be dangerous; men may +be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to the object, and +we may be inadvertent in allowing those circumstances to impose upon +us: but the sense of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of +Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever was drawn: +--true; but it is not the character of Socrates, the divine moralist +and father of ancient wisdom. What then? did the ridicule of the +poet hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaiming those +foreign circumstances which he had falsely introduced into his +character, and thus rendered the satirist doubly ridiculous in his +turn? No; but it nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of +the people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made many atheists: +he has founded it, indeed, on suppositions utterly false; but allow +him these, and his conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must +reject the use of ridicule, because, by the imposition of false +circumstances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which are not +so in themselves; why we ought not in the same manner to reject the +use of reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, +conclusions will appear true which are impossible in nature, let the +vehement and obstinate declaimers against ridicule determine. + + +ENDNOTE HH. + + _'The inexpressive semblance'_, etc.--P. 53. + +This similitude is the foundation of almost all the ornaments of +poetic diction. + + +ENDNOTE II. + + _'Two faithful needles'_, etc.--P. 55. + +See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo in the character of +Lucretius.-_Strada Prolus_. vi. _Academ_. 2. c. v. + + +ENDNOTE JJ. + + _'By these mysterious ties'_, etc.--P. 55. + +The act of remembering seems almost wholly to depend on the +association of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE KK. + + _'Into its proper vehicle'_, etc.--P. 57. + +This relates to the different sorts of corporeal mediums, by which +the ideas of the artists are rendered palpable to the senses: as by +sounds, in music; by lines and shadows, in painting; by diction, in +poetry, etc. + + +ENDNOTE LL. + + _'One pursues + The vast alone'_, etc.--P. 61. + +See the note to ver. 18 of this book. + + +ENDNOTE MM. + + _'Waller longs'_, etc.--P. 61. + + Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay + Under the plantane shade; and all the day + With amorous airs my fancy entertain, etc. + _WALLER, Battle of the Summer-Islands_, Canto I. + + And again, + While in the park I sing, the list'ning deer + Attend my passion, and forget to fear, etc. + At Pens-hurst. + +ENDNOTE NN. + + _'Not a breeze'_, etc.--P. 63. + +That this account may not appear rather poetically extravagant than +just in philosophy, it may be proper to produce the sentiment of one +of the greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head; one so little +to be suspected of partiality in the case, that he reckons it among +those favours for which he was especially thankful to the gods, that +they had not suffered him to make any great proficiency in the arts +of eloquence and poetry, lest by that means he should have been +diverted from pursuits of more importance to his high station. +Speaking of the beauty of universal nature, he observes, that there +'is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every object we perceive,' +when once we consider its connexion with that general order. He +instances in many things which at first sight would be thought +rather deformities; and then adds, 'that a man who enjoys a +sensibility of temper with a just comprehension of the universal +order--will discern many amiable things, not credible to every mind, +but to those alone who have entered into an honourable familiarity +with nature and her works.' + --_M. Antonin_. iii. 2. + + + + +THE + +PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + +A POEM. + +GENERAL ARGUMENT. + +The pleasures of the imagination proceed either from natural objects, +as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm +sea by moonlight; or from works of art, such as a noble edifice, a +musical tune, a statue, a picture, a poem. In treating of these +pleasures, we must begin with the former class; they being original +to the other; and nothing more being necessary, in order to explain +them, than a view of our natural inclination toward greatness and +beauty, and of those appearances, in the world around us, to which +that inclination is adapted. This is the subject of the first book +of the following poem. + +But the pleasures which we receive from the elegant arts, from music, +sculpture, painting, and poetry, are much more various and +complicated. In them (besides greatness and beauty, or forms proper +to the imagination) we find interwoven frequent representations of +truth, of virtue and vice, of circumstances proper to move us with +laughter, or to excite in us pity, fear, and the other passions. +These moral and intellectual objects are described in the second book; +to which the third properly belongs as an episode, though too large +to have been included in it. + +With the above-mentioned causes of pleasure, which are universal in +the course of human life, and appertain to our higher faculties, +many others do generally occur, more limited in their operation, or +of an inferior origin: such are the novelty of objects, the +association of ideas, affections of the bodily senses, influences of +education, national habits, and the like. To illustrate these, and +from the whole to determine the character of a perfect taste, is the +argument of the fourth book. + +Hitherto the pleasures of the imagination belong to the human +species in general. But there are certain particular men whose +imagination is endowed with powers, and susceptible of pleasures, +which the generality of mankind never participate. These are the men +of genius, destined by nature to excel in one or other of the arts +already mentioned. It is proposed, therefore, in the last place, to +delineate that genius which in some degree appears common to them all; +yet with a more peculiar consideration of poetry: inasmuch as poetry +is the most extensive of those arts, the most philosophical, and the +most useful. + + + + +BOOK I. 1757. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Dedication. The ideas of the Supreme Being, the +exemplars of all things. The variety of constitution in the minds of +men; with its final cause. The general character of a fine +imagination. All the immediate pleasures of the human imagination +proceed either from Greatness or Beauty in external objects. The +pleasure from Greatness; with its final cause. The natural connexion +of Beauty with truth [2] and good. The different orders of Beauty in +different objects. The infinite and all-comprehending form of Beauty, +which belongs to the Divine Mind. The partial and artificial forms +of Beauty, which belong to inferior intellectual beings. The origin +and general conduct of beauty in man. The subordination of local +beauties to the beauty of the Universe. Conclusion. + + With what enchantment Nature's goodly scene + Attracts the sense of mortals; how the mind + For its own eye doth objects nobler still + Prepare; how men by various lessons learn + To judge of Beauty's praise; what raptures fill + The breast with fancy's native arts endow'd, + And what true culture guides it to renown, + My verse unfolds. Ye gods, or godlike powers, + Ye guardians of the sacred task, attend + Propitious. Hand in hand around your bard 10 + Move in majestic measures, leading on + His doubtful step through many a solemn path, + Conscious of secrets which to human sight + Ye only can reveal. Be great in him: + And let your favour make him wise to speak + Of all your wondrous empire; with a voice + So temper'd to his theme, that those who hear + May yield perpetual homage to yourselves. + Thou chief, O daughter of eternal Love, + Whate'er thy name; or Muse, or Grace, adored 20 + By Grecian prophets; to the sons of Heaven + Known, while with deep amazement thou dost there + The perfect counsels read, the ideas old, + Of thine omniscient Father; known on earth + By the still horror and the blissful tear + With which thou seizest on the soul of man; + Thou chief, Poetic Spirit, from the banks + Of Avon, whence thy holy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present. And with thee 30 + Let Fiction come, on her aerial wings + Wafting ten thousand colours, which in sport, + By the light glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Whose awful tones control the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend, + And join this happy train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their mystic rites, + Wise Order: and, where Order deigns to come, 40 + Her sister, Liberty, will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + Of youthful bards the lonely wandering step + New to your springs and shades; who touch their ear + With finer sounds, and heighten to their eye + The pomp of nature, and before them place + The fairest, loftiest countenance of things. + + Nor thou, my Dyson, [3] to the lay refuse + Thy wonted partial audience. What though first, + In years unseason'd, haply ere the sports 50 + Of childhood yet were o'er, the adventurous lay + With many splendid prospects, many charms, + Allured my heart, nor conscious whence they sprung, + Nor heedful of their end? yet serious Truth + Her empire o'er the calm, sequester'd theme + Asserted soon; while Falsehood's evil brood, + Vice and deceitful Pleasure, she at once + Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil + Drew to the better cause. Maturer aid + Thy friendship added, in the paths of life, 60 + The busy paths, my unaccustom'd feet + Preserving: nor to Truth's recess divine, + Through this wide argument's unbeaten space, + Withholding surer guidance; while by turns + We traced the sages old, or while the queen + Of sciences (whom manners and the mind + Acknowledge) to my true companion's voice + Not unattentive, o'er the wintry lamp + Inclined her sceptre, favouring. Now the fates + Have other tasks imposed;--to thee, my friend, 70 + The ministry of freedom and the faith + Of popular decrees, in early youth, + Not vainly they committed; me they sent + To wait on pain, and silent arts to urge, + Inglorious; not ignoble, if my cares, + To such as languish on a grievous bed, + Ease and the sweet forgetfulness of ill + Conciliate; nor delightless, if the Muse, + Her shades to visit and to taste her springs, + If some distinguish'd hours the bounteous Muse 80 + Impart, and grant (what she, and she alone, + Can grant to mortals) that my hand those wreaths + Of fame and honest favour, which the bless'd + Wear in Elysium, and which never felt + The breath of envy or malignant tongues, + That these my hand for thee and for myself + May gather. Meanwhile, O my faithful friend, + O early chosen, ever found the same, + And trusted and beloved, once more the verse + Long destined, always obvious to thine ear, 90 + Attend, indulgent: so in latest years, + When time thy head with honours shall have clothed + Sacred to even virtue, may thy mind, + Amid the calm review of seasons past, + Fair offices of friendship, or kind peace, + Or public zeal, may then thy mind well pleased + Recall these happy studies of our prime. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the chosen breast, + And beauty with poetic wonder join'd, 100 + And inspiration. Ere the rising sun + Shone o'er the deep, or 'mid the vault of night + The moon her silver lamp suspended; ere + The vales with springs were water'd, or with groves + Of oak or pine the ancient hills were crown'd; + Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore, + Within his own deep essence view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things: + The radiant sun; the moon's nocturnal lamp; + The mountains and the streams; the ample stores 110 + Of earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first, + On that full scene his love divine he fix'd, + His admiration: till, in time complete, + What he admired and loved his vital power + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame: + Hence the green earth, and wild-resounding waves: + Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold; + And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. 120 + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For while the claims + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wisest care + Hath Nature on the multitude of minds + Impress'd a various bias, and to each + Decreed its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave 130 + To search the story of eternal thought; + Of space, and time; of fate's unbroken chain, + And will's quick movement; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue dwells in every vein + Of herbs or trees. But some to nobler hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds, + In fuller aspects and with fairer lights, 140 + This picture of the world. Through every part + They trace the lofty sketches of his hand; + In earth, or air, the meadow's flowery store, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's mien + Dress'd in attractive smiles, they see portray'd + (As far as mortal eyes the portrait scan) + Those lineaments of beauty which delight + The Mind Supreme. They also feel their force, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 150 + Through fabling Egypt, at the genial touch + Of morning, from its inmost frame sent forth + Spontaneous music, so doth Nature's hand, + To certain attributes which matter claims, + Adapt the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of those kindred powers + (Of form, of colour's cheerful pomp, of sound + Melodious, or of motion aptly sped), + Detains the enliven'd sense; till soon the soul + Feels the deep concord, and assents through all 160 + Her functions. Then the charm by fate prepared + Diffuseth its enchantment Fancy dreams, + Rapt into high discourse with prophets old, + And wandering through Elysium, Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains, of o'ershadowing groves, + Whose walks with godlike harmony resound: + Fountains, which Homer visits; happy groves, + Where Milton dwells; the intellectual power, + On the mind's throne, suspends his graver cares, + And smiles; the passions, to divine repose 170 + Persuaded yield, and love and joy alone + Are waking: love and joy, such as await + An angel's meditation. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art whom these delights can touch; + Whom Nature's aspect, Nature's simple garb + Can thus command; oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her blissful walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her gracious features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of the world's ancient store, 180 + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected scenes, + With love and admiration thus inspire + Attentive Fancy, her delighted sons + In two illustrious orders comprehend, + Self-taught: from him whose rustic toil the lark + Cheers warbling, to the bard whose daring thoughts + Range the full orb of being, still the form, + Which Fancy worships, or sublime or fair, + Her votaries proclaim. I see them dawn: + I see the radiant visions where they rise, 190 + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His glittering forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the Spring. + + Say, why was man so eminently raised + Amid the vast creation; why empower'd + Through life and death to dart his watchful eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth, + In sight of angels and immortal minds, + As on an ample theatre to join 200 + In contest with his equals, who shall best + The task achieve, the course of noble toils, + By wisdom and by mercy preordain'd? + Might send him forth the sovereign good to learn; + To chase each meaner purpose from his breast; + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the pelting storms of chance and pain, + To hold straight on, with constant heart and eye + Still fix'd upon his everlasting palm, + The approving smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns 210 + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That seeks from day to day sublimer ends, + Happy, though restless? Why departs the soul + Wide from the track and journey of her times, + To grasp the good she knows not? In the field + Of things which may be, in the spacious field + Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms, + To raise up scenes in which her own desires + Contented may repose; when things, which are, + Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale: 220 + Her temper, still demanding to be free; + Spurning the rude control of wilful might; + Proud of her dangers braved, her griefs endured, + Her strength severely proved? To these high aims, + Which reason and affection prompt in man, + Not adverse nor unapt hath Nature framed + His bold imagination. For, amid + The various forms which this full world presents + Like rivals to his choice, what human breast + E'er doubts, before the transient and minute, 230 + To prize the vast, the stable, the sublime? + Who, that from heights aerial sends his eye + Around a wild horizon, and surveys + Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave + Through mountains, plains, through spacious cities old, + And regions dark with woods, will turn away + To mark the path of some penurious rill + Which murmureth at his feet? Where does the soul + Consent her soaring fancy to restrain, + Which bears her up, as on an eagle's wings, 240 + Destined for highest heaven; or which of fate's + Tremendous barriers shall confine her flight + To any humbler quarry? The rich earth + Cannot detain her; nor the ambient air + With all its changes. For a while with joy + She hovers o'er the sun, and views the small + Attendant orbs, beneath his sacred beam, + Emerging from the deep, like cluster'd isles + Whose rocky shores to the glad sailor's eye + Reflect the gleams of morning; for a while 250 + With pride she sees his firm, paternal sway + Bend the reluctant planets to move each + Round its perpetual year. But soon she quits + That prospect; meditating loftier views, + She darts adventurous up the long career + Of comets; through the constellations holds + Her course, and now looks back on all the stars + Whose blended flames as with a milky stream + Part the blue region. Empyrean tracts, + Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven 260 + Abide, she then explores, whence purer light + For countless ages travels through the abyss, + Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived. + Upon the wide creation's utmost shore + At length she stands, and the dread space beyond + Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless, down + The gloomy void, astonish'd, yet unquell'd, + She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulf + Where God alone hath being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth 270 + Of human kind, the Sovereign Maker said + That not in humble, nor in brief delight, + Not in the fleeting echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find contentment; but, from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, + Till every bound at length should disappear, + And infinite perfection fill the scene. + + But lo, where Beauty, dress'd in gentler pomp, 280 + With comely steps advancing, claims the verse + Her charms inspire. O Beauty, source of praise, + Of honour, even to mute and lifeless things; + O thou that kindlest in each human heart + Love, and the wish of poets, when their tongue + Would teach to other bosoms what so charms + Their own; O child of Nature and the soul, + In happiest hour brought forth; the doubtful garb + Of words, of earthly language, all too mean, + Too lowly I account, in which to clothe 290 + Thy form divine; for thee the mind alone + Beholds, nor half thy brightness can reveal + Through those dim organs, whose corporeal touch + O'ershadoweth thy pure essence. Yet, my Muse, + If Fortune call thee to the task, wait thou + Thy favourable seasons; then, while fear + And doubt are absent, through wide nature's bounds + Expatiate with glad step, and choose at will + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300 + To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise, + And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend + Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles + Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime, + Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on, + And learn from him; while, as he roves around, + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, + The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot + Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell, + Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310 + In purple lights, till every hillock glows + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou that Thessalian landscape trace, + Where slow Peneus his clear glassy tide + Draws smooth along, between the winding cliffs + Of Ossa and the pathless woods unshorn + That wave o'er huge Olympus? Down the stream, + Look how the mountains with their double range + Embrace the vale of Tempe: from each side + Ascending steep to heaven, a rocky mound 320 + Cover'd with ivy and the laurel boughs + That crown'd young Phoebus for the Python slain. + Fair Tempe! on whose primrose banks the morn + Awoke most fragrant, and the noon reposed + In pomp of lights and shadows most sublime: + Whose lawns, whose glades, ere human footsteps yet + Had traced an entrance, were the hallow'd haunt + Of sylvan powers immortal: where they sate + Oft in the golden age, the Nymphs and Fauns, + Beneath some arbour branching o'er the flood, 330 + And leaning round hung on the instructive lips + Of hoary Pan, or o'er some open dale + Danced in light measures to his sevenfold pipe, + While Zephyr's wanton hand along their path + Flung showers of painted blossoms, fertile dews, + And one perpetual spring. But if our task + More lofty rites demand, with all good vows + Then let us hasten to the rural haunt + Where young Melissa dwells. Nor thou refuse + The voice which calls thee from thy loved retreat, 340 + But hither, gentle maid, thy footsteps turn: + Here, to thy own unquestionable theme, + O fair, O graceful, bend thy polish'd brow, + Assenting; and the gladness of thy eyes + Impart to me, like morning's wished light + Seen through the vernal air. By yonder stream, + Where beech and elm along the bordering mead + Send forth wild melody from every bough, + Together let us wander; where the hills + Cover'd with fleeces to the lowing vale 350 + Reply; where tidings of content and peace + Each echo brings. Lo, how the western sun + O'er fields and floods, o'er every living soul, + Diffuseth glad repose! There,--while I speak + Of Beauty's honours, thou, Melissa, thou + Shalt hearken, not unconscious, while I tell + How first from Heaven she came: how, after all + The works of life, the elemental scenes, + The hours, the seasons, she had oft explored, + At length her favourite mansion and her throne 360 + She fix'd in woman's form; what pleasing ties + To virtue bind her; what effectual aid + They lend each other's power; and how divine + Their union, should some unambitious maid, + To all the enchantment of the Idalian queen, + Add sanctity and wisdom; while my tongue + Prolongs the tale, Melissa, thou may'st feign + To wonder whence my rapture is inspired; + But soon the smile which dawns upon thy lip + Shall tell it, and the tenderer bloom o'er all 370 + That soft cheek springing to the marble neck, + Which bends aside in vain, revealing more + What it would thus keep silent, and in vain + The sense of praise dissembling. Then my song + Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform + With joy and love the rugged breast of man, + Should sound in numbers worthy such a theme: + While all whose souls have ever felt the force + Of those enchanting passions, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, and receive once more 380 + Their influence, unobscured by any cloud + Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand + Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm + Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn + To join his dictates to the genuine strain + Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear + Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band + Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish + And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene + Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured 390 + By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. + I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat, + Presenting Superstition's gloomy form, + To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth, + And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song + With happier omens calls you to the field, 400 + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know), + Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use + And aptitude are strangers? is her praise + Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And win each fond admirer into snares, + Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence 410 + The general mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + Thus, to the choice of credulous desire, + Doth objects the completest of their tribe + Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank + Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring, + Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask + The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill + Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock, + Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn 420 + And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool + With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine + Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage + Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl + Report of her, as of the swelling grape + Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem + When first it meets the sun. Or what are all + The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd? + Are they not pledges of a state entire, + Where native order reigns, with every part 430 + In health, and every function well perform'd? + + Thus, then, at first was Beauty sent from Heaven, + The lovely ministress of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one; + And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth, would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore with a rash and greedy aim + Seek ye to rove through every flattering scene + Which Beauty seems to deck, nor once inquire 440 + Where is the suffrage of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly? Wanting these, + Lo, Beauty withers in your void embrace; + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor yet let hope, + That kindliest inmate of the youthful breast, + Be hence appall'd, be turn'd to coward sloth + Sitting in silence, with dejected eyes + Incurious and with folded hands; far less 450 + Let scorn of wild fantastic folly's dreams, + Or hatred of the bigot's savage pride + Persuade you e'er that Beauty, or the love + Which waits on Beauty, may not brook to hear + The sacred lore of undeceitful Good + And Truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd + Though Superstition, tyranness abhorr'd, + The reverence due to this majestic pair + With threats and execration still demands; + Though the tame wretch, who asks of her the way 460 + To their celestial dwelling, she constrains + To quench or set at nought the lamp of God + Within his frame; through many a cheerless wild + Though forth she leads him credulous and dark + And awed with dubious notion; though at length + Haply she plunge him into cloister'd cells + And mansions unrelenting as the grave, + But void of quiet, there to watch the hours + Of midnight; there, amid the screaming owl's + Dire song, with spectres or with guilty shades 470 + To talk of pangs and everlasting woe; + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Presides o'er your adventure. From the bower + Where Wisdom sat with her Athenian sons, + Could but my happy hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then (for what need of cruel fear to you, + To you whom godlike love can well command?), + Then should my powerful voice at once dispel + Those monkish horrors; should in words divine 480 + Relate how favour'd minds like you inspired, + And taught their inspiration to conduct + By ruling Heaven's decree, through various walks + And prospects various, but delightful all, + Move onward; while now myrtle groves appear, + Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods + Of empire with the curule throne, or now + The domes of contemplation and the Muse. + + Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye + Through the fair toils and ornaments of earth 490 + Discerns the nobler life reserved for heaven, + Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh! let not us + By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh! let not us one moment pause to join + That chosen band. And if the gracious Power, + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 500 + Will to my invocation grant anew + The tuneful spirit, then through all our paths + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead + When Summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of Luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge free Virtue's steps, and to her side + Summon that strong divinity of soul + Which conquers Chance and Fate: or on the height, 510 + The goal assign'd her, haply to proclaim + Her triumph; on her brow to place the crown + Of uncorrupted praise; through future worlds + To follow her interminated way, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Such is the worth of Beauty; such her power, + So blameless, so revered. It now remains, + In just gradation through the various ranks + Of being, to contemplate how her gifts + Rise in due measure, watchful to attend 520 + The steps of rising Nature. Last and least, + In colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the forms + Of simplest, easiest measure; in the bounds + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + To symmetry adds colour: thus the pearl + Shines in the concave of its purple bed, + And painted shells along some winding shore + Catch with indented folds the glancing sun. + Next, as we rise, appear the blooming tribes 530 + Which clothe the fragrant earth; which draw from her + Their own nutrition; which are born and die, + Yet, in their seed, immortal; such the flowers + With which young Maia pays the village maids + That hail her natal morn; and such the groves + Which blithe Pomona rears on Vaga's bank, + To feed the bowl of Ariconian swains + Who quaff beneath her branches. Nobler still + Is Beauty's name where, to the full consent + Of members and of features, to the pride 540 + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given, + While active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed + With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp + Adorns the seat where Virtue dwells on earth, + And Truth's eternal day-light shines around, + What palm belongs to man's imperial front, 550 + And woman powerful with becoming smiles, + Chief of terrestrial natures, need we now + Strive to inculcate? Thus hath Beauty there + Her most conspicuous praise to matter lent, + Where most conspicuous through that shadowy veil + Breaks forth the bright expression of a mind, + By steps directing our enraptured search + To Him, the first of minds; the chief; the sole; + From whom, through this wide, complicated world, + Did all her various lineaments begin; 560 + To whom alone, consenting and entire, + At once their mutual influence all display. + He, God most high (bear witness, Earth and Heaven), + The living fountains in himself contains + Of beauteous and sublime; with him enthroned + Ere days or years trod their ethereal way, + In his supreme intelligence enthroned, + The queen of love holds her unclouded state, + Urania. Thee, O Father! this extent + Of matter; thee the sluggish earth and tract 570 + Of seas, the heavens and heavenly splendours feel + Pervading, quickening, moving. From the depth + Of thy great essence, forth didst thou conduct + Eternal Form: and there, where Chaos reign'd, + Gav'st her dominion to erect her seat, + And sanctify the mansion. All her works + Well pleased thou didst behold: the gloomy fires + Of storm or earthquake, and the purest light + Of summer; soft Campania's new-born rose, + And the slow weed which pines on Russian hills 580 + Comely alike to thy full vision stand: + To thy surrounding vision, which unites + All essences and powers of the great world + In one sole order, fair alike they stand, + As features well consenting, and alike + Required by Nature ere she could attain + Her just resemblance to the perfect shape + Of universal Beauty, which with thee + Dwelt from the first. Thou also, ancient Mind, + Whom love and free beneficence await 590 + In all thy doings; to inferior minds, + Thy offspring, and to man, thy youngest son, + Refusing no convenient gift nor good; + Their eyes didst open, in this earth, yon heaven, + Those starry worlds, the countenance divine + Of Beauty to behold. But not to them + Didst thou her awful magnitude reveal + Such as before thine own unbounded sight + She stands (for never shall created soul + Conceive that object), nor, to all their kinds, 600 + The same in shape or features didst thou frame + Her image. Measuring well their different spheres + Of sense and action, thy paternal hand + Hath for each race prepared a different test + Of Beauty, own'd and reverenced as their guide + Most apt, most faithful. Thence inform'd, they scan + The objects that surround them; and select, + Since the great whole disclaims their scanty view, + Each for himself selects peculiar parts + Of Nature; what the standard fix'd by Heaven 610 + Within his breast approves, acquiring thus + A partial Beauty, which becomes his lot; + A Beauty which his eye may comprehend, + His hand may copy, leaving, O Supreme, + O thou whom none hath utter'd, leaving all + To thee that infinite, consummate form, + Which the great powers, the gods around thy throne + And nearest to thy counsels, know with thee + For ever to have been; but who she is, + Or what her likeness, know not. Man surveys 620 + A narrower scene, where, by the mix'd effect + Of things corporeal on his passive mind, + He judgeth what is fair. Corporeal things + The mind of man impel with various powers, + And various features to his eye disclose. + The powers which move his sense with instant joy, + The features which attract his heart to love, + He marks, combines, reposits. Other powers + And features of the self-same thing (unless + The beauteous form, the creature of his mind, 630 + Request their close alliance) he o'erlooks + Forgotten; or with self-beguiling zeal, + Whene'er his passions mingle in the work, + Half alters, half disowns. The tribes of men + Thus from their different functions and the shapes + Familiar to their eye, with art obtain, + Unconscious of their purpose, yet with art + Obtain the Beauty fitting man to love; + Whose proud desires from Nature's homely toil + Oft turn away, fastidious, asking still 640 + His mind's high aid, to purify the form + From matter's gross communion; to secure + For ever, from the meddling hand of Change + Or rude Decay, her features; and to add + Whatever ornaments may suit her mien, + Where'er he finds them scatter'd through the paths + Of Nature or of Fortune. Then he seats + The accomplish'd image deep within his breast, + Reviews it, and accounts it good and fair. + + Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, 650 + The universal Venus, far beyond + The keenest effort of created eyes, + And their most wide horizon, dwells enthroned + In ancient silence. At her footstool stands + An altar burning with eternal fire + Unsullied, unconsumed. Here every hour, + Here every moment, in their turns arrive + Her offspring; an innumerable band + Of sisters, comely all! but differing far + In age, in stature, and expressive mien, 660 + More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. + To this maternal shrine in turns they come, + Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source + Of living flame, which here immortal flows, + Their portions of its lustre they may draw + For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; + As their great parent's discipline requires. + Then to their several mansions they depart, + In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores + Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, 670 + Even on the surface of this rolling earth, + How many make abode? The fields, the groves, + The winding rivers and the azure main, + Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, + Their rites sublime. There each her destined home + Informs with that pure radiance from the skies + Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere, + Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night + Turn toward a distant flame, so some fit eye, + Among the various tenants of the scene, 680 + Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, + And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, + Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, + Bears witness with its people, gods and men, + To Beauty's blissful power, and with the voice + Of grateful admiration still resounds: + That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine + As is the cunning of the master's hand + To the sweet accent of the well-tuned lyre. + + Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps 690 + Have led us to these awful solitudes + Of Nature and of Science; nurse revered + Of generous counsels and heroic deeds; + Oh! let some portion of thy matchless praise + Dwell in my breast, and teach me to adorn + This unattempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + Which Hesper sheds along the vernal heaven, + If I, from vulgar Superstition's walk, + Impatient steal, and from the unseemly rites 700 + Of splendid Adulation, to attend + With hymns thy presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps unprofaned. + Come, O renowned power; thy glowing mien + Such, and so elevated all thy form, + As when the great barbaric lord, again + And yet again diminish'd, hid his face + Among the herd of satraps and of kings; + And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear, + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 710 + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of Arts, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy unconquer'd youth, + After some glorious day rejoicing round + Their new-erected trophy. Guide my feet + Through fair Lyceum's walk, the olive shades + Of Academus, and the sacred vale + Haunted by steps divine, where once, beneath + That ever living platane's ample boughs, + Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain'd, 720 + On his neglected urn attentive lay; + While Boreas, lingering on the neighbouring steep + With beauteous Orithyia, his love tale + In silent awe suspended. There let me + With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields, + Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn + My native clime; while, far beyond the meed + Of Fancy's toil aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom; while I add + (What cannot be disjoin'd from Beauty's praise) 730 + Thy name and native dress, thy works beloved + And honour'd; while to my compatriot youth + I point the great example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + +[Footnote 2: Truth is here taken, not in a logical, but in a mixed +and popular sense, or for what has been called the truth of things; +denoting as well their natural and regular condition, as a proper +estimate or judgment concerning them.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Dyson:' see _Life_.] + + + + +BOOK II. 1765. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Introduction to this more difficult part of the subject. Of Truth +and its three classes, matter of fact, experimental or scientifical +truth (contra-distinguished from opinion), and universal truth; +which last is either metaphysical or geometrical, either purely +intellectual or perfectly abstracted. On the power of discerning +truth depends that of acting with the view of an end; a circumstance +essential to virtue. Of Virtue, considered in the divine mind as a +perpetual and universal beneficence. Of human virtue, considered as +a system of particular sentiments and actions, suitable to the +design of Providence and the condition of man; to whom it +constitutes the chief good and the first beauty. Of Vice, and its +origin. Of Ridicule: its general nature and final cause. Of the +Passions; particularly of those which relate to evil natural or moral, +and which are generally accounted painful, though not always +unattended with pleasure. + + + Thus far of Beauty and the pleasing forms + Which man's untutor'd fancy, from the scenes + Imperfect of this ever changing world, + Creates; and views, enarnour'd. Now my song + Severer themes demand: mysterious Truth; + And Virtue, sovereign good: the spells, the trains, + The progeny of Error; the dread sway + Of Passion; and whatever hidden stores + From her own lofty deeds and from herself + The mind acquires. Severer argument: 10 + Not less attractive; nor deserving less + A constant ear. For what are all the forms + Educed by fancy from corporeal things, + Greatness, or pomp, or symmetry of parts? + Not tending to the heart, soon feeble grows, + As the blunt arrow 'gainst the knotty trunk, + Their impulse on the sense: while the pall'd eye + Expects in vain its tribute; asks in vain, + Where are the ornaments it once admired? + Not so the moral species, nor the powers 20 + Of Passion and of Thought. The ambitious mind + With objects boundless as her own desires + Can there converse: by these unfading forms + Touch'd and awaken'd still, with eager act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her gifts, her godlike fortune. Such the scenes + Now opening round us. May the destined verse + Maintain its equal tenor, though in tracts + Obscure and arduous! May the source of light, + All-present, all-sufficient, guide our steps 30 + Through every maze! and whom, in childish years, + From the loud throng, the beaten paths of wealth + And power, thou didst apart send forth to speak + In tuneful words concerning highest things, + Him still do thou, O Father, at those hours + Of pensive freedom, when the human soul + Shuts out the rumour of the world, him still + Touch thou with secret lessons; call thou back + Each erring thought; and let the yielding strains + From his full bosom, like a welcome rill 40 + Spontaneous from its healthy fountain, flow! + + But from what name, what favourable sign, + What heavenly auspice, rather shall I date + My perilous excursion, than from Truth, + That nearest inmate of the human soul; + Estranged from whom, the countenance divine + Of man, disfigured and dishonour'd, sinks + Among inferior things? For to the brutes + Perception and the transient boons of sense + Hath Fate imparted; but to man alone 50 + Of sublunary beings was it given. + Each fleeting impulse on the sensual powers + At leisure to review; with equal eye + To scan the passion of the stricken nerve, + Or the vague object striking; to conduct + From sense, the portal turbulent and loud, + Into the mind's wide palace one by one + The frequent, pressing, fluctuating forms, + And question and compare them. Thus he learns + Their birth and fortunes; how allied they haunt 60 + The avenues of sense; what laws direct + Their union; and what various discords rise, + Or fixed, or casual; which when his clear thought + Retains and when his faithful words express, + That living image of the external scene, + As in a polish'd mirror held to view, + Is Truth; where'er it varies from the shape + And hue of its exemplar, in that part + Dim Error lurks. Moreover, from without + When oft the same society of forms 70 + In the same order have approach'd his mind, + He deigns no more their steps with curious heed + To trace; no more their features or their garb + He now examines; but of them and their + Condition, as with some diviner's tongue, + Affirms what Heaven in every distant place, + Through every future season, will decree. + This too is Truth; where'er his prudent lips + Wait till experience diligent and slow + Has authorised their sentence, this is Truth; 80 + A second, higher kind: the parent this + Of Science; or the lofty power herself, + Science herself, on whom the wants and cares + Of social life depend; the substitute + Of God's own wisdom in this toilsome world; + The providence of man. Yet oft in vain, + To earn her aid, with fix'd and anxious eye + He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's course: + Too much in vain. His duller visual ray + The stillness and the persevering acts 90 + Of Nature oft elude; and Fortune oft + With step fantastic from her wonted walk + Turns into mazes dim; his sight is foil'd; + And the crude sentence of his faltering tongue + Is but opinion's verdict, half believed, + And prone to change. Here thou, who feel'st thine ear + Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone, + Pause, and be watchful. Hitherto the stores, + Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, + Partake the relish of their native soil, 100 + Their parent earth. But know, a nobler dower + Her Sire at birth decreed her; purer gifts + From his own treasure; forms which never deign'd + In eyes or ears to dwell, within the sense + Of earthly organs; but sublime were placed + In his essential reason, leading there + That vast ideal host which all his works + Through endless ages never will reveal. + Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, + The slave of hunger and the prey of death, 110 + Even now, even here, in earth's dim prison bound, + The language of intelligence divine + Attains; repeating oft concerning one + And many, past and present, parts and whole, + Those sovereign dictates which in furthest heaven, + Where no orb rolls, Eternity's fix'd ear + Hears from coeval Truth, when Chance nor Change, + Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's self + Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. + Ere long, o'er this corporeal world he learns 120 + To extend her sway; while calling from the deep, + From earth and air, their multitudes untold + Of figures and of motions round his walk, + For each wide family some single birth + He sets in view, the impartial type of all + Its brethren; suffering it to claim, beyond + Their common heritage, no private gift, + No proper fortune. Then whate'er his eye + In this discerns, his bold unerring tongue + Pronounceth of the kindred, without bound, 130 + Without condition. Such the rise of forms + Sequester'd far from sense and every spot + Peculiar in the realms of space or time; + Such is the throne which man for Truth amid + The paths of mutability hath built + Secure, unshaken, still; and whence he views, + In matter's mouldering structures, the pure forms + Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, + Impassive all; whose attributes nor force + Nor fate can alter. There he first conceives 140 + True being, and an intellectual world + The same this hour and ever. Thence he deems + Of his own lot; above the painted shapes + That fleeting move o'er this terrestrial scene + Looks up; beyond the adamantine gates + Of death expatiates; as his birthright claims + Inheritance in all the works of God; + Prepares for endless time his plan of life, + And counts the universe itself his home. + + Whence also but from Truth, the light of minds, 150 + Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays + Of Virtue? with the moral colours thrown + On every walk of this our social scene, + Adorning for the eye of gods and men + The passions, actions, habitudes of life, + And rendering earth like heaven, a sacred place + Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell? + Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin + The reign of Virtue. Ere the dayspring flow'd, + Like sisters link'd in Concord's golden chain, 160 + They stood before the great Eternal Mind, + Their common parent, and by him were both + Sent forth among his creatures, hand in hand, + Inseparably join'd; nor e'er did Truth + Find an apt ear to listen to her lore, + Which knew not Virtue's voice; nor, save where Truth's + Majestic words are heard and understood, + Doth Virtue deign to inhabit. Go, inquire + Of Nature; not among Tartarian rocks, + Whither the hungry vulture with its prey 170 + Returns; not where the lion's sullen roar + At noon resounds along the lonely banks + Of ancient Tigris; but her gentler scenes, + The dovecote and the shepherd's fold at morn, + Consult; or by the meadow's fragrant hedge, + In spring-time when the woodlands first are green, + Attend the linnet singing to his mate + Couch'd o'er their tender young. To this fond care + Thou dost not Virtue's honourable name + Attribute; wherefore, save that not one gleam 180 + Of Truth did e'er discover to themselves + Their little hearts, or teach them, by the effects + Of that parental love, the love itself + To judge, and measure its officious deeds? + But man, whose eyelids Truth has fill'd with day, + Discerns how skilfully to bounteous ends + His wise affections move; with free accord + Adopts their guidance; yields himself secure + To Nature's prudent impulse; and converts + Instinct to duty and to sacred law. 190 + Hence Right and Fit on earth; while thus to man + The Almighty Legislator hath explain'd + The springs of action fix'd within his breast; + Hath given him power to slacken or restrain + Their effort; and hath shewn him how they join + Their partial movements with the master-wheel + Of the great world, and serve that sacred end + Which he, the unerring reason, keeps in view. + + For (if a mortal tongue may speak of him + And his dread ways) even as his boundless eye, 200 + Connecting every form and every change, + Beholds the perfect Beauty; so his will, + Through every hour producing good to all + The family of creatures, is itself + The perfect Virtue. Let the grateful swain + Remember this, as oft with joy and praise + He looks upon the falling dews which clothe + His lawns with verdure, and the tender seed + Nourish within his furrows; when between + Dead seas and burning skies, where long unmoved 210 + The bark had languish'd, now a rustling gale + Lifts o'er the fickle waves her dancing prow, + Let the glad pilot, bursting out in thanks, + Remember this; lest blind o'erweening pride + Pollute their offerings; lest their selfish heart + Say to the heavenly ruler, 'At our call + Relents thy power; by us thy arm is moved.' + Fools! who of God as of each other deem; + Who his invariable acts deduce + From sudden counsels transient as their own; 220 + Nor further of his bounty, than the event + Which haply meets their loud and eager prayer, + Acknowledge; nor, beyond the drop minute + Which haply they have tasted, heed the source + That flows for all; the fountain of his love + Which, from the summit where he sits enthroned, + Pours health and joy, unfailing streams, throughout + The spacious region flourishing in view, + The goodly work of his eternal day, + His own fair universe; on which alone 230 + His counsels fix, and whence alone his will + Assumes her strong direction. Such is now + His sovereign purpose; such it was before + All multitude of years. For his right arm + Was never idle; his bestowing love + Knew no beginning; was not as a change + Of mood that woke at last and started up + After a deep and solitary sloth + Of boundless ages. No; he now is good, + He ever was. The feet of hoary Time 240 + Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er + No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes + Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp + Of worlds, for gladness round the Maker's throne + Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects + Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence + The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd + Were all the dates of being, so disposed + To every living soul of every kind + The field of motion and the hour of rest, 250 + That each the general happiness might serve; + And, by the discipline of laws divine + Convinced of folly or chastised from guilt, + Each might at length be happy. What remains + Shall be like what is past; but fairer still, + And still increasing in the godlike gifts + Of Life and Truth. The same paternal hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + Will ever lead the generations on 260 + Through higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day by his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, + As vapours to the earth in showers return, + As the poised ocean towards the attracting moon + Swells, and the ever-listening planets, charm'd + By the sun's call, their onward pace incline, + So all things which have life aspire to God, + Exhaustless fount of intellectual day! 270 + Centre of souls! Nor doth the mastering voice + Of Nature cease within to prompt aright + Their steps; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From sending to the toil external aid; + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine. + + But this eternal fabric was not raised + For man's inspection. Though to some be given + To catch a transient visionary glimpse 280 + Of that majestic scene which boundless power + Prepares for perfect goodness, yet in vain + Would human life her faculties expand + To embosom such an object. Nor could e'er + Virtue or praise have touch'd the hearts of men, + Had not the Sovereign Guide, through every stage + Of this their various journey, pointed out + New hopes, new toils, which, to their humble sphere + Of sight and strength, might such importance hold + As doth the wide creation to his own. 290 + Hence all the little charities of life, + With all their duties; hence that favourite palm + Of human will, when duty is sufficed, + And still the liberal soul in ampler deeds + Would manifest herself; that sacred sign + Of her revered affinity to Him + Whose bounties are his own; to whom none said, + 'Create the wisest, fullest, fairest world, + And make its offspring happy;' who, intent + Some likeness of Himself among his works 300 + To view, hath pour'd into the human breast + A ray of knowledge and of love, which guides + Earth's feeble race to act their Maker's part, + Self-judging, self-obliged; while, from before + That godlike function, the gigantic power + Necessity, though wont to curb the force + Of Chaos and the savage elements, + Retires abash'd, as from a scene too high + For her brute tyranny, and with her bears + Her scorned followers, Terror, and base Awe 310 + Who blinds herself, and that ill-suited pair, + Obedience link'd with Hatred. Then the soul + Arises in her strength; and, looking round + Her busy sphere, whatever work she views, + Whatever counsel bearing any trace + Of her Creator's likeness, whether apt + To aid her fellows or preserve herself + In her superior functions unimpair'd, + Thither she turns exulting: that she claims + As her peculiar good: on that, through all 320 + The fickle seasons of the day, she looks + With reverence still: to that, as to a fence + Against affliction and the darts of pain, + Her drooping hopes repair--and, once opposed + To that, all other pleasure, other wealth, + Vile, as the dross upon the molten gold, + Appears, and loathsome as the briny sea + To him who languishes with thirst, and sighs + For some known fountain pure. For what can strive + With Virtue? Which of Nature's regions vast 330 + Can in so many forms produce to sight + Such powerful Beauty? Beauty, which the eye + Of Hatred cannot look upon secure: + Which Envy's self contemplates, and is turn'd + Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, + Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + The Summer's noontide groves, the purple eve + At harvest-home, or in the frosty moon + Glittering on some smooth sea; is aught so fair 340 + As virtuous friendship? as the honour'd roof + Whither, from highest heaven, immortal Love + His torch ethereal and his golden bow + Propitious brings, and there a temple holds + To whose unspotted service gladly vow'd + The social band of parent, brother, child, + With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds + Adore his power? What gift of richest clime + E'er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such + Deep wishes, as the zeal that snatcheth back 350 + From Slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown; + Or crosseth Danger in his lion walk, + A rival's life to rescue? as the young + Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, + That his great father's body might not want + A peaceful, humble tomb? the Roman wife + Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound + Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, + Who nothing more could threaten to afflict + Their faithful love? Or is there in the abyss, 360 + Is there, among the adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, + Aught that with half such majesty can fill + The human bosom, as when Brutus rose + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword + Of justice in his rapt astonish'd eye, 370 + And bade the father of his country hail, + For lo, the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free? Thus, through the paths + Of human life, in various pomp array'd + Walks the wise daughter of the judge of heaven, + Fair Virtue; from her father's throne supreme + Sent down to utter laws, such as on earth + Most apt he knew, most powerful to promote + The weal of all his works, the gracious end + Of his dread empire. And, though haply man's 380 + Obscurer sight, so far beyond himself + And the brief labours of his little home, + Extends not; yet, by the bright presence won + Of this divine instructress, to her sway + Pleased he assents, nor heeds the distant goal. + To which her voice conducts him. Thus hath God, + Still looking toward his own high purpose, fix'd + The virtues of his creatures; thus he rules + The parent's fondness and the patriot's zeal; + Thus the warm sense of honour and of shame; 390 + The vows of gratitude, the faith of love; + And all the comely intercourse of praise, + The joy of human life, the earthly heaven! + + How far unlike them must the lot of guilt + Be found! Or what terrestrial woe can match + The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought + The bane of others, or enslaved itself + With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, + Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate + Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, 400 + Were at that season an unwish'd exchange, + When the soul loathes herself; when, flying thence + To crowds, on every brow she sees portray'd + Pell demons, Hate or Scorn, which drive her back + To solitude, her judge's voice divine + To hear in secret, haply sounding through + The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still + Demanding for his violated laws + Fit recompense, or charging her own tongue + To speak the award of justice on herself. 410 + For well she knows what faithful hints within + Were whisper'd, to beware the lying forms + Which turn'd her footsteps from the safer way, + What cautions to suspect their painted dress, + And look with steady eyelid on their smiles, + Their frowns, their tears. In vain; the dazzling hues + Of Fancy, and Opinion's eager voice, + Too much prevail'd. For mortals tread the path + In which Opinion says they follow good + Or fly from evil; and Opinion gives 420 + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, pleasing or deform'd; + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye + With glaring colours and distorted lines. + Is there a man to whom the name of death + Brings terror's ghastly pageants conjured up + Before him, death-bed groans, and dismal vows, + And the frail soul plunged headlong from the brink + Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, 430 + An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire + Unvisited by mercy? Then what hand + Can snatch this dreamer from the fatal toils + Which Fancy and Opinion thus conspire + To twine around his heart? Or who shall hush + Their clamour, when they tell him that to die, + To risk those horrors, is a direr curse + Than basest life can bring? Though Love with prayers + Most tender, with affliction's sacred tears, + Beseech his aid; though Gratitude and Faith 440 + Condemn each step which loiters; yet let none + Make answer for him that if any frown + Of Danger thwart his path, he will not stay + Content, and be a wretch to be secure. + Here Vice begins then: at the gate of life, + Ere the young multitude to diverse roads + Part, like fond pilgrims on a journey unknown, + Sits Fancy, deep enchantress; and to each + With kind maternal looks presents her bowl, + A potent beverage. Heedless they comply, 450 + Till the whole soul from that mysterious draught + Is tinged, and every transient thought imbibes + Of gladness or disgust, desire or fear, + One homebred colour, which not all the lights + Of Science e'er shall change; not all the storms + Of adverse Fortune wash away, nor yet + The robe of purest Virtue quite conceal. + Thence on they pass, where, meeting frequent shapes + Of good and evil, cunning phantoms apt + To fire or freeze the breast, with them they join 460 + In dangerous parley; listening oft, and oft + Gazing with reckless passion, while its garb + The spectre heightens, and its pompous tale + Repeats, with some new circumstance to suit + That early tincture of the hearer's soul. + And should the guardian, Reason, but for one + Short moment yield to this illusive scene + His ear and eye, the intoxicating charm + Involves him, till no longer he discerns, + Or only guides to err. Then revel forth 470 + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Hence Ambition climbs + With sliding feet and hands impure, to grasp + Those solemn toys which glitter in his view + On Fortune's rugged steep; hence pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; Rapine hence + And envious Lust, by venal fraud upborne, + Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws + Which kept them from their prey; hence all the crimes + That e'er defiled the earth, and all the plagues 480 + That follow them for vengeance, in the guise + Of Honour, Safety, Pleasure, Ease, or Pomp, + Stole first into the fond believing mind. + + Yet not by Fancy's witchcraft on the brain + Are always the tumultuous passions driven + To guilty deeds, nor Reason bound in chains + That Vice alone may lord it. Oft, adorn'd + With motley pageants, Folly mounts his throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears: a thousand ways 490 + She whirls her giddy empire. Lo, thus far + With bold adventure to the Mantuan lyre + I sing for contemplation link'd with love, + A pensive theme. Now haply should my song + Unbend that serious countenance, and learn + Thalia's tripping gait, her shrill-toned voice, + Her wiles familiar: whether scorn she darts + In wanton ambush from her lip or eye, + Or whether, with a sad disguise of care + O'ermantling her gay brow, she acts in sport 500 + The deeds of Folly, and from all sides round + Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + Her province. But through every comic scene + To lead my Muse with her light pencil arm'd; + Through every swift occasion which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her labouring sides and chokes her tongue, + Were endless as to sound each grating note + With which the rooks, and chattering daws, and grave + Unwieldy inmates of the village pond, 510 + The changing seasons of the sky proclaim; + Sun, cloud, or shower. Suffice it to have said, + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on her quick perception: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty be dragg'd in and shewn + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity is wont to dwell; + Or whether these with shrewd and wayward spite 520 + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + Ask we for what fair end the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms stirs this gay contempt, + These grateful pangs of laughter; from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + Wild Folly's aims? For, though the sober light + Of Truth slow dawning on the watchful mind 530 + At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil; yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears + To thousands, conscious what a scanty pause + From labour and from care the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature, therefore stamp'd + These glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious to the passing clown 540 + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + But other evils o'er the steps of man + Through all his walks impend; against whose might + The slender darts of Laughter nought avail: + A trivial warfare. Some, like cruel guards, + On Nature's ever-moving throne attend; + With mischief arm'd for him whoe'er shall thwart + The path of her inexorable wheels, + While she pursues the work that must be done + Through ocean, earth, and air. Hence, frequent forms 550 + Of woe; the merchant, with his wealthy bark, + Buried by dashing waves; the traveller, + Pierced by the pointed lightning in his haste; + And the poor husbandman, with folded arms, + Surveying his lost labours, and a heap + Of blasted chaff the product of the field + Whence he expected bread. But worse than these, + I deem far worse, that other race of ills + Which human kind rear up among themselves; + That horrid offspring which misgovern'd Will 560 + Bears to fantastic Error; vices, crimes, + Furies that curse the earth, and make the blows, + The heaviest blows, of Nature's innocent hand + Seem sport: which are indeed but as the care + Of a wise parent, who solicits good + To all her house, though haply at the price + Of tears and froward wailing and reproach + From some unthinking child, whom not the less + Its mother destines to be happy still. + + These sources then of pain, this double lot 570 + Of evil in the inheritance of man, + Required for his protection no slight force, + No careless watch; and therefore was his breast + Fenced round with passions quick to be alarm'd, + Or stubborn to oppose; with Fear, more swift + Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill, + Where armies land: with Anger, uncontroll'd + As the young lion bounding on his prey; + With Sorrow, that locks up the struggling heart; + And Shame, that overcasts the drooping eye 580 + As with a cloud of lightning. These the part + Perform of eager monitors, and goad + The soul more sharply than with points of steel, + Her enemies to shun or to resist. + And as those passions, that converse with good, + Are good themselves; as Hope and Love and Joy, + Among the fairest and the sweetest boons + Of life, we rightly count: so these, which guard + Against invading evil, still excite + Some pain, some tumult; these, within the mind 590 + Too oft admitted or too long retain'd, + Shock their frail seat, and by their uncurb'd rage + To savages more fell than Libya breeds + Transform themselves, till human thought becomes + A gloomy ruin, haunt of shapes unbless'd, + Of self-tormenting fiends; Horror, Despair, + Hatred, and wicked Envy: foes to all + The works of Nature and the gifts of Heaven. + + But when through blameless paths to righteous ends + Those keener passions urge the awaken'd soul, 600 + I would not, as ungracious violence, + Their sway describe, nor from their free career + The fellowship of Pleasure quite exclude. + For what can render, to the self-approved, + Their temper void of comfort, though in pain? + Who knows not with what majesty divine + The forms of Truth and Justice to the mind + Appear, ennobling oft the sharpest woe + With triumph and rejoicing? Who, that bears + A human bosom, hath not often felt 610 + How dear are all those ties which bind our race + In gentleness together, and how sweet + Their force, let Fortune's wayward hand the while + Be kind or cruel? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps, silent and unseen, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 620 + Those sacred hours when, stealing from the noise + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd, + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while holy Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; 630 + While every mother closer to her breast + Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down. Oh! deemest thou indeed + No pleasing influence here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No tender charm mysterious, which attracts 640 + O'er all that edge of pain the social powers + To this their proper action and their end? + Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, + Slow through that pensive gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The reverend volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame + For Grecian heroes, where the sovereign Power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father meditating all 650 + The praises of his son, and bids the rest + Of mankind there the fairest model learn + Of their own nature, and the noblest deeds + Which yet the world hath seen. If then thy soul + Join in the lot of those diviner men; + Say, when the prospect darkens on thy view; + When, sunk by many a wound, heroic states + Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown + Of hard Ambition; when the generous band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires 660 + Lie side by side in death; when brutal Force + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of guardian power, the majesty of rule, + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To poor dishonest pageants, to adorn + A robber's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when beauteous works, + Rewards of virtue, sculptured forms which deck'd + With more than human grace the warrior's arch, + Or patriot's tomb, now victims to appease 670 + Tyrannic envy, strew the common path + With awful ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Havoc from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer stroke + To mow the monuments of Glory down; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 680 + Expands her raven wings, and, from the gate + Where senates once the weal of nations plann'd, + Hisseth the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column: thus when all + The widely-mournful scene is fix'd within + Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; 690 + Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd + Of silent flatterers bending to his nod; + And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye, + And says within himself, 'I am a King, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?' The dregs corrupt + Of barbarous ages, that Circaean draught 700 + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the Eternal Ruler of the world! + Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd + The native judgment of the human soul, + Nor so effaced the image of her Sire. + + + + +BOOK III. 1770. + + + What tongue then may explain the various fate + Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes + Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth + Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man + Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind + From passions, wants, and envy far estranged, + Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd + Each part so richly with whate'er pertains + To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he + The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 + The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, + While the poor inmate looks around and smiles + Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? + Hard is the question, and from ancient days + Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; + Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre + Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er + Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light + Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, + Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 + What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes + And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, + Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, + Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know. + Could I the speech of lawgivers assume, + One old and splendid tale I would record, + With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains + Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all + Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, + Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 + Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, + Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height + Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice + Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; + Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join + In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed + Minerva's eager people to his laws, + Which their own goddess in his breast inspired? + + 'Twas now the time when his heroic task + Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 + Of flattering service, the fond multitude + Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath + Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, + Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, + Even from his birth, to every powerful art + Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips + Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, + Could steal away suspicion from the hearts + Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day + He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 + Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd + Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, + As one less kindly treated, who had hoped + To merit favour, but submits perforce + To find another's services preferr'd, + Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. + Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, + Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd + Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, + His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 + And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, + He burst into the public place, as there, + There only, were his refuge; and declared + In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, + The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. + Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, + To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, + Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, + Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, + And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 + The generous people! Now behold him fenced + By mercenary weapons, like a king, + Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve + To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp + Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, + And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, + And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. + Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; + Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, + Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 + Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, + His train increased; till, at that fatal time + Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame + Startled, began to question what it saw, + Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice + Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd + The rocky citadel with hostile arms, + Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within + Amid his hirelings, meditating death + To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 + Where then was Solon? After ten long years + Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, + The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: + Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that + Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd + To Liberty and Concord, now profaned + By savage hate, or sunk into a den + Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, + And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. + Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 + His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined + One moment with such woman-like distress + To view the transient storms of civil war, + As thence to yield his country and her hopes + To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, + Even while the traitor's impious act is told, + He buckles on his hoary head; he girds + With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear + He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides + The assembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 + It was no time for counsel; in their spears + Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet + Was not so firmly seated on his throne, + But that one shock of their united force + Would dash him from the summit of his pride, + Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else + Can reassert the lost Athenian name, + So cheaply to the laughter of the world + Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith + So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 + And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; + Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, + And through the walks of Danger or of Death + Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all + Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye + He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard + Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen + Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust + Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down + Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 + From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime + Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, + Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last + A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, + O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, + Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd + Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!' + No more he added; but with lonely steps + Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, + And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 + Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd. + There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man + Whom from the service of the war his chief + Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, + He fix'd in general view. One wishful look + He sent, unconscious, toward the public place + At parting; then beneath his quiet roof + Without a word, without a sigh, retired. + Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays + From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 + Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores, + When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet + Of four Athenians, by the same sad care + Conducted all, than whom the state beheld + None nobler. First came Megacles, the son + Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, + The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days + Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, + Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs + And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 + Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well + That hospitable favour which erewhile + Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, + Whom he, with offerings worthy of the god, + Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere + Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles + Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, + The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand + Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far + In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 + From arms controll'd by justice, from the love + Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath + Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once + His warlike steeds the hero led, and there + Contended through the tumult of the course + With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, + Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, + High on his car he stood and waved his arm. + Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice + Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 + Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, + To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, + The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, + Within the circuit of the following year, + To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand + With his fair daughter, him among the guests + Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all + The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: + From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian shore, + Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge 190 + Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes + Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race + Of great Achilles governs, glorying still + In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse + Of men who first among the Greeks threw off + The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms + Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, + Where flows Peneus near the lofty walls + Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen + Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 + On the steep margin of Euripus, views + Across the tide the Marathonian plain, + Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, + Minerva's care, among her graceful sons + Found equal lovers for the princely maid: + Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes + Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves + That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft + Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious band + Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 + In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. + His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, + Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate + Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm + Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd + When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, + And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart + Throbb'd full of bursting passions, anger, grief + With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy + Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, 220 + Are destined for his country and himself + In riper years to bring forth fruits divine + Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd + Two brave companions, whom one mother bore + To different lords; but whom the better ties + Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more + Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew + From godlike AEacus his ancient line; + That AEacus whose unimpeach'd renown + For sanctity and justice won the lyre 230 + Of elder bards to celebrate him throned + In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees + The guilty soul within the burning gates + Of Tartarus compel, or send the good + To inhabit with eternal health and peace + The valleys of Elysium. From a stem + So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring + Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long + The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, + Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 + Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore + To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth + Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect + With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now + Save for his injured country, here he stands + In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: + Unconscious both what widely different lots + Await them, taught by nature as they are + To know one common good, one common ill. + For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 + Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts + Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; + No, not the Olympic olive, by himself + From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind + Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve + From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, + And their assassin dagger. But if death + Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, + Yet fate an ample recompense prepares + In his victorious son, that other great 260 + Miltiades, who o'er the very throne + Of Glory shall with Time's assiduous hand + In adamantine characters engrave + The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd + 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, + Shall all the achievements of the heroes old + Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd + From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought + For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy. + + Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 + Of Solon had assembled. But the gate + Now opens, and across the ample floor + Straight they proceed into an open space + Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, + Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods + Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, + Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found + Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd + With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. + He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 + Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd + Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; + Calling meantime the Muses to accept + His simple offering, by no victim tinged + With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, + But such as for himself Apollo claims + In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt + Is thence the Altar of the Pious named. + + Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd + That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 + Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay + A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd + Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, + As loath that care or tumult should approach + Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, + So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such + Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce + To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' + He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? + Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 + Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause + Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might + Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove + Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, + As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, + From impious violation to assert + The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! + What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld + The Athenian people. Many bitter days + Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 + Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room + For just resentment, or their hands indure + To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all + Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. + That time will come, however. Be it yours + To watch its fair approach, and urge it on + With honest prudence; me it ill beseems + Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd + To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold + That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 + They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge + In counsels deep and various, nor prepare + For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread + On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades + Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold + What care employs me now. My vows I pay + To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth + And solace of my age. If right I deem + Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, + The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 + Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues + With sacred silence favour what I speak, + And haply shall my faithful lips be taught + To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, + As with impenetrable steel your breasts, + For the long strife before you, and repel + The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd + The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, + Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before + The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 + Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light + Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised + Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:-- + + 'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove + And Memory divine, Pierian maids, + Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, + When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, + To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps + Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate + My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 + Of flowing harmony to soften war's + Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm + The public eye, to clothe the form austere + Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, + Neglected, and supplanted of the hope + On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, + To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved + Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach + The visions of my bed whate'er the gods + In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 + Or the first heroes acted; ye can make + The morning light more gladsome to my sense + Than ever it appear'd to active youth + Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give + To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, + A labour as sublime, as when the sons + Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, + To hear pronounced for all their future deeds + The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers! + I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 + To meet your energy divine, I bring + A high and sacred theme; not less than those + Which to the eternal custody of Fame + Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd + With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent + The groves of Haemus or the Chian shore. + + 'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all + My various life was e'er from you estranged?) + Oft hath my solitary song to you + Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 + To willing exile; earnest to withdraw + From envy and the disappointed thirst + Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, + Which in the eye of Athens they upheld + Against her legislator, should impair + With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. + To Egypt therefore through the AEgean isles + My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile + Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes + Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 + I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, + Through many changing moons, attentive heard + The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue + At morn or midnight the deep story told + Of her who represents whate'er has been, + Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil + No mortal hand hath ever yet removed. + By him exhorted, southward to the walls + Of On I pass'd, the city of the sun, + The ever-youthful god. Twas there, amid 400 + His priests and sages, who the livelong night + Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, + Or who in wondrous fables half disclose + The secrets of the elements, 'twas there + That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears + The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, + And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd. + Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale; + And often, while I listen'd, did my mind + Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 + Should sometime for an Attic audience raise + Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs + Call forth those ancient demigods, to speak + Of Justice and the hidden Providence + That walks among mankind. But yet meantime + The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons + Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed + On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, + To which the double yoke of king and priest + Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 + Invoking our own Pallas and the gods + Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave + To Egypt, and before the southern wind + Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, + What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm + Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian shore, + The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now + Consent that I reveal. But when at length + Ten times the sun returning from the south + Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 + The groves with music, pleased I then beheld + The term of those long errors drawing nigh. + Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within + The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod + The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts + Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth + As from their ancient home, and still to Greece + Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim. + Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, + Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 + Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, + I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps + The city of Minos enter'd. O ye gods, + Who taught the leaders of the simpler time + By written words to curb the untoward will + Of mortals, how within that generous isle + Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd + Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords + Of traffic and the sea, with what delight + I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 + Of the same household, join the plainer sort + Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these + Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, + Alike was strange; but noble concord still + Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, + Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, + How pleasing to behold them in their schools, + Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, + O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye. + Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 + Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns + Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve + Their country's heroes from oblivious night, + Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; + There, on the verge of manhood, others met, + In heavy armour through the heats of noon + To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb + With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow + To send resistless arrows to their mark, + Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 + Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, + Now with the biting falchion, and the fence + Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute + Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains + Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite + To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. + Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, + So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war + Each bold invader, and in peace to guard + That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 + Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood + Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, + Could quench or slacken. First of human names + In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; + And holiest far, of what the sun surveys + Through his whole course, were those primeval seats + Which with religious footsteps he had taught + Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave + Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads + Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where 490 + His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne + Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came + Each ninth returning year, the king of gods + And mortals there in secret to consult + On justice, and the tables of his law + To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal + Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates + Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane + Built on that sacred spot, along the banks + Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 + And his majestic consort join'd their hands + And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there + That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds + I first received; what time an annual feast + Had summon'd all the genial country round, + By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind + That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths + And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, + Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke + The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 + Of strangers from those naval cities drawn + Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore, + A merchant of AEgina I descried, + My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung + To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, + Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest," + He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites + Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: + Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne." + He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 + Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct + I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold + And my eyes dim; the altars and their train + No more were present to me; how I fared, + Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall + Aught of those moments, other than the sense + Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, + And, from the toils of some distressful dream + To break away, with palpitating heart, + Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 + Makes many a painful effort. When at last + The sun and nature's face again appear'd, + Not far I found me, where the public path, + Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, + From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends. + Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts + Of Ida rose before me, and the vault + Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side. + Entering within the threshold, on the ground + I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK + OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770. + + One effort more, one cheerful sally more, + Our destined course will finish; and in peace + Then, for an offering sacred to the powers + Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then + Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, + O my adventurous song! With steady speed + Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, + Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, + Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts + Of Passion and Opinion; like a waste 10 + Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, + Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now + Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, + Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, + If haply the discourses of the gods, + A curious, but an unpresuming guest, + Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain + Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, + And apt to be conceived of man below. + A different task remains; the secret paths 20 + Of early genius to explore: to trace + Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, + Like to the demigods of old, doth nurse + Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls + Who now her tender discipline obey, + Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve + Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon + Use ye to visit, often breaking forth + In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, + Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 + Would I again were with you!-O ye dales + Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, + Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, + And his banks open, and his lawns extend, + Stops short the pleased traveller to view + Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower + Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: + O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook + The rocky pavement and the mossy falls + Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 + How gladly I recall your well-known seats + Beloved of old, and that delightful time + When all alone, for many a summer's day, + I wander'd through your calm recesses, led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen. + + Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er + The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice + Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim + Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn + Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 + For every future year: whence even now + From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, + And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd + In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts + Of honourable fame, of truth divine + Or moral, and of minds to virtue won + By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; + The themes which now expect us. For thus far + On general habits, and on arts which grow + Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 + Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, + Though seldom conscious of their own employ, + In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene + Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire + Those forms set up, as idols in the soul + For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, + In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie + These pleasing stores, unless the casual force + Of things external prompt the heedless mind + To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 + Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man + O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves + Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance + And momentary passion, can at will + Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; + Review their features; scan the secret laws + Which bind them to each other: and display + By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense + Of all the world their latent charms display; + Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 + If such a word, so bold, may from the lips + Of man proceed) as in this outward frame + Of things, the great Artificer portrays + His own immense idea. Various names + These among mortals bear, as various signs + They use, and by peculiar organs speak + To human sense. There are who, by the flight + Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, + Or by extended chords in measure taught + To vibrate, can assemble powerful sounds 90 + Expressing every temper of the mind + From every cause, and charming all the soul + With passion void of care. Others mean time + The rugged mass of metal, wood, or stone, + Patiently taming; or with easier hand + Describing lines, and with more ample scope + Uniting colours; can to general sight + Produce those permanent and perfect forms, + Those characters of heroes and of gods, + Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 + Their own high minds created. But the chief + Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth + To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves + With language and with numbers. Hence to these + A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; + Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts + Of human wit, and vast as the demands + Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, + Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, + To every organ of the copious mind, 110 + He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, + The seasons him obey, and changeful Time + Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, + At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, + He summoneth, from the uttermost extent + Of things which God hath taught him, every form + Auxiliar, every power; and all beside + Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand + Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense + And every stately function of the soul. 120 + The soul itself to him obsequious lies, + Like matter's passive heap; and as he wills, + To reason and affection he assigns + Their just alliances, their just degrees: + Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race + Of men who people his delightful world, + Men genuine and according to themselves, + Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, + As earth itself to his delightful world, + The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130 + + + * * * * * + + + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS. + +BOOK I. + + + +ODE I. + +PREFACE. + + 1 Off yonder verdant hillock laid, + Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, + O'erlook the falling stream, + O master of the Latin lyre, + A while with thee will I retire + From summer's noontide beam. + + 2 And, lo, within my lonely bower, + The industrious bee from many a flower + Collects her balmy dews: + 'For me,' she sings, 'the gems are born, + For me their silken robe adorn, + Their fragrant breath diffuse.' + + 3 Sweet murmurer! may no rude storm + This hospitable scene deform, + Nor check thy gladsome toils; + Still may the buds unsullied spring, + Still showers and sunshine court thy wing + To these ambrosial spoils. + + 4 Nor shall my Muse hereafter fail + Her fellow labourer thee to hail; + And lucky be the strains! + For long ago did Nature frame + Your seasons and your arts the same, + Your pleasures and your pains. + + 5 Like thee, in lowly, sylvan scenes, + On river banks and flowery greens, + My Muse delighted plays; + Nor through the desert of the air, + Though swans or eagles triumph there, + With fond ambition strays. + + 6 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, + Nor near the owl's unhallow'd haunts + Will she her cares employ; + But flies from ruins and from tombs, + From Superstition's horrid glooms, + To day-light and to joy. + + 7 Nor will she tempt the barren waste; + Nor deigns the lurking strength to taste + Of any noxious thing; + But leaves with scorn to Envy's use + The insipid nightshade's baneful juice, + The nettle's sordid sting. + + 8 From all which Nature fairest knows, + The vernal blooms, the summer rose, + She draws her blameless wealth; + And, when the generous task is done, + She consecrates a double boon, + To Pleasure and to Health. + + + +ODE II. + +ON THE WINTER-SOLSTICE. 1740. + + 1 The radiant ruler of the year + At length his wintry goal attains; + Soon to reverse the long career, + And northward bend his steady reins. + Now, piercing half Potosi's height, + Prone rush the fiery floods of light + Ripening the mountain's silver stores: + While, in some cavern's horrid shade, + The panting Indian hides his head, + And oft the approach of eve implores. + + 2 But lo, on this deserted coast, + How pale the sun! how thick the air! + Mustering his storms, a sordid host, + Lo, Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their latest bloom; + No more the breezes waft perfume, + No more the streams in music roll: + But snows fall dark, or rains resound; + And, while great Nature mourns around, + Her griefs infect the human soul. + + 3 Hence the loud city's busy throngs + Urge the warm bowl and splendid fire: + Harmonious dances, festive songs, + Against the spiteful heaven conspire. + Meantime, perhaps, with tender fears + Some village dame the curfew hears, + While round the hearth her children play: + At morn their father went abroad; + The moon is sunk, and deep the road; + She sighs, and vonders at his stay. + + 4 But thou, my lyre, awake, arise, + And hail the sun's returning force: + Even now he climbs the northern skies, + And health and hope attend his course. + Then louder howl the aerial waste, + Be earth with keener cold embraced, + Yet gentle hours advance their wing; + And Fancy, mocking Winter's might, + With flowers and dews and streaming light + Already decks the new-born Spring. + + 5 O fountain of the golden day, + Could mortal vows promote thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each hovering tempest fly, + Whose stores for mischief arm the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + Or, thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 6 But let not man's unequal views + Presume o'er Nature and her laws: + 'Tis his with grateful joy to use + The indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that health and beauty springs + Through this majestic frame of things, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that Heaven's all-subduing will, + With good, the progeny of ill, + Attempereth every state below. + + 7 How pleasing wears the wintry night, + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful scenes to tread + Where chiefs or legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + In arms and antique pomp array'd; + While now I taste the Ionian song, + Now bend to Plato's godlike tongue + Resounding through the olive shade. + + 8 But should some cheerful, equal friend + Bid leave the studious page a while. + Let mirth on wisdom then attend, + And social ease on learned toil. + Then while, at love's uncareful shrine, + Each dictates to the god of wine + Her name whom all his hopes obey, + What flattering dreams each bosom warm, + While absence, heightening every charm, + Invokes the slow-returning May! + + 9 May, thou delight of heaven and earth, + When will thy genial star arise? + The auspicious morn, which gives thee birth, + Shall bring Eudora to my eyes. + Within her sylvan haunt, behold, + As in the happy garden old, + She moves like that primeval fair: + Thither, ye silver-sounding lyres, + Ye tender smiles, ye chaste desires, + Fond hope and mutual faith, repair. + + 10 And if believing love can read + His better omens in her eye, + Then shall my fears, O charming maid, + And every pain of absence die: + Then shall my jocund harp, attuned + To thy true ear, with sweeter sound + Pursue the free Horatian song: + Old Tyne shall listen to my tale, + And Echo, down the bordering vale, + The liquid melody prolong. + + + +FOR THE WINTER SOLSTICE, DECEMBER 11, 1740. + AS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN. + + 1 Now to the utmost southern goal + The sun has traced his annual way, + And backward now prepares to roll, + And bless the north with earlier day. + Prone on Potosi's lofty brow + Floods of sublimer splendour flow, + Ripening the latent seeds of gold, + Whilst, panting in the lonely shade, + Th' afflicted Indian hides his head, + Nor dares the blaze of noon behold. + + 2 But lo! on this deserted coast + How faint the light, how chill the air! + Lo! arm'd with whirlwind, hail, and frost, + Fierce Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their cheerful bloom, + No more the breezes breathe perfume, + No more the warbling waters roll; + Deserts of snow fatigue the eye, + Successive tempests bloat the sky, + And gloomy damps oppress the soul. + + 3 But let my drooping genius rise, + And hail the sun's remotest ray: + Now, now he climbs the northern skies, + To-morrow nearer than to-day. + Then louder howl the stormy waste, + Be land and ocean worse defaced, + Yet brighter hours are on the wing, + And Fancy, through the wintry gloom, + Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom, + Already hails th' emerging spring. + + 4 O fountain of the golden day! + Could mortal vows but urge thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each tempest hovering fly, + That now fermenting loads the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + And thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 5 But let not man's imperfect views + Presume to tax wise Nature's laws; + 'Tis his with silent joy to use + Th' indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that from the whole of things + Beauty and good consummate springs, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that the providence of Heaven + Has some peculiar blessing given + To each allotted state below. + + 6 Even now how sweet the wintry night + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful courts to tread, + Where chiefs and legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + With every laurel fresh display'd; + While charm'd I rove in classic song, + Or bend to freedom's fearless tongue, + Or walk the academic shade. + + + +ODE III. + +TO A FRIEND, UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE. + + 1 Indeed, my Phaedria, if to find + That wealth can female wishes gain, + Had e'er disturb'd your thoughtful mind, + Or caused one serious moment's pain, + I should have said that all the rules + You learn'd of moralists and schools + Were very useless, very vain. + + 2 Yet I perhaps mistake the case-- + Say, though with this heroic air, + Like one that holds a nobler chase, + You try the tender loss to bear, + Does not your heart renounce your tongue? + Seems not my censure strangely wrong + To count it such a slight affair? + + 3 When Hesper gilds the shaded sky, + Oft as you seek the well-known grove, + Methinks I see you cast your eye + Back to the morning scenes of love: + Each pleasing word you heard her say, + Her gentle look, her graceful way, + Again your struggling fancy move. + + 4 Then tell me, is your soul entire? + Does Wisdom calmly hold her throne? + Then can you question each desire, + Bid this remain, and that be gone? + No tear half-starting from your eye? + No kindling blush, you know not why? + No stealing sigh, nor stifled groan? + + 5 Away with this unmanly mood! + See where the hoary churl appears, + Whose hand hath seized the favourite good + Which you reserved for happier years: + While, side by side, the blushing maid + Shrinks from his visage, half afraid, + Spite of the sickly joy she wears. + + 6 Ye guardian powers of love and fame, + This chaste, harmonious pair behold; + And thus reward the generous flame + Of all who barter vows for gold. + O bloom of youth, O tender charms + Well-buried in a dotard's arms! + O equal price of beauty sold! + + 7 Cease then to gaze with looks of love: + Bid her adieu, the venal fair: + Unworthy she your bliss to prove; + Then wherefore should she prove your care? + No: lay your myrtle garland down; + And let a while the willow's crown + With luckier omens bind your hair. + + 8 O just escaped the faithless main, + Though driven unwilling on the land; + To guide your favour'd steps again, + Behold your better Genius stand: + Where Truth revolves her page divine, + Where Virtue leads to Honour's shrine, + Behold, he lifts his awful hand. + + 9 Fix but on these your ruling aim, + And Time, the sire of manly care, + Will fancy's dazzling colours tame; + A soberer dress will beauty wear: + Then shall esteem, by knowledge led, + Enthrone within your heart and head + Some happier love, some truer fair. + + + + +ODE IV. + +AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE. TO THE SAME. + + + 1 Yes: you contemn the perjured maid + Who all your favourite hopes betray'd: + Nor, though her heart should home return, + Her tuneful tongue its falsehood mourn, + Her winning eyes your faith implore, + Would you her hand receive again, + Or once dissemble your disdain, + Or listen to the siren's theme, + Or stoop to love: since now esteem + And confidence, and friendship, is no more. + + 2 Yet tell me, Phaedria, tell me why, + When, summoning your pride, you try + To meet her looks with cool neglect, + Or cross her walk with slight respect + (For so is falsehood best repaid), + Whence do your cheeks indignant glow? + Why is your struggling tongue so slow? + What means that darkness on your brow, + As if with all her broken vow + You meant the fair apostate to upbraid? + + + + +ODE V. + +AGAINST SUSPICION. + + + 1 Oh, fly! 'tis dire Suspicion's mien; + And, meditating plagues unseen, + The sorceress hither bends: + Behold her touch in gall imbrued: + Behold--her garment drops with blood + Of lovers and of friends. + + 2 Fly far! Already in your eyes + I see a pale suffusion rise; + And soon through every vein, + Soon will her secret venom spread, + And all your heart and all your head + Imbibe the potent stain. + + 3 Then many a demon will she raise + To vex your sleep, to haunt your ways; + While gleams of lost delight + Raise the dark tempest of the brain, + As lightning shines across the main + Through whirlwinds and through night. + + 4 No more can faith or candour move; + But each ingenuous deed of love, + Which reason would applaud, + Now, smiling o'er her dark distress, + Fancy malignant strives to dress + Like injury and fraud. + + 5 Farewell to virtue's peaceful times: + Soon will you stoop to act the crimes + Which thus you stoop to fear: + Guilt follows guilt; and where the train + Begins with wrongs of such attain, + What horrors form the rear! + + 6 'Tis thus to work her baleful power, + Suspicion waits the sullen hour + Of fretfulness and strife, + When care the infirmer bosom wrings, + Or Eurus waves his murky wings + To damp the seats of life. + + 7 But come, forsake the scene unbless'd, + Which first beheld your faithful breast + To groundless fears a prey: + Come where, with my prevailing lyre, + The skies, the streams, the groves conspire + To charm your doubts away. + + 8 Throned in the sun's descending car, + What power unseen diffuseth far + This tenderness of mind? + What Genius smiles on yonder flood? + What God, in whispers from the wood, + Bids every thought be kind? + + 9 O Thou, whate'er thy awful name, + Whose wisdom our untoward frame + With social love restrains; + Thou, who by fair affection's ties + Giv'st us to double all our joys, + And half disarm our pains; + + 10 If far from Dyson and from me + Suspicion took, by thy decree, + Her everlasting flight; + If firm on virtue's ample base + Thy parent hand has deign'd to raise + Our friendship's honour'd height; + + 11 Let universal candour still, + Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill, + Preserve my open mind; + Nor this nor that man's crooked ways + One sordid doubt within me raise + To injure human kind. + + + + + +ODE VI. + +HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS. + + + How thick the shades of evening close! + How pale the sky with weight of snows! + Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire, + And bid the joyless day retire.-- + Alas, in vain I try within + To brighten the dejected scene, + While, roused by grief, these fiery pains + Tear the frail texture of my veins; + While Winter's voice, that storms around, + And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound 10 + Renew my mind's oppressive gloom, + Till starting Horror shakes the room. + + Is there in nature no kind power + To soothe affliction's lonely hour? + To blunt the edge of dire disease, + And teach these wintry shades to please? + Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair, + Shine through the hovering cloud of care: + O sweet of language, mild of mien, + O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, 20 + Assuage the flames that burn my breast, + Compose my jarring thoughts to rest; + And while thy gracious gifts I feel, + My song shall all thy praise reveal. + + As once ('twas in Astraea's reign) + The vernal powers renew'd their train, + It happen'd that immortal Love + Was ranging through the spheres above, + And downward hither cast his eye + The year's returning pomp to spy. 30 + He saw the radiant god of day + Waft in his car the rosy May; + The fragrant Airs and genial Hours + Were shedding round him dews and flowers; + Before his wheels Aurora pass'd, + And Hesper's golden lamp was last. + But, fairest of the blooming throng, + When Health majestic moved along, + Delighted to survey below + The joys which from her presence flow, 40 + While earth enliven'd hears her voice, + And swains, and flocks, and fields rejoice; + Then mighty Love her charms confess'd, + And soon his vows inclined her breast, + And, known from that auspicious morn, + The pleasing Cheerfulness was born. + + Thou, Cheerfulness, by heaven design'd + To sway the movements of the mind, + Whatever fretful passion springs, + Whatever wayward fortune brings 50 + To disarrange the power within, + And strain the musical machine; + Thou Goddess, thy attempering hand + Doth each discordant string command, + Refines the soft, and swells the strong; + And, joining Nature's general song, + Through many a varying tone unfolds + The harmony of human souls. + + Fair guardian of domestic life, 59 + Kind banisher of homebred strife, + Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye + Deforms the scene where thou art by: + No sickening husband damns the hour + Which bound his joys to female power; + No pining mother weeps the cares + Which parents waste on thankless heirs: + The officious daughters pleased attend; + The brother adds the name of friend: + By thee with flowers their board is crown'd, + With songs from thee their walks resound; 70 + And morn with welcome lustre shines, + And evening unperceived declines. + + Is there a youth whose anxious heart + Labours with love's unpitied smart? + Though now he stray by rills and bowers, + And weeping waste the lonely hours, + Or if the nymph her audience deign, + Debase the story of his pain + With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes, + And accents faltering into sighs; 80 + Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease + Canst yield him happier arts to please, + Inform his mien with manlier charms, + Instruct his tongue with nobler arms, + With more commanding passion move, + And teach the dignity of love. + + Friend to the Muse and all her train, + For thee I court the Muse again: + The Muse for thee may well exert + Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art, 90 + Who owes to thee that pleasing sway + Which earth and peopled heaven obey. + + Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue + Repeat what later bards have sung; + But thine was Homer's ancient might, + And thine victorious Pindar's flight: + Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attired: + Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspired: + Thy spirit lent the glad perfume + Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom; 100 + Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale + Delicious blows the enlivening gale, + While Horace calls thy sportive choir, + Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre. + But see, where yonder pensive sage + (A prey perhaps to fortune's rage, + Perhaps by tender griefs oppress'd, + Or glooms congenial to his breast) + Retires in desert scenes to dwell, + And bids the joyless world farewell. 110 + + Alone he treads the autumnal shade, + Alone beneath the mountain laid + He sees the nightly damps ascend, + And gathering storms aloft impend; + He hears the neighbouring surges roll, + And raging thunders shake the pole; + Then, struck by every object round, + And stunn'd by every horrid sound, + He asks a clue for Nature's ways; + But evil haunts him through the maze: 120 + He sees ten thousand demons rise + To wield the empire of the skies, + And Chance and Fate assume the rod, + And Malice blot the throne of God.-- + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + Thy lenient influence hither bring; + Compose the storm, dispel the gloom, + Till Nature wear her wonted bloom, + Till fields and shades their sweets exhale, + And music swell each opening gale: 130 + Then o'er his breast thy softness pour, + And let him learn the timely hour + To trace the world's benignant laws, + And judge of that presiding cause + Who founds on discord beauty's reign, + Converts to pleasure every pain, + Subdues each hostile form to rest, + And bids the universe be bless'd. + + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + If right I touch the votive string, 140 + If equal praise I yield thy name, + Still govern thou thy poet's flame; + Still with the Muse my bosom share, + And soothe to peace intruding care. + But most exert thy pleasing power + On friendship's consecrated hour; + And while my Sophron points the road + To godlike wisdom's calm abode, + Or warm in freedom's ancient cause + Traceth the source of Albion's laws, 150 + Add thou o'er all the generous toil + The light of thy unclouded smile. + But if, by fortune's stubborn sway + From him and friendship torn away, + I court the Muse's healing spell + For griefs that still with absence dwell, + Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams + To such indulgent placid themes, + As just the struggling breast may cheer, + And just suspend the starting tear, 160 + Yet leave that sacred sense of woe + Which none but friends and lovers know. + + + +ODE VII. + +ON THE USE OF POETRY. + + 1 Not for themselves did human kind + Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd + On life's wide scene to play: + Not Scipio's force nor Caesar's skill + Can conquer Glory's arduous hill, + If Fortune close the way. + + 2 Yet still the self-depending soul, + Though last and least in Fortune's roll, + His proper sphere commands; + And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd, + And sees, before the throne of God, + The rank in which he stands. + + 3 Who train'd by laws the future age, + Who rescued nations from the rage + Of partial, factious power, + My heart with distant homage views; + Content, if thou, celestial Muse, + Didst rule my natal hour. + + 4 Not far beneath the hero's feet, + Nor from the legislator's seat + Stands far remote the bard. + Though not with public terrors crown'd. + Yet wider shall his rule be found, + More lasting his award. + + 5 Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, + And Pompey to the Roman name + Gave universal sway: + Where are they?--Homer's reverend page + Holds empire to the thirtieth age, + And tongues and climes obey. + + 6 And thus when William's acts divine + No longer shall from Bourbon's line + Draw one vindictive vow; + When Sydney shall with Cato rest, + And Russel move the patriot's breast + No more than Brutus now; + + 7 Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art + O'er every passion, every heart, + Confirm his awful throne: + Tyrants shall bow before his laws; + And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause, + Their dread assertor own. + + + +ODE VIII. + +ON LEAVING HOLLAND. + + I.--1. + + Farewell to Leyden's lonely bound. + The Belgian Muse's sober seat; + Where, dealing frugal gifts around + To all the favourites at her feet, + She trains the body's bulky frame + For passive persevering toils; + And lest, from any prouder aim, + The daring mind should scorn her homely spoils, + She breathes maternal fogs to damp its restless flame. + + I.--2. + + Farewell the grave, pacific air, + Where never mountain zephyr blew: + The marshy levels lank and bare, + Which Pan, which Ceres never knew: + The Naiads, with obscene attire, + Urging in vain their urns to flow; + While round them chant the croaking choir, + And haply soothe some lover's prudent woe, + Or prompt some restive bard and modulate his lyre. + + I.--3. + + Farewell, ye nymphs, whom sober care of gain + Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of Love: + She render'd all his boasted arrows vain; + And all his gifts did he in spite remove. + Ye too, the slow-eyed fathers of the land, + With whom dominion steals from hand to hand, + Unown'd, undignified by public choice, + I go where Liberty to all is known, + And tells a monarch on his throne, + He reigns not but by her preserving voice. + + II.--1 + + O my loved England, when with thee + Shall I sit down, to part no more? + Far from this pale, discolour'd sea, + That sleeps upon the reedy shore: + When shall I plough thy azure tide? + When on thy hills the flocks admire, + Like mountain snows; till down their side + I trace the village and the sacred spire, + While bowers and copses green the golden slope divide? + + II.--2. + + Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove, + Ye blue-eyed sisters of the streams, + With whom I wont at morn to rove, + With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams; + Oh! take me to your haunts again, + The rocky spring, the greenwood glade; + To guide my lonely footsteps deign, + To prompt my slumbers in the murmuring shade, + And soothe my vacant ear with many an airy strain. + + II.--3. + + And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn + Thy drooping master's inauspicious hand: + Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, + Now fairer maids thy melody demand. + Daughters of Albion, listen to my lyre! + O Phoebus, guardian of the Aonian choir, + Why sounds not mine harmonious as thy own, + When all the virgin deities above + With Venus and with Juno move + In concert round the Olympian father's throne? + + III.--1. + + Thee too, protectress of my lays, + Elate with whose majestic call + Above degenerate Latium's praise, + Above the slavish boast of Gaul, + I dare from impious thrones reclaim, + And wanton sloth's ignoble charms, + The honours of a poet's name + To Somers' counsels, or to Hampden's arms, + Thee, Freedom, I rejoin, and bless thy genuine flame. + + III.--2. + + Great citizen of Albion! Thee + Heroic Valour still attends, + And useful Science, pleased to see + How Art her studious toil extends: + While Truth, diffusing from on high + A lustre unconfined as day, + Fills and commands the public eye; + Till, pierced and sinking by her powerful ray, + Tame Faith and monkish Awe, like nightly demons, fly. + + III.--3. + + Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares: + Hence dread Religion dwells with social Joy; + And holy passions and unsullied cares, + In youth, in age, domestic life employ. + O fair Britannia, hail!--With partial love + The tribes of men their native seats approve, + Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame: + But when for generous minds and manly laws + A nation holds her prime applause, + There public zeal shall all reproof disclaim. + + + + +ODE IX. + + TO CURIO. [1] 1744. + + 1 Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame + Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: + Eager through endless years to sound thy name, + Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. + How hast thou stain'd the splendour of my choice! + Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, + Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? + What can I now of thee to Time report, + Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, + Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? + + 2 There are, with eyes unmoved and reckless heart + Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, + Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart + The public vengeance on thy private foe. + But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, + The owl-eyed race whom virtue's lustre blinds, + Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, + I still believed thy aim from blemish free, + I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee, + And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice. + + 3 'Thou didst not dream of liberty decay'd, + Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong: + But the rash many, first by thee misled, + Bore thee at length unwillingly along.' + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For faith deserted or for cities sold, + Own here one untried, unexampled, deed; + One mystery of shame from Curio learn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, + And scape in Guilt's disguise from Virtue's offer'd meed. + + 4 For saw we not that dangerous power avow'd + Whom Freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, + Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, + And but with blushes suffereth in her train? + Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, + O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, + And call'd herself the state's directing soul: + Till Curio, like a good magician, tried + With Eloquence and Reason at his side, + By strength of holier spells the enchantress to control. + + 5 Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends: + The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: + Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends: + His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns: + The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + Now with like awe doth living merit scan: + While he, whom virtue in his bless'd retreat + Bade social ease and public passions meet, + Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. + + 6 At length in view the glorious end appear'd: + We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; + And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard + Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. + Waked in the strife the public Genius rose + More keen, more ardent from his long repose; + Deep through her bounds the city felt his call; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And murmuring challenged the deciding hour + Or that too vast event, the hope and dread of all. + + 7 O ye good powers who look on human kind, + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll; + And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind, + And steer his passions steady to the goal. + O Alfred, father of the English name, + O valiant Edward, first in civil fame, + O William, height of public virtue pure, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + Behold the sum of all your labours nigh, + Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. + + 8 'Twas then--O shame! O soul from faith estranged! + O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey! + 'Twas then--Thy thought what sudden frenzy changed? + What rushing palsy took thy strength away? + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved-- + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved-- + Whom the dead envied and the living bless'd-- + This patient slave by tinsel bonds allured-- + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured-- + Whom those that fear'd him scorn; that trusted him, detest? + + 9 O lost alike to action and repose! + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Sold to the mockery of relentless foes, + And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame, + To act with burning brow and throbbing heart + A poor deserter's dull exploded part, + To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, + Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, + And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign shore. + + 10 But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, + Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, + By courtly passions try the public cause; + Nor to the forms of rule betray the end. + O race erect! by manliest passions moved, + The labours which to Virtue stand approved, + Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey; + Yet, where Injustice works her wilful claim, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay. + + 11 These thy heart owns no longer. In their room + See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuous gloom, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. + Before her rites thy sickening reason flew, + Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, + While Laughter mock'd, or Pity stole a sigh: + Can Wit her tender movements rightly frame + Where the prime function of the soul is lame? + Can Fancy's feeble springs the force of Truth supply? + + 12 But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd: + With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends, + By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd. + There vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste, + For ever through the spacious courts resound: + There long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + Assail the giant chiefs, and press them to the ground. + + 13 In sight, old Time, imperious judge, awaits: + Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just, + He urgeth onward to those guilty gates + The great, the sage, the happy, and august. + And still he asks them of the hidden plan + Whence every treaty, every war began, + Evolves their secrets and their guilt proclaims: + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, + And crush their trophies huge, and raze their sculptured names. + + 14 Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: + Here his eternal mansion Curio seeks. + Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend, + And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks:-- + 'He comes, whom fate with surer arts prepared + To accomplish all which we but vainly dared; + Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: + Who soothed with gaudy dreams their raging power + Even to its last irrevocable hour; + Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them to the chain.' + + 15 But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, + Whom for her champions o'er the world she claims + (That household godhead whom of old your sires + Sought in the woods of Elbe and bore to Thames), + Drive ye this hostile omen far away; + Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; + Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be hers alone: + Still gird your swords to combat on her side; + Still frame your laws her generous test to abide; + And win to her defence the altar and the throne. + + 16 Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood + Of golden Luxury, which Commerce pours, + Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood, + Which not her lightest discipline endures: + Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: + Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws: + A wiser founder, and a nobler plan, + O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd: + Bring to that birthright but an equal mind, + And no sublimer lot will fate reserve for man. + + +[Footnote 1: 'To Curio:' see _Life_.] + + +ODE X. + +TO THE MUSE. + + + 1 Queen of my songs, harmonious maid, + Ah! why hast thou withdrawn thy aid? + Ah! why forsaken thus my breast + With inauspicious damps oppress'd? + Where is the dread prophetic heat + With which my bosom wont to beat? + Where all the bright mysterious dreams + Of haunted groves and tuneful streams, + That woo'd my genius to divinest themes? + + 2 Say, goddess, can the festal board, + Or young Olympia's form adored; + Say, can the pomp of promised fame + Relume thy faint, thy dying flame? + Or have melodious airs the power + To give one free, poetic hour? + Or, from amid the Elysian train, + The soul of Milton shall I gain, + To win thee back with some celestial strain? + + 3 O powerful strain! O sacred soul! + His numbers every sense control: + And now again my bosom burns; + The Muse, the Muse herself returns. + Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd, + I hail'd the fair immortal guest, + When first she seal'd me for her own, + Made all her blissful treasures known, + And bade me swear to follow Her alone. + + + + +ODE XI. + +ON LOVE. TO A FRIEND. + + + 1 No, foolish youth--to virtuous fame + If now thy early hopes be vow'd, + If true ambition's nobler flame + Command thy footsteps from the crowd, + Lean not to Love's enchanting snare; + His songs, his words, his looks beware, + Nor join his votaries, the young and fair. + + 2 By thought, by dangers, and by toils, + The wreath of just renown is worn; + Nor will ambition's awful spoils + The flowery pomp of ease adorn; + But Love unbends the force of thought; + By Love unmanly fears are taught; + And Love's reward with gaudy sloth is bought. + + 3 Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays, + And heard from many a zealous breast, + The pleasing tale of beauty's praise + In wisdom's lofty language dress'd; + Of beauty powerful to impart + Each finer sense, each comelier art, + And soothe and polish man's ungentle heart. + + 4 If then, from Love's deceit secure, + Thus far alone thy wishes tend, + Go; see the white-wing'd evening hour + On Delia's vernal walk descend: + Go, while the golden light serene, + The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene + Becomes the presence of the rural queen. + + 5 Attend, while that harmonious tongue + Each bosom, each desire commands: + Apollo's lute by Hermes strung, + And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands, + Attend. I feel a force divine, + O Delia, win my thoughts to thine; + That half the colour of thy life is mine. + + 6 Yet conscious of the dangerous charm, + Soon would I turn my steps away; + Nor oft provoke the lovely harm, + Nor lull my reason's watchful sway. + But thou, my friend--I hear thy sighs: + Alas, I read thy downcast eyes; + And thy tongue falters, and thy colour flies. + + 7 So soon again to meet the fair? + So pensive all this absent hour?-- + O yet, unlucky youth, beware, + While yet to think is in thy power. + In vain with friendship's flattering name + Thy passion veils its inward shame; + Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame! + + 8 Once, I remember, new to Love, + And dreading his tyrannic chain, + I sought a gentle maid to prove + What peaceful joys in friendship reign: + Whence we forsooth might safely stand, + And pitying view the love-sick band, + And mock the winged boy's malicious hand. + + 9 Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day, + To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd; + While I exulted to survey + One generous woman's real mind: + Till friendship soon my languid breast + Each night with unknown cares possess'd, + Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd. + + 10 Fool that I was--And now, even now + While thus I preach the Stoic strain, + Unless I shun Olympia's view, + An hour unsays it all again. + O friend!--when Love directs her eyes + To pierce where every passion lies, + Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise? + + + + +ODE XII. + + TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET. + + + 1 Behold, the Balance in the sky + Swift on the wintry scale inclines: + To earthy caves the Dryads fly, + And the bare pastures Pan resigns. + Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread + With recent soil the twice-mown mead, + Tainting the bloom which Autumn knows: + He whets the rusty coulter now, + He binds his oxen to the plough, + And wide his future harvest throws. + + 2 Now, London's busy confines round, + By Kensington's imperial towers, + From Highgate's rough descent profound, + Essexian heaths, or Kentish bowers, + Where'er I pass, I see approach + Some rural statesman's eager coach, + Hurried by senatorial cares: + While rural nymphs (alike, within, + Aspiring courtly praise to win) + Debate their dress, reform their airs. + + 3 Say, what can now the country boast, + O Drake, thy footsteps to detain, + When peevish winds and gloomy frost + The sunshine of the temper stain? + Say, are the priests of Devon grown + Friends to this tolerating throne, + Champions for George's legal right? + Have general freedom, equal law, + Won to the glory of Nassau + Each bold Wessexian squire and knight? + + 4 I doubt it much; and guess at least + That when the day, which made us free, + Shall next return, that sacred feast + Thou better may'st observe with me. + With me the sulphurous treason old + A far inferior part shall hold + In that glad day's triumphal strain; + And generous William be revered, + Nor one untimely accent heard + Of James, or his ignoble reign. + + 5 Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine + With modest cups our joy supplies, + We'll truly thank the power divine + Who bade the chief, the patriot rise; + Rise from heroic ease (the spoil + Due, for his youth's Herculean toil, + From Belgium to her saviour son), + Rise with the same unconquer'd zeal + For our Britannia's injured weal, + Her laws defaced, her shrines o'erthrown. + + 6 He came. The tyrant from our shore, + Like a forbidden demon, fled; + And to eternal exile bore + Pontific rage and vassal dread. + There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: + New years came forth, a liberal train, + Call'd by the people's great decree. + That day, my friend, let blessings crown;-- + Fill, to the demigod's renown + From whom thou hast that thou art free. + + 7 Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part + The public and the private weal?) + In vows to her who sways thy heart, + Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal. + Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek, + Or the soft ornaments that speak + So eloquent in Daphne's smile, + Whether the piercing lights that fly + From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye, + Haply thy fancy then beguile. + + 8 For so it is:--thy stubborn breast, + Though touch'd by many a slighter wound, + Hath no full conquest yet confess'd, + Nor the one fatal charmer found; + While I, a true and loyal swain, + My fair Olympia's gentle reign + Through all the varying seasons own. + Her genius still my bosom warms: + No other maid for me hath charms, + Or I have eyes for her alone. + + + + +ODE XIII. + +ON LYRIC POETRY. + + + I.--1. + + Once more I join the Thespian choir, + And taste the inspiring fount again: + O parent of the Grecian lyre, + Admit me to thy powerful strain-- + And lo, with ease my step invades + The pathless vale and opening shades, + Till now I spy her verdant seat; + And now at large I drink the sound, + While these her offspring, listening round. + By turns her melody repeat. + + + I.--2. + + I see Anacreon smile and sing, + His silver tresses breathe perfume: + His cheek displays a second spring + Of roses, taught by wine to bloom. + Away, deceitful cares, away, + And let me listen to his lay; + Let me the wanton pomp enjoy, + While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours + Lead round his lyre its patron powers, + Kind Laughter and Convivial Joy. + + + I.--3. + + Broke from the fetters of his native land, + Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, + With louder impulse and a threatening hand + The Lesbian patriot [1] smites the sounding chords: + Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, + Ye cursed of gods and free-born men, + Ye murderers of the laws, + Though now ye glory in your lust, + Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust, + Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause. + + + II.--1. + + But lo, to Sappho's melting airs + Descends the radiant queen of love: + She smiles, and asks what fonder cares + Her suppliant's plaintive measures move: + Why is my faithful maid distress'd? + Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast? + Say, flies he?--Soon he shall pursue: + Shuns he thy gifts?--He soon shall give: + Slights he thy sorrows?--He shall grieve, + And soon to all thy wishes bow. + + + II.--2. + + But, O Melpomene, for whom + Awakes thy golden shell again? + What mortal breath shall e'er presume + To echo that unbounded strain? + Majestic in the frown of years, + Behold, the man of Thebes [2] appears: + For some there are, whose mighty frame + The hand of Jove at birth endow'd + With hopes that mock the gazing crowd; + As eagles drink the noontide flame; + + + II.--3. + + While the dim raven beats her weary wings, + And clamours far below.--Propitious Muse, + While I so late unlock thy purer springs, + And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, + Wilt thou for Albion's sons around + (Ne'er hadst thou audience more renown'd) + Thy charming arts employ, + As when the winds from shore to shore + Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore, + Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy? + + III.--1. + + Yet then did Pleasure's lawless throng, + Oft rushing forth in loose attire, + Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song + Pollute with impious revels dire. + O fair, O chaste, thy echoing shade + May no foul discord here invade: + Nor let thy strings one accent move, + Except what earth's untroubled ear + 'Mid all her social tribes may hear, + And heaven's unerring throne approve. + + III.--2. + + Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat + The fairest flowers of Pindus glow; + The vine aspires to crown thy seat, + And myrtles round thy laurel grow. + Thy strings adapt their varied strain + To every pleasure, every pain, + Which mortal tribes were born to prove; + And straight our passions rise or fall, + As at the wind's imperious call + The ocean swells, the billows move. + + + III.--3. + + When midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth, + Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear: + When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth, + With airy murmurs touch my opening ear. + And ever watchful at thy side, + Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide + The tenor of thy lay: + To her of old by Jove was given + To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven; + 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. + + + IV.--1. + + Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd, + I quit the maze where Science toils, + Do thou refresh my yielding mind + With all thy gay, delusive spoils. + But, O indulgent, come not nigh + The busy steps, the jealous eye + Of wealthy care or gainful age; + Whose barren souls thy joys disdain, + And hold as foes to reason's reign + Whome'er thy lovely works engage. + + + IV.--2. + + When friendship and when letter'd mirth + Haply partake my simple board, + Then let thy blameless hand call forth + The music of the Teian chord. + Or if invoked at softer hours, + Oh! seek with me the happy bowers + That hear Olympia's gentle tongue; + To beauty link'd with virtue's train, + To love devoid of jealous pain, + There let the Sapphic lute be strung. + + + IV.--3. + + But when from envy and from death to claim + A hero bleeding for his native land; + When to throw incense on the vestal flame + Of Liberty my genius gives command, + Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre + From thee, O Muse, do I require; + While my presaging mind, + Conscious of powers she never knew, + Astonish'd, grasps at things beyond her view, + Nor by another's fate submits to be confined. + +[Footnote 1: 'The Lesbian patriot:' Alcaeus.] + +[Footnote 2: 'The man of Thebes:' Pindar.] + + + +ODE XIV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + FROM THE COUNTRY. + + + 1 Say, Townshend, what can London boast + To pay thee for the pleasures lost, + The health to-day resign'd, + When Spring from this her favourite seat + Bade Winter hasten his retreat, + And met the western wind. + + 2 Oh, knew'st thou how the balmy air, + The sun, the azure heavens prepare + To heal thy languid frame, + No more would noisy courts engage; + In vain would lying Faction's rage + Thy sacred leisure claim. + + 3 Oft I look'd forth, and oft admired; + Till with the studious volume tired + I sought the open day; + And sure, I cried, the rural gods + Expect me in their green abodes, + And chide my tardy lay. + + 4 But ah, in vain my restless feet + Traced every silent shady seat + Which knew their forms of old: + Nor Naiad by her fountain laid, + Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, + Did now their rites unfold: + + 5 Whether to nurse some infant oak + They turn--the slowly tinkling brook, + And catch the pearly showers, + Or brush the mildew from the woods, + Or paint with noontide beams the buds, + Or breathe on opening flowers. + + 6 Such rites, which they with Spring renew, + The eyes of care can never view; + And care hath long been mine: + And hence offended with their guest, + Since grief of love my soul oppress'd, + They hide their toils divine. + + 7 But soon shall thy enlivening tongue + This heart, by dear affliction wrung, + With noble hope inspire: + Then will the sylvan powers again + Receive me in their genial train, + And listen to my lyre. + + 8 Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade + A rustic altar shall be paid, + Of turf with laurel framed; + And thou the inscription wilt approve: + 'This for the peace which, lost by love, + By friendship was reclaim'd' + + + + +ODE XV. + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + 1 To-night retired, the queen of heaven + With young Endymion stays: + And now to Hesper it is given + A while to rule the vacant sky, + Till she shall to her lamp supply + A stream of brighter rays. + + 2 O Hesper, while the starry throng + With awe thy path surrounds, + Oh, listen to my suppliant song, + If haply now the vocal sphere + Can suffer thy delighted ear + To stoop to mortal sounds. + + 3 So may the bridegroom's genial strain + Thee still invoke to shine: + So may the bride's unmarried train + To Hymen chant their flattering vow, + Still that his lucky torch may glow + With lustre pure as thine. + + 4 Far other vows must I prefer + To thy indulgent power. + Alas, but now I paid my tear + On fair Olympia's virgin tomb: + And lo, from thence, in quest I roam + Of Philomela's bower. + + 5 Propitious send thy golden ray, + Thou purest light above: + Let no false flame seduce to stray + Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm: + But lead where music's healing charm + May soothe afflicted love. + + 6 To them, by many a grateful song + In happier seasons vow'd, + These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong: + Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd, + Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, + Beneath yon copses stood. + + 7 Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs + That roofless tower invade, + We came while her enchanting Muse + The radiant moon above us held: + Till by a clamorous owl compell'd + She fled the solemn shade. + + 8 But hark; I hear her liquid tone. + Now, Hesper, guide my feet + Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown, + Through yon wild thicket next the plain, + Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane, + Which leads to her retreat. + + 9 See the green space; on either hand + Enlarged it spreads around: + See, in the midst she takes her stand, + Where one old oak his awful shade + Extends o'er half the level mead + Enclosed in woods profound. + + 10 Hark, through many a melting note + She now prolongs her lays: + How sweetly down the void they float! + The breeze their magic path attends, + The stars shine out, the forest bends, + The wakeful heifers gaze. + + 11 Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring + To this sequester'd spot, + If then the plaintive Syren sing, + Oh! softly tread beneath her bower, + And think of heaven's disposing power, + Of man's uncertain lot. + + 12 Oh! think, o'er all this mortal stage, + What mournful scenes arise: + What ruin waits on kingly rage, + How often virtue dwells with woe, + How many griefs from knowledge flow, + How swiftly pleasure flies. + + 13 O sacred bird, let me at eve, + Thus wandering all alone, + Thy tender counsel oft receive, + Bear witness to thy pensive airs, + And pity Nature's common cares, + Till I forget my own. + + + + +ODE XVI. + + TO CALEB HARDINGE, M. D. + + 1 With sordid floods the wintry Urn [1] + Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green; + Her naked hill the Dryads mourn, + No longer a poetic scene. + No longer there the raptured eye + The beauteous forms of earth or sky + Surveys as in their Author's mind; + And London shelters from the year + Those whom thy social hours to share + The Attic Muse design'd. + + 2 From Hampstead's airy summit me + Her guest the city shall behold, + What day the people's stern decree + To unbelieving kings is told, + When common men (the dread of fame) + Adjudged as one of evil name, + Before the sun, the anointed head. + Then seek thou too the pious town, + With no unworthy cares to crown + That evening's awful shade. + + 3 Deem not I call thee to deplore + The sacred martyr of the day, + By fast, and penitential lore + To purge our ancient guilt away. + For this, on humble faith I rest + That still our advocate, the priest, + From heavenly wrath will save the land; + Nor ask what rites our pardon gain, + Nor how his potent sounds restrain + The thunderer's lifted hand. + + 4 No, Hardinge; peace to church and state! + That evening, let the Muse give law; + While I anew the theme relate + Which my first youth enamour'd saw. + Then will I oft explore thy thought, + What to reject which Locke hath taught, + What to pursue in Virgil's lay; + Till hope ascends to loftiest things, + Nor envies demagogues or kings + Their frail and vulgar sway. + + 5 O versed in all the human frame, + Lead thou where'er my labour lies, + And English fancy's eager flame + To Grecian purity chastise; + While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine, + Beauty with truth I strive to join, + And grave assent with glad applause; + To paint the story of the soul, + And Plato's visions to control + By Verulamian laws. + +[Footnote 1: 'The wintry Urn:' Aquarius.] + + + +ODE XVII. + + ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY. 1747. + + 1 Come then, tell me, sage divine, + Is it an offence to own + That our bosoms e'er incline + Toward immortal Glory's throne? + For with me, nor pomp, nor pleasure, + Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, + So can Fancy's dream rejoice, + So conciliate Reason's choice, + As one approving word of her impartial voice. + + 2 If to spurn at noble praise + Be the passport to thy heaven, + Follow thou those gloomy ways; + No such law to me was given, + Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me, + Faring like my friends before me; + Nor an holier place desire + Than Timoleon's arms acquire, + And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre. + + + + +ODE XVIII. + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON, 1747. + + + I.--1. + + The wise and great of every clime, + Through all the spacious walks of time, + Where'er the Muse her power display'd, + With joy have listen'd and obey'd. + For, taught of heaven, the sacred Nine + Persuasive numbers, forms divine, + To mortal sense impart: + They best the soul with glory fire; + They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire; + And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed heart. + + I.--2. + + Nor less prevailing is their charm + The vengeful bosom to disarm; + To melt the proud with human woe, + And prompt unwilling tears to flow. + Can wealth a power like this afford? + Can Cromwell's arts or Marlborough's sword, + An equal empire claim? + No, Hastings. Thou my words wilt own: + Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known; + Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name. + + + I.--3. + + The Muse's awful art, + And the blest function of the poet's tongue, + Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert + From all that scorned vice or slavish fear hath sung. + Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings + Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; + Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings + By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, + Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign. + A different strain, + And other themes + From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams + (Thou well canst witness), meet the purged ear: + Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell + Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear; + To hear the sweet instructress tell + (While men and heroes throng'd around) + How life its noblest use may find, + How well for freedom be resign'd; + And how, by glory, virtue shall be crown'd. + + + II.--1. + + Such was the Chian father's strain + To many a kind domestic train, + Whose pious hearth and genial bowl + Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul: + When, every hospitable rite + With equal bounty to requite, + He struck his magic strings, + And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth, + And seized their ears with tales of ancient worth, + And fill'd their musing hearts with vast heroic things. + + + II.--2. + + Now oft, where happy spirits dwell, + Where yet he tunes his charming shell, + Oft near him, with applauding hands, + The Genius of his country stands. + To listening gods he makes him known, + That man divine, by whom were sown + The seeds of Grecian fame: + Who first the race with freedom fired; + From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspired; + From whom Plataean palms and Cyprian trophies came. + + II.--3. + + O noblest, happiest age! + When Aristides ruled, and Cimon fought; + When all the generous fruits of Homer's page + Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. + O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me: + Not that Apollo fed thee from his shrine; + Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee; + Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, + Pan danced their measure with the sylvan throng: + But that thy song + Was proud to unfold + What thy base rulers trembled to behold; + Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell + The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame: + Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell. + But thou, O faithful to thy fame, + The Muse's law didst rightly know; + That who would animate his lays, + And other minds to virtue raise, + Must feel his own with all her spirit glow. + + + III.--1. + + Are there, approved of later times, + Whose verse adorn'd a tyrant's [1] crimes? + Who saw majestic Rome betray'd, + And lent the imperial ruffian aid? + Alas! not one polluted bard, + No, not the strains that Mincius heard, + Or Tibur's hills replied, + Dare to the Muse's ear aspire; + Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre, + With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful task they hide. + + + III.--2. + + Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, + Amid the domes of modern hands: + Amid the toys of idle state, + How simply, how severely great! + Then turn, and, while each western clime + Presents her tuneful sons to Time, + So mark thou Milton's name; + And add, 'Thus differs from the throng + The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, + Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's fame.' + + + III.--3. + + Yet hence barbaric zeal + His memory with unholy rage pursues; + While from these arduous cares of public weal + She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse. + O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind + Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey; + Must join the noblest forms of every kind, + The world's most perfect image to display, + Can e'er his country's majesty behold, + Unmoved or cold! + O fool! to deem + That he, whose thought must visit every theme, + Whose heart must every strong emotion know + Inspired by Nature, or by Fortune taught; + That he, if haply some presumptuous foe, + With false ignoble science fraught, + Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band: + That he their dear defence will shun, + Or hide their glories from the sun, + Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand! + + + IV.--1. + + I care not that in Arno's plain, + Or on the sportive banks of Seine, + From public themes the Muse's choir + Content with polish'd ease retire. + Where priests the studious head command, + Where tyrants bow the warlike hand + To vile ambition's aim, + Say, what can public themes afford, + Save venal honours to a hateful lord, + Reserved for angry heaven and scorn'd of honest fame? + + + IV.--2. + + But here, where Freedom's equal throne + To all her valiant sons is known; + Where all are conscious of her cares, + And each the power, that rules him, shares; + Here let the bard, whose dastard tongue + Leaves public arguments unsung, + Bid public praise farewell: + Let him to fitter climes remove, + Far from the hero's and the patriot's love, + And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell. + + + IV.--3. + + O Hastings, not to all + Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend: + Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call, + That to one general weal their different powers they bend, + Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine + Inform the bosom of the Muse's son; + Though with new honours the patrician's line + Advance from age to age; yet thus alone + They win the suffrage of impartial fame. + + The poet's name + He best shall prove, + Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. + But thee, O progeny of heroes old, + Thee to severer toils thy fate requires: + The fate which form'd thee in a chosen mould, + The grateful country of thy sires, + Thee to sublimer paths demand; + Sublimer than thy sires could trace, + Or thy own Edward teach his race, + Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand. + + + V.--1. + + From rich domains, and subject farms, + They led the rustic youth to arms; + And kings their stern achievements fear'd, + While private strife their banners rear'd. + But loftier scenes to thee are shown, + Where empire's wide establish'd throne + No private master fills: + Where, long foretold, the People reigns; + Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; + And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills. + + + V.--2. + + Here be it thine to calm and guide + The swelling democratic tide; + To watch the state's uncertain frame, + And baffle Faction's partial aim: + But chiefly, with determined zeal, + To quell that servile band, who kneel + To Freedom's banish'd foes; + That monster, which is daily found + Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; + Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. + + + V.--3. + + 'Tis highest Heaven's command, + That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue; + That what ensnares the heart should maim the hand, + And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. + But look on Freedom;--see, through every age, + What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! + What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, + Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! + For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains + Of happy swains, + Which now resound + Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures bound, + Bear witness;--there, oft let the farmer hail + The sacred orchard which embowers his gate, + And show to strangers passing down the vale, + Where Candish, Booth, and Osborne sate; + When, bursting from their country's chain, + Even in the midst of deadly harms, + Of papal snares and lawless arms, + They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. + + + VI.--1. + + This reign, these laws, this public care, + Which Nassau gave us all to share, + Had ne'er adorn'd the English name, + Could Fear have silenced Freedom's claim. + But Fear in vain attempts to bind + Those lofty efforts of the mind + Which social good inspires; + Where men, for this, assault a throne, + Each adds the common welfare to his own; + And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acquires. + + + VI.--2. + + Say, was it thus, when late we view'd + Our fields in civil blood imbrued? + When fortune crown'd the barbarous host, + And half the astonish'd isle was lost? + Did one of all that vaunting train, + Who dare affront a peaceful reign, + Durst one in arms appear? + Durst one in counsels pledge his life? + Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife? + Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer? + + + VI.--3. + + Yet, Hastings, these are they + Who challenge to themselves thy country's love; + The true; the constant: who alone can weigh, + What glory should demand, or liberty approve! + But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, + The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, + Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, + Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. + Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise + Oft nobly sways + Ingenuous youth; + But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth, + Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone + For mortals fixeth that sublime award. + He, from the faithful records of his throne, + Bids the historian and the bard + Dispose of honour and of scorn; + Discern the patriot from the slave; + And write the good, the wise, the brave, + For lessons to the multitude unborn. + + +[Footnote 1: 'A tyrant:' Octavianus Caesar.] + + + +BOOK II. + + +ODE I. + +THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKSPEARE: + + SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, WHILE THE + FRENCH COMEDIANS WERE ACTING BY SUBSCRIPTION. 1749. + + + If, yet regardful of your native land, + Old Shakspeare's tongue you deign to understand, + Lo, from the blissful bowers where heaven rewards + Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards, + I come, the ancient founder of the stage, + Intent to learn, in this discerning age, + What form of wit your fancies have embraced, + And whither tends your elegance of taste, + That thus at length our homely toils you spurn, + That thus to foreign scenes you proudly turn, 10 + That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim + To crown the rivals of your country's fame. + + What though the footsteps of my devious Muse + The measured walks of Grecian art refuse? + Or though the frankness of my hardy style + Mock the nice touches of the critic's file? + Yet, what my age and climate held to view, + Impartial I survey'd and fearless drew. + And say, ye skilful in the human heart, + Who know to prize a poet's noblest part, 20 + What age, what clime, could e'er an ampler field + For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield? + I saw this England break the shameful bands + Forged for the souls of men by sacred hands: + I saw each groaning realm her aid implore; + Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore: + Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard's bane) + Obey'd through all the circuit of the main. + Then, too, great Commerce, for a late found world, + Around your coast her eager sails unfurl'd! 30 + New hopes, new passions, thence the bosom fired; + New plans, new arts, the genius thence inspired; + Thence every scene, which private fortune knows, + In stronger life, with bolder spirit, rose. + + Disgraced I this full prospect which I drew, + My colours languid, or my strokes untrue? + Have not your sages, warriors, swains, and kings, + Confess'd the living draught of men and things? + What other bard in any clime appears + Alike the master of your smiles and tears? 40 + Yet have I deign'd your audience to entice + With wretched bribes to luxury and vice? + Or have my various scenes a purpose known + Which freedom, virtue, glory, might not own? + + Such from the first was my dramatic plan; + It should be yours to crown what I began: + And now that England spurns her Gothic chain, + And equal laws and social science reign, + I thought, Now surely shall my zealous eyes + View nobler bards and juster critics rise, 50 + Intent with learned labour to refine + The copious ore of Albion's native mine, + Our stately Muse more graceful airs to teach, + And form her tongue to more attractive speech, + Till rival nations listen at her feet, + And own her polish'd as they own her great. + + But do you thus my favourite hopes fulfil? + Is France at last the standard of your skill? + Alas for you! that so betray a mind + Of art unconscious and to beauty blind. 60 + Say, does her language your ambition raise, + Her barren, trivial, unharmonious phrase, + Which fetters eloquence to scantiest bounds, + And maims the cadence of poetic sounds? + Say, does your humble admiration choose + The gentle prattle of her Comic Muse, + While wits, plain-dealers, fops, and fools appear, + Charged to say nought but what the king may hear? + Or rather melt your sympathising hearts + Won by her tragic scene's romantic arts, 70 + Where old and young declaim on soft desire, + And heroes never, but for love, expire? + + No. Though the charms of novelty, a while, + Perhaps too fondly win your thoughtless smile, + Yet not for you design'd indulgent fate + The modes or manners of the Bourbon state. + And ill your minds my partial judgment reads, + And many an augury my hope misleads, + If the fair maids of yonder blooming train + To their light courtship would an audience deign, 80 + Or those chaste matrons a Parisian wife + Choose for the model of domestic life; + Or if one youth of all that generous band, + The strength and splendour of their native land, + Would yield his portion of his country's fame, + And quit old freedom's patrimonial claim, + With lying smiles oppression's pomp to see, + And judge of glory by a king's decree. + + O bless'd at home with justly-envied laws, + O long the chiefs of Europe's general cause, 90 + Whom heaven hath chosen at each dangerous hour + To check the inroads of barbaric power, + The rights of trampled nations to reclaim, + And guard the social world from bonds and shame; + Oh! let not luxury's fantastic charms + Thus give the lie to your heroic arms: + Nor for the ornaments of life embrace + Dishonest lessons from that vaunting race, + Whom fate's dread laws (for, in eternal fate + Despotic rule was heir to freedom's hate), 100 + Whom in each warlike, each commercial part, + In civil council, and in pleasing art, + The judge of earth predestined for your foes, + And made it fame and virtue to oppose. + + + + + +ODE II. + + +TO SLEEP. + + + 1 Thou silent power, whose welcome sway + Charms every anxious thought away; + In whose divine oblivion drown'd, + Sore pain and weary toil grow mild, + Love is with kinder looks beguiled, + And grief forgets her fondly cherish'd wound; + Oh, whither hast thou flown, indulgent god? + God of kind shadows and of healing dews, + Whom dost thou touch with thy Lethaean rod? + Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse? + + 2 Lo, Midnight from her starry reign + Looks awful down on earth and main. + The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, + With all that crop the verdant food, + With all that skim the crystal flood, + Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep. + No rushing winds disturb the tufted bowers; + No wakeful sound the moonlight valley knows, + Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours, + And lulls the waving scene to more profound repose. + + 3 Oh, let not me alone complain, + Alone invoke thy power in vain! + Descend, propitious, on my eyes; + Not from the couch that bears a crown, + Not from the courtly statesman's down, + Nor where the miser and his treasure lies: + Bring not the shapes that break the murderer's rest, + Nor those the hireling soldier loves to see, + Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breast: + Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams from me! + + 4 Nor yet those awful forms present, + For chiefs and heroes only meant: + The figured brass, the choral song, + The rescued people's glad applause, + The listening senate, and the laws + Fix'd by the counsels of Timoleon's [1] tongue, + Are scenes too grand for fortune's private ways; + And though they shine in youth's ingenuous view, + The sober gainful arts of modern days + To such romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu. + + 5 I ask not, god of dreams, thy care + To banish Love's presentments fair: + Nor rosy cheek nor radiant eye + Can arm him with such strong command + That the young sorcerer's fatal hand + Should round my soul his pleasing fetters tie. + Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile + (A lighter phantom, and a baser chain) + Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile + To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according strain. + + 6 But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing + Such honourable visions bring, + As soothed great Milton's injured age, + When in prophetic dreams he saw + The race unborn with pious awe + Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page: + Or such as Mead's benignant fancy knows + When health's deep treasures, by his art explored, + Have saved the infant from an orphan's woes, + Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restored. + +[Footnote: 1: After Timoleon had delivered Syracuse from the tyranny +of Dionysius, the people on every important deliberation sent for him +into the public assembly, asked his advice, and voted according to it. + --_Plutarch_.] + + + + +ODE III. + + +TO THE CUCKOO. + + + 1 O rustic herald of the spring, + At length in yonder woody vale + Fast by the brook I hear thee sing; + And, studious of thy homely tale, + Amid the vespers of the grove, + Amid the chanting choir of love, + Thy sage responses hail. + + 2 The time has been when I have frown'd + To hear thy voice the woods invade; + And while thy solemn accent drown'd + Some sweeter poet of the shade, + Thus, thought I, thus the sons of care + Some constant youth or generous fair + With dull advice upbraid. + + 3 I said, 'While Philomela's song + Proclaims the passion of the grove, + It ill beseems a cuckoo's tongue + Her charming language to reprove'-- + Alas, how much a lover's ear + Hates all the sober truth to hear, + The sober truth of love! + + 4 When hearts are in each other bless'd, + When nought but lofty faith can rule + The nymph's and swain's consenting breast, + How cuckoo-like in Cupid's school, + With store of grave prudential saws + On fortune's power and custom's laws, + Appears each friendly fool! + + 5 Yet think betimes, ye gentle train + Whom love, and hope, and fancy sway, + Who every harsher care disdain, + Who by the morning judge the day, + Think that, in April's fairest hours, + To warbling shades and painted flowers + The cuckoo joins his lay. + + + + +ODE IV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1750. + + + I.--1. + + How oft shall I survey + This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade, + The vale with sheaves o'erspread, + The glassy brook, the flocks which round thee stray? + When will thy cheerful mind + Of these have utter'd all her dear esteem? + Or, tell me, dost thou deem + No more to join in glory's toilsome race, + But here content embrace + That happy leisure which thou hadst resign'd? + + + I.--2. + + Alas, ye happy hours, + When books and youthful sport the soul could share, + Ere one ambitious care + Of civil life had awed her simpler powers; + Oft as your winged, train + Revisit here my friend in white array, + Oh, fail not to display + Each fairer scene where I perchance had part, + That so his generous heart + The abode of even friendship may remain. + + + I.--3. + + For not imprudent of my loss to come, + I saw from Contemplation's quiet cell + His feet ascending to another home, + Where public praise and envied greatness dwell. + But shall we therefore, O my lyre, + Reprove ambition's best desire,-- + Extinguish glory's flame? + Far other was the task enjoin'd + When to my hand thy strings were first assign'd: + Far other faith belongs to friendship's honour'd name. + + + II.--1. + + Thee, Townshend, not the arms + Of slumbering Ease, nor Pleasure's rosy chain, + Were destined to detain; + No, nor bright Science, nor the Muse's charms. + For them high heaven prepares + Their proper votaries, an humbler band: + And ne'er would Spenser's hand + Have deign'd to strike the warbling Tuscan shell, + Nor Harrington to tell + What habit an immortal city wears; + + + II.--2. + + Had this been born to shield + The cause which Cromwell's impious hand betray'd, + Or that, like Vere, display'd + His redcross banner o'er the Belgian field; + Yet where the will divine + Hath shut those loftiest paths, it next remains, + With reason clad in strains + Of harmony, selected minds to inspire, + And virtue's living fire + To feed and eternise in hearts like thine. + + + II.--3. + + For never shall the herd, whom envy sways, + So quell my purpose or my tongue control, + That I should fear illustrious worth to praise, + Because its master's friendship moved my soul. + Yet, if this undissembling strain + Should now perhaps thine ear detain + With any pleasing sound, + Remember thou that righteous Fame + From hoary age a strict account will claim + Of each auspicious palm with which thy youth was crown'd. + + + III.--1. + + Nor obvious is the way + Where heaven expects thee nor the traveller leads; + Through flowers or fragrant meads, + Or groves that hark to Philomela's lay. + The impartial laws of fate + To nobler virtues wed severer cares. + Is there a man who shares + The summit next where heavenly natures dwell? + Ask him (for he can tell) + What storms beat round that rough laborious height. + + + III.--2. + + Ye heroes, who of old + Did generous England Freedom's throne ordain; + From Alfred's parent reign + To Nassau, great deliverer, wise and bold; + I know your perils hard, + Your wounds, your painful marches, wintry seas, + The night estranged from ease, + The day by cowardice and falsehood vex'd, + The head with doubt perplex'd, + The indignant heart disdaining the reward, + + + III.--3. + + Which envy hardly grants. But, O renown, + O praise from judging heaven and virtuous men, + If thus they purchased thy divinest crown, + Say, who shall hesitate, or who complain? + And now they sit on thrones above: + And when among the gods they move + Before the Sovereign Mind, + 'Lo, these,' he saith, 'lo, these are they + Who to the laws of mine eternal sway + From violence and fear asserted human kind.' + + + IV.--1. + + Thus honour'd while the train + Of legislators in his presence dwell; + If I may aught foretell, + The statesman shall the second palm obtain. + For dreadful deeds of arms + Let vulgar bards, with undiscerning praise, + More glittering trophies raise: + But wisest Heaven what deeds may chiefly move + To favour and to love? + What, save wide blessings, or averted harms? + + + IV.--2. + + Nor to the embattled field + Shall these achievements of the peaceful gown, + The green immortal crown + Of valour, or the songs of conquest, yield. + Not Fairfax wildly bold, + While bare of crest he hew'd his fatal way + Through Naseby's firm array, + To heavier dangers did his breast oppose + Than Pym's free virtue chose, + When the proud force of Strafford he controll'd. + + + IV.--3. + + But what is man at enmity with truth? + What were the fruits of Wentworth's copious mind, + When (blighted all the promise of his youth) + The patriot in a tyrant's league had join'd? + Let Ireland's loud-lamenting plains, + Let Tyne's and Humber's trampled swains, + Let menaced London tell + How impious guile made wisdom base; + How generous zeal to cruel rage gave place; + And how unbless'd he lived and how dishonour'd fell. + + + V.--1. + + Thence never hath the Muse + Around his tomb Pierian roses flung: + Nor shall one poet's tongue + His name for music's pleasing labour choose. + And sure, when Nature kind + Hath deck'd some favour'd breast above the throng, + That man with grievous wrong + Affronts and wounds his genius, if he bends + To guilt's ignoble ends + The functions of his ill-submitting mind. + + + V.--2. + + For worthy of the wise + Nothing can seem but virtue; nor earth yield + Their fame an equal field, + Save where impartial freedom gives the prize. + There Somers fix'd his name, + Enroll'd the next to William. There shall Time + To every wondering clime + Point out that Somers, who from faction's crowd, + The slanderous and the loud, + Could fair assent and modest reverence claim. + + + V.--3. + + Nor aught did laws or social arts acquire, + Nor this majestic weal of Albion's land + Did aught accomplish, or to aught aspire, + Without his guidance, his superior hand. + And rightly shall the Muse's care + Wreaths like her own for him prepare, + Whose mind's enamour'd aim + Could forms of civil beauty draw + Sublime as ever sage or poet saw, + Yet still to life's rude scene the proud ideas tame. + + + VI.--1. + + Let none profane be near! + The Muse was never foreign to his breast: + On power's grave seat confess'd, + Still to her voice he bent a lover's ear. + And if the blessed know + Their ancient cares, even now the unfading groves, + Where haply Milton roves + With Spenser, hear the enchanted echoes round + Through farthest heaven resound + Wise Somers, guardian of their fame below. + + + VI.--2. + + He knew, the patriot knew, + That letters and the Muse's powerful art + Exalt the ingenuous heart, + And brighten every form of just and true. + They lend a nobler sway + To civil wisdom, than corruption's lure + Could ever yet procure: + They, too, from envy's pale malignant light + Conduct her forth to sight, + Clothed in the fairest colours of the day. + + + VI.--3. + + O Townshend, thus may Time, the judge severe, + Instruct my happy tongue of thee to tell: + And when I speak of one to Freedom dear + For planning wisely and for acting well, + Of one whom Glory loves to own, + Who still by liberal means alone + Hath liberal ends pursued; + Then, for the guerdon of my lay, + 'This man with faithful friendship,' will I say, + 'From youth to honour'd age my arts and me hath view'd.' + + + + + +ODE V. + +ON LOVE OF PRAISE. + + + 1 Of all the springs within the mind + Which prompt her steps in fortune's maze, + From none more pleasing aid we find + Than from the genuine love of praise. + + 2 Nor any partial, private end + Such reverence to the public bears; + Nor any passion, virtue's friend, + So like to virtue's self appears. + + 3 For who in glory can delight + Without delight in glorious deeds? + What man a charming voice can slight, + Who courts the echo that succeeds? + + 4 But not the echo on the voice + More than on virtue praise depends; + To which, of course, its real price + The judgment of the praiser lends. + + 5 If praise, then, with religious awe + From the sole perfect judge be sought, + A nobler aim, a purer law, + Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught. + + 6 With which in character the same, + Though in an humbler sphere it lies, + I count that soul of human fame, + The suffrage of the good and wise. + + + + + +ODE VI. + + TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQUIRE; WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU. + + + 1 Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; + While, fluent as the skylark sings + When first the morn allures its wings, + The epicure his theme pursues: + And tell me if, among the choir + Whose music charms the banks of Seine, + So full, so free, so rich a strain + E'er dictated the warbling Muse. + + 2 Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear + Admires the well-dissembled art + That can such harmony impart + To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes; + While wit from affectation clear, + Bright images, and passions true, + Recall to thy assenting view + The envied bards of nobler times; + + 3 Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong? + This priest of Pleasure, who aspires + To lead us to her sacred fires, + Knows he the ritual of her shrine? + Say (her sweet influence to thy song + So may the goddess still afford), + Doth she consent to be adored + With shameless love and frantic wine? + + 4 Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here + Need we in high indignant phrase + From their Elysian quiet raise: + But Pleasure's oracle alone + Consult; attentive, not severe. + O Pleasure, we blaspheme not thee; + Nor emulate the rigid knee + Which bends but at the Stoic throne. + + 5 We own, had fate to man assign'd + Nor sense, nor wish but what obey, + Or Venus soft, or Bacchus gay, + Then might our bard's voluptuous creed + Most aptly govern human kind: + Unless perchance what he hath sung + Of tortured joints and nerves unstrung, + Some wrangling heretic should plead. + + 6 But now, with all these proud desires + For dauntless truth and honest fame; + With that strong master of our frame, + The inexorable judge within, + What can be done? Alas, ye fires + Of love; alas, ye rosy smiles, + Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,-- + Ye have no bribe his grace to win. + + + + + +ODE VII. + + TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 1754. + + + I.--l. + + For toils which patriots have endured, + For treason quell'd and laws secured, + In every nation Time displays + The palm of honourable praise. + Envy may rail, and Faction fierce + May strive; but what, alas, can those + (Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) + To Gratitude and Love oppose, + To faithful story and persuasive verse? + + + I.--2. + + O nurse of freedom, Albion, say, + Thou tamer of despotic sway, + What man, among thy sons around, + Thus heir to glory hast thou found? + What page, in all thy annals bright, + Hast thou with purer joy survey'd + Than that where truth, by Hoadly's aid, + Shines through imposture's solemn shade, + Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? + + + I.--3. + + To him the Teacher bless'd, + Who sent religion, from the palmy field + By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, + And lifted up the veil which heaven from earth conceal'd, + To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd: + 'Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law + From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure: + Let not my peaceful name be made a lure, + Fell persecution's mortal snares to aid: + Let not my words be impious chains to draw + The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, + To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid.' + + + II.--1. + + No cold or unperforming hand + Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. + The world soon felt it; and, on high, + To William's ear with welcome joy + Did Locke among the blest unfold + The rising hope of Hoadly's name; + Godolphin then confirm'd the fame; + And Somers, when from earth he came, + And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told. + + + II.--2. + + Then drew the lawgivers around + (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd), + And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, + What private force could thus subdue + The vulgar and the great combined; + Could war with sacred folly wage; + Could a whole nation disengage + From the dread bonds of many an age, + And to new habits mould the public mind. + + + II.-3. + + For not a conqueror's sword, + Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, + Were his; but truth by faithful search explored, + And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. + Wherever it took root, the soul (restored + To freedom) freedom too for others sought. + Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, + Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine, + Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; + Nor the wild rabble to sedition wrought, + Nor synods by the papal Genius taught, + Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. + + + III.--1. + + But where shall recompense be found? + Or how such arduous merit crown'd? + For look on life's laborious scene: + What rugged spaces lie between + Adventurous Virtue's early toils + And her triumphal throne! The shade + Of death, meantime, does oft invade + Her progress; nor, to us display'd, + Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils. + + + III.--2. + + Yet born to conquer is her power;-- + O Hoadly, if that favourite hour + On earth arrive, with thankful awe + We own just Heaven's indulgent law, + And proudly thy success behold; + We attend thy reverend length of days + With benediction and with praise, + And hail thee in our public ways + Like some great spirit famed in ages old. + + + III.--3. + + While thus our vows prolong + Thy steps on earth, and when by us resign'd + Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng + Who rescued or preserved the rights of human kind, + Oh! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue + Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name: + Oh! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, + May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, + Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; + Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim + That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, + Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious guile. + + + + + +ODE VIII. + + + 1 If rightly tuneful bards decide, + If it be fix'd in Love's decrees, + That Beauty ought not to be tried + But by its native power to please, + Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, + What fair can Amoret excel? + + 2 Behold that bright unsullied smile, + And wisdom speaking in her mien: + Yet (she so artless all the while, + So little studious to be seen) + We nought but instant gladness know, + Nor think to whom the gift we owe. + + 3 But neither music, nor the powers + Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, + Add half that sunshine to the hours, + Or make life's prospect half so clear, + As memory brings it to the eye + From scenes where Amoret was by. + + 4 Yet not a satirist could there + Or fault or indiscretion find; + Nor any prouder sage declare + One virtue, pictured in his mind, + Whose form with lovelier colours glows + Than Amoret's demeanour shows. + + 5 This sure is Beauty's happiest part: + This gives the most unbounded sway: + This shall enchant the subject heart + When rose and lily fade away; + And she be still, in spite of time, + Sweet Amoret in all her prime. + + + + + +ODE IX. + +AT STUDY. + + + 1 Whither did my fancy stray? + By what magic drawn away + Have I left my studious theme, + From this philosophic page, + From the problems of the sage, + Wandering through a pleasing dream? + + 2 'Tis in vain, alas! I find, + Much in vain, my zealous mind + Would to learned Wisdom's throne + Dedicate each thoughtful hour: + Nature bids a softer power + Claim some minutes for his own. + + 3 Let the busy or the wise + View him with contemptuous eyes; + Love is native to the heart: + Guide its wishes as you will; + Without Love you'll find it still + Void in one essential part. + + 4 Me though no peculiar fair + Touches with a lover's care; + Though the pride of my desire + Asks immortal friendship's name, + Asks the palm of honest fame, + And the old heroic lyre; + + 5 Though the day have smoothly gone, + Or to letter'd leisure known, + Or in social duty spent; + Yet at eve my lonely breast + Seeks in vain for perfect rest; + Languishes for true content. + + + + + +ODE X. + + TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ESQ.; + ON THE LATE EDITION OF MR. POPE'S WORKS. 1751. + + + 1 Believe me, Edwards, to restrain + The licence of a railer's tongue + Is what but seldom men obtain + By sense or wit, by prose or song: + A task for more Herculean powers, + Nor suited to the sacred hours + Of leisure in the Muse's bowers. + + 2 In bowers where laurel weds with palm, + The Muse, the blameless queen, resides: + Fair Fame attends, and Wisdom calm + Her eloquence harmonious guides: + While, shut for ever from her gate, + Oft trying, still repining, wait + Fierce Envy and calumnious Hate. + + 3 Who, then, from her delightful bounds + Would step one moment forth to heed + What impotent and savage sounds + From their unhappy mouths proceed? + No: rather Spenser's lyre again + Prepare, and let thy pious strain + For Pope's dishonour'd shade complain. + + 4 Tell how displeased was every bard, + When lately in the Elysian grove + They of his Muse's guardian heard, + His delegate to fame above; + And what with one accord they said + Of wit in drooping age misled, + And Warburton's officious aid: + + 5 How Virgil mourn'd the sordid fate + To that melodious lyre assign'd, + Beneath a tutor who so late + With Midas and his rout combined + By spiteful clamour to confound + That very lyre's enchanting sound, + Though listening realms admired around: + + 6 How Horace own'd he thought the fire + Of his friend Pope's satiric line + Did further fuel scarce require + From such a militant divine: + How Milton scorn'd the sophist vain, + Who durst approach his hallow'd strain + With unwash'd hands and lips profane. + + 7 Then Shakspeare debonair and mild + Brought that strange comment forth to view; + Conceits more deep, he said and smiled, + Than his own fools or madmen knew: + But thank'd a generous friend above, + Who did with free adventurous love + Such pageants from his tomb remove. + + 8 And if to Pope, in equal need, + The same kind office thou wouldst pay, + Then, Edwards, all the band decreed + That future bards with frequent lay + Should call on thy auspicious name, + From each absurd intruder's claim + To keep inviolate their fame. + + + + + +ODE XI. + + TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND. 1758. + + + 1 Whither is Europe's ancient spirit fled? + Where are those valiant tenants of her shore, + Who from the warrior bow the strong dart sped, + Or with firm hand the rapid pole-axe bore? + Freeman and soldier was their common name, + Who late with reapers to the furrow came, + Now in the front of battle charged the foe: + Who taught the steer the wintry plough to endure, + Now in full councils check'd encroaching power, + And gave the guardian laws their majesty to know. + + 2 But who are ye? from Ebro's loitering sons + To Tiber's pageants, to the sports of Seine; + From Rhine's frail palaces to Danube's thrones + And cities looking on the Cimbric main, + Ye lost, ye self-deserted? whose proud lords + Have baffled your tame hands, and given your swords + To slavish ruffians, hired for their command: + These, at some greedy monk's or harlot's nod, + See rifled nations crouch beneath their rod: + These are the Public Will, the Reason of the land. + + 3 Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while + Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, + Yet vain of Freedom, how dost thou beguile, + With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? + Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, + The praise and envy of the nations round, + What care hast thou to guard from Fortune's sway? + Amid the storms of war, how soon may all + The lofty pile from its foundations fall, + Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day! + + 4 No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales + Add Industry's wise gifts to Nature's store, + And every port is crowded with thy sails, + And every wave throws treasure on thy shore. + What boots it? If luxurious Plenty charm + Thy selfish heart from Glory, if thy arm + Shrink at the frowns of Danger and of Pain, + Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine. + Oh, rather far be poor! Thy gold will shine + Tempting the eye of Force, and deck thee to thy bane. + + 5 But what hath Force or War to do with thee? + Girt by the azure tide, and throned sublime + Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou canst see, + With scorn, the fury of each hostile clime + Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe + Are thy fair fields: athwart thy guardian prow + No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand-- + Yet say, my country, will the waves and wind + Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd + To the sky's fickle faith, the pilot's wavering hand? + + 6 For, oh! may neither Fear nor stronger Love + (Love, by thy virtuous princes nobly won) + Thee, last of many wretched nations, move, + With mighty armies station'd round the throne + To trust thy safety. Then, farewell the claims + Of Freedom! Her proud records to the flames + Then bear, an offering at Ambition's shrine; + Whate'er thy ancient patriots dared demand + From furious John's, or faithless Charles' hand, + Or what great William seal'd for his adopted line. + + 7 But if thy sons be worthy of their name, + If liberal laws with liberal arts they prize, + Let them from conquest, and from servile shame, + In War's glad school their own protectors rise. + Ye chiefly, heirs of Albion's cultured plains, + Ye leaders of her bold and faithful swains, + Now not unequal to your birth be found; + The public voice bids arm your rural state, + Paternal hamlets for your ensigns wait, + And grange and fold prepare to pour their youth around. + + 8 Why are ye tardy? what inglorious care + Detains you from their head, your native post? + Who most their country's fame and fortune share, + 'Tis theirs to share her toils, her perils most. + Each man his task in social life sustains. + With partial labours, with domestic gains, + Let others dwell: to you indulgent Heaven + By counsel and by arms the public cause + To serve for public love and love's applause, + The first employment far, the noblest hire, hath given. + + 9 Have ye not heard of Lacedemon's fame? + Of Attic chiefs in Freedom's war divine? + Of Rome's dread generals? the Valerian name? + The Fabian sons? the Scipios, matchless line? + Your lot was theirs: the farmer and the swain + Met his loved patron's summons from the plain; + The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew: + Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd; + The conquerors to their household gods return'd, + And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough. + + 10 Shall, then, this glory of the antique age, + This pride of men, be lost among mankind? + Shall war's heroic arts no more engage + The unbought hand, the unsubjected mind? + Doth valour to the race no more belong? + No more with scorn of violence and wrong + Doth forming Nature now her sons inspire, + That, like some mystery to few reveal'd, + The skill of arms abash'd and awed they yield, + And from their own defence with hopeless hearts retire? + + 11 O shame to human life, to human laws! + The loose adventurer, hireling of a day, + Who his fell sword without affection draws, + Whose God, whose country, is a tyrant's pay, + This man the lessons of the field can learn; + Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn, + And every pledge of conquest: while in vain, + To guard your altars, your paternal lands, + Are social arms held out to your free hands: + Too arduous is the lore: too irksome were the pain. + + 12 Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allured, + From the bright sun and living breeze ye stray; + And deep in London's gloomy haunts immured, + Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay. + O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue! + The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields renew, + The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend; + While he doth riot's orgies haply share, + Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare, + Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend. + + 13 And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain + That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng; + That the rude village inmates now disdain + Those homely ties which ruled their fathers long. + Alas, your fathers did by other arts + Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, + And led in other paths their ductile will; + By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, + Won them the ancient manners to revere, + To prize their country's peace and heaven's due rites fulfil. + + 14 But mark the judgment of experienced Time, + Tutor of nations. Doth light discord tear + A state, and impotent sedition's crime? + The powers of warlike prudence dwell not there; + The powers who to command and to obey, + Instruct the valiant. There would civil sway + The rising race to manly concord tame? + Oft let the marshall'd field their steps unite, + And in glad splendour bring before their sight + One common cause and one hereditary fame. + + 15 Nor yet be awed, nor yet your task disown, + Though war's proud votaries look on severe; + Though secrets, taught erewhile to them alone, + They deem profaned by your intruding ear. + Let them in vain, your martial hope to quell, + Of new refinements, fiercer weapons tell, + And mock the old simplicity, in vain: + To the time's warfare, simple or refined, + The time itself adapts the warrior's mind: + And equal prowess still shall equal palms obtain. + + 16 Say then, if England's youth, in earlier days, + On glory's field with well-train'd armies vied, + Why shall they now renounce that generous praise? + Why dread the foreign mercenary's pride? + Though Valois braved young Edward's gentle hand, + And Albert rush'd on Henry's way-worn band, + With Europe's chosen sons in arms renown'd, + Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd, + Nor Audley's squires, nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd: + They saw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound. + + 17 Such were the laurels which your fathers won: + Such glory's dictates in their dauntless breast;-- + Is there no voice that speaks to every son? + No nobler, holier call to you address'd? + Oh! by majestic Freedom, righteous Laws, + By heavenly Truth's, by manly Reason's cause, + Awake; attend; be indolent no more: + By friendship, social peace, domestic love, + Rise; arm; your country's living safety prove; + And train her valiant youth, and watch around her shore. + + + + + +ODE XII. + + ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1758. + + + 1 Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's Hill, + Once more I seek, a languid guest: + With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast + Once more I climb thy steep aerial way. + O faithful cure of oft-returning ill, + Now call thy sprightly breezes round, + Dissolve this rigid cough profound, + And bid the springs of life with gentler movement play. + + 2 How gladly, 'mid the dews of dawn, + My weary lungs thy healing gale, + The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale! + How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove + Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn, + Awaked I stop, and look to find + What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind, + Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove! + + 3 Now, ere the morning walk is done, + The distant voice of Health I hear, + Welcome as beauty's to the lover's ear. + 'Droop not, nor doubt of my return,' she cries; + 'Here will I, 'mid the radiant calm of noon, + Meet thee beneath yon chestnut bower, + And lenient on thy bosom pour + That indolence divine which lulls the earth and skies.' + + 4 The goddess promised not in vain. + I found her at my favourite time. + Nor wish'd to breathe in any softer clime, + While (half-reclined, half-slumbering as I lay) + She hover'd o'er me. Then, among her train + Of Nymphs and Zephyrs, to my view + Thy gracious form appear'd anew, + Then first, O heavenly Muse, unseen for many a day. + + 5 In that soft pomp the tuneful maid + Shone like the golden star of love. + I saw her hand in careless measures move; + I heard sweet preludes dancing on her lyre, + While my whole frame the sacred sound obey'd. + New sunshine o'er my fancy springs, + New colours clothe external things, + And the last glooms of pain and sickly plaint retire. + + 6 O Goulder's Hill, by thee restored + Once more to this enliven'd hand, + My harp, which late resounded o'er the land + The voice of glory, solemn and severe, + My Dorian harp shall now with mild accord + To thee her joyful tribute pay, + And send a less ambitious lay + Of friendship and of love to greet thy master's ear. + + 7 For when within thy shady seat + First from the sultry town he chose, + And the tired senate's cares, his wish'd repose, + Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home + For social leisure: where my welcome feet, + Estranged from all the entangling ways + In which the restless vulgar strays, + Through Nature's simple paths with ancient Faith might roam. + + 8 And while around his sylvan scene + My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours, + Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers + Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk + The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: + And oft did Tully's reverend shade, + Though much for liberty afraid, + With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk. + + 9 But other guests were on their way, + And reach'd ere long this favour'd grove; + Even the celestial progeny of Jove, + Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son, + Whose golden shaft most willingly obey + The best and wisest. As they came, + Glad Hymen waved his genial flame, + And sang their happy gifts, and praised their spotless throne. + + 10 I saw when through yon festive gate + He led along his chosen maid, + And to my friend with smiles presenting said:-- + 'Receive that fairest wealth which Heaven assign'd + To human fortune. Did thy lonely state + One wish, one utmost hope, confess? + Behold, she comes, to adorn and bless: + Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind.' + + + + + +ODE XIII. + + TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE OF BRANDENBURG. 1751. + + + 1 The men renown'd as chiefs of human race, + And born to lead in counsels or in arms, + Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chase + To dwell with books, or court the Muse's charms. + Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought + Some genuine transcript of their calmer thought, + There still we own the wise, the great, or good; + And Caesar there and Xenophon are seen, + As clear in spirit and sublime of mien, + As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood. + + 2 Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? + Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage, + Except for this, except that future Fame + Might read thy genius in the faithful page? + That if hereafter Envy shall presume + With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb, + And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling, + That hence posterity may try thy reign, + Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain, + And view in native lights the hero and the king. + + 3 O evil foresight and pernicious care! + Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal? + Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare + With private honour or with public zeal? + Whence, then, at things divine those darts of scorn? + Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne + For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given? + What fiend, what foe of Nature urged thy arm + The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm, + To push this earth adrift and leave it loose from Heaven? + + 4 Ye godlike shades of legislators old, + Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise, + Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd, + Say, did not horror in your bosoms rise, + When thus, by impious vanity impell'd, + A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld + Affronting civil order's holiest bands, + Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve, + Those hopes and fears of justice from above, + Which tamed the savage world to your divine commands? + + + + +ODE XIV. + +THE COMPLAINT. + + + 1 Away! away! + Tempt me no more, insidious love: + Thy soothing sway + Long did my youthful bosom prove: + At length thy treason is discern'd, + At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: + Away! nor hope my riper age to move. + + 2 I know, I see + Her merit. Needs it now be shown, + Alas, to me? + How often, to myself unknown, + The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid + Have I admired! How often said, + What joy to call a heart like hers one's own! + + 3 But, flattering god, + O squanderer of content and ease, + In thy abode + Will care's rude lesson learn to please? + O say, deceiver, hast thou won + Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, + Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? + + + + + +ODE XV. + +ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. + + (UNFINISHED.) + + + 1 Meek Honour, female shame, + Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, + From Albion dost thou fly, + Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? + O beauty's only friend, + Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; + Who selfish, bold desire + Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; + Alas, of thee forlorn + What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend? + + 2 Behold, our youths in vain + Concerning nuptial happiness inquire: + Our maids no more aspire + The arts of bashful Hymen to attain; + But with triumphant eyes + And cheeks impassive, as they move along, + Ask homage of the throng. + The lover swears that in a harlot's arms + Are found the self-same charms, + And worthless and deserted lives and dies. + + 3 Behold, unbless'd at home, + The father of the cheerless household mourns: + The night in vain returns, + For Love and glad Content at distance roam; + While she, in whom his mind + Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares, + To meet him she prepares, + Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, + A listless, harass'd heart, + Where not one tender thought can welcome find. + + 4 'Twas thus, along the shore + Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard, + From many a tongue preferr'd, + Of strife and grief the fond invective lore: + At which the queen divine + Indignant, with her adamantine spear + Like thunder sounding near, + Smote the red cross upon her silver shield, + And thus her wrath reveal'd; + (I watch'd her awful words, and made them mine.) + + * * * * * + + + + + +NOTES. + + +BOOK FIRST. + +ODE XVIII, STANZA II.--2. + +Lycurgus the Lacedemonian lawgiver brought into Greece from Asia +Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works. At Plataea was +fought the decisive battle between the Persian army and the united +militia of Greece under Pausanias and Aristides. Cimon the Athenian +erected a trophy in Cyprus for two great victories gained on the +same day over the Persians by sea and land. Diodorus Siculus has +preserved the inscription which the Athenians affixed to the +consecrated spoils, after this great success; in which it is very +remarkable that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner +of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other +ancient inscriptions. It is this:-- + + [Greek: + EX. OU. G. EUROPAeN. ASIAS. DIChA. PONTOS. ENEIME. + KAI. POLEAS. ONAeTON. ThOUROS. ARAeS. EPEChEI. + OUDEN. PO. TOIOUTON. EPIChThONION. GENET. ANDRON. + ERGON. EN. AePEIROI. KAI. KATA. PONOTON. AMA. + OIAE. GAR. EN. KUPROI. MAeDOUS. POLLOUS. OLESANTES. + PhOINIKON. EKATON. NAUS. ELON. EN. PELAGEI. + ANDRON. PLAeThOUSAS. META. D. ESENEN. ASIS. UP. AUTON. + PLAeGEIS. AMPhOTERAIS. ChERSI. KRATEI. POLEMOU.] + + The following translation is almost literal:-- + + Since first the sea from Asia's hostile coast + Divided Europe, and the god of war + Assail'd imperious cities; never yet, + At once among the waves and on the shore, + Hath such a labour been achieved by men + Who earth inhabit. They, whose arms the Medes + In Cyprus felt pernicious, they, the same, + Have won from skilful Tyre an hundred ships + Crowded with warriors. Asia groans, in both + Her hands sore smitten, by the might of war. + + + +STANZA II.--3. + +Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cimon, in whom the glory +of ancient Greece was at its height. When Xerxes invaded Greece, +Pindar was true to the common interest of his country; though his +fellow-citizens, the Thebans, had sold themselves to the Persian king. +In one of his odes he expresses the great distress and anxiety of +his mind, occasioned by the vast preparations of Xerxes against +Greece (_Isthm_. 8). In another he celebrates the victories of +Salamis, Plataea, and Himera (_Pyth_. 1). It will be necessary to +add two or three other particulars of his life, real or fabulous, in +order to explain what follows in the text concerning him. First, then, +he was thought to be so great a favourite of Apollo, that the +priests of that deity allotted him a constant share of their +offerings. It was said of him, as of some other illustrious men, +that at his birth a swarm of bees lighted on his lips, and fed him +with their honey. It was also a tradition concerning him, that Pan +was heard to recite his poetry, and seen dancing to one of his hymns +on the mountains near Thebes. But a real historical fact in his life +is, that the Thebans imposed a large fine upon him on account of the +veneration which he expressed in his poems for that heroic spirit +shown by the people of Athens in defence of the common liberty, +which his own fellow-citizens had shamefully betrayed. And as the +argument of this ode implies, that great poetical talents and high +sentiments of liberty do reciprocally produce and assist each other, +so Pindar is perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connexion which +occurs in history. The Thebans were remarkable, in general, for a +slavish disposition through all the fortunes of their commonwealth; +at the time of its ruin by Philip; and even in its best state, under +the administration of Pelopidas and Epaminondas: and every one knows +they were no less remarkable for great dulness and want of all genius. +That Pindar should have equally distinguished himself from the rest +of his fellow-citizens in both these respects seems somewhat +extraordinary, and is scarce to be accounted for but by the +preceding observation. + + +STANZA III.--3. + +Alluding to his defence of the people of England against Salmasins. +See particularly the manner in which he himself speaks of that +undertaking, in the introduction to his reply to Morus. + + +STANZA IV.--3. + +Edward the Third; from whom descended Henry Hastings, third Earl of +Huntingdon, by the daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother to +Edward the Fourth. + + +STANZA V.--3. + +At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale in Derbyshire, +the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the Lord Delamere, privately +concerted the plan of the Revolution. The house in which they met is +at present a farmhouse, and the country people distinguish the room +where they sat by the name of _the plotting parlour_. + + * * * * * + + + +BOOK SECOND. + +ODE VII. STANZA II.--1. + +Mr. Locke died in 1704, when Mr. Hoadly was beginning to distinguish +himself in the cause of civil and religious liberty: Lord Godolphin +in 1712, when the doctrines of the Jacobite faction were chiefly +favoured by those in power: Lord Somers in 1716, amid the practices +of the nonjoining clergy against the Protestant establishment; and +Lord Stanhope in 1721, during the controversy with the lower house +of convocation. + + +ODE X. STANZA V. + +During Mr. Pope's war with Theobald, Concanen, and the rest of their +tribe, Mr. Warburton, the present Lord Bishop of Gloucester, did +with great zeal cultivate their friendship, having been introduced, +forsooth, at the meetings of that respectable confederacy--a favour +which he afterwards spoke of in very high terms of complacency and +thankfulness. At the same time, in his intercourse with them, he +treated Mr. Pope in a most contemptuous manner, and as a writer +without genius. Of the truth of these assertions his lordship can +have no doubt, if he recollects his own correspondence with Concanen, +a part of which is still in being, and will probably be remembered +as long as any of this prelate's writings. + + +ODE XIII. + +In the year 1751 appeared a very splendid edition, in quarto, of +'Memoires pour servir a l'Histoire de la Maison de Brandebourg, +a Berlin et a la Haye,' with a privilege, signed Frederic, the same +being engraved in imitation of handwriting. In this edition, among +other extraordinary passages, are the two following, to which the +third stanza of this ode more particularly refers:-- + +'Il se fit une migration' (the author is speaking of what happened +at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes), 'dont on n'avoit guere vu +d'exemples dans l'histoire: un peuple entier sortit du royaume par +l'esprit de parti en haine du pape, et pour recevoir sous un autre +ciel la communion sous les deux especes: quatre cens mille ames +s'expatrierent ainsi et abandonnerent tous leur biens pour detonner +dans d'autres temples les vieux pseaumes de Clement Marot.'--Page 163. + +'La crainte donna le jour a la credulite, et l'amour propre +interessa bientot le ciel au destin des hommes.'--Page 242. + + + + +HYMN TO THE NAIADS. 1746. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at +daybreak, in honour of their several functions, and of the relations +which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin +is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature, +according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning +the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then +successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting +summer breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; +as contributing to the fulness of navigable rivers, and consequently +to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means to the maritime +part of military power. Next is represented their favourable +influence upon health when assisted by rural exercise, which +introduces their connexion with the art of physic, and the happy +effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated +for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true +inspiration which temperance only can receive, in opposition to the +enthusiasm of the more licentious poets. + + + O'er yonder eastern bill the twilight pale + Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day, + With bright Astraea seated by his side, + Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, + Ye Nymphs, ye blue-eyed progeny of Thames, + Who now the mazes of this rugged heath + Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long + Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air, + Your lonely murmurs, tarry, and receive + My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, 10 + I leave the gates of sleep; nor shall my lyre + Too far into the splendid hours of morn + Engage your audience; my observant hand + Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam + Approach you. To your subterranean haunts + Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care + The humid sands; to loosen from the soil + The bubbling sources; to direct the rills + To meet in wider channels; or beneath + Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon 20 + To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven. + + Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs, or end? + Wide is your praise and copious--first of things, + First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, + Were Love and Chaos. Love,[A] the sire of Fate; [B] + Elder than Chaos. [C] Born of Fate was Time, [D] + Who many sons and many comely births + Devour'd, [E] relentless father; till the child + Of Rhea [F] drove him from the upper sky, [G] + And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd 30 + The kindred powers, [H] Tethys, and reverend Ops, + And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway + Remain'd the Cloud-Compeller. From the couch + Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, [I] + Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, + Send tribute to their parent; and from them + Are ye, O Naiads: [J] Arethusa fair, + And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name, + Bandusia; that soft family which dwelt + With Syrian Daphne; [K] and the honour'd tribes 40 + Beloved of Paeon. [L] Listen to my strain, + Daughters of Tethys: listen to your praise. + + You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, [M] which of old + Aurora to divine Astraeus bore, + Owns, and your aid beseecheth. When the might + Of Hyperion, [N] from his noontide throne, + Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you + They ask; Pavonius and the mild South-west + Prom you relief implore. Your sallying streams [O] + Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart. 50 + Again they fly, disporting; from the mead + Half-ripen'd and the tender blades of corn, + To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel + Contagious steams, which oft the parched earth + Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to eve. + Along the river and the paved brook, + Ascend the cheerful breezes: hail'd of bards + Who, fast by learned Cam, the AEolian lyre + Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth + Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclined 60 + O'er rushing Arno, with a pious hand + The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes, + Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp + Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans + The ruins, with a silent tear revolves + The fame and fortune of imperious Rome. + + You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid + The rural powers confess, and still prepare + For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, + Oft as the Delian king [P] with Sirius holds 70 + The central heavens, the father of the grove + Commands his Dryads over your abodes + To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god + Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied + Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. + + Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, + Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path + With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts + The laughing Chloris, [Q] with profusest hand, + Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you 80 + Pomona seeks to dwell; and o'er the lawns, + And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames + Ye love to wander, Amalthea [R] pours, + Well-pleased, the wealth of that Ammonian horn, + Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles + Nysaean or Atlantic. Nor canst thou + (Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock + The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, + O Bromius, O Lenaean), nor canst thou + Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, 90 + With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me, + Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, + Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, + Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. [S] + + For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, + As down the verdant slope your duteous rills + Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, + Delighted; and your piety applauds; + And bids his copious tide roll on secure, + For faithful are his daughters; and with words 100 + Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now + His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings + Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts + Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, + When Hermes, [T] from Olympus bent o'er earth + To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill + Stoops lightly sailing; oft intent your springs + He views: and waving o'er some new-born stream + His bless'd pacific wand, 'And yet,' he cries, + 'Yet,' cries the son of Maia, 'though recluse 110 + And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs, + Flows wealth and kind society to men. + By you my function and my honour'd name + Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic rale, + Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms + By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct + The English merchant; with the buxom fleece + Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe + Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods + Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, 120 + Dispense the mineral treasure [U] which of old + Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land + Was yet unconscious of those generous arts, + Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime + Transplanted to a more indulgent heaven.' + + Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, + O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits + Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: + And those who, sedulous in prudent works, + Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays 130 + With noble wealth, and his own seat on earth, + Pit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might + Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns + Not vainly to the hospitable arts + Of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, + Hath he not won [V] the unconquerable queen + Of arms to court your friendship You she owns + The fair associates who extend her sway + Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things + Of you she littereth, oft as from the shore 140 + Of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks + Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads + To Calpe's [W] foaming channel, or the rough + Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine + Imparting to the senate and the prince + Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, + The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings + Was ever scorn'd by Pallas; and of old + Rejoiced the virgin, from the brazen prow + Of Athens o'er AEgina's gloomy surge, [X] 150 + To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all + The Persian's promised glory, when the realms + Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime, + When Libya's torrid champaign and the rocks + Of cold Imaues join'd their servile bands, + To sweep the sons of Liberty from earth. + In vain; Minerva on the bounding prow + Of Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice + Denounced her terrors on their impious heads, + And shook her burning aegis. Xerxes saw; [Y] 160 + From Heracleum, on the mountain's height + Throned in his golden car, he knew the sign + Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake + His faltering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. + + Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power; + Who arm the hand of Liberty for war, + And give to the renown'd Britannic name + To awe contending monarchs: yet benign, + Yet mild of nature, to the works of peace + More prone, and lenient of the many ills 170 + Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid + Hygeia well can witness; she who saves, + From poisonous dates and cups of pleasing bane, + The wretch, devoted to the entangling snares + Of Bacchus and of Comus. Him she leads + To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils, + To beat the coverts, with the jovial horn + At dawn of day to summon the loud hounds, + She calls the lingering sluggard from his dreams, + And where his breast may drink the mountain breeze, 180 + And where the fervour of the sunny vale + May beat upon his brow, through devious paths + Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, + Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd + His eager bosom, does the queen of health + Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board + She guards, presiding, and the frugal powers + With joy sedate leads in; and while the brown + Ennaean dame with Pan presents her stores, + While changing still, and comely in the change, 190 + Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread + The garden's banquet, you to crown his feast, + To crown his feast, O Naiads, you the fair + Hygeia calls; and from your shelving seats, + And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring, + To slake his veins, till soon a purer tide + Flows down those loaded channels, washeth off + The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds + Of crude disease, and through the abodes of life + Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads, hail! 200 + Who give to labour, health; to stooping age, + The joys which youth had squander'd. Oft your urns + Will I invoke; and frequent in your praise, + Abash the frantic thyrsus [Z] with my song. + + For not estranged from your benignant arts + Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine + My youth was sacred, and my votive cares + Belong, the learned Paeon. Oft when all + His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain; + When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm 210 + Rich with the genial influence of the sun + (To rouse dark fancy from her plaintive dreams, + To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win + Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast + Which pines with silent passion), he in vain + Hath proved; to your deep mansions he descends. + Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, + He entereth; where empurpled veins of ore + Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine + Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god 220 + From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl + Wafts to his pale-eyed suppliants; wafts the seeds + Metallic and the elemental salts + Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink, and soon + Flies pain; flies inauspicious care; and soon + The social haunt or unfrequented shade + Hears Io, Io Paean, [AA] as of old, + When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, + Oft as for hapless mortals I implore + Your sultry springs, through every urn, 230 + Oh, shed your healing treasures! With the first + And finest breath, which from the genial strife + Of mineral fermentation springs, like light + O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then + The fountain, and inform the rising wave. + + My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye + That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand + Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes + Not unregarded of celestial powers, + I frame their language; and the Muses deign 240 + To guide the pious tenor of my lay. + The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine) + In early days did to my wondering sense + Their secrets oft reveal; oft my raised ear + In slumber felt their music; oft at noon, + Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream, + In field or shady grove, they taught me words + Of power from death and envy to preserve + The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful mind, + And offerings unprofaned by ruder eye, 250 + My vows I send, my homage, to the seats + Of rocky Cirrha, [BB] where with you they dwell, + Where you their chaste companions they admit, + Through all the hallow'd scene; where oft intent, + And leaning o'er Castalia's mossy verge, + They mark the cadence of your confluent urns, + How tuneful, yielding gratefullest repose + To their consorted measure, till again, + With emulation all the sounding choir, + And bright Apollo, leader of the song, 260 + Their voices through the liquid air exalt, + And sweep their lofty strings; those powerful strings + That charm the mind of gods, [CC] that fill the courts + Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet + Of evils, with immortal rest from cares, + Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove, + And quench the formidable thunderbolt + Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, + While now the solemn concert breathes around, + Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord 270 + Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number'd notes, + Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone, + Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, + His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels + That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, + Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, + Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men + In that great moment of divine delight, + Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er + He loves not, o'er the peopled earth and o'er 280 + The interminated ocean, he beholds + Cursed with abhorrence by his doom severe, + And troubled at the sound. Ye, Naiads, ye + With ravish'd ears the melody attend + Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves + Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive + To drown the heavenly strains, of highest Jove + Irreverent, and by mad presumption fired + Their own discordant raptures to advance + With hostile emulation. Down they rush 290 + From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames + Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, + With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd + Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild + Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air + The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch + Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's [DD] + Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd + With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods + From every unpolluted ear avert 300 + Their orgies! If within the seats of men, + Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds [EE] + The guardian key, if haply there be found + Who loves to mingle with the revel-band + And hearken to their accents, who aspires + From such instructors to inform his breast + With verse, let him, fit votarist, implore + Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts + Of young Lyaeus, and the dread exploits, + May sing in aptest numbers; he the fate 310 + Of sober Pentheus, [FF] he the Paphian rites, + And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, + And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, + May celebrate, applauded. But with you, + O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, + Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised themes + Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse + To your calm habitations, to the cave + Corycian[GG] or the Delphic mount, [HH] will guide + His footsteps, and with your unsullied streams 320 + His lips will bathe; whether the eternal lore + Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove, + To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre + The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils, + In those unfading islands of the bless'd, + Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nymphs; + Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaic shell, [II] + Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs + Be present ye with favourable feet, + And all profaner audience far remove. 330 + + + + +NOTES. + + * * * * * + + +[Footnote A: '_Love,.... Elder than Chaos_.'--L. 25. +Hesiod in his Theogony gives a different account, and makes Chaos the +eldest of beings, though he assigns to Love neither father nor +superior; which circumstance is particularly mentioned by Phaedrus, +in Plato's Banquet, as being observable not only in Hesiod, but in +all other writers both of verse and prose; and on the same occasion +he cites a line from Parmenides, in which Love is expressly styled +the eldest of all the gods. Yet Aristophanes, in 'The Birds,' affirms, +that 'Chaos, and Night, and Erebus, and Tartarus were first; and +that Love was produced from an egg, which the sable-winged Night +deposited in the immense bosom of Erebus.' But it must be observed, +that the Love designed by this comic poet was always distinguished +from the other, from that original and self-existent being the TO ON +[Greek] or AGAThON [Greek] of Plato, and meant only the +DAeMIOURGOS [Greek] or second person of the old Grecian Trinity; to +whom is inscribed a hymn among those which pass under the name of +Orpheus, where he is called Protogonos, or the first-begotten, is +said to have been born of an egg, and is represented as the +principal or origin of all these external appearances of nature. In +the fragments of Orpheus, collected by Henry Stephens, he is named +Phanes, the discoverer or discloser, who unfolded the ideas of the +supreme intelligence, and exposed them to the perception of inferior +beings in this visible frame of the world; as Macrobius, and Proclus, +and Athenagoras, all agree to interpret the several passages of +Orpheus which they have preserved. + +But the Love designed in our text is the one self-existent and +infinite mind; whom if the generality of ancient mythologists have +not introduced or truly described in accounting for the production +of the world and its appearances, yet, to a modern poet, it can be +no objection that he hath ventured to differ from them in this +particular, though in other respects he professeth to imitate their +manner and conform to their opinions; for, in these great points of +natural theology, they differ no less remarkably among themselves, +and are perpetually confounding the philosophical relations of +things with the traditionary circumstances of mythic history; upon +which very account Callimachus, in his hymn to Jupiter, declareth +his dissent from them concerning even an article of the national +creed, adding, that the ancient bards were by no means to be +depended on. And yet in the exordium of the old Argonautic poem, +ascribed to Orpheus, it is said, that 'Love, whom mortals in later +times call Phanes, was the father of the eternally-begotten Night;' +who is generally represented by these mythological poets as being +herself the parent of all things; and who, in the 'Indigitamenta,' +or Orphic Hymns, is said to be the same with Cypris, or Love itself. +Moreover, in the body of this Argonautic poem, where the personated +Orpheus introduceth himself singing to his lyre in reply to Chiron, +he celebrateth 'the obscure memory of Chaos, and the natures which +it contained within itself in a state of perpetual vicissitude; how +the heaven had its boundary determined, the generation of the earth, +the depth of the ocean, and also the sapient Love, the most ancient, +the self-sufficient, with all the beings which he produced when he +separated one thing from another.' Which noble passage is more +directly to Aristotle's purpose in the first book of his metaphysics +than any of those which he has there quoted, to show that the +ancient poets and mythologists agreed with Empedocles, Anaxagoras, +and the other more sober philosophers, in that natural anticipation +and common notion of mankind concerning the necessity of mind and +reason to account for the connexion, motion, and good order of the +world. For though neither this poem, nor the hymns which pass under +the same name, are, it should seem, the work of the real Orpheus, +yet beyond all question they are very ancient. The hymns, more +particularly, are allowed to be older than the invasion of Greece by +Xerxes, and were probably a set of public and solemn forms of +devotion, as appears by a passage in one of them which Demosthenes +hath almost literally cited in his first oration against Aristogiton, +as the saying of Orpheus, the founder of their most holy mysteries. +On this account, they are of higher authority than any other +mythological work now extant, the Theogony of Hesiod himself not +excepted. The poetry of them is often extremely noble; and the +mysterious air which prevails in them, together with its delightful +impression upon the mind, cannot be better expressed than in that +remarkable description with which they inspired the German editor, +Eschenbach, when he accidentally met with them at Leipsic: +--'Thesaurum me reperisse credidi,' says he, 'et profecto thesaurum +reperi. Incredibile dictu quo me sacro horrore afflaverint +indigitamenta ista deorum: nam et tempus ad illorum lectionem +eligere cogebar, quod vel solum horrorem incutere animo potest, +nocturnum; cum enim totam diem consumserim in contemplando urbis +splendore, et in adeundis, quibus scatet urbs illa, viris doctis; +sola nox restabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. In abyesum quendam +mysteriorum venerandae antiquitatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque +silente mundo, solis vigilantibus astris et luna, [Greek: +melanaephutous] istos hymnos ad manus sumsi.'] + +[Footnote B: '_Love, the sire of Fate_.'--L. 25. Fate is the +universal system of natural causes; the work of the Omnipotent Mind, +or of Love: so Minucius Felix:--'Quid enim aliud est fatum, quam +quod de unoquoque nostrum deus fatus est.' So also Cicero, in the +First Book on Divination:--'Fatum autem id appello, quod Graeci +EIMAPMENIIN: id est, ordinem seriemque causarum, cum causa causae nexa +rem ex se gignat--ex quo intelligitur, ut fatum sit non id quod +superstitiose, sed id quod physice dicitur causa asterna rerum.' To +the same purpose is the doctrine of Hierocles, in that excellent +fragment concerning Providence and Destiny. As to the three Fates, +or Destinies of the poets, they represented that part of the general +system of natural causes which relates to man, and to other mortal +beings: for so we are told in the hymn addressed to them among the +Orphic Indigitamenta, where they are called the daughters of Night +(or Love), and, contrary to the vulgar notion, are distinguished by +the epithets of gentle and tender-hearted. According to Hesiod, Theog. +ver. 904, they were the daughters of Jupiter and Themis: but in the +Orphic hymn to Venus, or Love, that goddess is directly styled the +mother of Necessity, and is represented, immediately after, as +governing the three Destinies, and conducting the whole system of +natural causes.] + +[Footnote C: '_Chaos_.'--L. 26. The unformed, undigested mass of +Moses and Plato; which Milton calls 'The womb of nature.'] + +[Footnote D: '_Born of Fate was Time_.'--L. 26. Chronos, Saturn, or +Time, was, according to Apollodorus, the son of Caelum and Tellus. +But the author of the hymns gives it quite undisguised by +mythological language, and calls him plainly the offspring of the +earth and the starry heaven; that is, of Fate, as explained in the +preceding note.] + +[Footnote E: '_Who many sons ... devour'd_.'--L. 27. The known fable +of Saturn devouring his children was certainly meant to imply the +dissolution of natural bodies, which are produced and destroyed by +Time.] + +[Footnote F: '_The Child of Rhea_.'-L. 29. Jupiter, so called by +Pindar.] + +[Footnote G: '_Drove him from the upper sky_.'--L. 29. That Jupiter +dethroned his father Saturn is recorded by all the mythologists. +Phurnutus, or Cornutus, the author of a little Greek treatise on the +nature of the gods, informs us that by Jupiter was meant the +vegetable soul of the world, which restrained and prevented those +uncertain alterations which Saturn, or Time, used formerly to cause +in the mundane system.] + +[Footnote H: '_Then social reign'd The kindred powers_.'--L. 31. +Our mythology here supposeth, that before the establishment of the +vital, vegetative, plastic nature (represented by Jupiter), the four +elements were in a variable and unsettled condition, but afterwards +well-disposed, and at peace among themselves. Tethys was the wife +of the Ocean; Ops, or Rhea, the Earth; Vesta, the eldest daughter +of Saturn, Fire; and the Cloud-Compeller, or [Greek: Zeus +nephelaegeretaes], the Air, though he also represented the plastic +principle of nature, as may be seen in the Orphic hymn inscribed to +him.] + + +NOTE I. + + '_The sedgy-crowned race_.'--L. 34. + +The river-gods, who, according to Hesiod's Theogony, were the sons of +Oceanus and Tethys. + + +NOTE J. + + '_From them are ye, O Naiads_.'--L. 37. + +The descent of the Naiads is less certain than most points of the +Greek mythology. Homer, Odyss. xiii. [Greek: kourai Dios]. Virgil, +in the eighth book of the AEneid, speaks as if the Nymphs, or Naiads, +were the parents of the rivers: but in this he contradicts the +testimony of Hesiod, and evidently departs from the orthodox system, +which represented several nymphs as retaining to every single river. +On the other hand, Callimachus, who was very learned in all the +school-divinity of those times, in his hymn to Delos, maketh Peneus, +the great Thessalian river-god, the father of his nymphs: and Ovid, +in the fourteenth book of his Metamorphoses, mentions the Naiads of +Latium as the immediate daughters of the neighbouring river-gods. +Accordingly, the Naiads of particular rivers are occasionally, both +by Ovid and Statius, called by patronymic, from the name of the +river to which they belong. + + +NOTE K. + + '_Syrian Daphne_.'--L. 40. + +The grove of Daphne in Syria, near Antioch, was famous for its +delightful fountains. + + +NOTE L. + + '_The tribes beloved by Paeon_.'--L. 40. + +Mineral and medicinal springs. Paeon was the physician of the gods. + + +NOTE M. + + '_The winged offspring_.'--L. 43. + +The winds; who, according to Hesiod and Apollodorus, were the sons of +Astraeus and Aurora. + + +NOTE N. + + '_Hyperion_.'--L. 46. + +A son of Caelum and Tellus, and father of the Sun, who is thence +called, by Pindar, Hyperionides. But Hyperion is put by Homer in the +same manner as here, for the Sun himself. + + +NOTE O. + + '_Your sallying streams_.'--L. 49. + +The state of the atmosphere with respect to rest and motion is, in +several ways, affected by rivers and running streams; and that more +especially in hot seasons: first, they destroy its equilibrium, by +cooling those parts of it with which they are in contact; and +secondly, they communicate their own motion: and the air which is +thus moved by them, being left heated, is of consequence more +elastic than other parts of the atmosphere, and therefore fitter to +preserve and to propagate that motion. + +NOTE P. + + '_Delian king_.'--L. 70. + +One of the epithets of Apollo, or the Sun, in the Orphic hymn +inscribed to him. + +NOTE Q. + + '_Chloris_.'--L. 79. + +The ancient Greek name for Flora. + +NOTE R. + + '_Amalthea_.'--L. 83. + +The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was +written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic +character, by Thymoetes, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with +Orpheus. Thymoetes had travelled over Libya to the country which +borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and +learned from the inhabitants, that 'Ammon, King of Libya, was +married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: +that he afterwards fell in love with a beautiful virgin whose name +was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a +neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape +nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian +horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that fearing the jealousy +of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus in the island of Nysa;' the +beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of +style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, +and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of +Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to +except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic +story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and +solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he +prefers it even to-- + + 'That Nysean isle + Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham + (Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove) + Hid Amalthea and her florid son, + Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.' + + +NOTE S. + + '_Edonian band_.'--L. 94. + +The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus: so called from Edonus, +a mountain of Thrace, where his rites were celebrated. + +NOTE T. + + '_When Hermes_.'--L. 105. + +Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent +character he is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta in +these beautiful lines:-- + +[Greek: + _Ermaeuen panton, kerdempore, lusimerimue, + O? cheiresthiu echei? oplun aremphe_?] + + +NOTE U. + + _'Dispense the mineral treasure'_.--L. 121. + +The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of +Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin. + +NOTE V. + + _'Hath he not won'_?--L. 136. + +Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the +good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the +friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war: for military power, at +least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the +establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, +that 'from bounty issueth power.' + +NOTE W. + + _'C'alpe ... Cantabrian surge'_--L. 143. + +Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay. + +NOTE X. + + _'AEgina's gloomy surge'_--L. 150. + +Near this island, the Athenians obtained the victory of Salamis, +over the Persian navy. + +NOTE Y. + + _'Xerxes saw'_--L. 160. + +This circumstance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most +splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, +in his Life of Themistocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium +and Salamis. + +NOTE Z. + + _'Thyrsus'_--L. 204. + +A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the +bacchanalian mysteries. + +NOTE AA. + + _'Io Paean.'_--L. 227. + +An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's +encounter with Python. + +NOTE BB. + + _'Rocky Cirrha'_--L. 252. + +One of the summits of Parnassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were +several fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses. Nysa, the +other eminence of the same mountain, was dedicated to Bacchus. + +NOTE CC. + + _'Charm the mind of gods'_--L. 263. + +This whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred music among the +gods, is taken from Pindar's first Pythian ode. + +NOTE DD. + + '_Phrygian pipe_.'--L. 297. + +The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite +disorderly passions. + + +NOTE EE. + + '_The gates where Pallas holds + The guardian key_.'--L. 302. + +It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; +whence she was named IIOAIAS and HOAIOYXOS, and had her statues +placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that +account styled KAHAOYXOS. + + +NOTE FF. + + 'Fate of sober Pentheus.'--L. 311. + +Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanalian priests and women, +for despising their mysteries. + + +NOTE GG. + + 'The cave Corycian:--L. 318. + +Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following +description:--'Between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus is a +road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph +Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One +may walk a great way into it without a torch. 'Tis of a considerable +height, and hath several springs within it; and yet a much greater +quantity of water distils from the shell and roof, so as to be +continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold +it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan.' + + +NOTE HH. + + 'Delphic mount.'--L. 319. + +Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky +situation, on the skirts of Parnassus. + + +NOTE II. + + 'Cyrenaic shell.'--L. 327. + +Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the +most remarkable example of that mythological passion which is +assumed in the preceding poem, and have always afforded particular +pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity +with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to +attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the +manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as +the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, +could have been but little interesting to a modern reader, it was +therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the +history of nature, and to employ these ancient divinities as it is +probable they were first employed; to wit, in personifying natural +causes, and in representing the mutual agreement or opposition of +the corporeal and moral powers of the world: which hath been +accounted the very highest office of poetry. + + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS. + + + +I. + +FOR A GROTTO. + + To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call + Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, + This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, + Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, + Were placed by Glycou. He with cowslips pale, + Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green + Before my threshold, and my shelving walls + With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, + Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, + I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend; + Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, + Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds + Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in, + O stranger, undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad + Here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts + Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread + My quiet mansion; chiefly, if thy name + Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own. + + +II. + +FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK. + + Such was old Chaucer; such the placid mien + Of him who first with harmony inform'd + The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt + For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls + Have often heard him, while his legends blithe + He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles + Of homely life; through each estate and age, + The fashions and the follies of the world + With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance + From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come + Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain + Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold + To him, this other hero; who, in times + Dark and untaught, began with charming verse + To tame the rudeness of his native land. + + + +III. + + Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies + Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove + Of branching oaks a rural palace old + Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord + Of all the harvest round. And onward thence + A low plain chapel fronts the morning light + Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk, + O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground; + And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest + Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand + Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew + Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest, + The learned shepherd; for each rural art + Famed, and for songs harmonious, and the woes + Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride + Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave + In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven, + With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care, + Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold + And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith + From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, + Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside + The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate + The mournful story. Haply some fair maid + May hold it in remembrance, and be taught + That riches cannot pay for truth or love. + + +IV. + + O youths and virgins: O declining eld: + O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell + Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait + In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: + O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch + That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds + Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand + Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam + In exile; ye who through the embattled field + Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms + Contend, the leaders of a public cause; + Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not + The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue + Told you the fashion of your own estate, + The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round + His monument with reverence while ye stand, + Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; + Who walk'd in every path of human life, + Felt every passion; and to all mankind + Doth now, will ever, that experience yield + Which his own genius only could acquire.' + + +V. + + GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE + AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; + CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS + ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE + NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE + DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, + GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS + P.G. A.M. A. + + +VI. + +FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE. + + Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, + While Thames among his willows from thy view + Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene + Around contemplate well. This is the place + Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms + And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king + (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure + The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on + Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid + Those thanks which God appointed the reward + Of public virtue. And if chance thy home + Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, + Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt + They owe their ancestors; and make them swear + To pay it, by transmitting down entire + Those sacred rights to which themselves were born. + + + + + +VII. + + +THE WOOD NYMPH. + + Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale + Which I, the Dryad of this hoary oak, + Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age + Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose + On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale + Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards + The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, + Obeys me. Many changes have I seen + In human things, and many awful deeds + Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove + Against the tyrants of the land, against + The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, + Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length + Expert in laws divine, I know the paths + Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end + Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait + Each evening till a noble youth, who loves + My shade, a while released from public cares, + Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down + Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind + I prompt, unseen; and place before his view + Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart + With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme + Of gods and men, with freedom's generous deeds, + The lofty voice of glory and the faith + Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told + My function. If within thy bosom dwell + Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave + Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear + A sparing benediction from thy tongue. + + +VIII. + + Ye powers unseen, to whom, the bards of Greece + Erected altars; ye who to the mind + More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart + With more divine emotions; if erewhile + Not quite uupleasing have my votive rites + Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat + To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe + Here with your instant energy to crown + My happy solitude. It is the hour + When most I love to invoke you, and have felt + Most frequent your glad ministry divine. + The air is calm: the sun's unveiled orb + Shines in the middle heaven. The harvest round + Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves + The reapers lie reclined. The neighbouring groves + Are mute, nor even a linnet's random strain + Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel + Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in heaven, + Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds + Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades + Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below + Do you converse retired? From what loved haunt + Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel + Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers: + And I will guard it well; nor shall a thought + Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move + Across my bosom unobserved, unstored + By faithful memory. And then at some + More active moment, will I call them forth + Anew; and join them in majestic forms, + And give them utterance in harmonious strains; + That all mankind shall wonder at your sway. + + +IX. + + Me though in life's sequester'd vale + The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, + Remote from glory's toilsome ways, + And the great scenes of public praise; + Yet let me still with grateful pride + Remember how my infant frame + He temper'd with prophetic flame, + And early music to my tongue supplied. + 'Twas then my future fate he weigh'd, + And, this be thy concern, he said, + At once with Passion's keen alarms, + And Beauty's pleasurable charms, + And sacred Truth's eternal light, + To move the various mind of Man; + Till, under one unblemish'd plan, + His Reason, Fancy, and his Heart unite. + + + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. [1] + + Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, + And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, + Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, + In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; + Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, + And proud to mix my memory with thine. + But now the cause that waked my song before, + With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. + If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, + Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 + Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, + And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; + If every tongue its large applauses owed, + And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; + If public Justice urged the high reward, + And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; + Say then, to him whose levity or lust + Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; + Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, + And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 + Does not each tongue its execrations owe? + Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, + And public Justice sanctify th' award, + And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard? + + Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, + Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, + Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, + And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise. + But since thy guilt still more entire appears, + Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 + Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, + And the first rage of party-hate is past; + Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come + To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: + So may my trust from all reproach be free; + And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree. + + There are who say they view'd without amaze + The sad reverse of all thy former praise: + That through the pageants of a patriot's name, + They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40 + Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw + The public thunder on a private foe. + But I, whose soul consented to thy cause, + Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause, + Who saw the spirits of each glorious age + Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage; + I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds, + The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds. + Spite of the learned in the ways of vice, + And all who prove that each man has his price, 50 + I still believed thy end was just and free; + And yet, even yet, believe it--spite of thee. + Even though thy mouth impure has dared disclaim, + Urged by the wretched impotence of shame, + Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid + To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd; + Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show; + Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe; + Has boasted in thy country's awful ear, + Her gross delusion when she held thee dear; 60 + How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous call, + And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-- + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For laws subverted, and for cities sold! + Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt, + The oaths you perjured, and the blood you spilt; + Yet must you one untempted vileness own, + One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; + With studied arts his country's praise to spurn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, 70 + To challenge hate when honour was his due, + And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew. + Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose + From each fair feeling human nature knows? + Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear + To all that reason, all that sense would hear? + Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, + In such unthankful baseness to be lost? + Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, + And yield thy glories at an idiot's price? 80 + + When they who, loud for liberty and laws, + In doubtful times had fought their country's cause, + When now of conquest and dominion sure, + They sought alone to hold their fruits secure; + When taught by these, Oppression hid the face, + To leave Corruption stronger in her place, + By silent spells to work the public fate, + And taint the vitals of the passive state, + Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, + And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd shore: 90 + Then, like some guardian god that flies to save + The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, + Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake + Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake; + Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, + To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, + Against Corruption Liberty to arm, + And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm. + + Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, + And with thy country's hopes thy honours grew. 100 + Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; + Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd; + Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds; + The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns; + Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires, + To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires; + The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + With new amazement hears a living name + Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; 110 + And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways, + Left the tame track of these dejected days, + The life of nobler ages to renew + In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, + Roused by thy labours from the bless'd retreat, + Where social ease and public passions meet, + Again ascending treads the civil scene, + To act and be a man, as thou hadst been. + + Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, + And the great end appear'd at last in view: 120 + We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, + We saw the senate bending to thy voice; + The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching reign + Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain; + While venal Faction, struck with new dismay, + Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay. + Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, + Abash'd and keener from his long repose; + Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear + Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear; 130 + The city felt his call: from man to man, + From street to street, the glorious horror ran; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And, murmuring, challenged the deciding hour. + + Lo! the deciding hour at last appears; + The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears! + Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name, + O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame! + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, + And guide each movement steady to the goal. 140 + Ye spirits by whose providential art + Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, + Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, + And watch his fancy, and his passions bind! + Ye shades immortal, who by Freedom led, + Or in the field or on the scaffold bled, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + And view the crown of all your labours nigh. + See Freedom mounting her eternal throne! + The sword submitted, and the laws her own: 150 + See! public Power chastised beneath her stands, + With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands! + See private Life by wisest arts reclaim'd! + See ardent youth to noblest manners framed! + See us acquire whate'er was sought by you, + If Curio, only Curio will be true. + + 'Twas then--o shame! O trust how ill repaid! + O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!-- + 'Twas then--What frenzy on thy reason stole? + What spells unsinewed thy determined soul?-- 160 + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved, + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved, + This patient slave by tinsel chains allured, + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured, + This Curio, hated and despised by all, + Who fell himself to work his country's fall? + O lost, alike to action and repose! + Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! + With all that conscious, undissembled pride, + Sold to the insults of a foe defied! 170 + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame! + The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art + To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, + Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, + Display thy virtue, though without a dower, + Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + And shut thy eyes that others may be blind.-- + Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, + When shameless mouths your majesty defile, 180 + Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, + And cast their own impieties on you. + For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power + My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, + How have I stood exulting, to survey + My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! + How with the sons of every foreign shore + The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the more! + O race erect! whose native strength of soul, + Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, 190 + Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, + And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; + Intent the laws of life to comprehend, + And fix dominion's limits by its end. + Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, + By conscious reason judging every state, + The man forget not, though in rags he lies, + And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: + Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view + Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, 200 + Or, all awake at pity's soft command, + Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand: + Thence large of heart, from envy far removed, + When public toils to virtue stand approved, + Not the young lover fonder to admire, + Not more indulgent the delighted sire; + Yet high and jealous of their free-born name, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway, + Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. 210 + But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, + My country must with him renounce her cause, + Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, + Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod; + Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail, + Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail: + Else, ere he change the style, bear me away + To where the Gracchi [2], where the Bruti stay! + + O long revered, and late resign'd to shame! + If this uncourtly page thy notice claim 220 + When the loud cares of business are withdrawn, + Nor well-dress'd beggars round thy footsteps fawn; + In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour, + When Truth exerts her unresisted power, + Breaks the false optics tinged with fortune's glare, + Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions bare; + Then turn thy eyes on that important scene, + And ask thyself--if all be well within. + Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of soul, + Which labour could not stop, nor fear control? 230 + Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe, + Which, half-abash'd, the proud and venal saw? + Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause? + Where the delightful taste of just applause? + Where the strong reason, the commanding tongue, + On which the senate fired or trembling hung? + All vanish'd, all are sold--and in their room, + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted gloom, + See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur dwell, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! 210 + To her in chains thy dignity was led; + At her polluted shrine thy honour bled; + With blasted weeds thy awful brow she crown'd, + Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound, + That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, + And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew: + For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; + No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; + No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, + With all her conscious majesty confess'd, 250 + Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty flame, + To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame, + And where she sees the catching glimpses roll, + Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the soul; + But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill, + And formal passions mock thy struggling will; + Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain, + And reach impatient at a nobler strain, + Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth + Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous birth, 260 + Till, blind with smart, from truth to frenzy toss'd, + And all the tenor of thy reason lost, + Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear; + While some with pity, some with laughter hear.-- + Can art, alas! or genius, guide the head, + Where truth and freedom from the heart are fled? + Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, + When the prime function of the soul is broke? + + But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend; + Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend; 270 + Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine, + Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; + For see the hand of Destiny display'd + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd! + See the dire fane of Infamy arise! + Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; + Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, + The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. + Eternal barriers guard the pathless road + To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode; 280 + But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, + The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. + There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, + And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates; + And still he asks them of their unknown aims, + Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, + Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, + And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. 290 + + At last the gates his potent voice obey; + Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey; + Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, + The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, + O'er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, + The great, the sage, the happy, and august [3]. + No gleam of hope their baleful mansion cheers, + No sound of honour hails their unbless'd ears; + But dire reproaches from the friend betray'd, + The childless sire and violated maid; 300 + But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From towns enslaved, and continents laid waste; + But long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + For ever through the trembling space resound, + And sink each impious forehead to the ground. + + Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, + Give way, do homage to a mightier guest! + Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, + See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface!-- 310 + Awed at the name, fierce Appius [4] rising bends, + And hardy Cinna from his throne attends: + 'He comes,' they cry, 'to whom the fates assign'd + With surer arts to work what we design'd, + From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, + Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage obey; + Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their power, + He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; + Then, tired and yielding, led them to the chain, + And quench'd the spirit we provoked in vain.' 320 + + But thou, Supreme, by whose eternal hands + Fair Liberty's heroic empire stands; + Whose thunders the rebellious deep control, + And quell the triumphs of the traitor's soul, + Oh! turn this dreadful omen far away: + On Freedom's foes their own attempts repay: + Relume her sacred fire so near suppress'd, + And fix her shrine in every Roman breast: + Though bold Corruption boast around the land, + 'Let virtue, if she can, my baits withstand!' 330 + Though bolder now she urge the accursed claim, + Gay with her trophies raised on Curio's shame; + Yet some there are who scorn her impious mirth, + Who know what conscience and a heart are worth.-- + O friend and father of the human mind, + Whose art for noblest ends our frame design'd! + If I, though fated to the studious shade + Which party-strife, nor anxious power invade, + If I aspire in public virtue's cause, + To guide the Muses by sublimer laws, 340 + Do thou her own authority impart, + And give my numbers entrance to the heart. + Perhaps the verse might rouse her smother'd flame, + And snatch the fainting patriot back to fame; + Perhaps by worthy thoughts of human kind, + To worthy deeds exalt the conscious mind; + Or dash Corruption in her proud career, + And teach her slaves that Vice was born to fear. + + +[Footnote 1: Curio was a young Roman senator, of distinguished +birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had +been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, +he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want +of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of +Csesar against the liberties of his country, although he had before +been a professed enemy to him. Cicero exerted himself with great +energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of +the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published +in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at +last successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted +the cause of his country, and became the foremost in support and +defence of the same measures he had so steadily and for such a +length of time contended against.] + +[Fotnote 2: The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, lost +their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that +could give stability and good order to the Roman republic. L. Junius +Brutus founded the commonwealth, and died in its defence.] + +[Footnote 3: Titles which have been generally ascribed to the most +pernicious of men.] + +[Footnote 4: Appius Claudius the Decemvir, and L. Cornelius Cinna +both attempted to establish a tyrannical dominion in Rome, and both +perished by the treason.] + + + + +THE VIRTUOSO. + + IN IMITATION OP SPENSER'S STYLE AND STANZA. + + + 'Videmus + Nugari solitos.'--PERSIUS. + + + + 1 Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream, + In London town there dwelt a subtile wight; + A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame, + Book-learn'd and quaint; a Virtuoso hight. + Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight; + From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten ease, + Nor ceasen he from study, day or night; + Until (advancing onward by degrees) + He knew whatever breeds on earth, or air, or seas. + + 2 He many a creature did anatomise, + Almost unpeopling water, air, and land; + Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies, + Were laid full low by his relentless hand, + That oft with gory crimson was distain'd: + He many a dog destroy'd, and many a cat; + Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drain'd, + Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat, + And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a gnat. + + 3 He knew the various modes of ancient times, + Their arts and fashions of each different guise, + Their weddings, funerals, punishments for crimes, + Their strength, their learning eke, and rarities; + Of old habiliments, each sort and size, + Male, female, high and low, to him were known; + Each gladiator-dress, and stage disguise; + With learned, clerkly phrase he could have shown + How the Greek tunic differ'd from the Roman gown. + + 4 A curious medalist, I wot, he was, + And boasted many a course of ancient coin; + Well as his wife's he knewen every face, + From Julius Caesar down to Constantine: + For some rare sculptor he would oft ypine + (As green-sick damosels for husbands do); + And when obtained, with enraptured eyne, + He'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, + And look, and look again, as he would look it through. + + 5 His rich museum, of dimensions fair, + With goods that spoke the owner's mind was fraught: + Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare, + From sea and land, from Greece and Rome were brought, + Which he with mighty sums of gold had bought: + On these all tides with joyous eyes he pored; + And, sooth to say, himself he greater thought, + When he beheld his cabinets thus stored, + Than if he'd been of Albion's wealthy cities lord. + + 6 Here in a corner stood a rich scrutoire, + With many a curiosity replete; + In seemly order furnish'd every drawer, + Products of art or nature as was meet; + Air-pumps and prisms were placed beneath his feet, + A Memphian mummy-king hung o'er his head; + Here phials with live insects small and great, + There stood a tripod of the Pythian maid; + Above, a crocodile diffused a grateful shade. + + 7 Fast by the window did a table stand, + Where modern and antique rarities, + From Egypt, Greece, and Rome, from sea and land, + Were thick-besprent, of every sort and size: + Here a Bahaman-spider's carcass lies, + There a dire serpent's golden skin doth shine; + Here Indian feathers, fruits, and glittering flies; + There gums and amber found beneath the line, + The beak of Ibis here, and there an Antonine. + + 8 Close at his back, or whispering in his ear, + There stood a sprite ycleped Phantasy; + Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near: + Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; + Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye; + Her glistering robes were of more various hue + Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky, + Or all the spangled drops of morning dew; + Their colour changing still at every different view. + + 9 Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay, + Various as the chameleon that she bore; + Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay, + Now mendicant in silks and golden ore: + A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar, + Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed; + A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore; + Now scribbling dunce, in sacred laurel clad, + Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd. + + 10 The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill, + On whom she doth with constant care attend, + Will for a dreadful giant take a mill, + Or a grand palace in a hog-sty find: + (From her dire influence me may heaven defend!) + All things with vitiated sight he spies; + Neglects his family, forgets his friend, + Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, + And eagerly pursues imaginary joys. + + + + + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. + + A FABLE. + + 'Optat quietem.'-HOR. + + While yet the world was young, and men were few, + Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew, + In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd, + Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: + No sumptuous fabrics yet were seen to rise, + Nor gushing fountains taught to invade the skies; + With nature, art had not begun the strife, + Nor swelling marble rose to mimic life; + No pencil yet had learn'd to express the fair; + The bounteous earth was all their homely care. 10 + + Then did Content exert her genial sway, + And taught the peaceful world her power to obey-- + Content, a female of celestial race, + Bright and complete in each celestial grace. + Serenely fair she was, as rising day, + And brighter than the sun's meridian ray; + Joy of all hearts, delight of every eye, + Nor grief nor pain appear'd when she was by; + Her presence from the wretched banish'd care, + Dispersed the swelling sigh, and stopp'd the falling tear. 20 + + Long did the nymph her regal state maintain, + As long mankind were bless'd beneath her reign; + Till dire Ambition, hellish fiend, arose + To plague the world, and banish man's repose, + A monster sprung from that rebellious crew + Which mighty Jove's Phlegraean thunder slew. + Resolved to dispossess the royal fair, + On all her friends he threaten'd open war; + Fond of the novelty, vain, fickle man + In crowds to his infernal standard ran; 30 + And the weak maid, defenceless left alone, + To avoid his rage, was forced to quit the throne. + + It chanced, as wandering through the fields she stray'd, + Forsook of all, and destitute of aid, + Upon a rising mountain's flowery side, + A pleasant cottage, roof'd with turf, she spied: + Fast by a gloomy, venerable wood + Of shady planes and ancient oaks it stood. + Around, a various prospect charm'd the sight; + Here waving harvests clad the field with white, 40 + Here a rough shaggy rock the clouds did pierce, + From which a torrent rush'd with rapid force; + Here mountain-woods diffused a dusky shade; + Here flocks and herds in flowery valleys play'd, + While o'er the matted grass the liquid crystal stray'd. + In this sweet place there dwelt a cheerful pair, + Though bent beneath the weight of many a year; + Who, wisely flying public noise and strife, + In this obscure retreat had pass'd their life; + The husband Industry was call'd, Frugality the wife. 50 + With tenderest friendship mutually bless'd, + No household jars had e'er disturbed their rest. + A numerous offspring graced their homely board, + That still with nature's simple gifts was stored. + + The father rural business only knew; + The sons the same delightful art pursue. + An only daughter, as a goddess fair, + Above the rest was the fond mother's care, + Plenty; the brightest nymph of all the plain, + Each heart's delight, adored by every swain. 60 + Soon as Content this charming scene espied, + Joyful within herself the goddess cried:-- + 'This happy sight my drooping heart doth raise; + The gods, I hope, will grant me gentler days. + When with prosperity my life was bless'd, + In yonder house I've been a welcome guest: + There now, perhaps, I may protection find; + For royalty is banish'd from my mind; + I'll thither haste: how happy should I be, + If such a refuge were reserved for me!' 70 + + Thus spoke the fair; and straight she bent her way + To the tall mountain, where the cottage lay: + Arrived, she makes her changed condition known; + Tells how the rebels drove her from the throne; + What painful, dreary wilds she'd wander'd o'er; + And shelter from the tyrant doth implore. + + The faithful, aged pair at once were seized + With joy and grief, at once were pain'd and pleased; + Grief for their banish'd queen their hearts' possess'd, + And joy succeeded for their future guest: 80 + 'And if you'll deign, bright goddess, here to dwell, + And with your presence grace our humble cell, + Whate'er the gods have given with bounteous hand, + Our harvest, fields, and flocks, our all command.' + + Meantime, Ambition, on his rival's flight, + Sole lord of man, attain'd his wish's height; + Of all dependence on his subjects eased, + He raged without a curb, and did whate'er he pleased; + As some wild flame, driven on by furious winds, + Wide spreads destruction, nor resistance finds; 90 + So rush'd the fiend destructive o'er the plain, + Defaced the labours of th' industrious swain; + Polluted every stream with human gore, + And scatter'd plagues and death from shore to shore. + + Great Jove beheld it from the Olympian towers, + Where sate assembled all the heavenly powers; + Then with a nod that shook the empyrean throne, + Thus the Saturnian thunderer begun:-- + 'You see, immortal inmates of the skies, + How this vile wretch almighty power defies; 100 + His daring crimes, the blood which he has spilt, + Demand a torment equal to his guilt. + Then, Cyprian goddess, let thy mighty boy + Swift to the tyrant's guilty palace fly; + There let him choose his sharpest, hottest dart, + And with his former rival wound his heart. + And thou, my son (the god to Hermes said), + Snatch up thy wand, and plume thy heels and head; + Dart through the yielding air with all thy force, + And down to Pluto's realms direct thy course; 110 + There rouse Oblivion from her sable cave, + Where dull she sits by Lethe's sluggish wave; + Command her to secure the sacred bound. + Where lives Content retired, and all around + Diffuse the deepest glooms of Stygian night, + And screen the virgin from the tyrant's sight; + That the vain purpose of his life may try + Still to explore, what still eludes his eye.' + He spoke; loud praises shake the bright abode, + And all applaud the justice of the god. 120 + + + + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + + Of all the various lots around the ball, + Which fate to man distributes, absolute, + Avert, ye gods! that of the Muse's son, + Cursed with dire poverty! poor hungry wretch! + What shall he do for life? He cannot work + With manual labour; shall those sacred hands, + That brought the counsels of the gods to light; + Shall that inspired tongue, which every Muse + Has touch'd divine, to charm the sons of men; + These hallow'd organs! these! be prostitute 10 + To the vile service of some fool in power, + All his behests submissive to perform, + Howe'er to him ungrateful? Oh! he scorns + The ignoble thought; with generous disdain, + More eligible deeming it to starve, + Like his famed ancestors renown'd in verse, + Than poorly bend to be another's slave,-- + Than feed and fatten in obscurity.-- + These are his firm resolves, which fate, nor time, + Nor poverty can shake. Exalted high 20 + In garret vile he lives; with remnants hung + Of tapestry. But oh! precarious state + Of this vain transient world! all-powerful Time, + What dost thou not subdue? See what a chasm + Gapes wide, tremendous! see where Saul, enraged, + High on his throne, encompass'd by his guards, + With levell'd spear, and arm extended, sits, + Ready to pierce old Jesse's valiant son, + Spoil'd of his nose!--around in tottering ranks, + On shelves pulverulent, majestic stands 30 + His library; in ragged plight, and old; + Replete with many a load of criticism, + Elaborate products of the midnight toil + Of Belgian brains; snatch'd from the deadly hands + Of murderous grocer, or the careful wight, + Who vends the plant, that clads the happy shore + Of Indian Patomac; which citizens + In balmy fumes exhale, when, o'er a pot + Of sage-inspiring coffee, they dispose + Of kings and crowns, and settle Europe's fate. 40 + + Elsewhere the dome is fill'd with various heaps + Of old domestic lumber; that huge chair + Has seen six monarchs fill the British throne: + Here a broad massy table stands, o'erspread + With ink and pens, and scrolls replete with rhyme: + Chests, stools, old razors, fractured jars, half-full + Of muddy Zythum, sour and spiritless: + Fragments of verse, hose, sandals, utensils + Of various fashion, and of various use, + With friendly influence hide the sable floor. 50 + + This is the bard's museum, this the fane + To Phoebus sacred, and the Aonian maids: + But, oh! it stabs his heart, that niggard fate + To him in such small measure should dispense + Her better gifts: to him! whose generous soul + Could relish, with as fine an elegance, + The golden joys of grandeur, and of wealth; + He who could tyrannise o'er menial slaves, + Or swell beneath a coronet of state, + Or grace a gilded chariot with a mien, 60 + Grand as the haughtiest Timon of them all. + + But 'tis in vain to rave at destiny: + Here he must rest and brook the best he can, + To live remote from grandeur, learning, wit; + Immured amongst th' ignoble, vulgar herd, + Of lowest intellect; whose stupid souls + But half inform their bodies; brains of lead + And tongues of thunder; whose insensate breasts + Ne'er felt the rapturous, soul-entrancing fire + Of the celestial Muse; whose savage ears 70 + Ne'er heard the sacred rules, nor even the names + Of the Venusian bard, or critic sage + Full-famed of Stagyra: whose clamorous tongues + Stun the tormented ear with colloquy, + Vociferate, trivial, or impertinent; + Replete with boorish scandal; yet, alas! + This, this! he must endure, or muse alone, + Pensive and moping o'er the stubborn rhyme, + Or line imperfect--No! the door is free, + And calls him to evade their deafening clang, 80 + By private ambulation;--'tis resolved: + Off from his waist he throws the tatter'd gown, + Beheld with indignation; and unloads + His pericranium of the weighty cap, + With sweat and grease discolour'd: then explores + The spacious chest, and from its hollow womb + Draws his best robe, yet not from tincture free + Of age's reverend russet, scant and bare; + Then down his meagre visage waving flows + The shadowy peruke; crown'd with gummy hat 90 + Clean brush'd; a cane supports him. Thus equipp'd + He sallies forth; swift traverses the streets, + And seeks the lonely walk.--'Hail, sylvan scenes, + Ye groves, ye valleys, ye meandering brooks, + Admit me to your joys!' in rapturous phrase, + Loud he exclaims; while with the inspiring Muse + His bosom labours; and all other thoughts, + Pleasure and wealth, and poverty itself, + Before her influence vanish. Rapt in thought, + Fancy presents before his ravish'd eyes 100 + Distant posterity, upon his page + With transport dwelling; while bright learning's sons + That ages hence must tread this earthly ball, + Indignant, seem to curse the thankless age, + That starved such merit. Meantime swallow'd up, + In meditation deep, he wanders on, + Unweeting of his way.--But, ah! he starts + With sudden fright! his glaring eyeballs roll, + Pale turn his cheeks, and shake his loosen'd joints; + His cogitations vanish into air, 110 + Like painted bubbles, or a morning dream. + Behold the cause! see! through the opening glade, + With rosy visage, and abdomen grand, + A cit, a dun!--As in Apulia's wilds, + Or where the Thracian Hebrus rolls his wave, + A heedless kid, disportive, roves around, + Unheeding, till upon the hideous cave + On the dire wolf she treads; half-dead she views + His bloodshot eyeballs, and his dreadful fangs, + And swift as Eurus from the monster flies. 120 + So fares the trembling bard; amazed he turns, + Scarce by his legs upborne; yet fear supplies + The place of strength; straight home he bends his course, + Nor looks behind him till he safe regain + His faithful citadel; there, spent, fatigued, + He lays him down to ease his heaving lungs, + Quaking, and of his safety scarce convinced. + Soon as the panic leaves his panting breast, + Down to the Muse's sacred rites he sits, + Volumes piled round him; see! upon his brow 130 + Perplex'd anxiety, and struggling thought, + Painful as female throes: whether the bard + Display the deeds of heroes; or the fall + Of vice, in lay dramatic; or expand + The lyric wing; or in elegiac strains + Lament the fair; or lash the stubborn age, + With laughing satire; or in rural scenes + With shepherds sport; or rack his hard-bound brains + For the unexpected turn. Arachne so, + In dusty kitchen corner, from her bowels 140 + Spins the fine web, but spins with better fate, + Than the poor bard: she! caitiff! spreads her snares, + And with their aid enjoys luxurious life, + Bloated with fat of insects, flesh'd in blood: + He! hard, hard lot! for all his toil and care, + And painful watchings, scarce protracts a while + His meagre, hungry days! ungrateful world! + If with his drama he adorn the stage, + No worth-discerning concourse pays the charge. + Or of the orchestra, or the enlightening torch. 150 + He who supports the luxury and pride + Of craving Lais; he! whose carnage fills + Dogs, eagles, lions; has not yet enough, + Wherewith to satisfy the greedier maw + Of that most ravenous, that devouring beast, + Ycleped a poet. What new Halifax, + What Somers, or what Dorset canst thou find, + Thou hungry mortal? Break, wretch, break thy quill, + Blot out the studied image; to the flames + + Commit the Stagyrite; leave this thankless trade; 160 + Erect some pedling stall, with trinkets stock'd, + There earn thy daily halfpence, nor again + Trust the false Muse; so shall the cleanly meal + Repel intruding hunger.--Oh! 'tis vain, + The friendly admonition's all in vain; + The scribbling itch has seized him, he is lost + To all advice, and starves for starving's sake. + + Thus sung the sportful Muse, in mirthful mood, + Indulging gay the frolic vein of youth; + But, oh! ye gods, avert th' impending stroke 170 + This luckless omen threatens! Hark! methinks + I hear my better angel cry, 'Retreat, + Rash youth! in time retreat; let those poor bards, + Who slighted all, all! for the flattering Muse, + Yet cursed with pining want, as landmarks stand, + To warn thee from the service of the ingrate.' + + + + + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + + OCCASIONED BY THE INSULTS OF THE SPANIARDS, + AND THE PRESENT PREPARATIONS + FOR WAR. 1738. + + Whence this unwonted transport in my breast? + Why glow my thoughts, and whither would the Muse + Aspire with rapid wing? Her country's cause + Demands her efforts: at that sacred call + She summons all her ardour, throws aside + The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump + She means to thunder in each British ear; + And if one spark of honour or of fame, + Disdain of insult, dread of infamy, + One thought of public virtue yet survive, 10 + She means to wake it, rouse the generous flame, + With patriot zeal inspirit every breast, + And fire each British heart with British wrongs. + + Alas, the vain attempt! what influence now + Can the Muse boast! or what attention now + Is paid to fame or virtue? Where is now + The British spirit, generous, warm, and brave, + So frequent wont from tyranny and woe + To free the suppliant nations? Where, indeed! + If that protection, once to strangers given, 20 + Be now withheld from sons? Each nobler thought, + That warrn'd our sires, is lost and buried now + In luxury and avarice. Baneful vice! + How it unmans a nation! yet I'll try, + I'll aim to shake this vile degenerate sloth; + I'll dare to rouse Britannia's dreaming sons + To fame, to virtue, and impart around + A generous feeling of compatriot woes. + + Come, then, the various powers of forceful speech, + All that can move, awaken, fire, transport! 30 + Come the bold ardour of the Theban bard! + The arousing thunder of the patriot Greek! + The soft persuasion of the Roman sage! + Come all! and raise me to an equal height, + A rapture worthy of my glorious cause! + Lest my best efforts, failing, should debase + The sacred theme; for with no common wing + The Muse attempts to soar. Yet what need these? + My country's fame, my free-born British heart, + Shall be my best inspirers, raise my flight 40 + High as the Theban's pinion, and with more + Than Greek or Roman flame exalt my soul. + Oh! could I give the vast ideas birth + Expressive of the thoughts that flame within, + No more should lazy Luxury detain + Our ardent youth; no more should Britain's sons + Sit tamely passive by, and careless hear + The prayers, sighs, groans, (immortal infamy!) + Of fellow Britons, with oppression sunk, + In bitterness of soul demanding aid, 50 + Calling on Britain, their dear native land, + The land of Liberty; so greatly famed + For just redress; the land so often dyed + With her best blood, for that arousing cause, + The freedom of her sons; those sons that now + Far from the manly blessings of her sway, + Drag the vile fetters of a Spanish lord. + And dare they, dare the vanquish'd sons of Spain + Enslave a Briton? Have they then forgot, + So soon forgot, the great, the immortal day, 60 + When rescued Sicily with joy beheld + The swift-wing'd thunder of the British arm + Disperse their navies? when their coward bands + Fled, like the raven from the bird of Jove, + From swift impending vengeance fled in vain? + Are these our lords? And can Britannia see + Her foes oft vanquish'd, thus defy her power, + Insult her standard, and enslave her sons, + And not arise to justice? Did our sires, + Unawed by chains, by exile, or by death, 70 + Preserve inviolate her guardian rights, + To Britons ever sacred, that her sons + Might give them up to Spaniards?--Turn your eyes, + Turn, ye degenerate, who with haughty boast + Call yourselves Britons, to that dismal gloom, + That dungeon dark and deep, where never thought + Of joy or peace can enter; see the gates + Harsh-creaking open; what a hideous void, + Dark as the yawning grave, while still as death + A frightful silence reigns! There on the ground 80 + Behold your brethren chain'd like beasts of prey: + There mark your numerous glories, there behold + The look that speaks unutterable woe; + The mangled limb, the faint, the deathful eye, + With famine sunk, the deep heart-bursting groan, + Suppress'd in silence; view the loathsome food, + Refused by dogs, and oh! the stinging thought! + View the dark Spaniard glorying in their wrongs, + The deadly priest triumphant in their woes, + And thundering worse damnation on their souls: 90 + While that pale form, in all the pangs of death, + Too faint to speak, yet eloquent of all, + His native British spirit yet untamed, + Raises his head; and with indignant frown + Of great defiance, and superior scorn, + Looks up and dies.--Oh! I am all on fire! + But let me spare the theme, lest future times + Should blush to hear that either conquer'd Spain + Durst offer Britain such outrageous wrong, + Or Britain tamely bore it-- 100 + Descend, ye guardian heroes of the land! + Scourges of Spain, descend! Behold your sons; + See! how they run the same heroic race, + How prompt, how ardent in their country's cause, + How greatly proud to assert their British blood, + And in their deeds reflect their fathers' fame! + Ah! would to heaven ye did not rather see + How dead to virtue in the public cause, + How cold, how careless, how to glory deaf, + They shame your laurels, and belie their birth! 110 + + Come, ye great spirits, Candish, Raleigh, Blake! + And ye of latter name, your country's pride, + Oh! come, disperse these lazy fumes of sloth, + Teach British hearts with British fires to glow! + In wakening whispers rouse our ardent youth, + Blazon the triumphs of your better days, + Paint all the glorious scenes of rightful war + In all its splendours; to their swelling souls + Say how ye bow'd th' insulting Spaniards' pride, + Say how ye thunder'd o'er their prostrate heads, 120 + Say how ye broke their lines and fired their ports, + Say how not death, in all its frightful shapes, + Could damp your souls, or shake the great resolve + For right and Britain: then display the joys + The patriot's soul exalting, while he views + Transported millions hail with loud acclaim + The guardian of their civil, sacred rights. + How greatly welcome to the virtuous man + Is death for others' good! the radiant thoughts + That beam celestial on his passing soul, 130 + The unfading crowns awaiting him above, + The exalting plaudit of the Great Supreme, + Who in his actions with complacence views + His own reflected splendour; then descend, + Though to a lower, yet a nobler scene; + Paint the just honours to his relics paid, + Show grateful millions weeping o'er his grave; + While his fair fame in each progressive age + For ever brightens; and the wise and good + Of every land in universal choir 140 + With richest incense of undying praise + His urn encircle, to the wondering world + His numerous triumphs blazon; while with awe, + With filial reverence, in his steps they tread, + And, copying every virtue, every fame, + Transplant his glories into second life, + And, with unsparing hand, make nations bless'd + By his example. Vast, immense rewards! + For all the turmoils which the virtuous mind + Encounters here. Yet, Britons, are ye cold? 150 + Yet deaf to glory, virtue, and the call + Of your poor injured countrymen? Ah! no: + I see ye are not; every bosom glows + With native greatness, and in all its state + The British spirit rises: glorious change! + Fame, virtue, freedom, welcome! Oh, forgive + The Muse, that, ardent in her sacred cause, + Your glory question'd; she beholds with joy, + She owns, she triumphs in her wish'd mistake. + See! from her sea-beat throne in awful march 160 + Britannia towers: upon her laurel crest + The plumes majestic nod; behold, she heaves + Her guardian shield, and terrible in arms + For battle shakes her adamantine spear: + Loud at her foot the British lion roars, + Frighting the nations; haughty Spain full soon + Shall hear and tremble. Go then, Britons, forth, + Your country's daring champions: tell your foes + Tell them in thunders o'er their prostrate land, + You were not born for slaves: let all your deeds 170 + Show that the sons of those immortal men, + The stars of shining story, are not slow + In virtue's path to emulate their sires, + To assert their country's rights, avenge her sons, + And hurl the bolts of justice on her foes. + + + + + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + + 'O vitas Philosophia dux! O virtutis indagatrix, expultrixque + vitiorum. Tu urbes peperisti; tu inventrix legum, tu magistra morum + et disciplinae fuisti: ad te confugimus, a te opem petimus.'-- + _Cic. Tusc. Quaest_. + + 1 Science! thou fair effusive ray + From the great source of mental day, + Free, generous, and refined! + Descend with all thy treasures fraught, + Illumine each bewilder'd thought, + And bless my labouring mind. + + 2 But first with thy resistless light, + Disperse those phantoms from my sight, + Those mimic shades of thee: + The scholiast's learning, sophist's cant, + The visionary bigot's rant, + The monk's philosophy. + + 3 Oh! let thy powerful charms impart + The patient head, the candid heart, + Devoted to thy sway; + Which no weak passions e'er mislead, + Which still with dauntless steps proceed + Where reason points the way. + + 4 Give me to learn each secret cause; + Let Number's, Figure's, Motion's laws + Reveal'd before me stand; + These to great Nature's scenes apply, + And round the globe, and through the sky, + Disclose her working hand. + + 5 Next, to thy nobler search resign'd, + The busy, restless, Human Mind + Through every maze pursue; + Detect Perception where it lies, + Catch the Ideas as they rise, + And all their changes view. + + 6 Say from what simple springs began + The vast ambitious thoughts of man, + Which range beyond control, + Which seek eternity to trace, + Dive through the infinity of space, + And strain to grasp the whole. + + 7 Her secret stores let Memory tell, + Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell, + In all her colours dress'd; + While prompt her sallies to control, + Reason, the judge, recalls the soul + To Truth's severest test. + + 8 Then launch through Being's wide extent; + Let the fair scale with just ascent + And cautious steps be trod; + And from the dead, corporeal mass, + Through each progressive order pass + To Instinct, Reason, God. + + 9 There, Science! veil thy daring eye; + Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high, + In that divine abyss; + To Faith content thy beams to lend, + Her hopes to assure, her steps befriend + And light her way to bliss. + + 10 Then downwards take thy flight again, + Mix with the policies of men, + And social Nature's ties; + The plan, the genius of each state, + Its interest and its powers relate, + Its fortunes and its rise. + + 11 Through private life pursue thy course, + Trace every action to its source, + And means and motives weigh: + Put tempers, passions, in the scale; + Mark what degrees in each prevail, + And fix the doubtful sway. + + 12 That last best effort of thy skill, + To form the life, and rule the will, + Propitious power! impart: + Teach me to cool my passion's fires, + Make me the judge of my desires, + The master of my heart. + + 13 Raise me above the Vulgar's breath, + Pursuit of fortune, fear of death, + And all in life that's mean: + Still true to reason be my plan, + Still let my actions speak the man, + Through every various scene. + + 14 Hail! queen of manners, light of truth; + Hail! charm of age, and guide of youth; + Sweet refuge of distress: + In business, thou! exact, polite; + Thou giv'st retirement its delight, + Prosperity its grace. + + 15 Of wealth, power, freedom, thou the cause; + Foundress of order, cities, laws, + Of arts inventress thou! + Without thee, what were human-kind? + How vast their wants, their thoughts how blind! + Their joys how mean, how few! + + 16 Sun of the soul! thy beams unveil: + Let others spread the daring sail + On Fortune's faithless sea: + While, undeluded, happier I + From the rain tumult timely fly, + And sit in peace with thee. + + + + + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + + Too much my heart of Beauty's power hath known, + Too long to Love hath reason left her throne; + Too long my genius mourn'd his myrtle chain, + And three rich years of youth consumed in vain. + My wishes, lull'd with soft inglorious dreams, + Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes: + Through each Elysian vale and fairy grove, + Through all the enchanted paradise of love, + Misled by sickly Hope's deceitful flame, + Averse to action, and renouncing fame. 10 + + At last the visionary scenes decay, + My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day, + Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road + In which my heedless feet securely trod, + And strip the phantoms of their lying charms + That lured my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms. + + For silver streams and banks bespread with flowers, + For mossy couches and harmonious bowers, + Lo! barren heaths appear, and pathless woods, + And rocks hung dreadful o'er unfathom'd floods: 20 + For openness of heart, for tender smiles, + Looks fraught with love, and wrath-disarming wiles; + Lo! sullen Spite, and perjured Lust of Gain, + And cruel Pride, and crueller Disdain; + Lo! cordial Faith to idiot airs refined, + Now coolly civil, now transporting kind. + For graceful Ease, lo! Affectation walks; + And dull Half-sense, for Wit and Wisdom talks. + New to each hour what low delight succeeds, + What precious furniture of hearts and heads! 30 + By nought their prudence, but by getting, known, + And all their courage in deceiving shown. + + See next what plagues attend the lover's state, + What frightful forms of Terror, Scorn, and Hate! + See burning Fury heaven and earth defy! + See dumb Despair in icy fetters lie! + See black Suspicion bend his gloomy brow, + The hideous image of himself to view! + And fond Belief, with all a lover's flame, + Sink in those arms that point his head with shame! 40 + There wan Dejection, faltering as he goes, + In shades and silence vainly seeks repose; + Musing through pathless wilds, consumes the day, + Then lost in darkness weeps the hours away. + Here the gay crowd of Luxury advance, + Some touch the lyre, and others urge the dance: + On every head the rosy garland glows, + In every hand the golden goblet flows. + The Syren views them with exulting eyes, + And laughs at bashful Virtue as she flies. 50 + But see behind, where Scorn and Want appear, + The grave remonstrance and the witty sneer; + See fell Remorse in action, prompt to dart + Her snaky poison through the conscious heart; + And Sloth to cancel, with oblivious shame, + The fair memorial of recording Fame. + + Are these delights that one would wish to gain? + Is this the Elysium of a sober brain? + To wait for happiness in female smiles, + Bear all her scorn, be caught with all her wiles, 60 + With prayers, with bribes, with lies, her pity crave, + Bless her hard bonds, and boast to be her slave; + To feel, for trifles, a distracting train + Of hopes and terrors equally in vain; + This hour to tremble, and the next to glow; + Can Pride, can Sense, can Reason, stoop so low: + When Virtue, at an easier price, displays + The sacred wreaths of honourable praise; + When Wisdom utters her divine decree, + To laugh at pompous Folly, and be free? 70 + + I bid adieu, then, to these woeful scenes; + I bid adieu to all the sex of queens; + Adieu to every suffering, simple soul, + That lets a woman's will his ease control. + There laugh, ye witty; and rebuke, ye grave! + For me, I scorn to boast that I'm a slave. + I bid the whining brotherhood be gone; + Joy to my heart! my wishes are my own! + Farewell the female heaven, the female hell; + To the great God of Love a glad farewell. 80 + Is this the triumph of thy awful name? + Are these the splendid hopes that urged thy aim, + When first my bosom own'd thy haughty sway? + When thus Minerva heard thee, boasting, say-- + 'Go, martial maid, elsewhere thy arts employ, + Nor hope to shelter that devoted boy. + Go teach the solemn sons of Care and Age, + The pensive statesman, and the midnight sage; + The young with me must other lessons prove, + Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love. 90 + Behold, his heart thy grave advice disdains; + Behold, I bind him in eternal chains.'-- + Alas! great Love, how idle was the boast! + Thy chains are broken, and thy lessons lost; + Thy wilful rage has tired my suffering heart, + And passion, reason, forced thee to depart. + But wherefore dost thou linger on thy way? + Why vainly search for some pretence to stay, + When crowds of vassals court thy pleasing yoke, + And countless victims bow them to the stroke? 100 + Lo! round thy shrine a thousand youths advance, + Warm with the gentle ardours of romance; + Each longs to assert thy cause with feats of arms, + And make the world confess Dulcinea's charms. + Ten thousand girls with flowery chaplets crown'd, + To groves and streams thy tender triumph sound: + Each bids the stream in murmurs speak her flame, + Each calls the grove to sigh her shepherd's name. + But, if thy pride such easy honour scorn, + If nobler trophies must thy toil adorn, 110 + Behold yon flowery antiquated maid + Bright in the bloom of threescore years display'd; + Her shalt thou bind in thy delightful chains, + And thrill with gentle pangs her wither'd veins, + Her frosty cheek with crimson blushes dye, + With dreams of rapture melt her maudlin eye. + + Turn then thy labours to the servile crowd, + Entice the wary, and control the proud; + Make the sad miser his best gains forego, + The solemn statesman sigh to be a beau, 120 + The bold coquette with fondest passion burn, + The Bacchanalian o'er his bottle mourn; + And that chief glory of thy power maintain, + 'To poise ambition in a female brain.' + Be these thy triumphs; but no more presume + That my rebellious heart will yield thee room: + I know thy puny force, thy simple wiles; + I break triumphant through thy flimsy toils; + I see thy dying lamp's last languid glow, + Thy arrows blunted and unbraced thy bow. 130 + I feel diviner fires my breast inflame, + To active science, and ingenuous fame; + Resume the paths my earliest choice began, + And lose, with pride, the lover in the man. + + + + + +TO CORDELIA. + + JULY 1740. + + 1 From pompous life's dull masquerade, + From Pride's pursuits, and Passion's war, + Far, my Cordelia, very far, + To thee and me may Heaven assign + The silent pleasures of the shade, + The joys of peace, unenvied, though divine! + + 2 Safe in the calm embowering grove, + As thy own lovely brow serene; + Behold the world's fantastic scene! + What low pursuits employ the great, + What tinsel things their wishes move, + The forms of Fashion, and the toys of State. + + 3 In vain are all Contentment's charms, + Her placid mien, her cheerful eye, + For look, Cordelia, how they fly! + Allured by Power, Applause, or Gain, + They fly her kind protecting arms; + Ah, blind to pleasure, and in love with pain! + + 4 Turn, and indulge a fairer view, + Smile on the joys which here conspire; + O joys harmonious as my lyre! + O prospect of enchanting things, + As ever slumbering poet knew, + When Love and Fancy wrapt him in their wings! + + 5 Here, no rude storm of Passion blows, + But Sports and Smiles, and Virtues play, + Cheer'd by Affection's purest ray; + The air still breathes Contentment's balm, + And the clear stream of Pleasure flows + For ever active, yet for ever calm. + + + + + +SONG. + + 1 The shape alone let others prize, + The features of the fair; + I look for spirit in her eyes, + And meaning in her air; + + 2 A damask cheek, an ivory arm, + Shall ne'er my wishes win: + Give me an animated form, + That speaks a mind within; + + 3 A face where awful honour shines, + Where sense and sweetness move, + And angel innocence refines + The tenderness of love. + + 4 These are the soul of Beauty's frame; + Without whose vital aid, + Unfinish'd all her features seem, + And all her roses dead. + + 5 But, ah! where both their charms unite, + How perfect is the view, + With every image of delight, + With graces ever new: + + 6 Of power to charm the greatest woe, + The wildest rage control, + Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, + And rapture through the soul. + + 7 Their power but faintly to express, + All language must despair; + But go, behold Arpasia's face, + And read it perfect there. + + + +END OF AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 9814.txt or 9814.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/1/9814/ + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince and the Online +Distribted Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Poetical Works of Akenside + [Edited by George Gilfillan] + +Author: Mark Akenside + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9814] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince +and the Online Distribted Proofreading Team + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +MARK AKENSIDE. + + + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +THE LIFE OF AKENSIDE. + + +Mark Akenside was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 9th of November +1721. His family were Presbyterian Dissenters, and on the 30th of +that month he was baptized in the meeting, then held in Hanover +Square, by a Mr. Benjamin Bennet. His father, Mark, was a butcher in +respectable circumstances--his mother's name was Mary Lumsden. There +may seem something grotesque in finding the author of the "Pleasures +of Imagination" born in a place usually thought so anti-poetical as +a butcher's shop. And yet similar anomalies abound in the histories +of men of genius. Henry Kirke White, too, was a butcher's son, and +for some time carried his father's basket. The late Thomas Atkinson, +a very clever _litterateur_ of the West of Scotland, was also what +the Scotch call a "flesher's" son. The case of Cardinal Wolsey is +well known. Indeed, we do not understand why any decent calling +should be inimical to the existence--however it may be to the +adequate development--of genius. That is a spark of supernal +inspiration, lighting where it pleases, often conforming, and always +striving to conform, circumstances to itself, and sometimes even +strengthened and purified by the contradictions it meets in life. Nay, +genius has sprung up in stranger quarters than in butcher's shops or +tailor's attics--it has lived and nourished in the dens of robbers, +and in the gross and fetid atmosphere of taverns. There was an +Allen-a-Dale in Robin Hood's gang; it was in the Bell Inn, at +Gloucester, that George Whitefield, the most gifted of popular +orators, was reared; and Bunyan's Muse found him at the +disrespectable trade of a tinker, and amidst the clatter of pots, +and pans, and vulgar curses, made her whisper audible in his ear, +"Come up hither to the Mount of Vision--to the summit of Mount Clear!" + +It is said that Akenside was ashamed of his origin--and if so, he +deserved the perpetual recollection of it, produced by a life-long +lameness, originating in a cut from his father's cleaver. It is +fitting that men, and especially great men, should suffer through +their smallnesses of character. The boy was first sent to the +Free School of Newcastle, and thence to a private academy kept by +Mr. Wilson, a Dissenting minister of the place. He began rather early +to display a taste for poetry and verse-writing; and, in April 1737, +we find in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ a set of stanzas, entitled, +"The Virtuoso, in imitation of Spenser's style and stanza," prefaced +by a letter signed Marcus, in which the author, while requesting the +insertion of his piece, pleads the apology of his extreme youth. One +may see something of the future political zeal of the man in the +boy's selection of one of the names of Brutus. The _Gentleman's +Magazine_ was then rising toward that character of a readable medley +and agreeable _olla podrida_, which it long bore, although its +principal contributor--Johnson--did not join its staff till the next +year. Its old numbers will even still repay perusal--at least we +seldom enjoyed a greater treat than when in our boyhood we lighted +on and read some twenty of its brown-hued, stout-backed, +strong-bound volumes, filled with the debates in the Senate of +Lilliput--with Johnson's early Lives and Essays--with mediocre +poetry--interesting scraps of meteorological and scientific +information--ghost stories and fairy tales--alternating with timid +politics, and with sarcasms at the great, veiled under initials, +asterisks, and innuendoes; and even now many, we believe, feel it +quite a luxury to recur from the personalities and floridities of +modern periodicals to its quiet, cool, sober, and sensible pages. To +it Akenside contributed afterwards a fable, called "Ambition and +Content," a "Hymn to Science," and a few more poetical pieces +(written not, as commonly said, in Edinburgh, but in Newcastle, in +1739). It has been asserted that he composed his "Pleasures of +Imagination" while visiting some relations at Morpeth, when only +seventeen years of age; but although he himself assures us that he +spent many happy and inspired hours in that region, + + "Led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen," + +there is no direct evidence that he then fixed his vague, tumultuous, +youthful impressions in verse. Indeed, the texture and style of the +"Pleasures" forbid the thought that it was a hasty improvisation. +When nearly eighteen years old, Akenside was sent to Edinburgh, to +commence his studies for the pulpit, and received some pecuniary +assistance from the Dissenters' Society. One winter, however, served +to disgust him with the prospects of the profession--which he +resigned for the pursuit of medicine, repaying the contribution he +had received from the society. We know a similar case in the present +day of a well-known, able _litterateur_--once the editor of the +_Westminster Review_--who had been educated at the expense of the +Congregational body in Scotland, but who, after a change of +religious view and of profession, honourably refunded the whole sum. +What were the special reasons why Akenside turned aside from the +Church we are not informed. Perhaps he had fallen into youthful +indiscretions or early scepticism; or perhaps he felt that the +business of a Dissenting pastor was not then, any more than it is now, +a very lucrative one. Presbyterian Dissent at that time, besides, +did not stand very high in England. The leading Dissenting divines +were Independents--and the Presbyterian body was fast sinking into +Unitarian or Arian heresy. On the other hand, the Church of England +was in the last state of lukewarmness; the Church of Scotland was +groaning under the load of patronage; and the Secession body was +newly formed, and as yet insignificant. In such circumstances we +cannot wonder that an ardent, ambitious mind like that of Akenside +should revolt from divinity as a study, and the pulpit as a goal, +although some may think it strange how the pursuit of medicine +should commend itself instead to a genial and poetic mind. Yet let +us remember that some eminent poets have been students or practisers +of the art of medicine. Such--to name only a few--were Armstrong, +Smollett, Crabbe, Darwin, Delta, Keats, and the two Thomas Browns, +the Knight of the "Religio Medici," and the Philosopher of the +"Lectures," both genuine poets, although their best poetry is in +prose. There are, besides, connected with medicine, some departments +of thought and study peculiarly exciting to the imagination. Such is +anatomy, with its sad yet instructive revelations of the structure +of the human frame--so "fearfully and wonderfully made"--wielding in +its hand a scalpel which at first seems ruthless and disenchanting +as the scythe of death, but which afterwards becomes a key to unlock +some of the deepest mysteries, and leads us down whole galleries of +wonder. There is botany, culling from every nook and corner of the +earth weeds which are flowers, and flowers of all hues, and every +plant, from the "cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop which springs out of +the wall," and finding a terrible and imaginative pleasure in +handling the fell family of poisons, and in deriving the means of +protracting life and healing sickness from the very blossoms of death. +And there is chemistry, most poetical save astronomy of all the +sciences, seeking to spiritualise the material--to hunt the atom to +the point where it trembles over the gulf of nonentity--to weigh +gases in scales, and the elements in a balance, and, in its more +transcendental and daring shape, trying to interchange one kind of +metal with another, and all kinds of forms with all, as in a +music-led and mystic dance. Hence we find that such men as Beddoes, +the author of the "Bride's Tragedy," have turned away from poetry to +physiology, and found in it a grander if also ghastlier stimulus to +their imaginative faculty. Hence Crabbe delighted to load himself +with grasses and duckweed, and Goethe to fill his carriage with +every variety of plant and mountain flower. Hence Davy, and the late +lamented Samuel Brown, analysed, in the spirit of poets as well as +of philosophers, and gave to the crucible what it had long lost, +something of the air of a weird cauldron, bubbling over with magical +foam, and shining, not so much in the severe light of science as in +the + + "Light that never was on sea or shore. + The consecration and the poet's dream." + +And hence, in the then state of Church matters, and of his own +effervescent soul, Akenside felt probably in medicine a deeper charm +than in theology, and imagined that it opened up a more congenial +field for his powers both of reason and of imagination. + +In December 1740, Akenside was elected a member of the Edinburgh +Medical Society. This society held meetings for discussion, and +in them our poet set himself to shine as a speaker. His ambition, +it is said, at this time, was to be a member of Parliament; and +Dr. Robertson, then a student in the University, used to attend the +meetings of the society chiefly to hear the speeches of the young +and fiery Southron. Indeed, the rhetoric of the "Pleasures of +Imagination" is finer than its poetry; and none but an orator could +have painted Brutus rising "refulgent from the stroke" which slew +Caesar, when he + + "Call'd on Tully's name, + And bade the father of his country hail!" + +Englishmen are naturally more eloquent than the Scotch; and once and +again has the Mark Akenside, the Joseph Gerald, or the George +Thompson overpowered and captivated even the sober and critical +children of the Modern Athens. While electrifying the Medical Society, +Akenside did not neglect, if he did not eminently excel in his +professional studies; and he continued to write sonorous verse, some +specimens of which, including an "Ode on the Winter Solstice," and +"Love, an Elegy," he is said to have printed for private distribution. + +In Edinburgh he became acquainted with Jeremiah Dyson, a young +law-student of fortune, who was afterwards our poet's principal +patron. He seems to have returned to Newcastle in 1741; and we find +him dating a letter to Dyson thence on the 18th of August 1742, and +directing his correspondent to address his reply to him as "Surgeon, +in Newcastle-upon-Tyne." It is doubtful, however, if he had yet +begun to practise; and there is reason to believe that he was busily +occupied with his great poem. This he completed in the close of 1743. +He offered the manuscript to Dodsley for L150. The bookseller, +although a liberal and generous man, was disposed at first to +_boggle_ a little at such a price for a didactic poem by an +unknown man. He carried the "Pleasures of Imagination" to Pope, who +glanced at it, saw its merit, and advised Dodsley not to make a +niggardly offer--for "this was no everyday writer." It appeared in +January 1744, and, in spite of its faults, nay, perhaps, partly in +consequence of them, was received with loud applause; and the +author--only twenty-three years of age--"awoke one morning, and found +himself famous;" for although his name was not attached to the poem, +it soon transpired. One Rolt, an obscure scribbler, then in Ireland, +claimed the authorship, transcribed the poem with his own hand; nay, +according to Dr. Johnson, published an edition with his own name, +and was invited to the best tables as the ingenious Mr. Rolt. His +conversation did not indeed sparkle with poetic fire, nor was his +appearance that of a poet, but people remembered that both Dryden +and Addison were dull or silent in company till warmed with wine, and +that it was not uncommon for authors to have sold all their thoughts +to their booksellers. Akenside, hearing of this, was obliged to +vindicate his claims by printing the next edition with his name, and +then the bubble of the ingenious Mr. Rolt burst. + +All fame, and especially all sudden fame, has its drawbacks. Gray +read the poem, and wrote of it to his friends, in a style thought at +the time depreciatory, although it comes pretty near the truth. He +says, "It seems to me above the middling, and now and then for a +little while rises even to the best, particularly in description. It +is often obscure and even unintelligible. In short, its great fault +is, that it was published at least nine years too early." Gray, +however, had not as yet himself emerged as a poet, and his word had +chiefly weight with his friends. Warburton was a more formidable +opponent. This divine acted then a good deal in the style of a +gigantic Church-bully, and seemed disposed to knock down all and +sundry who differed from him either on great or small theological +matters; and Humes, Churchills, Jortins, Middletons, Lowths, +Shaftesburys, Wesleys, Whitefields, and Akensides all felt the fury +of his onset, and the force of the "punishment" inflicted by his +strong fists. Akenside, in his poem, and in one of his notes, had +defended Shaftesbury's ridiculous notion that ridicule is the test +of truth, and for this Warburton assailed him in the preface to +"Remarks in Answer to Dr. Middleton." In this, while indirectly +disparaging the poem, he accuses the poet of infidelity, atheism, +and insulting the clergy. The preface appeared in March 1744, and in +the following May (Akenside being then in Holland) came forth a reply, +in "An Epistle to the Rev. Mr. Warburton, occasioned by his +Treatment of the Author of the Pleasures of Imagination," which had +been concocted between Dyson and our poet. This pamphlet was written +with considerable spirit; and although it left the question where it +found it, it augured no little courage on the part of the young +physician and the young lawyer mating themselves against the matured +author of the "Divine Legation of Moses." As to the question in +dispute, Johnson disposes of it satisfactorily in a single sentence. +"If ridicule be applied to any position as the test of truth, it +will then become a question whether such ridicule be just, and this +can only be decided by the application of truth as the test of +ridicule." How easy to make any subject or any person ridiculous! To +hold that ridicule is paramount to the discovery or attestation of +truth, is to exalt the ape-element in man above the human and the +angelic principles, which also belong to his nature, and to enthrone +a Voltaire over a Newton or a Milton. Those who laugh proverbially +do not always win, nor do they always deserve to win. Do we think +less of "Paradise Lost," and Shakspeare, because Cobbett has derided +both, or of the Old and New Testaments, because Paine has subjected +parts of them to his clumsy satire? When we find, indeed, a system +such as Jesuitism blasted by the ridicule of Pascal, we conclude +that it was not true,--but why? not merely because ridicule assailed +it, for ridicule has assailed ten thousand systems which never even +shook in the storm, but because, in the view of all candid and +liberal thinkers, the ridicule _prevailed_. Should it be said that +the question still recurs, How are we to be certain of the candour +and liberality of the men who think that Pascal's satire damaged +Jesuitism? we simply say, that it is not ridicule, but some stricter +and more satisfactory method that can determine _this_ inquiry. It +is remarkable that Akenside modified his statements on this subject +in his after revision of his poem. + +In April 1744 we find our bard in Leyden, and Mr. Dyce has published +some interesting letters dated thence to Mr. Dyson. He does not seem +to have admired Holland much, whether in its scenery, manners, taste, +or genius. On the 16th of May, he took his degree of Doctor of +Physic at Leyden, the subject of his Dissertation (which, according +to the usual custom, he published) being the "Origin and Growth of +the Human Foetus," in which he is reported to have opposed the views +then prevalent, and to have maintained the theory which is now +generally held. As soon as he received his diploma he returned to +England, signalising his departure by an "Ode to Holland," as dull +as any ditch in that country itself. In June he settled as a +physician in Northampton, where the eminent Doddridge was at the +time labouring. With him he is said to have held a friendly contest +about the opinions of the old heathens in reference to a future state, +Akenside, in keeping with the whole tenor of his intellectual history, +supporting the side of the ancients. Indeed, he never appears to +have had much religion, except that of the Pagan philosophy, Plato +being his Paul, and Socrates his Christ; and most cordially would he +have joined in Thorwaldsen's famous toast (announced at an evening +party in Rome, while the planet Jupiter was shining in great glory), +"Here's in honour of the ancient gods." In Northampton, partly owing +to the overbearing influence of Dr. Stonehouse, a long-established +practitioner, and partly to his violent political zeal, he did not +prosper. While residing there he produced his manly and spirited +"Epistle to Curio." Curio was Pulteney, who had been a flaming +patriot, but who, like the majority of such characters, had, for the +sake of a title--the earldom of Bath--subsided into a courtier. Him +Akenside lashes with unsparing energy. He committed afterwards an +egregious blunder in reference to this production. He frittered it +down into a stupid ode. Indeed, he had always an injudicious +trick--whether springing from fastidiousness or undue ambition--of +tinkering and tampering with his very best poems. + +In March 1745 he collected his odes into a quarto tract. It appeared +at a time when lyrical poetry was all but extinct. Dryden was gone; +Collins and Gray had not yet published their odes; and hence, and +partly too from the prestige of his former poem, Akenside's odes, +poor as they now seem, met with considerable acceptance, although +they did not reach a new edition till 1760. In 1747 his friend Dyson, +having been elected clerk to the House of Commons, took Akenside with +him to his house at Northend, Hampstead. Here, however, he felt +himself out of place, and in fine, in 1748, he settled down in +Bloomsbury Square, London, where Dyson very generously allowed him +L300 a-year, which, being equal to the value of twice that sum now, +enabled him to keep a chariot, and live like a gentleman. During the +years 1746, 1747, 1748, he composed a number of pieces, both in +prose and verse--his "Hymn to the Naiads," his "Ode to the Evening +Star," and several essays in _Dodsley's Museum_; such as these, +"On Correctness;" "The Table of Modern Fame, a Vision;" "Letter from +a Swiss Gentleman on English Liberty;" and "The Balance of Poets;" +besides an ode to Caleb Hardinge, M. D., and another to the Earl of +Huntingdon, which has been esteemed one of his best lyric poems. In +London he did not attain rapidly a good practice, nor was it ever +extensive. But for Mr. Dyson's aid he might have written a chapter on +"Early Struggles," nearly as rich and interesting as that famous one +in Warren's "Diary of a late Physician." Even his poetical name was +adverse to his prospects. His manners, too, were unconciliating and +haughty. At Tom's Coffeehouse, in Devereux Court, night after night, +appeared the author of the "Pleasures of Imagination," full of +knowledge, dogmatism, and a love of self-display; eager for talk, +fond of arguing--especially on politics and literature--and sometimes +narrowly escaping duels and other misadventures springing from his +hot and imperious temper. In sick chambers he was stiff, formal, and +reserved, carrying a frown about with him, which itself damped the +spirits and accelerated the pulse of his patients. It was only among +intimate friends that he descended to familiarity, and even then it +was with + + "Compulsion and laborious flight." + +One of these intimates for a while was Charles Townshend, a man +whose name now lives chiefly in the glowing encomium of Burke, a +part of which we may quote:--"Before this splendid orb (Lord Chatham) +was entirely set, and while the western horizon was in a blaze with +his descending glory, on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose +another luminary, and for his hour became lord of the ascendant. +Townshend was the delight and ornament of this House, and the charm +of every private society which he honoured with his presence. +Perhaps there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man +of more pointed and finished wit, and of a more refined, exquisite, +and penetrating judgment. He stated his matter skilfully and +powerfully. He particularly excelled in a most luminous explanation +and display of the subject. His style of argument was neither trite +and vulgar, nor subtle and abstruse. He hit the House between wind +and water. He had no failings which were not owing to a noble cause, +to an ardent, generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame; a +passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He worshipped that +goddess wheresoever she appeared: but he paid his particular +devotions to her in her favourite habitation, in her chosen temple, +the House of Commons." With this distinguished man Akenside was for +some time on friendly terms, but for causes not well known, their +friendship came to an abrupt termination; it might have been owing +to Townshend's rapid rise, or to Akenside's presumptuous and +overbearing disposition. Two odes, addressed by the latter to the +former, immortalise this incomplete and abortive amity. + +The years 1750 and 1751 were only signalised in Akenside's history +by one or two dull odes from his pen. But if not witty at that time +himself, he gave occasion to wit in others. Smollett, provoked, it +is said, by some aspersions Akenside had in conversation cast on +Scotland, and at all times prone to bitter and sarcastic views of +men and manners, fell foul of him in "Peregrine Pickle." If our +readers care for wading through that filthy novel--the most +disagreeable, although not the dullest of Smollett's fictions--they +will find a caricature of our poet in the character of the "Doctor," +who talks nonsense about liberty, quotes and praises his own poetry, +and invites his friends to an entertainment in the manner of the +ancients--a feast hideously accurate in its imitation of antique +cookery, and forming, if not an "entertainment" to the guests, a very +rich one to the readers of the tale. How Akenside bore this we are +not particularly informed. Probably he writhed in secret, but was +too proud to acknowledge his feelings. In 1753 he was consoled by +receiving a doctor's degree from Cambridge, and by being elected +Fellow of the Royal Society. The next year he became Fellow of the +College of Physicians. + +In June 1755 he read the Galstonian lectures in anatomy before the +College of Physicians, and in the next year the Croonian lectures +before the same institution. The subject of the latter course was +the "History of the Revival of Letters," which some of the learned +Thebans thought not germane to the matter; and, consequently, after +he had delivered three lectures, he desisted in disgust. This fact +seems somewhat to contradict Dr. Johnson's assertion, that "Akenside +appears not to have been wanting to his own success, and placed +himself in view by all the common methods." Had he been a thoroughly +self-seeking man, he never would have committed the blunder of +choosing literature as a subject of predilection to men who were +probably most of them materialists, or at least destitute of +literary taste. The Doctor says also, "He very eagerly forced +himself into notice, by an ambitious ostentation of elegance and +literature." But surely the author of such a popular poem as the +"Pleasures of Imagination" had no need to claim notice by an +ostentatious display of his parts, and had too much good sense to +imagine that such a vain display would conciliate any acute and +sensible person. Johnson, in fact, throughout his cursory and +careless "Life of Akenside," is manifestly labouring under deep +prejudice against the poet--prejudice founded chiefly on Akenside's +political sentiments. + +In 1759 our poet was appointed physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, +and afterwards to Christ's Hospital. Here he ruled the patients and +the under officials with a rod of iron. Dr. Lettsom became a +surgeon's dresser in St. Thomas's Hospital. He was an admirer of +poetry, especially of the "Pleasures of Imagination," and +anticipated much delight from intercourse with the author. He was +disappointed first of all with his personal appearance. He found him +a stiff-limbed, starched personage, with a lame foot, a pale +strumous face, a long sword, and a large white wig. Worse than this, +he was cruel, almost barbarous, to the patients, particularly to +females. Owing to an early love-disappointment, he had contracted a +disgust and aversion to the sex, and chose to express it in a +callous and cowardly harshness to those under his charge. It is +possible, however, that Lettsom might be influenced by some private +pique. Nothing is more common than for the hero-worshipper, +disenchanted of his early idolatry, to rush to the opposite extreme, +and to become the hero-hater; and the fault is as frequently +his own as that of his idol. And it must be granted that an +hospital--especially of that age--was no congenial atmosphere for a +poet so Platonic and ideal as Akenside. + +In October 1759 he delivered the Harveian oration before the College +of Physicians, and by their order it was published the next year. In +1761 Mr. T. Hollis presented him with a bed which had once belonged +to Milton, on the condition that he would write an ode to the memory +of that great poet. Akenside joyfully accepted the bed, had it set +up in his house, and, we suppose, slept in it; but the muse forgot +to visit _his_ "slumbers nightly," and no ode was ever produced. +We think that Akenside had sympathy enough with Milton's politics and +poetry to have written a fine blank-verse tribute to his memory, +resembling that of Thomson to Sir Isaac Newton; but odes of much +merit he could not produce, and yet at odes he was always sweltering + + "With labour dire and weary woe." + +In 1760, George the Third mounted the throne, and the author of the +"Epistle to Curio" began to follow the precise path of Pulteney. In +this he was preceded by Dyson, who became suddenly a supporter of +Lord Bute, and drew his friend in his train. By Dyson's influence +Akenside was appointed, in 1761, physician to the Queen. His +secession from the Whig ranks cost him a great deal of obloquy. +Dr. Hardinge had told the two turncoats long before "that, like a +couple of idiots, they did not leave themselves a loophole--they +could not _sidle away_ into the opposite creed." He never, however, +became a violent Tory partisan. It is singular how Johnson, with all +his aversion to Akenside, has no allusion to his apostasy, in which +we might have _a priori_ expected him to glory, as a proof of the +poet's inconsistency, if not corruption. + +In one point Akenside differed from the majority of his tuneful +brethren, before, then, or since. He was a warm and wide-hearted +commender of the works of other poets. Most of our sweet singers +rather resemble birds of prey than nightingales or doves, and are at +least as strong in their talons as they are musical in their tongues. +And hence the groves of Parnassus have in all ages rung with the +screams of wrath and contest, frightfully mingling with the melodies +of song. Akenside, by a felicitous conjunction of elements, which +you could not have expected from other parts of his character, was +entirely exempted from this defect, and not only warmly admired Pope, +Young, Thomson, and Dyer, whose "Fleece" he corrected, but had kind +words to spare for even such "small deer" as Welsted and Fenton. + +In 1763, he read a paper before the Royal Society, on the "Effects +of a Blow on the Heart," which was published in the _Philosophical +Transactions_ of the year. And, in 1764 he established his character +as a medical writer by an elegant and elaborate treatise on +"The Dysentery," still, we believe, consulted for its information, +and studied for the purity and precision of its Latin style. About +this time, too, he commenced a recasting of his "Pleasures of +Imagination," which he did not live to finish; and in which, on the +whole, there is more of laborious alteration than of felicitous +improvement. In 1766, Warburton, his old foe, who had now been made a +bishop, reprinted, in a new edition of his "Divine Legation of Moses," +his attack on Akenside's notions about ridicule, without deigning to +take any notice of the explanations he had given in his reply. This +renewal of hostilities, coming, especially as it did, from the +vantage ground of the Episcopal bench, enraged our poet, and, by way +of rejoinder, he issued a lyrical satire which he had had lying past +him in pickle for fifteen years, and which nothing but a fresh +provocation would have induced him to publish. It was entitled +"An Ode to the late Thomas Edwards, Esq." Edwards had opposed +Warburton ably in a book entitled "Canons of Criticism," and was +himself a poet. The real sting of this attack lay in Akenside's +production of a letter from Warburton to Concanen, dated 2d January +1726, which had fallen accidentally into the hands of our poet; and +in which Warburton had accused Addison of plagiarism, and said that +when "Pope borrows it is from want of genius." Concanen was one of +the "Dunces," and it was, of course, Akenside's purpose to shew +Warburton's inconsistency in the different opinions he had expressed +at different times of them and of their great adversary. We know not +if the sturdy bishop took any notice of this ode. Even his Briarean +arms were sometimes too full of the controversial work which his +overbearing temper and fierce passions were constantly giving him. + +In 1766, Akenside received the thanks of the College of Physicians +for an edition of Harvey's works, which he prepared for the press, +and to which he had prefixed a preface. In June 1767 he read before +the College two papers, one on "Cancers and Asthmas," and the other +on "White Swelling of the Joints," both of which were published the +next year in the first volume of the _Medical Transactions_. In the +same year, one Archibald Campbell, a Scotchman, a purser in the navy, +and called, from his ungainly countenance, "horrible Campbell," +produced a small _jeu d'esprit_, entitled "Lexiphanes, imitated from +Lucian, and suited to the present times," in which he tries to +ridicule Johnson's prose and Akenside's poetry. His object was +probably to attract their notice, but both passed over this grin of +the "Grim Feature" in silent contempt. Akenside was still busy with +the revisal of his poem, had finished two books, "made considerable +progress with the third, and written a fragment of the fourth;" but +death stepped in and blighted his prospects, both as a physician, +with increasing practice and reputation, and as a poet, whose +favourite work was approaching what he deemed perfection. He was +seized with putrid fever; and, after a short illness, died on the 23 +d June 1770 at an age when many men are in their very prime, both of +body and mind--that of 49. He died in his house in Burlington Street, +and was buried on the 28th in St. James's Church. + +Akenside had been, notwithstanding his many acquaintances and friends, +on the whole, a lonely man; without domestic connexions, and having, +so far as we are informed, either no surviving relations or no +intercourse with those who might be still alive. He was not +especially loved in society; he wanted humour and good-humour both, +and had little of that frank cordiality which, according to Sidney +Smith, "warms and cheers more than meat or wine." He had far less +geniality than genius. Yet, in certain select circles, his mind, +which was richly stored with all knowledge, opened delightfully, and +men felt that he _was_ the author of his splendid poem. One of his +biographers gives him the palm for learning, next to Ben Jonson, +Milton, and Gray (he might perhaps have also excepted Landor and +Coleridge), over all our English poets. + +In 1772, Mr. Dyson published an edition of his friend's poems, +containing the original form of the "Pleasures of Imagination," as +well as its half-finished second shape; his "Odes," "Inscriptions," +"Hymn to the Naiads," etc., omitting, however, his poem to Curio in +its first and best version, and some of his smaller pieces. This +edition, too, contained an account of Akenside's life by his friend, +so short and so cold as either to say little for Dyson's heart, or a +great deal for his modesty and reticence. His uniform and munificent +kindness to the poet during his lifetime, however, determines us in +favour of the latter side of the alternative. + +Of Akenside, as a man, our previous remarks have perhaps indicated +our opinion. He was rather a scholar somewhat out of his element, +and unreconciled to the world, than a thorough gentleman; irritable, +vehement, and proud--his finer traits were only known to his +intimates, who probably felt that in Wordsworth's words, + + "You must love him ere to you + He doth, seem worthy of your love." + +In religion his opinions seem to have been rather unsettled; but, of +whatever doubts he had, he gave the benefit latterly to the +Christian side--at least he was ever ready to rebuke noisy and +dogmatic infidelity. It is said that he intended to have included +the doctrine of immortality in his later version of the "Pleasures +of Imagination"--and even as the poem is, it contains some transient +allusions to that great object of human hope, although none, it must +be admitted, to its special Christian grounds. + +We have now a very few sentences to enounce about his poetry, or, +more properly speaking, about his two or three good poems, for we +must dismiss the most of his odes, in their deep-sounding dulness, +as nearly unworthy of their author's genius. Up to the days of +Keats' "Endymion" and "Hyperion," Akenside's "Hymn to the Naiads" +was thought one of the best attempts to reproduce the classical +spirit and ideas. It now takes a secondary place; and at no time +could be compared to an actual hymn of Callimachus or Pindar, any +more than Smollett's "Supper after the Manner of the Ancients" was +equal to a real Roman Coena, the ideal of which Croly has so +superbly described in "Salathiel." His "Epistle to Curio" is a +masterpiece of vigorous composition, terse sentiment, and glowing +invective. It gathers around Pulteney as a ring of fire round the +scorpion, and leaves him writhing and shrivelled. Out of Dryden and +Pope, it is perhaps the best satiric piece in our poetry. + +Of the "Pleasures of Imagination," it is not necessary to say a +great deal. A poem that has been so widely circulated, so warmly +praised, so frequently quoted and imitated--the whole of which +nearly a man like Thomas Brown has quoted in the course of his +lectures--must possess no ordinary merit. Its great beauty is its +richness of description and language--its great fault is its +obscurity; a beauty and a fault closely connected together, even as +the luxuriance of a tropical forest implies intricacy, and its +lavish loveliness creates a gloom. His attempt to express Plato's +philosophy in blank verse is not always successful. Perhaps prose +might better have answered his purpose in expressing the awfully +sublime thought of the "archetypes of all things existing in God." +We know that in certain objects of nature--in certain rocks, for +instance (such as Coleridge describes in his "Wanderings of Cain")-- +there lie silent prefigurations and aboriginal types of artificial +objects, such as ships, temples, and other orders of architecture; +and it is so also in certain shells, woods, and even in clouds. How +interesting and beautiful those painted prophecies of nature, those +quiet hieroglyphics of God, those mystic letters, which, unlike +those on the Babylonian wall, do _not_, + + "Careering shake, + And blaze IMPATIENT to be read," + +but bide calmly the time when their artificial archetypes shall +appear, and the "wisdom" in them shall be "justified" in these its +children! So, according to Plato, comparing great to small things, +there lay in the Divine mind the archetypes of all that was to be +created, with this important difference, that they lay in God +_spiritually_ and consciously. How poetical and how solemn to +approach, under the guidance of this thought, and gaze on the mind +of God as on an ancient awful mirror; and even as in a clear lake we +behold the forms of the surrounding scenery reflected from the white +strip of pebbled shore up to the gray scalp of the mountain summit, +and tremble as we look down on the "skies of a far nether world," on +an inverted sun, and on snow unmelted amidst the water; so to see +the entire history of man, from the first glance of life in the eye +of Adam, down to the last sparkle of the last ember of the general +conflagration, lying silently and inverted there--how sublime, but +at the same time how bewildering and how appalling! Our readers will +find, in the "Pleasures of Imagination," an expansion--perhaps they +may think it a dilution--of this Platonic idea. + +They will find there, too, the germ of the famous theory of Alison +and Jeffrey about Beauty. These theorists held 'that beauty resides +not so much in the object as in the mind; that we receive but what +we give; that our own soul is the urn whence beauty is showered over +the universe; that flower and star are lovely because the mind has +breathed on them; that the imagination and the heart of man are the +twin beautifiers of creation; that the dwelling of beauty is not in +the light of setting suns, nor in the beams of morning stars, nor in +the waves of summer seas, but in the human spirit; that sublimity +tabernacles not in the palaces of the thunder, walks not on the +wings of the wind, rides not on the forked lightning, but that it is +the soul which is lifted up there; that it is the soul which, in its +high aspirings,' + + "Yokes with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + and scatters grandeur around it on its way." + +All this seems anticipated, and, as it were, coiled up in the words +of our poet:-- + + "Mind, mind alone (bear witness earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime." + +That Akenside was a real poet many expressions in his "Pleasures of +Imagination" prove, such as that just quoted-- + + "Yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast + Sweeps the long tract of day;" + +but, taking his poem as a whole, it is rather a tissue of eloquence +and philosophical declamation than of imagination. He deals rather +in sheet lightning than in forked flashes. As a didactic poem it has +a high, but not the highest place. It must not be named beside the +"De Rerum Natura" of Lucretius, or the "Georgics" of Virgil, or the +"Night Thoughts" of Young; and in poetry, yields even to the +"Queen Mab" of Shelley. It ranks high, however, amongst that fine +class of works which have called themselves, by no misnomer, +"Pleasures;" and to recount all the names of which were to give an +"enumeration of sweets" as delightful as that in "Don Juan." How +cheering to think of that beautiful bead-roll--of which the +"Pleasures of Memory," "Pleasures of Hope," "Pleasures of Melancholy," +"Pleasures of Imagination," are only a few! We may class, too, with +them, Addison's essays on the "Pleasures of Imagination" in _The +Spectator_, which, although in prose, glow throughout with the +mildest and truest spirit of poetry; and if inferior to Akenside in +richness and swelling pomp of words, and in dashing rhetorical force, +far excel him in clearness, in chastened beauty, and in those +inimitable touches and unconscious felicities of thought and +expression which drop down, like ripe apples falling suddenly across +your path from a laden bough, and which could only have proceeded +from Addison's exquisite genius. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + Notes to Book III. + + +THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Book IV. + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS:-- + + Book I.-- + + Ode I. Preface. + + Ode II. On the Winter-solstice, 1740. + + Ode II. For the Winter-solstice, December 11, 1740. + As originally written. + + Ode III. To a Friend, Unsuccessful in Love. + + Ode IV. Affected Indifference. To the same. + + Ode V. Against Suspicion. + + Ode VI. Hymn to Cheerfulness. + + Ode VII. On the Use of Poetry. + + Ode VIII. On leaving Holland. + + Ode IX. To Curio. + + Ode X. To the Muse. + + Ode XI. On Love. To a Friend. + + Ode XII. To Sir Francis Henry Drake, Baronet. + + Ode XIII. On Lyric Poetry. + + Ode XIV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; from the + Country. + + Ode XV. To the Evening Star. + + Ode XVI. To Caleb Hardinge, M. D. + + Ode XVII. On a Sermon against Glory. + + Ode XVIII. To the Right Honourable Francis, Earl of Huntingdon. + + + +Book II.-- + + Ode I. The Remonstrance of Shakspeare. + + Ode II. To Sleep. + + Ode III. To the Cuckoo. + + Ode IV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; in the Country. + + Ode V. On Love of Praise. + + Ode VI. To William Hall, Esquire; with the Works of + Chaulieu. + + Ode VII. To the Right Reverend Benjamin, Lord Bishop of + Winchester. + + Ode VIII. + + Ode IX. At Study. + + Ode X. To Thomas Edwards, Esq.; on the late Edition + of Mr. Pope's Works. + + Ode XI. To the Country Gentlemen of England. + + Ode XII. On Recovering from a Fit of Sickness; in the + Country. + + Ode XIII. To the Author of Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg. + + Ode XIV. The Complaint. + + Ode XV. On Domestic Manners. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + + HYMN TO THE NAIADS. + + Notes. + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS:-- + + I. For a Grotto. + + II. For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock. + + III. + + IV. + + V. + + VI. For a Column at Runnymede. + + VII. The Wood Nymph. + + VIII. + + IX. + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. + +THE VIRTUOSO. + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. A FABLE. + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + +TO CORDELIA. + +SONG. + + + + + +AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + A POEM, IN THREE BOOKS. + + [Greek: 'Asebous men 'estin 'anthropou tas para tou theou + charitas 'atimazein.] + EPICT. apud Arrian. II. 23. + + +THE DESIGN. + +There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle +place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral +perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers +of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and +motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to +those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of +some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, +it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have +sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, +independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave +rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting +and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were +admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to +remembrance by signs universally established and understood. + +But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were, of +course, led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of +the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of +language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently +become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. +Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, +and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they, of +course, retain their original character; and all the different +pleasures which they excite, are termed, in general, Pleasures of +Imagination. + +The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the +largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination +feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various +entertainment we meet with, either in poetry, painting, music, or +any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of +those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are +here established and explained. + +In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to +distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the +next place to characterise those original forms or properties of +being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted +to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These +properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of +greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every +object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to +the imagination. But such an object may also include many other +sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will +make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides +which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their +effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the +imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, +we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths +discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and +final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to +awaken and engage the passions. It was, therefore, necessary to +enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; +especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the +noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a +little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn +of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance. + +After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, +or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very +different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be +considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the +arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it +was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to +distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of +characters is derived. Here, too, a change of style became necessary; +such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general +taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject: nor is it +an easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, +without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock +heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; +neither of which would have been proper here. + +The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now +remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise +either from the relations of different objects one to another, or +from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that +various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts +of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of +metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the +early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is +the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account +bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, +it is therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. Then +follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, +and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the +resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. +After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general +conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral +usefulness in life. + +Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this +piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two +models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as +it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary +way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a +greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of +readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, +especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more +concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of +modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest +parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure +formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending +almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to +demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This, too, appeared +more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal +precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by +exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and +harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the +minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, +morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful +to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in +every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also +to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same point of view +with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them +in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful +and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some +sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to +the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the +authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will +best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves +he makes no apology. + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Difficulty of treating it poetically. The +ideas of the Divine Mind the origin of every quality pleasing to the +imagination. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men; +with its final cause. The idea of a fine imagination, and the state +of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords. +All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the +perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. The +pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. Pleasure from novelty +or wonderfulness, with its final cause. Pleasure from beauty, with +its final cause. The connexion of beauty with truth and good, +applied to the conduct of life. Invitation to the study of moral +philosophy. The different degrees of beauty in different species of +objects; colour, shape, natural concretes, vegetables, animals, the +mind. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. The +connexion of the imagination and the moral faculty. Conclusion. + + With what attractive charms this goodly frame + Of Nature touches the consenting hearts + Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores + Which beauteous Imitation thence derives + To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, + My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle Powers + Of musical delight! and while I sing + Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. + Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, + Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks 10 + Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee + Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings + Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, + Which, by the glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend 20 + And join this festive train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, + Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come, + Her sister Liberty will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, + New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear + With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye + The bloom of Nature, and before him turn + The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 + Oft have the laws of each poetic strain + The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung + Lay this prime subject, though importing most + A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt, + By dull obedience and by creeping toil + Obscure to conquer the severe ascent + Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath + Must fire the chosen genius; Nature's hand + Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings, + Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 + High as the summit; there to breathe at large + AEthereal air, with bards and sages old, + Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes, + To this neglected labour court my song; + Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task + To paint the finest features of the mind, + And to most subtile and mysterious things + Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love + Of Nature and the Muses bids explore, + Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 + The fair poetic region, to detect + Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts, + And shade my temples with unfading flowers + Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess, + Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the human breast, + And love and beauty, and poetic joy + And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun + Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night 60 + The moon suspended her serener lamp; + Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe, + Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore; + Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retired + In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things; + The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, + The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe, + And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first + Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 + His admiration: till in time complete + What he admired and loved, his vital smile + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame; + Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares; + Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold, + And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims 80 + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wise intent + The hand of Nature on peculiar minds + Imprints a different bias, and to each + Decrees its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave + To weigh the moment of eternal things, + Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 + And will's quick impulse; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue swells the tender veins + Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn + Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind + In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds + The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 + The transcript of Himself. On every part + They trace the bright impressions of his hand: + In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form + Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd + That uncreated beauty, which delights + The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd + By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110 + Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string + Consenting, sounded through the warbling air + Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand + To certain species of external things, + Attune the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of congenial powers, + Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, + The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, + Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, + From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120 + They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul + At length discloses every tuneful spring, + To that harmonious movement from without + Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain + Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, + And vales of bliss: the intellectual power + Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, + And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away, + Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 + Alone are waking; love and joy, serene + As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, + Whose candid bosom the refining love + Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her loveliest features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140 + With love and admiration thus inflame + The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons + To three illustrious orders have referr'd; + Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, + The poet's tongue confesses--the Sublime, + The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn! + I see the radiant visions, where they rise, + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 + + Say, why was man [Endnote A] so eminently raised + Amid the vast Creation; why ordain'd + Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth + In sight of mortal and immortal powers, + As on a boundless theatre, to run + The great career of justice; to exalt + His generous aim to all diviner deeds; + To chase each partial purpose from his breast; 160 + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, + To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice + Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent + Of nature, calls him to his high reward, + The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That breathes from day to day sublimer things, + And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, + With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 + Majestic forms; impatient to be free, + Spurning the gross control of wilful might; + Proud of the strong contention of her toils; + Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns + To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 + Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? + Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye + Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey + Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave + Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, 180 + And continents of sand, will turn his gaze + To mark the windings of a scanty rill + That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul + Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing + Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth + And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft + Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; + Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens; + Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 190 + The blue profound, and hovering round the sun + Beholds him pouring the redundant stream + Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway + Bend the reluctant planets to absolve + The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused + She darts her swiftness up the long career + Of devious comets; through its burning signs + Exulting measures the perennial wheel + Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, + Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 + Invests the orient. Now amazed she views + The empyreal waste, [Endnote B] where happy spirits hold, + Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode; + And fields of radiance, whose unfading light [Endnote C] + + Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, + Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. + Even on the barriers of the world untired + She meditates the eternal depth below; 208 + Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep + She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up + In that immense of being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth + Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said, + That not in humble nor in brief delight, + Not in the fading echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find enjoyment: but from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, + Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 + And infinite perfection close the scene. + + Call now to mind what high capacious powers + Lie folded up in man; how far beyond + The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth + Of Nature to perfection half divine, + Expand the blooming soul! What pity then + Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth + Her tender blossom; choke the streams of life, + And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd + Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares 230 + The obedient heart far otherwise incline. + Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown + Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power + To brisker measures: witness the neglect + Of all familiar prospects, [Endnote D] though beheld + With transport once; the fond attentive gaze + Of young astonishment; the sober zeal + Of age, commenting on prodigious things. + For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, + In every breast implanting this desire 240 + Of objects new and strange, [Endnote E] to urge us on + With unremitted labour to pursue + Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, + In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words + To paint its power? For this the daring youth + Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, + In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage, + Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, + Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired + The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 + The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale, + From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, + Unmindful of the happy dress that stole + The wishes of the youth, when every maid + With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night + The village matron, round the blazing hearth, + Suspends the infant audience with her tales, + Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes, + And evil spirits; of the death-bed call + Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 + The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls + Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt + Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk + At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave + The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. + At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, + Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd + With shivering sighs: till eager for the event, + Around the beldame all erect they hang, + Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. 270 + + But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp, + Where Beauty onward moving claims the verse + Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse + In thy immortal praise, O form divine, + Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee + The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray + The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun! + For ever beamest on the enchanted heart + Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight + Poetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven! 280 + How shall I trace thy features? where select + The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom? + Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, + Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, + To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly + With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles, + And range with him the Hesperian field, and see + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 + The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step + Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow + With purple ripeness, and invest each hill + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, + Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades, + The smooth Peneus from his glassy flood + Reflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene? + Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers, + Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age 300 + They play'd in secret on the shady brink + With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps + Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand + Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews, + And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store + To thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watch + Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits + From thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved, + Thy smiling treasures to the green recess + Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 + Entice her forth to lend her angel form + For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn + Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid, + Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes + Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn; + And may the fanning breezes waft aside + Thy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bends + With airy softness from the marble neck, + The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, + Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 320 + With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend + Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force + Of Nature, and her kind parental care + Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth, + With each admiring virgin, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, while I point on high + Where Beauty's living image, like the Morn + That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, + Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stood + Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, 330 + Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, + To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, + And each cerulean sister of the flood + With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves, + To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band + Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze + Of young desire with rival steps pursue + This charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 + I do not mean to wake the gloomy form + Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb, + To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth + To fright you from your joys: my cheerful song + With better omens calls you to the field, + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, + Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 + And active use are strangers? Is her charm + Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? Or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart + Of idle faith? Oh, no! with better cares + The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 + Still most illustrious where the object holds + Its native powers most perfect, she by this + Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, + And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe + Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract + Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, + The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, + And every charm of animated things, + Are only pledges of a state sincere, + The integrity and order of their frame, 370 + When all is well within, and every end + Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, + The lovely ministries of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them, [Endnote F] and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, + Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand + Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene 380 + Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire + Where is the sanction of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly! Wanting these, + Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace, + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam + Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, + Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, + To learn the lore of undeceitful Good, 390 + And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms + Of baleful Superstition guide the feet + Of servile numbers, through a dreary way + To their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire; + And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn + To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom + Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells; + To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, + And to the screaming owl's accursed song + Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Your lovely search illumines. From the grove + Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, + Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then should my powerful verse at once dispel + Those monkish horrors: then in light divine + Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps + Of those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks, + Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 + Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, + Led by their winged Genius, and the choir + Of laurell'd science and harmonious art, + Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us, + Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh, let us not a moment pause to join 420 + That godlike band. And if the gracious Power + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, + Will to my invocation breathe anew + The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths, + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead, + When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 + And wake the strong divinity of soul + That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck + For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils + Upon the lofty summit, round her brow + To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise; + To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed, + Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form; + Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, 440 + Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene + In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, + Through various being's fair proportion'd scale, + To trace the rising lustre of her charms, + From their first twilight, shining forth at length + To full meridian splendour. Of degree + The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth + Of colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line + And variation of determined shape, 450 + Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + Unites this varied symmetry of parts + With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl + Shines in the concave of its azure bed, + And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. + Then more attractive rise the blooming forms + Through which the breath of Nature has infused + Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins + Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 + In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers + Their purple honours with the Spring resume; + And such the stately tree which Autumn bends + With blushing treasures. But more lovely still + Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent + Of complicated members, to the bloom + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, + And active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed 470 + With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell + There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, + Where dawns the high expression of a mind: + By steps conducting our enraptured search + To that eternal origin, whose power, + Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, + Like rays effulging from the parent sun, + This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 480 + Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand, + Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned, + Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, + Invites the soul to never-fading joy. + Look then abroad through nature, to the range + Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the void immense; + And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 + With half that kindling majesty dilate + Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose [Endnote G] + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending, like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, + And bade the father of his country, hail! + For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500 + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn, + In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair + As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush + Of him who strives with fortune to be just? + The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? + Or the mild majesty of private life, + Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns + The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse + Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 + Of Innocence and Love protect the scene? + Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound + Where Nature works in secret; view the beds + Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault + That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms + Of atoms moving with incessant change + Their elemental round; behold the seeds + Of being, and the energy of life + Kindling the mass with ever-active flame; + Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 + Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call + Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! + Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour + That saw the heavens created: then declare + If aught were found in those external scenes + To move thy wonder now. For what are all + The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, + Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? + Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows + The superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530 + And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. + Not so the moral species, nor the powers + Of genius and design; the ambitious mind + There sees herself: by these congenial forms + Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her features in the mirror. For, of all + The inhabitants of earth, to man alone + Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye + To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540 + The sacred laws of action and of will, + Discerning justice from unequal deeds, + And temperance from folly. But beyond + This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind + Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, + To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, + Has added bright Imagination's rays: + Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsake + The unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550 + And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, + Assumes a various feature, to attract, + With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, + The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, + The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires + With purest wishes, from the pensive shade + Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse + That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme + Of harmony and wonder: while among + The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 + Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, + And through the rolls of memory appeals + To ancient honour; or in act serene, + Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword + Of public Power, from dark Ambition's reach + To guard the sacred volume of the laws. + + Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps + Well pleased I follow through the sacred paths + Of Nature and of Science; nurse divine + Of all heroic deeds and fair desires! 570 + Oh! let the breath of thy extended praise + Inspire my kindling bosom to the height + Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + That soothes this vernal evening into smiles, + I steal impatient from the sordid haunts + Of strife and low ambition, to attend + Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned. + Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye! 580 + Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air, + As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung + With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth + To see thee rend the pageants of his throne; + And at the lightning of thy lifted spear + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth + Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 590 + Through fair Lyceum's [Endnote I] walk, the green retreats + Of Academus, [Endnote J] and the thymy vale, + Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, + Ilissus [Endnote K] pure devolved his tuneful stream + In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store + Of these auspicious fields, may I unblamed + Transplant some living blossoms to adorn + My native clime: while far above the flight + Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join 600 + Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise + Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth + I point the high example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The separation of the works of Imagination from Philosophy, the +cause of their abuse among the moderns. Prospect of their reunion +under the influence of public Liberty. Enumeration of accidental +pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the +Imagination. The pleasures of sense. Particular circumstances of the +mind. Discovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and design. +Emotion of the passions. All the natural passions partake of a +pleasing sensation; with the final cause of this constitution +illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, +terror, and indignation. + + When shall the laurel and the vocal string + Resume their honours? When shall we behold + The tuneful tongue, the Promethean band + Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, + How slow the dawn of Beauty and of Truth + Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night + Which yet involves the nations! Long they groan'd + Beneath the furies of rapacious force; + Oft as the gloomy north, with iron swarms + Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, 10 + Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works + Of Liberty and Wisdom down the gulf + Of all-devouring night. As long immured + In noontide darkness, by the glimmering lamp, + Each Muse and each fair Science pined away + The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands + Their mysteries profaned, unstrung the lyre, + And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. + At last the Muses rose, [Endnote L] and spurn'd their bonds, + And, wildly warbling, scatter'd as they flew, 20 + Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's [Endnote M] bowers + To Arno's [Endnote N] myrtle border and the shore + Of soft Parthenope. [Endnote O] But still the rage + Of dire ambition [Endnote P] and gigantic power, + From public aims and from the busy walk + Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train + Of penetrating Science to the cells, + Where studious Ease consumes the silent hour + In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. + Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts [Endnote Q] 30 + Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, + To priestly domination and the lust + Of lawless courts, their amiable toil + For three inglorious ages have resign'd, + In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue + Was tuned for slavish pasans at the throne + Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand + Effused its fair creation to enchant + The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes + To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 + The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. + But now, behold! the radiant era dawns, + When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length + For endless years on Albion's happy shore + In full proportion, once more shall extend + To all the kindred powers of social bliss + A common mansion, a parental roof. + There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, + Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, + Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 + The Muses and the Graces. Then no more + Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts + To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn + Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, + The patriot bosom; then no more the paths + Of public care or intellectual toil, + Alone by footsteps haughty and severe + In gloomy state be trod: the harmonious Muse + And her persuasive sisters then shall plant + Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 + And scatter flowers along the rugged way. + Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dared + To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, + And teach the Muse her lore; already strove + Their long-divided honours to unite, + While tempering this deep argument we sang + Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task + Impends; now urging our ambitious toil, + We hasten to recount the various springs + Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin 70 + Their grateful influence to the prime effect + Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge + The complicated joy. The sweets of sense, + Do they not oft with kind accession flow, + To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm? + So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, + Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view + Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill + Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst + Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 + Of cool refreshment, o'er the mossy brink + Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves + With sweeter music murmur as they flow? + + Nor this alone; the various lot of life + Oft from external circumstance assumes + A moment's disposition to rejoice + In those delights which, at a different hour, + Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring, + When rural songs and odours wake the morn, + To every eye; but how much more to his 90 + Round whom the bed of sickness long diffused + Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair, + When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales + The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun + Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life + Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! + + Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth + Her awful light discloses, to bestow + A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? + For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100 + More welcome touch his understanding's eye, + Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, + Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet + The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctured hues + To me have shown so pleasing, as when first + The hand of Science pointed out the path + In which the sunbeams, gleaming from the west, + Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil + Involves the orient; and that trickling shower + Piercing through every crystalline convex 110 + Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed, + Recoil at length where concave all behind + The internal surface of each glassy orb + Repels their forward passage into air; + That thence direct they seek the radiant goal + From which their course began; and, as they strike + In different lines the gazer's obvious eye, + Assume a different lustre, through the brede + Of colours changing from the splendid rose + To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 + + Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, + That springs to each fair object, while we trace, + Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim, + Disposing every part, and gaining still, + By means proportion'd, her benignant end? + Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps + The lamp of Science through the jealous maze + Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal + Her secret honours: whether in the sky, + The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 + That wheel the pensile planets round the year; + Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, + Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, + Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, + Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. + + What, when to raise the meditated scene, + The flame of passion, through the struggling soul + Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze + The object of its rapture, vast of size, + With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140 + What, like a storm from their capacious bed + The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might + Of these eruptions, working from the depth + Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame + Even to the base; from every naked sense + Of pain or pleasure, dissipating all + Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil + Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times + To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks + Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 + Big with the very motion of their souls, + Declare with what accumulated force + The impetuous nerve of passion urges on + The native weight and energy of things. + + Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims, + Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, + From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holds + Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse + Rouses the mind's whole fabric; with supplies + Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 + Intensely poised, and polishes anew + By that collision all the fine machine: + Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees + Encumbering, choke at last what heaven design'd + For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.-- + But say, does every passion thus to man + Administer delight? That name indeed + Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes + The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand + Of admiration: but the bitter shower 170 + That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave; + But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, + Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart + Of panting indignation, find we there + To move delight?--Then listen while my tongue + The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe + Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach + My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd + Within his learned mind whate'er the schools + Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 + O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws + Which govern and support this mighty frame + Of universal being. Oft the hours + From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away, + While mute attention hung upon his lips, + As thus the sage his awful tale began:-- + + ''Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, + When spotless youth with solitude resigns + To sweet philosophy the studious day, + What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 + Musing I roved. Of good and evil much, + And much of mortal man my thought revolved; + When starting full on fancy's gushing eye + The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, + That hour, O long beloved and long deplored! + When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts, + Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, + Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears + Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; + Thy agonising looks, thy last farewell 200 + Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul + As with the hand of Death. At once the shade + More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds + With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark + As midnight storms, the scene of human things + Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, + Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south, + And desolation blasting all the west + With rapine and with murder: tyrant power + Here sits enthroned with blood; the baleful charms 210 + Of superstition there infect the skies, + And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven! + What is the life of man? Or cannot these, + Not these portents thy awful will suffice, + That, propagated thus beyond their scope, + They rise to act their cruelties anew + In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed + The universal sensitive of pain, + The wretched heir of evils not its own?' + + Thus I impatient: when, at once effused, 220 + A flashing torrent of celestial day + Burst through the shadowy void. With slow descent + A purple cloud came floating through the sky, + And, poised at length within the circling trees, + Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide + Its lucid orb, a more than human form + Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head, + And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. + Then melted into air the liquid cloud, + And all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 + A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, + And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, + Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist + Collected with a radiant zone of gold + Aethereal: there in mystic signs engraved, + I read his office high and sacred name, + Genius of human kind! Appall'd I gazed + The godlike presence; for athwart his brow + Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, + Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 + Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air: + + 'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth! + And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span + Capacious of this universal frame?-- + Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! + Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord + Of Nature and his works--to lift thy voice + Against the sovereign order he decreed, + All good and lovely--to blaspheme the bands + Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 + Holiest of things! by which the general orb + Of being, as by adamantine links, + Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd + From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs + Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, + So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish + The ties of Nature broken from thy frame, + That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart + Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then + The wretched heir of evils not its own? 260 + O fair benevolence of generous minds! + O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!' + + He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, + As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awed + Before his presence, though my secret soul + Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground + I fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couch + He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand + My dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried, + 'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270 + + I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed; + For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, + A solitary prospect, wide and wild, + Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pile + Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, + With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. + Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, + The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springs + Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine + The crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280 + Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, + Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods + With hoarser inundation; till at last + They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts + Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, + And drank the gushing moisture, where confined + In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale + Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils + Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, + Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290 + As in a sylvan theatre enclosed + That flowery level. On the river's brink + I spied a fair pavilion, which diffused + Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade + Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd + Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, + And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, + On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light + That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers + Were awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300 + And wondering expectation. Then the voice + Of that celestial power, the mystic show + Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd:-- + + 'Inhabitant of earth, [Endnote S] to whom is given + The gracious ways of Providence to learn, + Receive my sayings with a steadfast ear-- + Know then, the Sovereign Spirit of the world, + Though, self-collected from eternal time, + Within his own deep essence he beheld + The bounds of true felicity complete, 310 + Yet by immense benignity inclined + To spread around him that primeval joy + Which fill'd himself, he raised his plastic arm, + And sounded through the hollow depths of space + The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose + These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life, + Effusive kindled by his breath divine + Through endless forms of being. Each inhaled + From him its portion of the vital flame, + In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 + Of coexistent orders, one might rise, + One order, [Endnote T] all-involving and entire. + He too, beholding in the sacred light + Of his essential reason, all the shapes + Of swift contingence, all successive ties + Of action propagated through the sum + Of possible existence, he at once, + Down the long series of eventful time, + So fix'd the dates of being, so disposed, + To every living soul of every kind 330 + The field of motion and the hour of rest, + That all conspired to his supreme design, + To universal good: with full accord + Answering the mighty model he had chose, + The best and fairest [Endnote U] of unnumber'd worlds + That lay from everlasting in the store + Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, + By one exertion of creative power + His goodness to reveal; through every age, + Through every moment up the tract of time, 340 + His parent hand with ever new increase + Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd + The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + For ever leads the generations on + To higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day with his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, [Endnote V] 350 + As bodies to their proper centre move, + As the poised ocean to the attracting moon + Obedient swells, and every headlong stream + Devolves its winding waters to the main; + So all things which have life aspire to God, + The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, + Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice + Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps + Aright; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From granting to the task proportion'd aid; 360 + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine.-- + + 'That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn + Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene + Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat + Of man, and where the Will Supreme ordain'd + His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffused + Along the shady brink; in this recess + To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 + Till riper hours should open to his toil + The high communion of superior minds, + Of consecrated heroes and of gods. + Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget + His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld + Celestial footsteps from his green abode. + Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, + He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair, + The effluence of his glory, whom he placed + Before his eyes for ever to behold; 380 + The goddess from whose inspiration flows + The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; + Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, + Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass, + Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire + Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, + The folded powers to open, to direct + The growth luxuriant of his young desires, + And from the laws of this majestic world + To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390 + Her daily care attended, by her side + With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, + The fair Euphrosyne, the gentle queen + Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights + That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men + And powers immortal. See the shining pair! + Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosed + They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.' + + I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood + Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 + Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower + Of beauty: sweetest innocence illumed + His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow + Sate young simplicity. With fond regard + He view'd the associates, as their steps they moved; + The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd, + With mild regret invoking her return. + Bright as the star of evening she appear'd + Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth + O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410 + And smiles eternal from her candid eyes + Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn + Effusive trembling on the placid waves. + The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils + To bind her sable tresses: full diffused + Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze; + And in her hand she waved a living branch + Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm + The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes + To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 + The heavenly partner moved. The prime of age + Composed her steps. The presence of a god, + High on the circle of her brow enthroned, + From each majestic motion darted awe, + Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks + Benevolent and meek, confiding love + To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. + Free in her graceful hand she poised the sword + Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown + Display'd the old simplicity of pomp 430 + Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe, + White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds, + Her stately form invested. Hand in hand + The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green, + Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light + Gleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard, + And through the fragrant air ethereal dews + Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds, + Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew + Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 + Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd, + Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scan + What object it involved. My feeble eyes + Endured not. Bending down to earth I stood, + With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, + As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, + With sacred invocation thus began: + + 'Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm + With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, + Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450 + I seek to finish thy divine decree. + With frequent steps I visit yonder seat + Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds + Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve + The latent honours of his generous frame; + Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot + From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks, + The temple of thy glory. But not me, + Not my directing voice he oft requires, + Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, 460 + The associate thou hast given me, her alone + He loves, O Father! absent, her he craves; + And but for her glad presence ever join'd, + Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes + This thy benignant purpose to fulfil, + I deem uncertain: and my daily cares + Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee + Still further aided in the work divine.' + + She ceased; a voice more awful thus replied:-- + 'O thou, in whom for ever I delight, 470 + Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven, + Best image of thy Author! far from thee + Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame; + Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil, + And no resistance find. If man refuse + To hearken to thy dictates; or, allured + By meaner joys, to any other power + Transfer the honours due to thee alone; + That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste, + That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 + Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil; + Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend + Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! + With thee the son of Nemesis I send; + The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account + Of sacred order's violated laws. + See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, + Pierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath + On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, + Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 + Thy tender charge; that when despair shall grasp + His agonising bosom, he may learn, + Then he may learn to love the gracious hand + Alone sufficient in the hour of ill, + To save his feeble spirit; then confess + Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! + When all the plagues that wait the deadly will + Of this avenging demon, all the storms + Of night infernal, serve but to display + The energy of thy superior charms 500 + With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, + And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.' + + Here ceased that awful voice, and soon I felt + The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve + Was closed once more, from that immortal fire + Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd + A vast gigantic spectre striding on + Through murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds, + With dreadful action. Black as night his brow + Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 + With sharp impatience violent he writhed, + As through convulsive anguish; and his hand, + Arm'd with a scorpion lash, full oft he raised + In madness to his bosom; while his eyes + Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook + The void with horror. Silent by his side + The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd + Her features. From the glooms which hung around, + No stain of darkness mingled with the beam + Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 + Upon the river bank; and now to hail + His wonted guests, with eager steps advanced + The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. + + As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long + Had ranged the Alpine snows, by chance at morn + Sees from a cliff, incumbent o'er the smoke + Of some lone village, a neglected kid + That strays along the wild for herb or spring; + Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, + And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage, 530 + The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. + Amazed the stripling stood: with panting breast + Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail + Of helpless consternation, struck at once, + And rooted to the ground. The Queen beheld + His terror, and with looks of tenderest care + Advanced to save him. Soon the tyrant felt + Her awful power. His keen tempestuous arm + Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage + Had aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retired 540 + With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovereign maid + Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy, + Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek; + Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue:-- + + 'Oh, wake thee, rouse thy spirit! Shall the spite + Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, + While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand + To rescue and to heal? Oh, let thy soul + Remember, what the will of heaven ordains + Is ever good for all; and if for all, 550 + Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth + And soothing sunshine of delightful things, + Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled + By that bland light, the young unpractised views + Of reason wander through a fatal road, + Far from their native aim; as if to lie + Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait + The soft access of ever circling joys, + Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, + This pleasing error did it never lull 560 + Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refused + The silken fetters of delicious ease? + Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd + Within this dwelling, did not thy desires + Hang far below the measure of thy fate, + Which I reveal'd before thee, and thy eyes, + Impatient of my counsels, turn away + To drink the soft effusion of her smiles? + Know then, for this the everlasting Sire + Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 + O wise and still benevolent! ordains + This horrid visage hither to pursue + My steps; that so thy nature may discern + Its real good, and what alone can save + Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill + From folly and despair. O yet beloved! + Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm + Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage + Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, + While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 + Above the generous question of thy arm. + Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong, + This hour he triumphs: but confront his might, + And dare him to the combat, then with ease + Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns + To bondage and to scorn: while thus inured + By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, + The immortal mind, superior to his fate, + Amid the outrage of external things, + Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 + Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds! + Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempest on; + Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky! + Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire + Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene, + The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; + And ever stronger as the storms advance, + Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, + Where Nature calls him to the destined goal.' + + So spake the goddess; while through all her frame 600 + Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word, + In every motion kindling warmth divine + To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift + As lightning fires the aromatic shade + In Aethiopian fields, the stripling felt + Her inspiration catch his fervid soul, + And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd:-- + + 'Then let the trial come! and witness thou, + If terror be upon me; if I shrink + To meet the storm, or falter in my strength 610 + When hardest it besets me. Do not think + That I am fearful and infirm of soul, + As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast changed + My nature; thy commanding voice has waked + My languid powers to bear me boldly on, + Where'er the will divine my path ordains + Through toil or peril: only do not thou + Forsake me; Oh, be thou for ever near, + That I may listen to thy sacred voice, + And guide by thy decrees my constant feet. 620 + But say, for ever are my eyes bereft? + Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once + Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven! + O thou eternal arbiter of things! + Be thy great bidding done: for who am I, + To question thy appointment? Let the frowns + Of this avenger every morn o'ercast + The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp + With double night my dwelling; I will learn + To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 + His hateful presence: but permit my tongue + One glad request, and if my deeds may find + Thy awful eye propitious, oh! restore + The rosy-featured maid; again to cheer + This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.' + + He spoke; when instant through the sable glooms + With which that furious presence had involved + The ambient air, a flood of radiance came + Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds + Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 640 + Euphrosyne appear'd. With sprightly step + The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, + And to her wondering audience thus began:-- + + 'Lo! I am here to answer to your vows, + And be the meeting fortunate! I come + With joyful tidings; we shall part no more-- + Hark! how the gentle echo from her cell + Talks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream + Repeats the accents; we shall part no more.-- + O my delightful friends! well pleased on high 650 + The Father has beheld you, while the might + Of that stern foe with bitter trial proved + Your equal doings: then for ever spake + The high decree, that thou, celestial maid! + Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps + May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more + Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, + Alone endure the rancour of his arm, + Or leave thy loved Euphrosyne behind.' + + She ended, and the whole romantic scene 660 + Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills, + The mantling tent, and each mysterious form + Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, + When sunshine fills the bed. Awhile I stood + Perplex'd and giddy; till the radiant power + Who bade the visionary landscape rise, + As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks + Preventing my inquiry, thus began:-- + + 'There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint + How blind, how impious! There behold the ways 670 + Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, + For ever just, benevolent, and wise: + That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued + By vexing fortune and intrusive pain, + Should never be divided from her chaste, + Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge + Thy tardy thought through all the various round + Of this existence, that thy softening soul + At length may learn what energy the hand + Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 + Of passion swelling with distress and pain, + To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops + Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego + That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 690 + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture.--Ask the crowd + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while sacred Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; + While every mother closer to her breast 700 + Catches her child, and pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down: Oh! deemest thou indeed + No kind endearment here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No sweetly melting softness which attracts, + O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 + To this their proper action and their end?-- + Ask thy own heart, when, at the midnight hour, + Slow through that studious gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame + For Grecian heroes, where the present power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father blessing, while he reads + The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 + Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, + Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their flame, + Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, + When, rooted from the base, heroic states + Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown + Of cursed ambition; when the pious band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires, + Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To slavish empty pageants, to adorn + A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns + Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust + And storied arch, to glut the coward rage + Of regal envy, strew the public way + With hallow'd ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow + To sweep the works of glory from their base; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street + Expands his raven wings, and up the wall, + Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, + Hisses the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column; thus defaced, 750 + Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills + Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's [Endnote W] brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; + Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 + Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, + And bears aloft his gold-invested front, + And says within himself, I am a king, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?--The baleful dregs + Of these late ages, this inglorious draught + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the eternal Ruler of the world! + Defiled to such a depth of sordid shame + The native honours of the human soul, 770 + Nor so effaced the image of its Sire.' + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Pleasure in observing the tempers and manners of men, even where +vicious or absurd. The origin of Vice, from false representations of +the fancy, producing false opinions concerning good and evil. +Inquiry into ridicule. The general sources of ridicule in the minds +and characters of men, enumerated. Final cause of the sense of +ridicule. The resemblance of certain aspects of inanimate things to +the sensations and properties of the mind. The operations of the +mind in the production of the works of Imagination, described. The +secondary pleasure from Imitation. The benevolent order of the world +illustrated in the arbitrary connexion of these pleasures with the +objects which excite them. The nature and conduct of taste. +Concluding with an account of the natural and moral advantages +resulting from a sensible and well formed imagination. + + What wonder therefore, since the endearing ties + Of passion link the universal kind + Of man so close, what wonder if to search + This common nature through the various change + Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame + Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind + With unresisted charms? The spacious west, + And all the teeming regions of the south, + Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight + Of Knowledge, half so tempting or so fair, 10 + As man to man. Nor only where the smiles + Of Love invite; nor only where the applause + Of cordial Honour turns the attentive eye + On Virtue's graceful deeds. For, since the course + Of things external acts in different ways + On human apprehensions, as the hand + Of Nature temper'd to a different frame + Peculiar minds; so haply where the powers + Of Fancy [Endnote X] neither lessen nor enlarge + The images of things, but paint in all 20 + Their genuine hues, the features which they wore + In Nature; there Opinion will be true, + And Action right. For Action treads the path + In which Opinion says he follows good, + Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye, + With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 + Is there a man, who, at the sound of death, + Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, + And black before him; nought but death-bed groans + And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink + Of light and being, down the gloomy air, + An unknown depth? Alas! in such a mind, + If no bright forms of excellence attend + The image of his country; nor the pomp + Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice + Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 + The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame; + Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, + Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill + Than to betray his country? And in act + Will he not choose to be a wretch and live? + Here vice begins then. From the enchanting cup + Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst + Of youth oft swallows a Circaean draught, + That sheds a baleful tincture o'er the eye + Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 + And only guides to err. Then revel forth + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps + The empire of the soul; thus pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands + Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, + Watch to o'erturn the barrier of the laws + That keeps them from their prey; thus all the plagues + The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scone + The tragic Muse discloses, under shapes 60 + Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, + Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all + Those lying forms, which Fancy in the brain + Engenders, are the kindling passions driven + To guilty deeds; nor Reason bound in chains, + That Vice alone may lord it: oft adorn'd + With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears; a thousand ways + She wheels her giddy empire.--Lo! thus far 70 + With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre + I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well pleased + A stricter note: now haply must my song + Unbend her serious measure, and reveal + In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts [Endnote Y] + Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + The sportive province of the comic Muse. + + See! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance: + Each would outstrip the other, each prevent + Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 + Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, + My curious friends! and let us first arrange + In proper order your promiscuous throng. + + Behold the foremost band; [Endnote Z] of slender thought, + And easy faith; whom flattering Fancy soothes + With lying spectres, in themselves to view + Illustrious forms of excellence and good, + That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts + They spread their spurious treasures to the sun, + And bid the world admire! But chief the glance 90 + Of wishful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, + And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. + In number boundless as the blooms of Spring, + Behold their glaring idols, empty shades + By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up + For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, + With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, + And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate + With martial splendour, steely pikes and swords + Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 + Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port + Of stately Valour: listening by his side + There stands a female form; to her, with looks + Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, + He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, + And sulphurous mines, and ambush: then at once + Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, + And asks some wondering question of her fears. + Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'd + With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 + And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes + Take homage of the simple-minded throng; + Ambassadors of Heaven! Nor much unlike + Is he, whose visage in the lazy mist + That mantles every feature, hides a brood + Of politic conceits, of whispers, nods, + And hints deep omen'd with unwieldy schemes, + And dark portents of state. Ten thousand more, + Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues, + Pour dauntless in and swell the boastful band. 120 + + Then comes the second order; [Endnote AA] all who seek + The debt of praise, where watchful Unbelief + Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye + On some retired appearance which belies + The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause + That Justice else would pay. Here side by side + I see two leaders of the solemn train + Approaching: one a female old and gray, + With eyes demure, and wrinkle-furrow'd brow, + Pale as the cheeks of death; yet still she stuns 130 + The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, + How many youths her myrtle chains have worn, + How many virgins at her triumphs pined! + Yet how resolved she guards her cautious heart; + Such is her terror at the risks of love, + And man's seducing tongue! The other seems + A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, + And sordid all his habit; peevish Want + Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng + He stalks, resounding in magnific praise 140 + The vanity of riches, the contempt + Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, + Ye grave associates! let the silent grace + Of her who blushes at the fond regard + Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold + The praise of spotless honour: let the man, + Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp + And ample store, but as indulgent streams + To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits + Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 + The price of riches and the end of power. + + Another tribe succeeds; [Endnote BB] deluded long + By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold + The images of some peculiar things + With brighter hues resplendent, and portray'd + With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd + Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart + Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms; + Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, + Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays! 160 + And serious manhood from the towering aim + Of wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast + Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form + Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells! + Not with intenser view the Samian sage + Bent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, + When first the order of that radiant scene + Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surveys + A muckworm's entrails, or a spider's fang. + Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 170 + Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, + With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, + To win her coy regard: adieu, for him, + The dull engagements of the bustling world! + Adieu the sick impertinence of praise! + And hope, and action! for with her alone, + By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, + Is all he asks, and all that fate can give! + Thee too, facetious Momion, wandering here, + Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 + Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long + Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils + Of sly derision! till on every side + Hurling thy random bolts, offended Truth + Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves + Of Folly. Thy once formidable name + Shall grace her humble records, and be heard + In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips + Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, + So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. 190 + + But now, ye gay! [Endnote CC] to whom indulgent fate, + Of all the Muse's empire hath assign'd + The fields of folly, hither each advance + Your sickles; here the teeming soil affords + Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears, + In whom the demon, with a mother's joy, + Views all her charms reflected, all her cares + At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band! + Who, scorning Reason's tame, pedantic rules, + And Order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 + For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal + Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, + And yield Deformity the fond applause + Which Beauty wont to claim, forgive my song, + That for the blushing diffidence of youth, + It shuns the unequal province of your praise. + + Thus far triumphant [Endnote DD] in the pleasing guile + Of bland Imagination, Folly's train + Have dared our search: but now a dastard kind + Advance reluctant, and with faltering feet 210 + Shrink from the gazer's eye: enfeebled hearts + Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, + Or bends to servile tameness with conceits + Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, + Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave + Who droops abash'd when sullen Pomp surveys + His humbler habit; here the trembling wretch + Unnerved and struck with Terror's icy bolts, + Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, + At every dream of danger: here, subdued 220 + By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn + Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, + Who, blushing, half resigns the candid praise + Of Temperance and Honour; half disowns + A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride; + And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth + With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. + + Last of the motley bands [Endnote EE] on whom the power + Of gay Derision bends her hostile aim, + Is that where shameful Ignorance presides. 230 + Beneath her sordid banners, lo! they march + Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands + Attempt, Confusion straight appears behind, + And troubles all the work. Through many a maze, + Perplex'd they struggle, changing every path, + O'erturning every purpose; then at last + Sit down dismay'd, and leave the entangled scene + For Scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode + Of Folly in the mind; and such the shapes + In which she governs her obsequious train. 240 + + Through every scene of ridicule in things + To lead the tenor of my devious lay; + Through every swift occasion, which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her sallying nerves and chokes her tongue; + What were it but to count each crystal drop + Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms + Of May distil? Suffice it to have said, [Endnote FF] + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, 250 + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on the quick observer: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity are wont to dwell; + Or whether these with violation loathed, + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + + Ask we for what fair end, [Endnote GG] the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 + These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + The giddy aims of Folly? Though the light + Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mind, + At length unfolds, through many a subtile tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil! yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of truth appears 270 + To thousands; conscious what a scanty pause + From labours and from care, the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature; therefore stamp'd + The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + + Such are the various aspects of the mind-- + Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts + Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 + The etherial spirit with its mould of clay, + Oh! teach me to reveal the grateful charm + That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man + Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, + The inexpressive semblance [Endnote HH] of himself, + Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods + That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow: + With what religious awe the solemn scene + Commands your steps! as if the reverend form + Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 + The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade + Move to your pausing eye! Behold the expanse + Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds + Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze: + Now their gray cincture skirts the doubtful sun; + Now streams of splendour, through their opening veil + Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn + The aerial shadows, on the curling brook, + And on the shady margin's quivering leaves + With quickest lustre glancing; while you view 300 + The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast + Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth + With clouds and sunshine chequer'd, while the round + Of social converse, to the inspiring tongue + Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, + Moves all obsequious? Whence is this effect, + This kindred power of such discordant things? + Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone + To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers + At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 + Which artful custom twines around her frame? + + For when the different images of things, + By chance combined, have struck the attentive soul + With deeper impulse, or, connected long, + Have drawn her frequent eye; howe'er distinct + The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain + From that conjunction an eternal tie, + And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind + Recall one partner of the various league, + Immediate, lo! the firm confederates rise, 320 + And each his former station straight resumes: + One movement governs the consenting throng, + And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, + Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. + 'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, + Two faithful needles, [Endnote II] from the informing touch + Of the same parent stone, together drew + Its mystic virtue, and at first conspired + With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: + Then, though disjoin'd by kingdoms, though the main 330 + Roll'd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars + Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved + The former friendship, and remember'd still + The alliance of their birth: whate'er the line + Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew + The sure associate, ere with trembling speed + He found its path and fix'd unerring there. + Such is the secret union, when we feel + A song, a flower, a name, at once restore + Those long-connected scenes where first they moved 340 + The attention, backward through her mazy walks + Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, + To temples, courts, or fields, with all the band + Of painted forms, of passions and designs + Attendant; whence, if pleasing in itself, + The prospect from that sweet accession gains + Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. + + By these mysterious ties, [Endnote JJ] the busy power + Of Memory her ideal train preserves + Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 + Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste + Of dark oblivion; thus collecting all + The various forms of being to present, + Before the curious aim of mimic art, + Their largest choice; like Spring's unfolded blooms + Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee + May taste at will, from their selected spoils + To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse + Of living lakes in Summer's noontide calm, + Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens, 360 + With fairer semblance; not the sculptured gold + More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace, + Than he whose birth the sister powers of Art + Propitious view'd, and from his genial star + Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind, + Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve + The seal of Nature. There alone unchanged, + Her form remains. The balmy walks of May + There breathe perennial sweets; the trembling chord + Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 + Melodious; and the virgin's radiant eye, + Superior to disease, to grief, and time, + Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length + Endow'd with all that nature can bestow, + The child of Fancy oft in silence bends + O'er these mix'd treasures of his pregnant breast + With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves + To frame he knows not what excelling things, + And win he knows not what sublime reward + Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 + Feels her young nerves dilate: the plastic powers + Labour for action: blind emotions heave + His bosom; and with loveliest frenzy caught, + From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, + From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, + Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call, + Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, + From ocean's bed they come: the eternal heavens + Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss + Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 + He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares + Their different forms; now blends them, now divides, + Enlarges and extenuates by turns; + Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, + And infinitely varies. Hither now, + Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, + With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan + Begins to open. Lucid order dawns; + And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds + Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 + Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd + Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sun + Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees + Thus disentangled, his entire design + Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, + And lines converge: the fainter parts retire; + The fairer eminent in light advance; + And every image on its neighbour smiles. + Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy + Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, 410 + Into its proper vehicle [Endnote KK] he breathes + The fair conception; which, embodied thus, + And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears + An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, + The various organs of his mimic skill, + The consonance of sounds, the featured rock, + The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, + Beyond their proper powers attract the soul + By that expressive semblance, while in sight + Of Nature's great original we scan 420 + The lively child of Art; while line by line, + And feature after feature we refer + To that sublime exemplar whence it stole + Those animating charms. Thus Beauty's palm + Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding Love + Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires + To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud + Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice + Enclosed and obvious to the beaming sun, + Collects his large effulgence; straight the heavens 430 + With equal flames present on either hand + The radiant visage; Persia stands at gaze, + Appall'd; and on the brink of Ganges doubts + The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, + To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, + To which his warbled orisons ascend. + + Such various bliss the well-tuned heart enjoys, + Favour'd of Heaven! while, plunged in sordid cares, + The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine; + And harsh Austerity, from whose rebuke 440 + Young Love and smiling Wonder shrink away + Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns + Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, + Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge + Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, + And calls the love and beauty which I sing, + The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, + Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms + Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, + To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 + Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, + Might smile with scorn while raptured vision tells + Of the gay-colour'd radiance flushing bright + O'er all creation. From the wise be far + Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song + Descend so low; but rather now unfold, + If human thought could reach, or words unfold, + By what mysterious fabric of the mind, + The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound + Result from airy motion; and from shape 460 + The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. + By what fine ties hath God connected things + When present in the mind, which in themselves + Have no connexion? Sure the rising sun + O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, + With equal brightness and with equal warmth + Might roll his fiery orb, nor yet the soul + Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers + Exulting in the splendour she beholds, + Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp 470 + Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, + Soft murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath + Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain + Attemper, could not man's discerning ear + Through all its tones the sympathy pursue, + Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy + Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd heart, + Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song? + + But were not Nature still endow'd at large + With all that life requires, though unadorn'd 480 + With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form + So exquisitely fair? her breath perfumed + With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice + Inform'd at will to raise or to depress + The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light + Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp + Than Fancy can describe? Whence but from Thee, + O source divine of ever-flowing love! + And Thy unmeasured goodness? Not content + With every food of life to nourish man, 490 + By kind illusions of the wondering sense + Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, + Or music to his ear; well pleased he scans + The goodly prospect, and with inward smiles + Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain, + Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, + And living lamps that over-arch his head + With more than regal splendour; bends his ears + To the full choir of water, air, and earth; + Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 + Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, + Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds, + Than space, or motion, or eternal time; + So sweet he feels their influence to attract + The fixed soul, to brighten the dull glooms + Of care, and make the destined road of life + Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, + The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, + Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells + Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510 + A visionary paradise disclosed + Amid the dubious wild; with streams, and shades, + And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, + Cheers his long labours and renews his frame. + + What then is taste, but these internal powers + Active, and strong, and feelingly alive + To each fine impulse,--a discerning sense + Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust + From things deform'd, or disarranged, or gross + In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 + Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; + But God alone, when first His active hand + Imprints the secret bias of the soul. + He, mighty Parent! wise and just in all, + Free as the vital breeze or light of heaven, + Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain + Who journeys homeward from a summer day's + Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils + And due repose, he loiters to behold + The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, 530 + O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, + His rude expression and untutor'd airs, + Beyond the power of language, will unfold + The form of beauty, smiling at his heart, + How lovely! how commanding! But though Heaven + In every breast hath sown these early seeds + Of love and admiration, yet in vain, + Without fair culture's kind parental aid, + Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, + And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 + The tender plant should rear its blooming head, + Or yield the harvest promised in its spring. + Nor yet will every soul with equal stores + Repay the tiller's labour, or attend + His will, obsequious, whether to produce + The olive or the laurel. Different minds + Incline to different objects; one pursues + The vast alone, [Endnote LL] the wonderful, the wild; + Another sighs for harmony, and grace, + And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 550 + The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, + When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, + And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, + Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; + Amid the mighty uproar, while below + The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad + Prom some high cliff, superior, and enjoys + The elemental war. But Waller longs, [Endnote MM] + All on the margin of some flowery stream + To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 + Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer + The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain + Resound soft-warbling all the livelong day; + Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill + Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; + And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. + Such and so various are the tastes of men. + + Oh! bless'd of Heaven, whom not the languid songs + Of Luxury, the siren! not the bribes + Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 + Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave + Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store + Of Nature fair Imagination culls + To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all + Of mortal offspring can attain the heights + Of envied life; though only few possess + Patrician treasures or imperial state; + Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, + With richer treasures and an ampler state, + Endows at large whatever happy man 580 + Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, + The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns + The princely dome, the column, and the arch, + The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, + Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, + His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring + Distils her dews, and from the silken gem + Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him, the hand + Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch + With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. 590 + Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings; + And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, + And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze [Endnote NN] + Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes + The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain + From all the tenants of the warbling shade + Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake + Fresh pleasure, unreproved. Nor thence partakes + Fresh pleasure only; for the attentive mind, + By this harmonious action on her powers 600 + Becomes herself harmonious; wont so oft + In outward things to meditate the charm + Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home + To find a kindred order, to exert + Within herself this elegance of love, + This fair-inspired delight; her temper'd powers + Refine at length, and every passion wears + A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. + But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze + On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 + These lesser graces, she assumes the port + Of that Eternal Majesty that weigh'd + The world's foundations, if to these the mind + Exalts her daring eye, then mightier far + Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms + Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? + Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth + Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down + To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? + Lo! she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620 + And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, + The elements and seasons; all declare + For what the Eternal Maker has ordain'd + The powers of man; we feel within ourselves + His energy divine; he tells the heart, + He meant, he made us to behold and love + What he beholds and loves, the general orb + Of life and being; to be great like him, + Beneficent and active. Thus the men + Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself 630 + Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, + With his conceptions, act upon his plan; + And form to his, the relish of their souls. + + + + + +_NOTES_ + + * * * * * + + +BOOK FIRST. + + +ENDNOTE A. + + _'Say why was man'_, etc.--P.8. + +In apologising for the frequent negligences of the sublimest authors +of Greece, 'Those godlike geniuses,' says Longinus, 'were well +assured, that Nature had not intended man for a low-spirited or +ignoble being: but bringing us into life and the midst of this wide +universe, as before a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, +that we might be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates +high in emulation for the prize of glory; she has therefore +implanted in our souls an inextinguishable love of everything great +and exalted, of everything which appears divine beyond our +comprehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole world is +not an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of human +imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits of all that +surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the whole circle of +our existence, and consider how especially it abounds in excellent +and grand objects, he will soon acknowledge for what enjoyments +and pursuits we were destined. Thus by the very propensity of +nature we are led to admire, not little springs or shallow rivulets, +however clear and delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, +and, much more than all, the Ocean,' etc. + --_Dionys. Longin. de Sublim_. ss. xxiv. + + +ENDNOTE B. + + _'The empyreal waste'_.--P. 9. + +'Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand espace au-dela de la region +des etoiles? Que ce soit le ciel empyree, ou non, toujours cet +espace immense qui environne toute cette region, pourra etre rempli +de bonheur et de gloire. Il pourra etre concu comme l'ocean, ou se +rendent les fleuves de toutes les creatures bienheureuses, quand +elles seront venues a leur perfection dans le systeme des etoiles.' + --_Leibnitz dans la Theodicee_, part i. par. 19. + + +ENDNOTE C. + + _'Whose unfading light'_, etc.--P. 9. + +It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that there may be fixed +stars at such a distance from our solar system, as that their light +should not have had time to reach us, even from the creation of the +world to this day. + + + +ENDNOTE D. + + _'The neglect + Of all familiar prospects'_, etc.--P. 10. + +It is here said, that in consequence of the love of novelty, objects +which at first were highly delightful to the mind, lose that effect +by repeated attention to them. But the instance of habit is opposed +to this observation; for there, objects at first distasteful are in +time rendered entirely agreeable by repeated attention. + +The difficulty in this case will be removed if we consider, that, +when objects at first agreeable, lose that influence by frequently +recurring, the mind is wholly passive, and the perception involuntary; +but habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice and activity +accompanying it: so that the pleasure arises here not from the object, +but from the mind's conscious determination of its own activity; and +consequently increases in proportion to the frequency of that +determination. + +It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity with disagreeable +objects renders them at length acceptable, even when there is no +room for the mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the +appearance must be accounted for one of these ways. + +The pleasure from habit may be merely negative. The object at first +gave uneasiness: this uneasiness gradually wears off as the object +grows familiar: and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, +reckons its situation really pleasurable, compared with what it had +experienced before. + +The dislike conceived of the object at first, might be owing to +prejudice or want of attention. Consequently the mind being +necessitated to review it often, may at length perceive its own +mistake, and be reconciled to what it had looked on with aversion. +In which case, a sort of instinctive justice naturally leads it to +make amends for the injury, by running toward the other extreme of +fondness and attachment. + +Or lastly, though the object itself should always continue +disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure or good fortune may +occur along with it. Thus an association may arise in the mind, and +the object never be remembered without those pleasing circumstances +attending it; by which means the disagreeable impression which it at +first occasioned will in time be quite obliterated. + + + +ENDNOTE E. + + _'This desire + Of objects new and strange'_.--P. 10. + +These two ideas are oft confounded; though it is evident the mere +novelty of an object makes it agreeable, even where the mind is not +affected with the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed +always implies novelty, being never excited by common or well-known +appearances. But the pleasure in both cases is explicable from the +same final cause, the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of +our views of nature: on this account it is natural to treat of them +together. + + + +ENDNOTE F. + + _'Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them'_, etc.--P. 14. + +'Do you imagine,' says Socrates to Aristippus, 'that what is good is +not beautiful? Have you not observed that these appearances always +coincide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect as to which we +call it good, is ever acknowledged to be beautiful also. In the +characters of men we always [1] join the two denominations together. +The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in like manner, with that +economy of parts which constitutes them good; and in every +circumstance of life, the same object is constantly accounted both +beautiful and good, inasmuch as it answers the purposes for which it +was designed.' + --_Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat_. 1.iii.c.8. + +This excellent observation has been illustrated and extended by the +noble restorer of ancient philosophy. (See the _Characteristics_, vol. +ii., pp. 339 and 422, and vol. iii., p. 181.) And another ingenious +author has particularly shewn, that it holds in the general laws of +nature, in the works of art, and the conduct of the sciences +(_Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_, +treat, i. Section 8). As to the connexion between beauty and truth, +there are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers assert an +independent and invariable law in nature, in consequence of which +all rational beings must alike perceive beauty in some certain +proportions, and deformity in the contrary. And this necessity being +supposed the same with that which commands the assent or dissent of +the understanding, it follows, of course, that beauty is founded on +the universal and unchangeable law of truth. + +But others there are who believe beauty to be merely a relative and +arbitrary thing; that, indeed, it was a benevolent provision in +nature to annex so delightful a sensation to those objects which are +best and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be engaged to +the choice of them at once, and without staying to infer their +usefulness from their structure and effects; but that it is not +impossible, in a physical sense, that two beings, of equal +capacities for truth, should perceive, one of them beauty, and the +other deformity, in the same proportions. And upon this supposition, +by that truth which is always connected with beauty, nothing more +can be meant than the conformity of any object to those proportions +upon which, after careful examination, the beauty of that species is +found to depend. Polycletus, for instance, a famous ancient sculptor, +from an accurate mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect +human bodies, deduced a canon or system of proportions, which was +the rule of all succeeding artists. Suppose a statue modelled +according to this: a man of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, +without entering into its proportions, confesses and admires its +beauty; whereas a professor of the art applies his measures to the +head, the neck, or the hand, and, without attending to its beauty, +pronounces the workmanship to be just and true. + +[Footnote 1: This the Athenians did in a peculiar manner, by the +words [Greek: kalokagathus] and [Greek: kalokagathia].] + + +ENDNOTE G. + + '_As when Brutus rose_,' etc.--P. 18. + +Cicero himself describes this fact--'Cassare interfecto--statim +cruentum alte extollens M. Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim +exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus.' + --_Cic. Philipp_. ii. 12. + + +ENDNOTE H. + + '_Where Virtue rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom_,' etc.--P. 20. + +According to the opinion of those who assert moral obligation to be +founded on an immutable and universal law; and that which is usually +called the moral sense, to be determined by the peculiar temper of +the imagination and the earliest associations of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE I. + + '_Lyceum_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Aristotle. + + +ENDNOTE J. + + '_Academus_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Plato. + + +ENDNOTE K. + + '_Ilissus_.'--P. 21. + +One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. Plato, in some of +his finest dialogues, lays the scene of the conversation with +Socrates on its banks. + + * * * * * + + +BOOK SECOND. + + +ENDNOTE L + + '_At last the Muses rose_,' etc.--P. 22. + +About the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the third race of French +kings, the poets of Provence were in high reputation; a sort of +strolling bards or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes +and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with music and poetry. +They attempted both the epic, ode, and satire; and abounded in a +wild and fantastic vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly +founded on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These were the +rudiments of Italian poetry. But their taste and composition must +have been extremely barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed +the turn of their fable in much politer times; such as Boiardo, +Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, etc. + + +ENDNOTE M. + + '_Valclusa_.'--P. 22. + +The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the father of Italian +poetry, and his mistress, Laura, a lady of Avignon. + + +ENDNOTE N. + + '_Arno_.'--P. 22. + +The river which runs by Florence, the birth-place of Dante and +Boccaccio. + + +ENDNOTE O. + + '_Parthenope_.'--P. 23. + +Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The great Torquato Tasso was +born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples. + + +ENDNOTE P. + + '_The rage + Of dire ambition_,' etc.--P. 23. + +This relates to the cruel wars among the republics of Italy, and +abominable politics of its little princes, about the fifteenth +century. These, at last, in conjunction with the papal power, +entirely extinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and +established that abuse of the fine arts which has been since +propagated over all Europe. + + +ENDNOTE Q. + + '_Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts_,' etc.--P. 23. + +Nor were they only losers by the separation. For philosophy itself, +to use the words of a noble philosopher, 'being thus severed from +the sprightly arts and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, +insipid, pedantic, useless, and directly opposite to the real +knowledge and practice of the world.' Insomuch that 'a gentleman,' +says another excellent writer, 'cannot easily bring himself to like +so austere and ungainly a form: so greatly is it changed from what +was once the delight of the finest gentlemen of antiquity, and their +recreation after the hurry of public affairs! From this condition it +cannot be recovered but by uniting it once more with the works of +imagination; and we have had the pleasure of observing a very great +progress made towards their union in England within these few years. +It is hardly possible to conceive them at a greater distance from +each other than at the Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of +one party, and Dryden of the other. But the general spirit of liberty, +which has ever since been growing, naturally invited our men of wit +and genius to improve that influence which the arts of persuasion +gave them with the people, by applying them to subjects of +importance to society. Thus poetry and eloquence became considerable; +and philosophy is now, of course, obliged to borrow of their +embellishments, in order even to gain audience with the public. + + +ENDNOTE R. + + '_From passion's power alone_,' etc.--P. 26. + +This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which is often found in the +exercise of passions generally counted painful, has been taken +notice of by several authors. Lucretius resolves it into self-love:-- + + 'Suave mari magno,' etc., lib. ii. 1. + +As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the distress of a +tragedy, without a cool reflection that though these fictitious +personages were so unhappy, yet he himself was perfectly at ease and +in safety. The ingenious author of the _Reflections Critiques sur la +Poesie et sur la Peinture_ accounts for it by the general delight +which the mind takes in its own activity, and the abhorrence it +feels of an indolent and inattentive state: and this, joined with the +moral approbation of its own temper, which attends these emotions +when natural and just, is certainly the true foundation of the +pleasure, which, as it is the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, +deserved a very particular consideration in this poem. + + +ENDNOTE S. + + '_Inhabitant of earth_,' etc.--P. 31. + +The account of the economy of Providence here introduced, as the +most proper to calm and satisfy the mind when under the compunction +of private evils, seems to have come originally from the Pythagorean +school: but of the ancient philosophers, Plato has most largely +insisted upon it, has established it with all the strength of his +capacious understanding, and ennobled it with all the magnificence +of his divine imagination. He has one passage so full and clear on +this head, that I am persuaded the reader will be pleased to see it +here, though somewhat long. Addressing himself to such as are not +satisfied concerning divine Providence: 'The Being who presides over +the whole,' says he, 'has disposed and complicated all things for +the happiness and virtue of the whole, every part of which, +according to the extent of its influence, does and suffers what is +fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, O unhappy man, which +though in itself most inconsiderable and minute, yet being connected +with the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that supreme order. +You in the meantime are ignorant of the very end for which all +particular natures are brought into existence, that the +all-comprehending nature of the whole may be perfect and happy; +existing, as it does, not for your sake, but the cause and reason of +your existence, which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, +must of necessity concur with the general design of the artist, and +be subservient to the whole of which it is a part. Your complaint +therefore is ignorant and groundless; since, according to the +various energy of creation, and the common laws of nature, there is +a constant provision of that which is best at the same time for you +and for the whole.--For the governing intelligence clearly beholding +all the actions of animated and self-moving creatures, and that +mixture of good and evil which diversifies them, considered first of +all by what disposition of things, and by what situation of each +individual in the general system, vice might be depressed and subdued, +and virtue made secure of victory and happiness with the greatest +facility and in the highest degree possible. In this manner he +ordered through the entire circle of being, the internal +constitution of every mind, where should be its station in the +universal fabric, and through what variety of circumstances it +should proceed in the whole tenor of its existence.' He goes on in +his sublime manner to assert a future state of retribution, 'as well +for those who, by the exercise of good dispositions being harmonised +and assimilated into the divine virtue, are consequently removed to +a place of unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those who by +the most flagitious arts have risen from contemptible beginnings to +the greatest affluence and power, and whom you therefore look upon +as unanswerable instances of negligence in the gods, because you are +ignorant of the purposes to which they are subservient, and in what +manner they contribute to that supreme intention of good to the whole.' + --_Plato de Leg_. x. 16. + +This theory has been delivered of late, especially abroad, in a +manner which subverts the freedom of human actions; whereas Plato +appears very careful to preserve it, and has been in that respect +imitated by the best of his followers. + +ENDNOTE T. + + '_One might rise, + One order_,' etc.--P. 31. + +See the _Meditations_ of Antoninus and the _Characteristics_, passim. + +ENDNOTE U. + + '_The best and fairest_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion is so old, that Timaeus Locrus calls the Supreme Being +[Greek: demiourgos tou beltionos], the artificer of that which is +best; and represents him as resolving in the beginning to produce +the most excellent work, and as copying the world most exactly from +his own intelligible and essential idea; 'so that it yet remains, as +it was at first, perfect in beauty, and will never stand in need of +any correction or improvement.' There can be no room for a caution +here, to understand the expressions, not of any particular +circumstances of human life separately considered, but of the sum or +universal system of life and being. See also the vision at the end +of the _Theodicee_ of Leibnitz. + +ENDNOTE V. + + '_As flame ascends_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any of the ancients, is +yet a very natural consequence of his principles. But the +disquisition is too complex and extensive to be entered upon here. + +ENDNOTE W. + + '_Philip_.'--P. 44. + +The Macedonian. + + +BOOK THIRD. + +ENDNOTE X. + + '_Where the powers + Of Fancy_,' etc.--P. 46. + +The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life is one of +the most important points in moral philosophy. It were easy, by an +induction of facts, to prove that the imagination directs almost all +the passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance of action or +pleasure. Let any man, even of the coldest head and soberest industry, +analyse the idea of what he calls his interest; he will find that it +consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, and order, +variously combined into one system, the idol which he seeks to enjoy +by labour, hazard, and self-denial. It is, on this account, of the +last consequence to regulate these images by the standard of nature +and the general good; otherwise the imagination, by heightening some +objects beyond their real excellence and beauty, or by representing +others in a more odions or terrible shape than they deserve, may, of +course, engage us in pursuits utterly inconsistent with the moral +order of things. + +If it be objected that this account of things supposes the passions +to be merely accidental, whereas there appears in some a natural and +hereditary disposition to certain passions prior to all +circumstances of education or fortune, it may be answered, that +though no man is born ambitious or a miser, yet he may inherit from +his parents a peculiar temper or complexion of mind, which shall +render his imagination more liable to be struck with some particular +objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions of good and ill, +and entertain passions of a particular turn. Some men, for instance, +by the original frame of their minds, are more delighted with the +vast and magnificent, others, on the contrary, with the elegant and +gentle aspects of nature. And it is very remarkable, that the +disposition of the moral powers is always similar to this of the +imagination; that those who are most inclined to admire prodigious +and sublime objects in the physical world, are also most inclined to +applaud examples of fortitude and heroic virtue in the moral. While +those who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweetness of +colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail in like manner to yield +the preference to the softer scenes of virtue and the sympathies of +a domestic life. And this is sufficient to account for the objection. + +Among the ancient philosophers, though we have several hints +concerning this influence of the imagination upon morals among the +remains of the Socratic school, yet the Stoics were the first who +paid it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought it impossible +to preserve any tolerable regularity in life, without frequently +inspecting those pictures or appearances of things, which the +imagination offers to the mind (_Diog. Laert_. I. vii.) The +meditations of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, are +full of the same sentiment; insomuch that the latter makes the +[Greek: Chresis oia dei, fantasion], or right management of the +fancies, the only thing for which we are accountable to Providence, +and without which a man is no other than stupid or frantic (_Arrian_. +I. i. c. 12. and I. ii. c. 22). See also the _Characteristics_, +vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where this Stoical doctrine is embellished +with all the elegance and graces of Plato. + +ENDNOTE Y. + + '_How Folly's awkward arts_,' etc.--P. 47. + +Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule on private and +civil life, as well as on learning and the sciences, it has been +almost constantly neglected or misrepresented, by divines especially. +The manner of treating these subjects in the science of human nature, +should be precisely the same as in natural philosophy; from +particular facts to investigate the stated order in which they appear, +and then apply the general law, thus discovered, to the explication +of other appearances and the improvement of useful arts. + +ENDNOTE Z. + + '_Behold the foremost band_,' etc.--P. 48. + +The first and most general source of ridicule in the characters +of men, is vanity or self-applause for some desirable quality or +possession which evidently does not belong to those who assume it. + + +ENDNOTE AA. + + '_Then comes the second order_,' etc.--P, 49. + +Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the possession be real, +yet no merit can arise from it, because of some particular +circumstances, which, though obvious to the spectator, are yet +overlooked by the ridiculous character. + + +ENDNOTE BB. + + '_Another tribe succeeds_,' etc.--P. 50. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular objects +disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and inconsistent with the +order of nature. + + +ENDNOTE CC. + + '_But now, ye gay_,' etc.--P. 51. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the object is absolutely +odious or contemptible. This is the highest degree of the ridiculous; +as in the affectation of diseases or vices. + + +ENDNOTE DD. + + '_Thus far triumphant_,' etc.--P. 51 + +Ridicule from false shame or groundless fear. + + +ENDNOTE EE. + + '_Last of the motley bands_,' etc.--P. 52. + +Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our circumstances +require us to know. + + +ENDNOTE FF. + + '_Suffice it to have said_,' etc.--P. 52. + +By comparing these general sources of ridicule with each other, and +examining the ridiculous in other objects, we may obtain a general +definition of it, equally applicable to every species. The most +important circumstance of this definition is laid down in the lines +referred to; but others more minute we shall subjoin here. +Aristotle's account of the matter seems both imperfect and false. +[Greek: To ghar geloion], says he, [Greek: estin hamartaema ti kai +aischos]: 'The ridiculous is some certain fault or turpitude without +pain, and not destructive to its subject' (_Poet_. c. 5). For +allowing it to be true, as it is not, that the ridiculous is never +accompanied with pain, yet we might produce many instances of such a +fault or turpitude which cannot with any tolerable propriety be +called ridiculous. So that the definition does not distinguish the +thing designed. Nay, further, even when we perceive the turpitude +tending to the destruction of its subject, we may still be sensible +of a ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, and the +keener sensations of pity or terror banish the ludicrous +apprehension from our minds; for the sensation of ridicule is not a +bare perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, but a +passion or emotion of the mind consequential to that perception; so +that the mind may perceive the agreement or disagreement, and yet +not feel the ridiculous, because it is engrossed by a more violent +emotion. Thus it happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, +to which others cannot endure to apply the name, because in them +they excite a much intenser and more important feeling. And this +difference, among other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion +into this question. + +'That which makes objects ridiculous is some ground of admiration or +esteem connected with other more general circumstances comparatively +worthless or deformed; or it is some circumstance of turpitude or +deformity connected with what is in general excellent or beautiful: +the inconsistent properties existing either in the objects themselves, +or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate, belonging +always to the same order or class of being, implying sentiment or +design, and exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the heart.' + +To prove the several parts of this definition: 'The appearance of +excellence or beauty connected with a general condition +comparatively sordid or deformed' is ridiculous; for instance, +pompous pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly in the +Socrates of Aristophanes, and the ostentations of military glory +with cowardice and stupidity in the Thraso of Terence. + +'The appearance of deformity or turpitude in conjunction with what +is in general excellent or venerable,' is also ridiculous: for +instance, the personal weaknesses of a magistrate appearing in the +solemn and public functions of his station. + +'The incongruous properties may either exist in the objects +themselves, or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate:' +in the last--mentioned instance, they both exist in the objects; in +the instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of them is +objective and real, the other only founded in the apprehension of +the ridiculous character. + +'The inconsistent properties must belong to the same order or class +of being.' A coxcomb in fine clothes, bedaubed by accident in foul +weather, is a ridiculous object, because his general apprehension of +excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour and expense of +his dress. A man of sense and merit, in the same circumstances, is +not counted ridiculous, because the general ground of excellence and +esteem in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, of a +very different species. + +'Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or design.' A column +placed by an architect without a capital or base is laughed at: the +same column in a ruin causes a very different sensation. + +And lastly, 'the occurrence must excite no acute or vehement emotion +of the heart,' such as terror, pity, or indignation; for in that case, +as was observed above, the mind is not at leisure to contemplate the +ridiculous. Whether any appearance not ridiculous be involved in +this description, and whether it comprehend every species and form +of the ridiculous, must be determined by repeated applications of it +to particular instances. + + +ENDNOTE GG. + + _'Ask we for what fair end'_, etc.--P. 53. + +Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that we have a natural +sense or feeling of the ridiculous, and since so good a reason may +be assigned to justify the supreme Being for bestowing it, one cannot, +without astonishment, reflect on the conduct of those men who +imagine it is for the service of true religion to vilify and blacken +it without distinction, and endeavour to persuade us that it is +never applied but in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with +mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not in abstract +propositions or theorems, but in actions and passions, good and evil, +beauty and deformity, that we find materials for it; and all these +terms are relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask them +whether ridicule be a test of truth, is, in other words, to ask +whether that which is ridiculous can be morally true, can be just and +becoming; or whether that which is just and becoming can be +ridiculous?--a question that does not deserve a serious answer. For +it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical proposition offered +to the understanding for its assent, the faculty of reason examines +the terms of the proposition, and finding one idea, which was +supposed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of consequence +rejects the proposition as a falsehood; so, in objects offered to +the mind for its esteem or applause, the faculty of ridicule, +finding an incongruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it +with laughter and contempt. When, therefore, we observe such a claim +obtruded upon mankind, and the inconsistent circumstances carefully +concealed from the eye of the public, it is our business, if the +matter be of importance to society, to drag out those latent +circumstances, and, by setting them in full view, to convince the +world how ridiculous the claim is: and thus a double advantage is +gained; for we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the +way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds of men with a +stronger sense of the vanity and error of its authors. And this, and +no more, is meant by the application of ridicule. + +But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent +with the regard we owe to objects of real dignity and excellence. I +answer, the practice fairly managed can never be dangerous; men may +be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to the object, and +we may be inadvertent in allowing those circumstances to impose upon +us: but the sense of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of +Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever was drawn: +--true; but it is not the character of Socrates, the divine moralist +and father of ancient wisdom. What then? did the ridicule of the +poet hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaiming those +foreign circumstances which he had falsely introduced into his +character, and thus rendered the satirist doubly ridiculous in his +turn? No; but it nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of +the people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made many atheists: +he has founded it, indeed, on suppositions utterly false; but allow +him these, and his conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must +reject the use of ridicule, because, by the imposition of false +circumstances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which are not +so in themselves; why we ought not in the same manner to reject the +use of reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, +conclusions will appear true which are impossible in nature, let the +vehement and obstinate declaimers against ridicule determine. + + +ENDNOTE HH. + + _'The inexpressive semblance'_, etc.--P. 53. + +This similitude is the foundation of almost all the ornaments of +poetic diction. + + +ENDNOTE II. + + _'Two faithful needles'_, etc.--P. 55. + +See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo in the character of +Lucretius.-_Strada Prolus_. vi. _Academ_. 2. c. v. + + +ENDNOTE JJ. + + _'By these mysterious ties'_, etc.--P. 55. + +The act of remembering seems almost wholly to depend on the +association of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE KK. + + _'Into its proper vehicle'_, etc.--P. 57. + +This relates to the different sorts of corporeal mediums, by which +the ideas of the artists are rendered palpable to the senses: as by +sounds, in music; by lines and shadows, in painting; by diction, in +poetry, etc. + + +ENDNOTE LL. + + _'One pursues + The vast alone'_, etc.--P. 61. + +See the note to ver. 18 of this book. + + +ENDNOTE MM. + + _'Waller longs'_, etc.--P. 61. + + Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay + Under the plantane shade; and all the day + With amorous airs my fancy entertain, etc. + _WALLER, Battle of the Summer-Islands_, Canto I. + + And again, + While in the park I sing, the list'ning deer + Attend my passion, and forget to fear, etc. + At Pens-hurst. + +ENDNOTE NN. + + _'Not a breeze'_, etc.--P. 63. + +That this account may not appear rather poetically extravagant than +just in philosophy, it may be proper to produce the sentiment of one +of the greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head; one so little +to be suspected of partiality in the case, that he reckons it among +those favours for which he was especially thankful to the gods, that +they had not suffered him to make any great proficiency in the arts +of eloquence and poetry, lest by that means he should have been +diverted from pursuits of more importance to his high station. +Speaking of the beauty of universal nature, he observes, that there +'is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every object we perceive,' +when once we consider its connexion with that general order. He +instances in many things which at first sight would be thought +rather deformities; and then adds, 'that a man who enjoys a +sensibility of temper with a just comprehension of the universal +order--will discern many amiable things, not credible to every mind, +but to those alone who have entered into an honourable familiarity +with nature and her works.' + --_M. Antonin_. iii. 2. + + + + +THE + +PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + +A POEM. + +GENERAL ARGUMENT. + +The pleasures of the imagination proceed either from natural objects, +as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm +sea by moonlight; or from works of art, such as a noble edifice, a +musical tune, a statue, a picture, a poem. In treating of these +pleasures, we must begin with the former class; they being original +to the other; and nothing more being necessary, in order to explain +them, than a view of our natural inclination toward greatness and +beauty, and of those appearances, in the world around us, to which +that inclination is adapted. This is the subject of the first book +of the following poem. + +But the pleasures which we receive from the elegant arts, from music, +sculpture, painting, and poetry, are much more various and +complicated. In them (besides greatness and beauty, or forms proper +to the imagination) we find interwoven frequent representations of +truth, of virtue and vice, of circumstances proper to move us with +laughter, or to excite in us pity, fear, and the other passions. +These moral and intellectual objects are described in the second book; +to which the third properly belongs as an episode, though too large +to have been included in it. + +With the above-mentioned causes of pleasure, which are universal in +the course of human life, and appertain to our higher faculties, +many others do generally occur, more limited in their operation, or +of an inferior origin: such are the novelty of objects, the +association of ideas, affections of the bodily senses, influences of +education, national habits, and the like. To illustrate these, and +from the whole to determine the character of a perfect taste, is the +argument of the fourth book. + +Hitherto the pleasures of the imagination belong to the human +species in general. But there are certain particular men whose +imagination is endowed with powers, and susceptible of pleasures, +which the generality of mankind never participate. These are the men +of genius, destined by nature to excel in one or other of the arts +already mentioned. It is proposed, therefore, in the last place, to +delineate that genius which in some degree appears common to them all; +yet with a more peculiar consideration of poetry: inasmuch as poetry +is the most extensive of those arts, the most philosophical, and the +most useful. + + + + +BOOK I. 1757. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Dedication. The ideas of the Supreme Being, the +exemplars of all things. The variety of constitution in the minds of +men; with its final cause. The general character of a fine +imagination. All the immediate pleasures of the human imagination +proceed either from Greatness or Beauty in external objects. The +pleasure from Greatness; with its final cause. The natural connexion +of Beauty with truth [2] and good. The different orders of Beauty in +different objects. The infinite and all-comprehending form of Beauty, +which belongs to the Divine Mind. The partial and artificial forms +of Beauty, which belong to inferior intellectual beings. The origin +and general conduct of beauty in man. The subordination of local +beauties to the beauty of the Universe. Conclusion. + + With what enchantment Nature's goodly scene + Attracts the sense of mortals; how the mind + For its own eye doth objects nobler still + Prepare; how men by various lessons learn + To judge of Beauty's praise; what raptures fill + The breast with fancy's native arts endow'd, + And what true culture guides it to renown, + My verse unfolds. Ye gods, or godlike powers, + Ye guardians of the sacred task, attend + Propitious. Hand in hand around your bard 10 + Move in majestic measures, leading on + His doubtful step through many a solemn path, + Conscious of secrets which to human sight + Ye only can reveal. Be great in him: + And let your favour make him wise to speak + Of all your wondrous empire; with a voice + So temper'd to his theme, that those who hear + May yield perpetual homage to yourselves. + Thou chief, O daughter of eternal Love, + Whate'er thy name; or Muse, or Grace, adored 20 + By Grecian prophets; to the sons of Heaven + Known, while with deep amazement thou dost there + The perfect counsels read, the ideas old, + Of thine omniscient Father; known on earth + By the still horror and the blissful tear + With which thou seizest on the soul of man; + Thou chief, Poetic Spirit, from the banks + Of Avon, whence thy holy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present. And with thee 30 + Let Fiction come, on her aerial wings + Wafting ten thousand colours, which in sport, + By the light glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Whose awful tones control the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend, + And join this happy train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their mystic rites, + Wise Order: and, where Order deigns to come, 40 + Her sister, Liberty, will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + Of youthful bards the lonely wandering step + New to your springs and shades; who touch their ear + With finer sounds, and heighten to their eye + The pomp of nature, and before them place + The fairest, loftiest countenance of things. + + Nor thou, my Dyson, [3] to the lay refuse + Thy wonted partial audience. What though first, + In years unseason'd, haply ere the sports 50 + Of childhood yet were o'er, the adventurous lay + With many splendid prospects, many charms, + Allured my heart, nor conscious whence they sprung, + Nor heedful of their end? yet serious Truth + Her empire o'er the calm, sequester'd theme + Asserted soon; while Falsehood's evil brood, + Vice and deceitful Pleasure, she at once + Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil + Drew to the better cause. Maturer aid + Thy friendship added, in the paths of life, 60 + The busy paths, my unaccustom'd feet + Preserving: nor to Truth's recess divine, + Through this wide argument's unbeaten space, + Withholding surer guidance; while by turns + We traced the sages old, or while the queen + Of sciences (whom manners and the mind + Acknowledge) to my true companion's voice + Not unattentive, o'er the wintry lamp + Inclined her sceptre, favouring. Now the fates + Have other tasks imposed;--to thee, my friend, 70 + The ministry of freedom and the faith + Of popular decrees, in early youth, + Not vainly they committed; me they sent + To wait on pain, and silent arts to urge, + Inglorious; not ignoble, if my cares, + To such as languish on a grievous bed, + Ease and the sweet forgetfulness of ill + Conciliate; nor delightless, if the Muse, + Her shades to visit and to taste her springs, + If some distinguish'd hours the bounteous Muse 80 + Impart, and grant (what she, and she alone, + Can grant to mortals) that my hand those wreaths + Of fame and honest favour, which the bless'd + Wear in Elysium, and which never felt + The breath of envy or malignant tongues, + That these my hand for thee and for myself + May gather. Meanwhile, O my faithful friend, + O early chosen, ever found the same, + And trusted and beloved, once more the verse + Long destined, always obvious to thine ear, 90 + Attend, indulgent: so in latest years, + When time thy head with honours shall have clothed + Sacred to even virtue, may thy mind, + Amid the calm review of seasons past, + Fair offices of friendship, or kind peace, + Or public zeal, may then thy mind well pleased + Recall these happy studies of our prime. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the chosen breast, + And beauty with poetic wonder join'd, 100 + And inspiration. Ere the rising sun + Shone o'er the deep, or 'mid the vault of night + The moon her silver lamp suspended; ere + The vales with springs were water'd, or with groves + Of oak or pine the ancient hills were crown'd; + Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore, + Within his own deep essence view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things: + The radiant sun; the moon's nocturnal lamp; + The mountains and the streams; the ample stores 110 + Of earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first, + On that full scene his love divine he fix'd, + His admiration: till, in time complete, + What he admired and loved his vital power + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame: + Hence the green earth, and wild-resounding waves: + Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold; + And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. 120 + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For while the claims + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wisest care + Hath Nature on the multitude of minds + Impress'd a various bias, and to each + Decreed its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave 130 + To search the story of eternal thought; + Of space, and time; of fate's unbroken chain, + And will's quick movement; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue dwells in every vein + Of herbs or trees. But some to nobler hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds, + In fuller aspects and with fairer lights, 140 + This picture of the world. Through every part + They trace the lofty sketches of his hand; + In earth, or air, the meadow's flowery store, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's mien + Dress'd in attractive smiles, they see portray'd + (As far as mortal eyes the portrait scan) + Those lineaments of beauty which delight + The Mind Supreme. They also feel their force, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 150 + Through fabling Egypt, at the genial touch + Of morning, from its inmost frame sent forth + Spontaneous music, so doth Nature's hand, + To certain attributes which matter claims, + Adapt the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of those kindred powers + (Of form, of colour's cheerful pomp, of sound + Melodious, or of motion aptly sped), + Detains the enliven'd sense; till soon the soul + Feels the deep concord, and assents through all 160 + Her functions. Then the charm by fate prepared + Diffuseth its enchantment Fancy dreams, + Rapt into high discourse with prophets old, + And wandering through Elysium, Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains, of o'ershadowing groves, + Whose walks with godlike harmony resound: + Fountains, which Homer visits; happy groves, + Where Milton dwells; the intellectual power, + On the mind's throne, suspends his graver cares, + And smiles; the passions, to divine repose 170 + Persuaded yield, and love and joy alone + Are waking: love and joy, such as await + An angel's meditation. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art whom these delights can touch; + Whom Nature's aspect, Nature's simple garb + Can thus command; oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her blissful walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her gracious features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of the world's ancient store, 180 + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected scenes, + With love and admiration thus inspire + Attentive Fancy, her delighted sons + In two illustrious orders comprehend, + Self-taught: from him whose rustic toil the lark + Cheers warbling, to the bard whose daring thoughts + Range the full orb of being, still the form, + Which Fancy worships, or sublime or fair, + Her votaries proclaim. I see them dawn: + I see the radiant visions where they rise, 190 + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His glittering forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the Spring. + + Say, why was man so eminently raised + Amid the vast creation; why empower'd + Through life and death to dart his watchful eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth, + In sight of angels and immortal minds, + As on an ample theatre to join 200 + In contest with his equals, who shall best + The task achieve, the course of noble toils, + By wisdom and by mercy preordain'd? + Might send him forth the sovereign good to learn; + To chase each meaner purpose from his breast; + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the pelting storms of chance and pain, + To hold straight on, with constant heart and eye + Still fix'd upon his everlasting palm, + The approving smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns 210 + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That seeks from day to day sublimer ends, + Happy, though restless? Why departs the soul + Wide from the track and journey of her times, + To grasp the good she knows not? In the field + Of things which may be, in the spacious field + Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms, + To raise up scenes in which her own desires + Contented may repose; when things, which are, + Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale: 220 + Her temper, still demanding to be free; + Spurning the rude control of wilful might; + Proud of her dangers braved, her griefs endured, + Her strength severely proved? To these high aims, + Which reason and affection prompt in man, + Not adverse nor unapt hath Nature framed + His bold imagination. For, amid + The various forms which this full world presents + Like rivals to his choice, what human breast + E'er doubts, before the transient and minute, 230 + To prize the vast, the stable, the sublime? + Who, that from heights aerial sends his eye + Around a wild horizon, and surveys + Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave + Through mountains, plains, through spacious cities old, + And regions dark with woods, will turn away + To mark the path of some penurious rill + Which murmureth at his feet? Where does the soul + Consent her soaring fancy to restrain, + Which bears her up, as on an eagle's wings, 240 + Destined for highest heaven; or which of fate's + Tremendous barriers shall confine her flight + To any humbler quarry? The rich earth + Cannot detain her; nor the ambient air + With all its changes. For a while with joy + She hovers o'er the sun, and views the small + Attendant orbs, beneath his sacred beam, + Emerging from the deep, like cluster'd isles + Whose rocky shores to the glad sailor's eye + Reflect the gleams of morning; for a while 250 + With pride she sees his firm, paternal sway + Bend the reluctant planets to move each + Round its perpetual year. But soon she quits + That prospect; meditating loftier views, + She darts adventurous up the long career + Of comets; through the constellations holds + Her course, and now looks back on all the stars + Whose blended flames as with a milky stream + Part the blue region. Empyrean tracts, + Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven 260 + Abide, she then explores, whence purer light + For countless ages travels through the abyss, + Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived. + Upon the wide creation's utmost shore + At length she stands, and the dread space beyond + Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless, down + The gloomy void, astonish'd, yet unquell'd, + She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulf + Where God alone hath being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth 270 + Of human kind, the Sovereign Maker said + That not in humble, nor in brief delight, + Not in the fleeting echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find contentment; but, from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, + Till every bound at length should disappear, + And infinite perfection fill the scene. + + But lo, where Beauty, dress'd in gentler pomp, 280 + With comely steps advancing, claims the verse + Her charms inspire. O Beauty, source of praise, + Of honour, even to mute and lifeless things; + O thou that kindlest in each human heart + Love, and the wish of poets, when their tongue + Would teach to other bosoms what so charms + Their own; O child of Nature and the soul, + In happiest hour brought forth; the doubtful garb + Of words, of earthly language, all too mean, + Too lowly I account, in which to clothe 290 + Thy form divine; for thee the mind alone + Beholds, nor half thy brightness can reveal + Through those dim organs, whose corporeal touch + O'ershadoweth thy pure essence. Yet, my Muse, + If Fortune call thee to the task, wait thou + Thy favourable seasons; then, while fear + And doubt are absent, through wide nature's bounds + Expatiate with glad step, and choose at will + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300 + To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise, + And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend + Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles + Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime, + Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on, + And learn from him; while, as he roves around, + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, + The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot + Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell, + Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310 + In purple lights, till every hillock glows + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou that Thessalian landscape trace, + Where slow Peneus his clear glassy tide + Draws smooth along, between the winding cliffs + Of Ossa and the pathless woods unshorn + That wave o'er huge Olympus? Down the stream, + Look how the mountains with their double range + Embrace the vale of Tempe: from each side + Ascending steep to heaven, a rocky mound 320 + Cover'd with ivy and the laurel boughs + That crown'd young Phoebus for the Python slain. + Fair Tempe! on whose primrose banks the morn + Awoke most fragrant, and the noon reposed + In pomp of lights and shadows most sublime: + Whose lawns, whose glades, ere human footsteps yet + Had traced an entrance, were the hallow'd haunt + Of sylvan powers immortal: where they sate + Oft in the golden age, the Nymphs and Fauns, + Beneath some arbour branching o'er the flood, 330 + And leaning round hung on the instructive lips + Of hoary Pan, or o'er some open dale + Danced in light measures to his sevenfold pipe, + While Zephyr's wanton hand along their path + Flung showers of painted blossoms, fertile dews, + And one perpetual spring. But if our task + More lofty rites demand, with all good vows + Then let us hasten to the rural haunt + Where young Melissa dwells. Nor thou refuse + The voice which calls thee from thy loved retreat, 340 + But hither, gentle maid, thy footsteps turn: + Here, to thy own unquestionable theme, + O fair, O graceful, bend thy polish'd brow, + Assenting; and the gladness of thy eyes + Impart to me, like morning's wished light + Seen through the vernal air. By yonder stream, + Where beech and elm along the bordering mead + Send forth wild melody from every bough, + Together let us wander; where the hills + Cover'd with fleeces to the lowing vale 350 + Reply; where tidings of content and peace + Each echo brings. Lo, how the western sun + O'er fields and floods, o'er every living soul, + Diffuseth glad repose! There,--while I speak + Of Beauty's honours, thou, Melissa, thou + Shalt hearken, not unconscious, while I tell + How first from Heaven she came: how, after all + The works of life, the elemental scenes, + The hours, the seasons, she had oft explored, + At length her favourite mansion and her throne 360 + She fix'd in woman's form; what pleasing ties + To virtue bind her; what effectual aid + They lend each other's power; and how divine + Their union, should some unambitious maid, + To all the enchantment of the Idalian queen, + Add sanctity and wisdom; while my tongue + Prolongs the tale, Melissa, thou may'st feign + To wonder whence my rapture is inspired; + But soon the smile which dawns upon thy lip + Shall tell it, and the tenderer bloom o'er all 370 + That soft cheek springing to the marble neck, + Which bends aside in vain, revealing more + What it would thus keep silent, and in vain + The sense of praise dissembling. Then my song + Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform + With joy and love the rugged breast of man, + Should sound in numbers worthy such a theme: + While all whose souls have ever felt the force + Of those enchanting passions, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, and receive once more 380 + Their influence, unobscured by any cloud + Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand + Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm + Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn + To join his dictates to the genuine strain + Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear + Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band + Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish + And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene + Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured 390 + By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. + I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat, + Presenting Superstition's gloomy form, + To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth, + And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song + With happier omens calls you to the field, 400 + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know), + Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use + And aptitude are strangers? is her praise + Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And win each fond admirer into snares, + Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence 410 + The general mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + Thus, to the choice of credulous desire, + Doth objects the completest of their tribe + Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank + Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring, + Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask + The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill + Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock, + Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn 420 + And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool + With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine + Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage + Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl + Report of her, as of the swelling grape + Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem + When first it meets the sun. Or what are all + The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd? + Are they not pledges of a state entire, + Where native order reigns, with every part 430 + In health, and every function well perform'd? + + Thus, then, at first was Beauty sent from Heaven, + The lovely ministress of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one; + And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth, would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore with a rash and greedy aim + Seek ye to rove through every flattering scene + Which Beauty seems to deck, nor once inquire 440 + Where is the suffrage of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly? Wanting these, + Lo, Beauty withers in your void embrace; + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor yet let hope, + That kindliest inmate of the youthful breast, + Be hence appall'd, be turn'd to coward sloth + Sitting in silence, with dejected eyes + Incurious and with folded hands; far less 450 + Let scorn of wild fantastic folly's dreams, + Or hatred of the bigot's savage pride + Persuade you e'er that Beauty, or the love + Which waits on Beauty, may not brook to hear + The sacred lore of undeceitful Good + And Truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd + Though Superstition, tyranness abhorr'd, + The reverence due to this majestic pair + With threats and execration still demands; + Though the tame wretch, who asks of her the way 460 + To their celestial dwelling, she constrains + To quench or set at nought the lamp of God + Within his frame; through many a cheerless wild + Though forth she leads him credulous and dark + And awed with dubious notion; though at length + Haply she plunge him into cloister'd cells + And mansions unrelenting as the grave, + But void of quiet, there to watch the hours + Of midnight; there, amid the screaming owl's + Dire song, with spectres or with guilty shades 470 + To talk of pangs and everlasting woe; + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Presides o'er your adventure. From the bower + Where Wisdom sat with her Athenian sons, + Could but my happy hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then (for what need of cruel fear to you, + To you whom godlike love can well command?), + Then should my powerful voice at once dispel + Those monkish horrors; should in words divine 480 + Relate how favour'd minds like you inspired, + And taught their inspiration to conduct + By ruling Heaven's decree, through various walks + And prospects various, but delightful all, + Move onward; while now myrtle groves appear, + Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods + Of empire with the curule throne, or now + The domes of contemplation and the Muse. + + Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye + Through the fair toils and ornaments of earth 490 + Discerns the nobler life reserved for heaven, + Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh! let not us + By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh! let not us one moment pause to join + That chosen band. And if the gracious Power, + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 500 + Will to my invocation grant anew + The tuneful spirit, then through all our paths + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead + When Summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of Luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge free Virtue's steps, and to her side + Summon that strong divinity of soul + Which conquers Chance and Fate: or on the height, 510 + The goal assign'd her, haply to proclaim + Her triumph; on her brow to place the crown + Of uncorrupted praise; through future worlds + To follow her interminated way, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Such is the worth of Beauty; such her power, + So blameless, so revered. It now remains, + In just gradation through the various ranks + Of being, to contemplate how her gifts + Rise in due measure, watchful to attend 520 + The steps of rising Nature. Last and least, + In colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the forms + Of simplest, easiest measure; in the bounds + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + To symmetry adds colour: thus the pearl + Shines in the concave of its purple bed, + And painted shells along some winding shore + Catch with indented folds the glancing sun. + Next, as we rise, appear the blooming tribes 530 + Which clothe the fragrant earth; which draw from her + Their own nutrition; which are born and die, + Yet, in their seed, immortal; such the flowers + With which young Maia pays the village maids + That hail her natal morn; and such the groves + Which blithe Pomona rears on Vaga's bank, + To feed the bowl of Ariconian swains + Who quaff beneath her branches. Nobler still + Is Beauty's name where, to the full consent + Of members and of features, to the pride 540 + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given, + While active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed + With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp + Adorns the seat where Virtue dwells on earth, + And Truth's eternal day-light shines around, + What palm belongs to man's imperial front, 550 + And woman powerful with becoming smiles, + Chief of terrestrial natures, need we now + Strive to inculcate? Thus hath Beauty there + Her most conspicuous praise to matter lent, + Where most conspicuous through that shadowy veil + Breaks forth the bright expression of a mind, + By steps directing our enraptured search + To Him, the first of minds; the chief; the sole; + From whom, through this wide, complicated world, + Did all her various lineaments begin; 560 + To whom alone, consenting and entire, + At once their mutual influence all display. + He, God most high (bear witness, Earth and Heaven), + The living fountains in himself contains + Of beauteous and sublime; with him enthroned + Ere days or years trod their ethereal way, + In his supreme intelligence enthroned, + The queen of love holds her unclouded state, + Urania. Thee, O Father! this extent + Of matter; thee the sluggish earth and tract 570 + Of seas, the heavens and heavenly splendours feel + Pervading, quickening, moving. From the depth + Of thy great essence, forth didst thou conduct + Eternal Form: and there, where Chaos reign'd, + Gav'st her dominion to erect her seat, + And sanctify the mansion. All her works + Well pleased thou didst behold: the gloomy fires + Of storm or earthquake, and the purest light + Of summer; soft Campania's new-born rose, + And the slow weed which pines on Russian hills 580 + Comely alike to thy full vision stand: + To thy surrounding vision, which unites + All essences and powers of the great world + In one sole order, fair alike they stand, + As features well consenting, and alike + Required by Nature ere she could attain + Her just resemblance to the perfect shape + Of universal Beauty, which with thee + Dwelt from the first. Thou also, ancient Mind, + Whom love and free beneficence await 590 + In all thy doings; to inferior minds, + Thy offspring, and to man, thy youngest son, + Refusing no convenient gift nor good; + Their eyes didst open, in this earth, yon heaven, + Those starry worlds, the countenance divine + Of Beauty to behold. But not to them + Didst thou her awful magnitude reveal + Such as before thine own unbounded sight + She stands (for never shall created soul + Conceive that object), nor, to all their kinds, 600 + The same in shape or features didst thou frame + Her image. Measuring well their different spheres + Of sense and action, thy paternal hand + Hath for each race prepared a different test + Of Beauty, own'd and reverenced as their guide + Most apt, most faithful. Thence inform'd, they scan + The objects that surround them; and select, + Since the great whole disclaims their scanty view, + Each for himself selects peculiar parts + Of Nature; what the standard fix'd by Heaven 610 + Within his breast approves, acquiring thus + A partial Beauty, which becomes his lot; + A Beauty which his eye may comprehend, + His hand may copy, leaving, O Supreme, + O thou whom none hath utter'd, leaving all + To thee that infinite, consummate form, + Which the great powers, the gods around thy throne + And nearest to thy counsels, know with thee + For ever to have been; but who she is, + Or what her likeness, know not. Man surveys 620 + A narrower scene, where, by the mix'd effect + Of things corporeal on his passive mind, + He judgeth what is fair. Corporeal things + The mind of man impel with various powers, + And various features to his eye disclose. + The powers which move his sense with instant joy, + The features which attract his heart to love, + He marks, combines, reposits. Other powers + And features of the self-same thing (unless + The beauteous form, the creature of his mind, 630 + Request their close alliance) he o'erlooks + Forgotten; or with self-beguiling zeal, + Whene'er his passions mingle in the work, + Half alters, half disowns. The tribes of men + Thus from their different functions and the shapes + Familiar to their eye, with art obtain, + Unconscious of their purpose, yet with art + Obtain the Beauty fitting man to love; + Whose proud desires from Nature's homely toil + Oft turn away, fastidious, asking still 640 + His mind's high aid, to purify the form + From matter's gross communion; to secure + For ever, from the meddling hand of Change + Or rude Decay, her features; and to add + Whatever ornaments may suit her mien, + Where'er he finds them scatter'd through the paths + Of Nature or of Fortune. Then he seats + The accomplish'd image deep within his breast, + Reviews it, and accounts it good and fair. + + Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, 650 + The universal Venus, far beyond + The keenest effort of created eyes, + And their most wide horizon, dwells enthroned + In ancient silence. At her footstool stands + An altar burning with eternal fire + Unsullied, unconsumed. Here every hour, + Here every moment, in their turns arrive + Her offspring; an innumerable band + Of sisters, comely all! but differing far + In age, in stature, and expressive mien, 660 + More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. + To this maternal shrine in turns they come, + Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source + Of living flame, which here immortal flows, + Their portions of its lustre they may draw + For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; + As their great parent's discipline requires. + Then to their several mansions they depart, + In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores + Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, 670 + Even on the surface of this rolling earth, + How many make abode? The fields, the groves, + The winding rivers and the azure main, + Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, + Their rites sublime. There each her destined home + Informs with that pure radiance from the skies + Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere, + Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night + Turn toward a distant flame, so some fit eye, + Among the various tenants of the scene, 680 + Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, + And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, + Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, + Bears witness with its people, gods and men, + To Beauty's blissful power, and with the voice + Of grateful admiration still resounds: + That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine + As is the cunning of the master's hand + To the sweet accent of the well-tuned lyre. + + Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps 690 + Have led us to these awful solitudes + Of Nature and of Science; nurse revered + Of generous counsels and heroic deeds; + Oh! let some portion of thy matchless praise + Dwell in my breast, and teach me to adorn + This unattempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + Which Hesper sheds along the vernal heaven, + If I, from vulgar Superstition's walk, + Impatient steal, and from the unseemly rites 700 + Of splendid Adulation, to attend + With hymns thy presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps unprofaned. + Come, O renowned power; thy glowing mien + Such, and so elevated all thy form, + As when the great barbaric lord, again + And yet again diminish'd, hid his face + Among the herd of satraps and of kings; + And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear, + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 710 + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of Arts, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy unconquer'd youth, + After some glorious day rejoicing round + Their new-erected trophy. Guide my feet + Through fair Lyceum's walk, the olive shades + Of Academus, and the sacred vale + Haunted by steps divine, where once, beneath + That ever living platane's ample boughs, + Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain'd, 720 + On his neglected urn attentive lay; + While Boreas, lingering on the neighbouring steep + With beauteous Orithyia, his love tale + In silent awe suspended. There let me + With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields, + Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn + My native clime; while, far beyond the meed + Of Fancy's toil aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom; while I add + (What cannot be disjoin'd from Beauty's praise) 730 + Thy name and native dress, thy works beloved + And honour'd; while to my compatriot youth + I point the great example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + +[Footnote 2: Truth is here taken, not in a logical, but in a mixed +and popular sense, or for what has been called the truth of things; +denoting as well their natural and regular condition, as a proper +estimate or judgment concerning them.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Dyson:' see _Life_.] + + + + +BOOK II. 1765. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Introduction to this more difficult part of the subject. Of Truth +and its three classes, matter of fact, experimental or scientifical +truth (contra-distinguished from opinion), and universal truth; +which last is either metaphysical or geometrical, either purely +intellectual or perfectly abstracted. On the power of discerning +truth depends that of acting with the view of an end; a circumstance +essential to virtue. Of Virtue, considered in the divine mind as a +perpetual and universal beneficence. Of human virtue, considered as +a system of particular sentiments and actions, suitable to the +design of Providence and the condition of man; to whom it +constitutes the chief good and the first beauty. Of Vice, and its +origin. Of Ridicule: its general nature and final cause. Of the +Passions; particularly of those which relate to evil natural or moral, +and which are generally accounted painful, though not always +unattended with pleasure. + + + Thus far of Beauty and the pleasing forms + Which man's untutor'd fancy, from the scenes + Imperfect of this ever changing world, + Creates; and views, enarnour'd. Now my song + Severer themes demand: mysterious Truth; + And Virtue, sovereign good: the spells, the trains, + The progeny of Error; the dread sway + Of Passion; and whatever hidden stores + From her own lofty deeds and from herself + The mind acquires. Severer argument: 10 + Not less attractive; nor deserving less + A constant ear. For what are all the forms + Educed by fancy from corporeal things, + Greatness, or pomp, or symmetry of parts? + Not tending to the heart, soon feeble grows, + As the blunt arrow 'gainst the knotty trunk, + Their impulse on the sense: while the pall'd eye + Expects in vain its tribute; asks in vain, + Where are the ornaments it once admired? + Not so the moral species, nor the powers 20 + Of Passion and of Thought. The ambitious mind + With objects boundless as her own desires + Can there converse: by these unfading forms + Touch'd and awaken'd still, with eager act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her gifts, her godlike fortune. Such the scenes + Now opening round us. May the destined verse + Maintain its equal tenor, though in tracts + Obscure and arduous! May the source of light, + All-present, all-sufficient, guide our steps 30 + Through every maze! and whom, in childish years, + From the loud throng, the beaten paths of wealth + And power, thou didst apart send forth to speak + In tuneful words concerning highest things, + Him still do thou, O Father, at those hours + Of pensive freedom, when the human soul + Shuts out the rumour of the world, him still + Touch thou with secret lessons; call thou back + Each erring thought; and let the yielding strains + From his full bosom, like a welcome rill 40 + Spontaneous from its healthy fountain, flow! + + But from what name, what favourable sign, + What heavenly auspice, rather shall I date + My perilous excursion, than from Truth, + That nearest inmate of the human soul; + Estranged from whom, the countenance divine + Of man, disfigured and dishonour'd, sinks + Among inferior things? For to the brutes + Perception and the transient boons of sense + Hath Fate imparted; but to man alone 50 + Of sublunary beings was it given. + Each fleeting impulse on the sensual powers + At leisure to review; with equal eye + To scan the passion of the stricken nerve, + Or the vague object striking; to conduct + From sense, the portal turbulent and loud, + Into the mind's wide palace one by one + The frequent, pressing, fluctuating forms, + And question and compare them. Thus he learns + Their birth and fortunes; how allied they haunt 60 + The avenues of sense; what laws direct + Their union; and what various discords rise, + Or fixed, or casual; which when his clear thought + Retains and when his faithful words express, + That living image of the external scene, + As in a polish'd mirror held to view, + Is Truth; where'er it varies from the shape + And hue of its exemplar, in that part + Dim Error lurks. Moreover, from without + When oft the same society of forms 70 + In the same order have approach'd his mind, + He deigns no more their steps with curious heed + To trace; no more their features or their garb + He now examines; but of them and their + Condition, as with some diviner's tongue, + Affirms what Heaven in every distant place, + Through every future season, will decree. + This too is Truth; where'er his prudent lips + Wait till experience diligent and slow + Has authorised their sentence, this is Truth; 80 + A second, higher kind: the parent this + Of Science; or the lofty power herself, + Science herself, on whom the wants and cares + Of social life depend; the substitute + Of God's own wisdom in this toilsome world; + The providence of man. Yet oft in vain, + To earn her aid, with fix'd and anxious eye + He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's course: + Too much in vain. His duller visual ray + The stillness and the persevering acts 90 + Of Nature oft elude; and Fortune oft + With step fantastic from her wonted walk + Turns into mazes dim; his sight is foil'd; + And the crude sentence of his faltering tongue + Is but opinion's verdict, half believed, + And prone to change. Here thou, who feel'st thine ear + Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone, + Pause, and be watchful. Hitherto the stores, + Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, + Partake the relish of their native soil, 100 + Their parent earth. But know, a nobler dower + Her Sire at birth decreed her; purer gifts + From his own treasure; forms which never deign'd + In eyes or ears to dwell, within the sense + Of earthly organs; but sublime were placed + In his essential reason, leading there + That vast ideal host which all his works + Through endless ages never will reveal. + Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, + The slave of hunger and the prey of death, 110 + Even now, even here, in earth's dim prison bound, + The language of intelligence divine + Attains; repeating oft concerning one + And many, past and present, parts and whole, + Those sovereign dictates which in furthest heaven, + Where no orb rolls, Eternity's fix'd ear + Hears from coeval Truth, when Chance nor Change, + Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's self + Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. + Ere long, o'er this corporeal world he learns 120 + To extend her sway; while calling from the deep, + From earth and air, their multitudes untold + Of figures and of motions round his walk, + For each wide family some single birth + He sets in view, the impartial type of all + Its brethren; suffering it to claim, beyond + Their common heritage, no private gift, + No proper fortune. Then whate'er his eye + In this discerns, his bold unerring tongue + Pronounceth of the kindred, without bound, 130 + Without condition. Such the rise of forms + Sequester'd far from sense and every spot + Peculiar in the realms of space or time; + Such is the throne which man for Truth amid + The paths of mutability hath built + Secure, unshaken, still; and whence he views, + In matter's mouldering structures, the pure forms + Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, + Impassive all; whose attributes nor force + Nor fate can alter. There he first conceives 140 + True being, and an intellectual world + The same this hour and ever. Thence he deems + Of his own lot; above the painted shapes + That fleeting move o'er this terrestrial scene + Looks up; beyond the adamantine gates + Of death expatiates; as his birthright claims + Inheritance in all the works of God; + Prepares for endless time his plan of life, + And counts the universe itself his home. + + Whence also but from Truth, the light of minds, 150 + Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays + Of Virtue? with the moral colours thrown + On every walk of this our social scene, + Adorning for the eye of gods and men + The passions, actions, habitudes of life, + And rendering earth like heaven, a sacred place + Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell? + Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin + The reign of Virtue. Ere the dayspring flow'd, + Like sisters link'd in Concord's golden chain, 160 + They stood before the great Eternal Mind, + Their common parent, and by him were both + Sent forth among his creatures, hand in hand, + Inseparably join'd; nor e'er did Truth + Find an apt ear to listen to her lore, + Which knew not Virtue's voice; nor, save where Truth's + Majestic words are heard and understood, + Doth Virtue deign to inhabit. Go, inquire + Of Nature; not among Tartarian rocks, + Whither the hungry vulture with its prey 170 + Returns; not where the lion's sullen roar + At noon resounds along the lonely banks + Of ancient Tigris; but her gentler scenes, + The dovecote and the shepherd's fold at morn, + Consult; or by the meadow's fragrant hedge, + In spring-time when the woodlands first are green, + Attend the linnet singing to his mate + Couch'd o'er their tender young. To this fond care + Thou dost not Virtue's honourable name + Attribute; wherefore, save that not one gleam 180 + Of Truth did e'er discover to themselves + Their little hearts, or teach them, by the effects + Of that parental love, the love itself + To judge, and measure its officious deeds? + But man, whose eyelids Truth has fill'd with day, + Discerns how skilfully to bounteous ends + His wise affections move; with free accord + Adopts their guidance; yields himself secure + To Nature's prudent impulse; and converts + Instinct to duty and to sacred law. 190 + Hence Right and Fit on earth; while thus to man + The Almighty Legislator hath explain'd + The springs of action fix'd within his breast; + Hath given him power to slacken or restrain + Their effort; and hath shewn him how they join + Their partial movements with the master-wheel + Of the great world, and serve that sacred end + Which he, the unerring reason, keeps in view. + + For (if a mortal tongue may speak of him + And his dread ways) even as his boundless eye, 200 + Connecting every form and every change, + Beholds the perfect Beauty; so his will, + Through every hour producing good to all + The family of creatures, is itself + The perfect Virtue. Let the grateful swain + Remember this, as oft with joy and praise + He looks upon the falling dews which clothe + His lawns with verdure, and the tender seed + Nourish within his furrows; when between + Dead seas and burning skies, where long unmoved 210 + The bark had languish'd, now a rustling gale + Lifts o'er the fickle waves her dancing prow, + Let the glad pilot, bursting out in thanks, + Remember this; lest blind o'erweening pride + Pollute their offerings; lest their selfish heart + Say to the heavenly ruler, 'At our call + Relents thy power; by us thy arm is moved.' + Fools! who of God as of each other deem; + Who his invariable acts deduce + From sudden counsels transient as their own; 220 + Nor further of his bounty, than the event + Which haply meets their loud and eager prayer, + Acknowledge; nor, beyond the drop minute + Which haply they have tasted, heed the source + That flows for all; the fountain of his love + Which, from the summit where he sits enthroned, + Pours health and joy, unfailing streams, throughout + The spacious region flourishing in view, + The goodly work of his eternal day, + His own fair universe; on which alone 230 + His counsels fix, and whence alone his will + Assumes her strong direction. Such is now + His sovereign purpose; such it was before + All multitude of years. For his right arm + Was never idle; his bestowing love + Knew no beginning; was not as a change + Of mood that woke at last and started up + After a deep and solitary sloth + Of boundless ages. No; he now is good, + He ever was. The feet of hoary Time 240 + Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er + No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes + Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp + Of worlds, for gladness round the Maker's throne + Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects + Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence + The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd + Were all the dates of being, so disposed + To every living soul of every kind + The field of motion and the hour of rest, 250 + That each the general happiness might serve; + And, by the discipline of laws divine + Convinced of folly or chastised from guilt, + Each might at length be happy. What remains + Shall be like what is past; but fairer still, + And still increasing in the godlike gifts + Of Life and Truth. The same paternal hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + Will ever lead the generations on 260 + Through higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day by his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, + As vapours to the earth in showers return, + As the poised ocean towards the attracting moon + Swells, and the ever-listening planets, charm'd + By the sun's call, their onward pace incline, + So all things which have life aspire to God, + Exhaustless fount of intellectual day! 270 + Centre of souls! Nor doth the mastering voice + Of Nature cease within to prompt aright + Their steps; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From sending to the toil external aid; + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine. + + But this eternal fabric was not raised + For man's inspection. Though to some be given + To catch a transient visionary glimpse 280 + Of that majestic scene which boundless power + Prepares for perfect goodness, yet in vain + Would human life her faculties expand + To embosom such an object. Nor could e'er + Virtue or praise have touch'd the hearts of men, + Had not the Sovereign Guide, through every stage + Of this their various journey, pointed out + New hopes, new toils, which, to their humble sphere + Of sight and strength, might such importance hold + As doth the wide creation to his own. 290 + Hence all the little charities of life, + With all their duties; hence that favourite palm + Of human will, when duty is sufficed, + And still the liberal soul in ampler deeds + Would manifest herself; that sacred sign + Of her revered affinity to Him + Whose bounties are his own; to whom none said, + 'Create the wisest, fullest, fairest world, + And make its offspring happy;' who, intent + Some likeness of Himself among his works 300 + To view, hath pour'd into the human breast + A ray of knowledge and of love, which guides + Earth's feeble race to act their Maker's part, + Self-judging, self-obliged; while, from before + That godlike function, the gigantic power + Necessity, though wont to curb the force + Of Chaos and the savage elements, + Retires abash'd, as from a scene too high + For her brute tyranny, and with her bears + Her scorned followers, Terror, and base Awe 310 + Who blinds herself, and that ill-suited pair, + Obedience link'd with Hatred. Then the soul + Arises in her strength; and, looking round + Her busy sphere, whatever work she views, + Whatever counsel bearing any trace + Of her Creator's likeness, whether apt + To aid her fellows or preserve herself + In her superior functions unimpair'd, + Thither she turns exulting: that she claims + As her peculiar good: on that, through all 320 + The fickle seasons of the day, she looks + With reverence still: to that, as to a fence + Against affliction and the darts of pain, + Her drooping hopes repair--and, once opposed + To that, all other pleasure, other wealth, + Vile, as the dross upon the molten gold, + Appears, and loathsome as the briny sea + To him who languishes with thirst, and sighs + For some known fountain pure. For what can strive + With Virtue? Which of Nature's regions vast 330 + Can in so many forms produce to sight + Such powerful Beauty? Beauty, which the eye + Of Hatred cannot look upon secure: + Which Envy's self contemplates, and is turn'd + Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, + Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + The Summer's noontide groves, the purple eve + At harvest-home, or in the frosty moon + Glittering on some smooth sea; is aught so fair 340 + As virtuous friendship? as the honour'd roof + Whither, from highest heaven, immortal Love + His torch ethereal and his golden bow + Propitious brings, and there a temple holds + To whose unspotted service gladly vow'd + The social band of parent, brother, child, + With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds + Adore his power? What gift of richest clime + E'er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such + Deep wishes, as the zeal that snatcheth back 350 + From Slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown; + Or crosseth Danger in his lion walk, + A rival's life to rescue? as the young + Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, + That his great father's body might not want + A peaceful, humble tomb? the Roman wife + Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound + Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, + Who nothing more could threaten to afflict + Their faithful love? Or is there in the abyss, 360 + Is there, among the adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, + Aught that with half such majesty can fill + The human bosom, as when Brutus rose + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword + Of justice in his rapt astonish'd eye, 370 + And bade the father of his country hail, + For lo, the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free? Thus, through the paths + Of human life, in various pomp array'd + Walks the wise daughter of the judge of heaven, + Fair Virtue; from her father's throne supreme + Sent down to utter laws, such as on earth + Most apt he knew, most powerful to promote + The weal of all his works, the gracious end + Of his dread empire. And, though haply man's 380 + Obscurer sight, so far beyond himself + And the brief labours of his little home, + Extends not; yet, by the bright presence won + Of this divine instructress, to her sway + Pleased he assents, nor heeds the distant goal. + To which her voice conducts him. Thus hath God, + Still looking toward his own high purpose, fix'd + The virtues of his creatures; thus he rules + The parent's fondness and the patriot's zeal; + Thus the warm sense of honour and of shame; 390 + The vows of gratitude, the faith of love; + And all the comely intercourse of praise, + The joy of human life, the earthly heaven! + + How far unlike them must the lot of guilt + Be found! Or what terrestrial woe can match + The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought + The bane of others, or enslaved itself + With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, + Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate + Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, 400 + Were at that season an unwish'd exchange, + When the soul loathes herself; when, flying thence + To crowds, on every brow she sees portray'd + Pell demons, Hate or Scorn, which drive her back + To solitude, her judge's voice divine + To hear in secret, haply sounding through + The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still + Demanding for his violated laws + Fit recompense, or charging her own tongue + To speak the award of justice on herself. 410 + For well she knows what faithful hints within + Were whisper'd, to beware the lying forms + Which turn'd her footsteps from the safer way, + What cautions to suspect their painted dress, + And look with steady eyelid on their smiles, + Their frowns, their tears. In vain; the dazzling hues + Of Fancy, and Opinion's eager voice, + Too much prevail'd. For mortals tread the path + In which Opinion says they follow good + Or fly from evil; and Opinion gives 420 + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, pleasing or deform'd; + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye + With glaring colours and distorted lines. + Is there a man to whom the name of death + Brings terror's ghastly pageants conjured up + Before him, death-bed groans, and dismal vows, + And the frail soul plunged headlong from the brink + Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, 430 + An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire + Unvisited by mercy? Then what hand + Can snatch this dreamer from the fatal toils + Which Fancy and Opinion thus conspire + To twine around his heart? Or who shall hush + Their clamour, when they tell him that to die, + To risk those horrors, is a direr curse + Than basest life can bring? Though Love with prayers + Most tender, with affliction's sacred tears, + Beseech his aid; though Gratitude and Faith 440 + Condemn each step which loiters; yet let none + Make answer for him that if any frown + Of Danger thwart his path, he will not stay + Content, and be a wretch to be secure. + Here Vice begins then: at the gate of life, + Ere the young multitude to diverse roads + Part, like fond pilgrims on a journey unknown, + Sits Fancy, deep enchantress; and to each + With kind maternal looks presents her bowl, + A potent beverage. Heedless they comply, 450 + Till the whole soul from that mysterious draught + Is tinged, and every transient thought imbibes + Of gladness or disgust, desire or fear, + One homebred colour, which not all the lights + Of Science e'er shall change; not all the storms + Of adverse Fortune wash away, nor yet + The robe of purest Virtue quite conceal. + Thence on they pass, where, meeting frequent shapes + Of good and evil, cunning phantoms apt + To fire or freeze the breast, with them they join 460 + In dangerous parley; listening oft, and oft + Gazing with reckless passion, while its garb + The spectre heightens, and its pompous tale + Repeats, with some new circumstance to suit + That early tincture of the hearer's soul. + And should the guardian, Reason, but for one + Short moment yield to this illusive scene + His ear and eye, the intoxicating charm + Involves him, till no longer he discerns, + Or only guides to err. Then revel forth 470 + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Hence Ambition climbs + With sliding feet and hands impure, to grasp + Those solemn toys which glitter in his view + On Fortune's rugged steep; hence pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; Rapine hence + And envious Lust, by venal fraud upborne, + Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws + Which kept them from their prey; hence all the crimes + That e'er defiled the earth, and all the plagues 480 + That follow them for vengeance, in the guise + Of Honour, Safety, Pleasure, Ease, or Pomp, + Stole first into the fond believing mind. + + Yet not by Fancy's witchcraft on the brain + Are always the tumultuous passions driven + To guilty deeds, nor Reason bound in chains + That Vice alone may lord it. Oft, adorn'd + With motley pageants, Folly mounts his throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears: a thousand ways 490 + She whirls her giddy empire. Lo, thus far + With bold adventure to the Mantuan lyre + I sing for contemplation link'd with love, + A pensive theme. Now haply should my song + Unbend that serious countenance, and learn + Thalia's tripping gait, her shrill-toned voice, + Her wiles familiar: whether scorn she darts + In wanton ambush from her lip or eye, + Or whether, with a sad disguise of care + O'ermantling her gay brow, she acts in sport 500 + The deeds of Folly, and from all sides round + Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + Her province. But through every comic scene + To lead my Muse with her light pencil arm'd; + Through every swift occasion which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her labouring sides and chokes her tongue, + Were endless as to sound each grating note + With which the rooks, and chattering daws, and grave + Unwieldy inmates of the village pond, 510 + The changing seasons of the sky proclaim; + Sun, cloud, or shower. Suffice it to have said, + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on her quick perception: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty be dragg'd in and shewn + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity is wont to dwell; + Or whether these with shrewd and wayward spite 520 + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + Ask we for what fair end the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms stirs this gay contempt, + These grateful pangs of laughter; from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + Wild Folly's aims? For, though the sober light + Of Truth slow dawning on the watchful mind 530 + At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil; yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears + To thousands, conscious what a scanty pause + From labour and from care the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature, therefore stamp'd + These glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious to the passing clown 540 + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + But other evils o'er the steps of man + Through all his walks impend; against whose might + The slender darts of Laughter nought avail: + A trivial warfare. Some, like cruel guards, + On Nature's ever-moving throne attend; + With mischief arm'd for him whoe'er shall thwart + The path of her inexorable wheels, + While she pursues the work that must be done + Through ocean, earth, and air. Hence, frequent forms 550 + Of woe; the merchant, with his wealthy bark, + Buried by dashing waves; the traveller, + Pierced by the pointed lightning in his haste; + And the poor husbandman, with folded arms, + Surveying his lost labours, and a heap + Of blasted chaff the product of the field + Whence he expected bread. But worse than these, + I deem far worse, that other race of ills + Which human kind rear up among themselves; + That horrid offspring which misgovern'd Will 560 + Bears to fantastic Error; vices, crimes, + Furies that curse the earth, and make the blows, + The heaviest blows, of Nature's innocent hand + Seem sport: which are indeed but as the care + Of a wise parent, who solicits good + To all her house, though haply at the price + Of tears and froward wailing and reproach + From some unthinking child, whom not the less + Its mother destines to be happy still. + + These sources then of pain, this double lot 570 + Of evil in the inheritance of man, + Required for his protection no slight force, + No careless watch; and therefore was his breast + Fenced round with passions quick to be alarm'd, + Or stubborn to oppose; with Fear, more swift + Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill, + Where armies land: with Anger, uncontroll'd + As the young lion bounding on his prey; + With Sorrow, that locks up the struggling heart; + And Shame, that overcasts the drooping eye 580 + As with a cloud of lightning. These the part + Perform of eager monitors, and goad + The soul more sharply than with points of steel, + Her enemies to shun or to resist. + And as those passions, that converse with good, + Are good themselves; as Hope and Love and Joy, + Among the fairest and the sweetest boons + Of life, we rightly count: so these, which guard + Against invading evil, still excite + Some pain, some tumult; these, within the mind 590 + Too oft admitted or too long retain'd, + Shock their frail seat, and by their uncurb'd rage + To savages more fell than Libya breeds + Transform themselves, till human thought becomes + A gloomy ruin, haunt of shapes unbless'd, + Of self-tormenting fiends; Horror, Despair, + Hatred, and wicked Envy: foes to all + The works of Nature and the gifts of Heaven. + + But when through blameless paths to righteous ends + Those keener passions urge the awaken'd soul, 600 + I would not, as ungracious violence, + Their sway describe, nor from their free career + The fellowship of Pleasure quite exclude. + For what can render, to the self-approved, + Their temper void of comfort, though in pain? + Who knows not with what majesty divine + The forms of Truth and Justice to the mind + Appear, ennobling oft the sharpest woe + With triumph and rejoicing? Who, that bears + A human bosom, hath not often felt 610 + How dear are all those ties which bind our race + In gentleness together, and how sweet + Their force, let Fortune's wayward hand the while + Be kind or cruel? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps, silent and unseen, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 620 + Those sacred hours when, stealing from the noise + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd, + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while holy Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; 630 + While every mother closer to her breast + Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down. Oh! deemest thou indeed + No pleasing influence here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No tender charm mysterious, which attracts 640 + O'er all that edge of pain the social powers + To this their proper action and their end? + Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, + Slow through that pensive gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The reverend volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame + For Grecian heroes, where the sovereign Power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father meditating all 650 + The praises of his son, and bids the rest + Of mankind there the fairest model learn + Of their own nature, and the noblest deeds + Which yet the world hath seen. If then thy soul + Join in the lot of those diviner men; + Say, when the prospect darkens on thy view; + When, sunk by many a wound, heroic states + Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown + Of hard Ambition; when the generous band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires 660 + Lie side by side in death; when brutal Force + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of guardian power, the majesty of rule, + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To poor dishonest pageants, to adorn + A robber's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when beauteous works, + Rewards of virtue, sculptured forms which deck'd + With more than human grace the warrior's arch, + Or patriot's tomb, now victims to appease 670 + Tyrannic envy, strew the common path + With awful ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Havoc from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer stroke + To mow the monuments of Glory down; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 680 + Expands her raven wings, and, from the gate + Where senates once the weal of nations plann'd, + Hisseth the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column: thus when all + The widely-mournful scene is fix'd within + Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; 690 + Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd + Of silent flatterers bending to his nod; + And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye, + And says within himself, 'I am a King, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?' The dregs corrupt + Of barbarous ages, that Circaean draught 700 + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the Eternal Ruler of the world! + Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd + The native judgment of the human soul, + Nor so effaced the image of her Sire. + + + + +BOOK III. 1770. + + + What tongue then may explain the various fate + Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes + Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth + Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man + Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind + From passions, wants, and envy far estranged, + Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd + Each part so richly with whate'er pertains + To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he + The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 + The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, + While the poor inmate looks around and smiles + Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? + Hard is the question, and from ancient days + Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; + Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre + Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er + Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light + Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, + Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 + What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes + And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, + Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, + Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know. + Could I the speech of lawgivers assume, + One old and splendid tale I would record, + With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains + Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all + Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, + Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 + Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, + Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height + Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice + Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; + Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join + In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed + Minerva's eager people to his laws, + Which their own goddess in his breast inspired? + + 'Twas now the time when his heroic task + Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 + Of flattering service, the fond multitude + Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath + Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, + Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, + Even from his birth, to every powerful art + Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips + Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, + Could steal away suspicion from the hearts + Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day + He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 + Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd + Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, + As one less kindly treated, who had hoped + To merit favour, but submits perforce + To find another's services preferr'd, + Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. + Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, + Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd + Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, + His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 + And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, + He burst into the public place, as there, + There only, were his refuge; and declared + In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, + The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. + Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, + To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, + Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, + Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, + And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 + The generous people! Now behold him fenced + By mercenary weapons, like a king, + Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve + To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp + Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, + And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, + And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. + Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; + Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, + Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 + Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, + His train increased; till, at that fatal time + Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame + Startled, began to question what it saw, + Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice + Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd + The rocky citadel with hostile arms, + Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within + Amid his hirelings, meditating death + To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 + Where then was Solon? After ten long years + Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, + The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: + Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that + Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd + To Liberty and Concord, now profaned + By savage hate, or sunk into a den + Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, + And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. + Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 + His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined + One moment with such woman-like distress + To view the transient storms of civil war, + As thence to yield his country and her hopes + To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, + Even while the traitor's impious act is told, + He buckles on his hoary head; he girds + With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear + He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides + The assembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 + It was no time for counsel; in their spears + Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet + Was not so firmly seated on his throne, + But that one shock of their united force + Would dash him from the summit of his pride, + Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else + Can reassert the lost Athenian name, + So cheaply to the laughter of the world + Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith + So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 + And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; + Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, + And through the walks of Danger or of Death + Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all + Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye + He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard + Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen + Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust + Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down + Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 + From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime + Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, + Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last + A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, + O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, + Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd + Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!' + No more he added; but with lonely steps + Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, + And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 + Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd. + There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man + Whom from the service of the war his chief + Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, + He fix'd in general view. One wishful look + He sent, unconscious, toward the public place + At parting; then beneath his quiet roof + Without a word, without a sigh, retired. + Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays + From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 + Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores, + When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet + Of four Athenians, by the same sad care + Conducted all, than whom the state beheld + None nobler. First came Megacles, the son + Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, + The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days + Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, + Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs + And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 + Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well + That hospitable favour which erewhile + Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, + Whom he, with offerings worthy of the god, + Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere + Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles + Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, + The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand + Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far + In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 + From arms controll'd by justice, from the love + Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath + Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once + His warlike steeds the hero led, and there + Contended through the tumult of the course + With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, + Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, + High on his car he stood and waved his arm. + Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice + Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 + Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, + To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, + The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, + Within the circuit of the following year, + To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand + With his fair daughter, him among the guests + Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all + The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: + From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian shore, + Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge 190 + Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes + Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race + Of great Achilles governs, glorying still + In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse + Of men who first among the Greeks threw off + The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms + Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, + Where flows Peneus near the lofty walls + Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen + Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 + On the steep margin of Euripus, views + Across the tide the Marathonian plain, + Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, + Minerva's care, among her graceful sons + Found equal lovers for the princely maid: + Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes + Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves + That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft + Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious band + Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 + In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. + His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, + Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate + Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm + Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd + When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, + And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart + Throbb'd full of bursting passions, anger, grief + With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy + Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, 220 + Are destined for his country and himself + In riper years to bring forth fruits divine + Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd + Two brave companions, whom one mother bore + To different lords; but whom the better ties + Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more + Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew + From godlike AEacus his ancient line; + That AEacus whose unimpeach'd renown + For sanctity and justice won the lyre 230 + Of elder bards to celebrate him throned + In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees + The guilty soul within the burning gates + Of Tartarus compel, or send the good + To inhabit with eternal health and peace + The valleys of Elysium. From a stem + So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring + Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long + The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, + Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 + Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore + To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth + Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect + With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now + Save for his injured country, here he stands + In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: + Unconscious both what widely different lots + Await them, taught by nature as they are + To know one common good, one common ill. + For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 + Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts + Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; + No, not the Olympic olive, by himself + From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind + Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve + From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, + And their assassin dagger. But if death + Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, + Yet fate an ample recompense prepares + In his victorious son, that other great 260 + Miltiades, who o'er the very throne + Of Glory shall with Time's assiduous hand + In adamantine characters engrave + The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd + 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, + Shall all the achievements of the heroes old + Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd + From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought + For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy. + + Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 + Of Solon had assembled. But the gate + Now opens, and across the ample floor + Straight they proceed into an open space + Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, + Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods + Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, + Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found + Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd + With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. + He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 + Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd + Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; + Calling meantime the Muses to accept + His simple offering, by no victim tinged + With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, + But such as for himself Apollo claims + In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt + Is thence the Altar of the Pious named. + + Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd + That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 + Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay + A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd + Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, + As loath that care or tumult should approach + Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, + So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such + Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce + To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' + He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? + Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 + Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause + Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might + Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove + Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, + As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, + From impious violation to assert + The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! + What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld + The Athenian people. Many bitter days + Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 + Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room + For just resentment, or their hands indure + To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all + Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. + That time will come, however. Be it yours + To watch its fair approach, and urge it on + With honest prudence; me it ill beseems + Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd + To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold + That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 + They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge + In counsels deep and various, nor prepare + For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread + On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades + Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold + What care employs me now. My vows I pay + To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth + And solace of my age. If right I deem + Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, + The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 + Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues + With sacred silence favour what I speak, + And haply shall my faithful lips be taught + To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, + As with impenetrable steel your breasts, + For the long strife before you, and repel + The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd + The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, + Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before + The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 + Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light + Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised + Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:-- + + 'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove + And Memory divine, Pierian maids, + Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, + When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, + To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps + Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate + My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 + Of flowing harmony to soften war's + Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm + The public eye, to clothe the form austere + Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, + Neglected, and supplanted of the hope + On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, + To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved + Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach + The visions of my bed whate'er the gods + In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 + Or the first heroes acted; ye can make + The morning light more gladsome to my sense + Than ever it appear'd to active youth + Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give + To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, + A labour as sublime, as when the sons + Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, + To hear pronounced for all their future deeds + The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers! + I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 + To meet your energy divine, I bring + A high and sacred theme; not less than those + Which to the eternal custody of Fame + Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd + With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent + The groves of Haemus or the Chian shore. + + 'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all + My various life was e'er from you estranged?) + Oft hath my solitary song to you + Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 + To willing exile; earnest to withdraw + From envy and the disappointed thirst + Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, + Which in the eye of Athens they upheld + Against her legislator, should impair + With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. + To Egypt therefore through the AEgean isles + My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile + Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes + Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 + I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, + Through many changing moons, attentive heard + The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue + At morn or midnight the deep story told + Of her who represents whate'er has been, + Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil + No mortal hand hath ever yet removed. + By him exhorted, southward to the walls + Of On I pass'd, the city of the sun, + The ever-youthful god. Twas there, amid 400 + His priests and sages, who the livelong night + Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, + Or who in wondrous fables half disclose + The secrets of the elements, 'twas there + That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears + The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, + And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd. + Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale; + And often, while I listen'd, did my mind + Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 + Should sometime for an Attic audience raise + Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs + Call forth those ancient demigods, to speak + Of Justice and the hidden Providence + That walks among mankind. But yet meantime + The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons + Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed + On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, + To which the double yoke of king and priest + Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 + Invoking our own Pallas and the gods + Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave + To Egypt, and before the southern wind + Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, + What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm + Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian shore, + The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now + Consent that I reveal. But when at length + Ten times the sun returning from the south + Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 + The groves with music, pleased I then beheld + The term of those long errors drawing nigh. + Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within + The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod + The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts + Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth + As from their ancient home, and still to Greece + Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim. + Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, + Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 + Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, + I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps + The city of Minos enter'd. O ye gods, + Who taught the leaders of the simpler time + By written words to curb the untoward will + Of mortals, how within that generous isle + Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd + Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords + Of traffic and the sea, with what delight + I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 + Of the same household, join the plainer sort + Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these + Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, + Alike was strange; but noble concord still + Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, + Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, + How pleasing to behold them in their schools, + Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, + O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye. + Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 + Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns + Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve + Their country's heroes from oblivious night, + Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; + There, on the verge of manhood, others met, + In heavy armour through the heats of noon + To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb + With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow + To send resistless arrows to their mark, + Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 + Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, + Now with the biting falchion, and the fence + Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute + Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains + Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite + To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. + Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, + So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war + Each bold invader, and in peace to guard + That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 + Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood + Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, + Could quench or slacken. First of human names + In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; + And holiest far, of what the sun surveys + Through his whole course, were those primeval seats + Which with religious footsteps he had taught + Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave + Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads + Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where 490 + His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne + Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came + Each ninth returning year, the king of gods + And mortals there in secret to consult + On justice, and the tables of his law + To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal + Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates + Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane + Built on that sacred spot, along the banks + Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 + And his majestic consort join'd their hands + And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there + That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds + I first received; what time an annual feast + Had summon'd all the genial country round, + By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind + That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths + And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, + Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke + The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 + Of strangers from those naval cities drawn + Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore, + A merchant of AEgina I descried, + My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung + To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, + Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest," + He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites + Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: + Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne." + He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 + Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct + I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold + And my eyes dim; the altars and their train + No more were present to me; how I fared, + Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall + Aught of those moments, other than the sense + Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, + And, from the toils of some distressful dream + To break away, with palpitating heart, + Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 + Makes many a painful effort. When at last + The sun and nature's face again appear'd, + Not far I found me, where the public path, + Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, + From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends. + Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts + Of Ida rose before me, and the vault + Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side. + Entering within the threshold, on the ground + I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK + OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770. + + One effort more, one cheerful sally more, + Our destined course will finish; and in peace + Then, for an offering sacred to the powers + Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then + Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, + O my adventurous song! With steady speed + Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, + Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, + Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts + Of Passion and Opinion; like a waste 10 + Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, + Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now + Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, + Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, + If haply the discourses of the gods, + A curious, but an unpresuming guest, + Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain + Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, + And apt to be conceived of man below. + A different task remains; the secret paths 20 + Of early genius to explore: to trace + Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, + Like to the demigods of old, doth nurse + Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls + Who now her tender discipline obey, + Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve + Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon + Use ye to visit, often breaking forth + In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, + Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 + Would I again were with you!-O ye dales + Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, + Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, + And his banks open, and his lawns extend, + Stops short the pleased traveller to view + Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower + Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: + O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook + The rocky pavement and the mossy falls + Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 + How gladly I recall your well-known seats + Beloved of old, and that delightful time + When all alone, for many a summer's day, + I wander'd through your calm recesses, led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen. + + Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er + The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice + Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim + Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn + Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 + For every future year: whence even now + From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, + And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd + In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts + Of honourable fame, of truth divine + Or moral, and of minds to virtue won + By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; + The themes which now expect us. For thus far + On general habits, and on arts which grow + Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 + Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, + Though seldom conscious of their own employ, + In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene + Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire + Those forms set up, as idols in the soul + For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, + In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie + These pleasing stores, unless the casual force + Of things external prompt the heedless mind + To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 + Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man + O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves + Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance + And momentary passion, can at will + Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; + Review their features; scan the secret laws + Which bind them to each other: and display + By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense + Of all the world their latent charms display; + Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 + If such a word, so bold, may from the lips + Of man proceed) as in this outward frame + Of things, the great Artificer portrays + His own immense idea. Various names + These among mortals bear, as various signs + They use, and by peculiar organs speak + To human sense. There are who, by the flight + Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, + Or by extended chords in measure taught + To vibrate, can assemble powerful sounds 90 + Expressing every temper of the mind + From every cause, and charming all the soul + With passion void of care. Others mean time + The rugged mass of metal, wood, or stone, + Patiently taming; or with easier hand + Describing lines, and with more ample scope + Uniting colours; can to general sight + Produce those permanent and perfect forms, + Those characters of heroes and of gods, + Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 + Their own high minds created. But the chief + Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth + To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves + With language and with numbers. Hence to these + A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; + Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts + Of human wit, and vast as the demands + Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, + Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, + To every organ of the copious mind, 110 + He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, + The seasons him obey, and changeful Time + Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, + At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, + He summoneth, from the uttermost extent + Of things which God hath taught him, every form + Auxiliar, every power; and all beside + Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand + Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense + And every stately function of the soul. 120 + The soul itself to him obsequious lies, + Like matter's passive heap; and as he wills, + To reason and affection he assigns + Their just alliances, their just degrees: + Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race + Of men who people his delightful world, + Men genuine and according to themselves, + Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, + As earth itself to his delightful world, + The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130 + + + * * * * * + + + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS. + +BOOK I. + + + +ODE I. + +PREFACE. + + 1 Off yonder verdant hillock laid, + Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, + O'erlook the falling stream, + O master of the Latin lyre, + A while with thee will I retire + From summer's noontide beam. + + 2 And, lo, within my lonely bower, + The industrious bee from many a flower + Collects her balmy dews: + 'For me,' she sings, 'the gems are born, + For me their silken robe adorn, + Their fragrant breath diffuse.' + + 3 Sweet murmurer! may no rude storm + This hospitable scene deform, + Nor check thy gladsome toils; + Still may the buds unsullied spring, + Still showers and sunshine court thy wing + To these ambrosial spoils. + + 4 Nor shall my Muse hereafter fail + Her fellow labourer thee to hail; + And lucky be the strains! + For long ago did Nature frame + Your seasons and your arts the same, + Your pleasures and your pains. + + 5 Like thee, in lowly, sylvan scenes, + On river banks and flowery greens, + My Muse delighted plays; + Nor through the desert of the air, + Though swans or eagles triumph there, + With fond ambition strays. + + 6 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, + Nor near the owl's unhallow'd haunts + Will she her cares employ; + But flies from ruins and from tombs, + From Superstition's horrid glooms, + To day-light and to joy. + + 7 Nor will she tempt the barren waste; + Nor deigns the lurking strength to taste + Of any noxious thing; + But leaves with scorn to Envy's use + The insipid nightshade's baneful juice, + The nettle's sordid sting. + + 8 From all which Nature fairest knows, + The vernal blooms, the summer rose, + She draws her blameless wealth; + And, when the generous task is done, + She consecrates a double boon, + To Pleasure and to Health. + + + +ODE II. + +ON THE WINTER-SOLSTICE. 1740. + + 1 The radiant ruler of the year + At length his wintry goal attains; + Soon to reverse the long career, + And northward bend his steady reins. + Now, piercing half Potosi's height, + Prone rush the fiery floods of light + Ripening the mountain's silver stores: + While, in some cavern's horrid shade, + The panting Indian hides his head, + And oft the approach of eve implores. + + 2 But lo, on this deserted coast, + How pale the sun! how thick the air! + Mustering his storms, a sordid host, + Lo, Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their latest bloom; + No more the breezes waft perfume, + No more the streams in music roll: + But snows fall dark, or rains resound; + And, while great Nature mourns around, + Her griefs infect the human soul. + + 3 Hence the loud city's busy throngs + Urge the warm bowl and splendid fire: + Harmonious dances, festive songs, + Against the spiteful heaven conspire. + Meantime, perhaps, with tender fears + Some village dame the curfew hears, + While round the hearth her children play: + At morn their father went abroad; + The moon is sunk, and deep the road; + She sighs, and vonders at his stay. + + 4 But thou, my lyre, awake, arise, + And hail the sun's returning force: + Even now he climbs the northern skies, + And health and hope attend his course. + Then louder howl the aerial waste, + Be earth with keener cold embraced, + Yet gentle hours advance their wing; + And Fancy, mocking Winter's might, + With flowers and dews and streaming light + Already decks the new-born Spring. + + 5 O fountain of the golden day, + Could mortal vows promote thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each hovering tempest fly, + Whose stores for mischief arm the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + Or, thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 6 But let not man's unequal views + Presume o'er Nature and her laws: + 'Tis his with grateful joy to use + The indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that health and beauty springs + Through this majestic frame of things, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that Heaven's all-subduing will, + With good, the progeny of ill, + Attempereth every state below. + + 7 How pleasing wears the wintry night, + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful scenes to tread + Where chiefs or legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + In arms and antique pomp array'd; + While now I taste the Ionian song, + Now bend to Plato's godlike tongue + Resounding through the olive shade. + + 8 But should some cheerful, equal friend + Bid leave the studious page a while. + Let mirth on wisdom then attend, + And social ease on learned toil. + Then while, at love's uncareful shrine, + Each dictates to the god of wine + Her name whom all his hopes obey, + What flattering dreams each bosom warm, + While absence, heightening every charm, + Invokes the slow-returning May! + + 9 May, thou delight of heaven and earth, + When will thy genial star arise? + The auspicious morn, which gives thee birth, + Shall bring Eudora to my eyes. + Within her sylvan haunt, behold, + As in the happy garden old, + She moves like that primeval fair: + Thither, ye silver-sounding lyres, + Ye tender smiles, ye chaste desires, + Fond hope and mutual faith, repair. + + 10 And if believing love can read + His better omens in her eye, + Then shall my fears, O charming maid, + And every pain of absence die: + Then shall my jocund harp, attuned + To thy true ear, with sweeter sound + Pursue the free Horatian song: + Old Tyne shall listen to my tale, + And Echo, down the bordering vale, + The liquid melody prolong. + + + +FOR THE WINTER SOLSTICE, DECEMBER 11, 1740. + AS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN. + + 1 Now to the utmost southern goal + The sun has traced his annual way, + And backward now prepares to roll, + And bless the north with earlier day. + Prone on Potosi's lofty brow + Floods of sublimer splendour flow, + Ripening the latent seeds of gold, + Whilst, panting in the lonely shade, + Th' afflicted Indian hides his head, + Nor dares the blaze of noon behold. + + 2 But lo! on this deserted coast + How faint the light, how chill the air! + Lo! arm'd with whirlwind, hail, and frost, + Fierce Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their cheerful bloom, + No more the breezes breathe perfume, + No more the warbling waters roll; + Deserts of snow fatigue the eye, + Successive tempests bloat the sky, + And gloomy damps oppress the soul. + + 3 But let my drooping genius rise, + And hail the sun's remotest ray: + Now, now he climbs the northern skies, + To-morrow nearer than to-day. + Then louder howl the stormy waste, + Be land and ocean worse defaced, + Yet brighter hours are on the wing, + And Fancy, through the wintry gloom, + Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom, + Already hails th' emerging spring. + + 4 O fountain of the golden day! + Could mortal vows but urge thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each tempest hovering fly, + That now fermenting loads the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + And thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 5 But let not man's imperfect views + Presume to tax wise Nature's laws; + 'Tis his with silent joy to use + Th' indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that from the whole of things + Beauty and good consummate springs, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that the providence of Heaven + Has some peculiar blessing given + To each allotted state below. + + 6 Even now how sweet the wintry night + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful courts to tread, + Where chiefs and legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + With every laurel fresh display'd; + While charm'd I rove in classic song, + Or bend to freedom's fearless tongue, + Or walk the academic shade. + + + +ODE III. + +TO A FRIEND, UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE. + + 1 Indeed, my Phaedria, if to find + That wealth can female wishes gain, + Had e'er disturb'd your thoughtful mind, + Or caused one serious moment's pain, + I should have said that all the rules + You learn'd of moralists and schools + Were very useless, very vain. + + 2 Yet I perhaps mistake the case-- + Say, though with this heroic air, + Like one that holds a nobler chase, + You try the tender loss to bear, + Does not your heart renounce your tongue? + Seems not my censure strangely wrong + To count it such a slight affair? + + 3 When Hesper gilds the shaded sky, + Oft as you seek the well-known grove, + Methinks I see you cast your eye + Back to the morning scenes of love: + Each pleasing word you heard her say, + Her gentle look, her graceful way, + Again your struggling fancy move. + + 4 Then tell me, is your soul entire? + Does Wisdom calmly hold her throne? + Then can you question each desire, + Bid this remain, and that be gone? + No tear half-starting from your eye? + No kindling blush, you know not why? + No stealing sigh, nor stifled groan? + + 5 Away with this unmanly mood! + See where the hoary churl appears, + Whose hand hath seized the favourite good + Which you reserved for happier years: + While, side by side, the blushing maid + Shrinks from his visage, half afraid, + Spite of the sickly joy she wears. + + 6 Ye guardian powers of love and fame, + This chaste, harmonious pair behold; + And thus reward the generous flame + Of all who barter vows for gold. + O bloom of youth, O tender charms + Well-buried in a dotard's arms! + O equal price of beauty sold! + + 7 Cease then to gaze with looks of love: + Bid her adieu, the venal fair: + Unworthy she your bliss to prove; + Then wherefore should she prove your care? + No: lay your myrtle garland down; + And let a while the willow's crown + With luckier omens bind your hair. + + 8 O just escaped the faithless main, + Though driven unwilling on the land; + To guide your favour'd steps again, + Behold your better Genius stand: + Where Truth revolves her page divine, + Where Virtue leads to Honour's shrine, + Behold, he lifts his awful hand. + + 9 Fix but on these your ruling aim, + And Time, the sire of manly care, + Will fancy's dazzling colours tame; + A soberer dress will beauty wear: + Then shall esteem, by knowledge led, + Enthrone within your heart and head + Some happier love, some truer fair. + + + + +ODE IV. + +AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE. TO THE SAME. + + + 1 Yes: you contemn the perjured maid + Who all your favourite hopes betray'd: + Nor, though her heart should home return, + Her tuneful tongue its falsehood mourn, + Her winning eyes your faith implore, + Would you her hand receive again, + Or once dissemble your disdain, + Or listen to the siren's theme, + Or stoop to love: since now esteem + And confidence, and friendship, is no more. + + 2 Yet tell me, Phaedria, tell me why, + When, summoning your pride, you try + To meet her looks with cool neglect, + Or cross her walk with slight respect + (For so is falsehood best repaid), + Whence do your cheeks indignant glow? + Why is your struggling tongue so slow? + What means that darkness on your brow, + As if with all her broken vow + You meant the fair apostate to upbraid? + + + + +ODE V. + +AGAINST SUSPICION. + + + 1 Oh, fly! 'tis dire Suspicion's mien; + And, meditating plagues unseen, + The sorceress hither bends: + Behold her touch in gall imbrued: + Behold--her garment drops with blood + Of lovers and of friends. + + 2 Fly far! Already in your eyes + I see a pale suffusion rise; + And soon through every vein, + Soon will her secret venom spread, + And all your heart and all your head + Imbibe the potent stain. + + 3 Then many a demon will she raise + To vex your sleep, to haunt your ways; + While gleams of lost delight + Raise the dark tempest of the brain, + As lightning shines across the main + Through whirlwinds and through night. + + 4 No more can faith or candour move; + But each ingenuous deed of love, + Which reason would applaud, + Now, smiling o'er her dark distress, + Fancy malignant strives to dress + Like injury and fraud. + + 5 Farewell to virtue's peaceful times: + Soon will you stoop to act the crimes + Which thus you stoop to fear: + Guilt follows guilt; and where the train + Begins with wrongs of such attain, + What horrors form the rear! + + 6 'Tis thus to work her baleful power, + Suspicion waits the sullen hour + Of fretfulness and strife, + When care the infirmer bosom wrings, + Or Eurus waves his murky wings + To damp the seats of life. + + 7 But come, forsake the scene unbless'd, + Which first beheld your faithful breast + To groundless fears a prey: + Come where, with my prevailing lyre, + The skies, the streams, the groves conspire + To charm your doubts away. + + 8 Throned in the sun's descending car, + What power unseen diffuseth far + This tenderness of mind? + What Genius smiles on yonder flood? + What God, in whispers from the wood, + Bids every thought be kind? + + 9 O Thou, whate'er thy awful name, + Whose wisdom our untoward frame + With social love restrains; + Thou, who by fair affection's ties + Giv'st us to double all our joys, + And half disarm our pains; + + 10 If far from Dyson and from me + Suspicion took, by thy decree, + Her everlasting flight; + If firm on virtue's ample base + Thy parent hand has deign'd to raise + Our friendship's honour'd height; + + 11 Let universal candour still, + Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill, + Preserve my open mind; + Nor this nor that man's crooked ways + One sordid doubt within me raise + To injure human kind. + + + + + +ODE VI. + +HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS. + + + How thick the shades of evening close! + How pale the sky with weight of snows! + Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire, + And bid the joyless day retire.-- + Alas, in vain I try within + To brighten the dejected scene, + While, roused by grief, these fiery pains + Tear the frail texture of my veins; + While Winter's voice, that storms around, + And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound 10 + Renew my mind's oppressive gloom, + Till starting Horror shakes the room. + + Is there in nature no kind power + To soothe affliction's lonely hour? + To blunt the edge of dire disease, + And teach these wintry shades to please? + Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair, + Shine through the hovering cloud of care: + O sweet of language, mild of mien, + O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, 20 + Assuage the flames that burn my breast, + Compose my jarring thoughts to rest; + And while thy gracious gifts I feel, + My song shall all thy praise reveal. + + As once ('twas in Astraea's reign) + The vernal powers renew'd their train, + It happen'd that immortal Love + Was ranging through the spheres above, + And downward hither cast his eye + The year's returning pomp to spy. 30 + He saw the radiant god of day + Waft in his car the rosy May; + The fragrant Airs and genial Hours + Were shedding round him dews and flowers; + Before his wheels Aurora pass'd, + And Hesper's golden lamp was last. + But, fairest of the blooming throng, + When Health majestic moved along, + Delighted to survey below + The joys which from her presence flow, 40 + While earth enliven'd hears her voice, + And swains, and flocks, and fields rejoice; + Then mighty Love her charms confess'd, + And soon his vows inclined her breast, + And, known from that auspicious morn, + The pleasing Cheerfulness was born. + + Thou, Cheerfulness, by heaven design'd + To sway the movements of the mind, + Whatever fretful passion springs, + Whatever wayward fortune brings 50 + To disarrange the power within, + And strain the musical machine; + Thou Goddess, thy attempering hand + Doth each discordant string command, + Refines the soft, and swells the strong; + And, joining Nature's general song, + Through many a varying tone unfolds + The harmony of human souls. + + Fair guardian of domestic life, 59 + Kind banisher of homebred strife, + Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye + Deforms the scene where thou art by: + No sickening husband damns the hour + Which bound his joys to female power; + No pining mother weeps the cares + Which parents waste on thankless heirs: + The officious daughters pleased attend; + The brother adds the name of friend: + By thee with flowers their board is crown'd, + With songs from thee their walks resound; 70 + And morn with welcome lustre shines, + And evening unperceived declines. + + Is there a youth whose anxious heart + Labours with love's unpitied smart? + Though now he stray by rills and bowers, + And weeping waste the lonely hours, + Or if the nymph her audience deign, + Debase the story of his pain + With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes, + And accents faltering into sighs; 80 + Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease + Canst yield him happier arts to please, + Inform his mien with manlier charms, + Instruct his tongue with nobler arms, + With more commanding passion move, + And teach the dignity of love. + + Friend to the Muse and all her train, + For thee I court the Muse again: + The Muse for thee may well exert + Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art, 90 + Who owes to thee that pleasing sway + Which earth and peopled heaven obey. + + Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue + Repeat what later bards have sung; + But thine was Homer's ancient might, + And thine victorious Pindar's flight: + Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attired: + Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspired: + Thy spirit lent the glad perfume + Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom; 100 + Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale + Delicious blows the enlivening gale, + While Horace calls thy sportive choir, + Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre. + But see, where yonder pensive sage + (A prey perhaps to fortune's rage, + Perhaps by tender griefs oppress'd, + Or glooms congenial to his breast) + Retires in desert scenes to dwell, + And bids the joyless world farewell. 110 + + Alone he treads the autumnal shade, + Alone beneath the mountain laid + He sees the nightly damps ascend, + And gathering storms aloft impend; + He hears the neighbouring surges roll, + And raging thunders shake the pole; + Then, struck by every object round, + And stunn'd by every horrid sound, + He asks a clue for Nature's ways; + But evil haunts him through the maze: 120 + He sees ten thousand demons rise + To wield the empire of the skies, + And Chance and Fate assume the rod, + And Malice blot the throne of God.-- + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + Thy lenient influence hither bring; + Compose the storm, dispel the gloom, + Till Nature wear her wonted bloom, + Till fields and shades their sweets exhale, + And music swell each opening gale: 130 + Then o'er his breast thy softness pour, + And let him learn the timely hour + To trace the world's benignant laws, + And judge of that presiding cause + Who founds on discord beauty's reign, + Converts to pleasure every pain, + Subdues each hostile form to rest, + And bids the universe be bless'd. + + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + If right I touch the votive string, 140 + If equal praise I yield thy name, + Still govern thou thy poet's flame; + Still with the Muse my bosom share, + And soothe to peace intruding care. + But most exert thy pleasing power + On friendship's consecrated hour; + And while my Sophron points the road + To godlike wisdom's calm abode, + Or warm in freedom's ancient cause + Traceth the source of Albion's laws, 150 + Add thou o'er all the generous toil + The light of thy unclouded smile. + But if, by fortune's stubborn sway + From him and friendship torn away, + I court the Muse's healing spell + For griefs that still with absence dwell, + Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams + To such indulgent placid themes, + As just the struggling breast may cheer, + And just suspend the starting tear, 160 + Yet leave that sacred sense of woe + Which none but friends and lovers know. + + + +ODE VII. + +ON THE USE OF POETRY. + + 1 Not for themselves did human kind + Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd + On life's wide scene to play: + Not Scipio's force nor Caesar's skill + Can conquer Glory's arduous hill, + If Fortune close the way. + + 2 Yet still the self-depending soul, + Though last and least in Fortune's roll, + His proper sphere commands; + And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd, + And sees, before the throne of God, + The rank in which he stands. + + 3 Who train'd by laws the future age, + Who rescued nations from the rage + Of partial, factious power, + My heart with distant homage views; + Content, if thou, celestial Muse, + Didst rule my natal hour. + + 4 Not far beneath the hero's feet, + Nor from the legislator's seat + Stands far remote the bard. + Though not with public terrors crown'd. + Yet wider shall his rule be found, + More lasting his award. + + 5 Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, + And Pompey to the Roman name + Gave universal sway: + Where are they?--Homer's reverend page + Holds empire to the thirtieth age, + And tongues and climes obey. + + 6 And thus when William's acts divine + No longer shall from Bourbon's line + Draw one vindictive vow; + When Sydney shall with Cato rest, + And Russel move the patriot's breast + No more than Brutus now; + + 7 Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art + O'er every passion, every heart, + Confirm his awful throne: + Tyrants shall bow before his laws; + And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause, + Their dread assertor own. + + + +ODE VIII. + +ON LEAVING HOLLAND. + + I.--1. + + Farewell to Leyden's lonely bound. + The Belgian Muse's sober seat; + Where, dealing frugal gifts around + To all the favourites at her feet, + She trains the body's bulky frame + For passive persevering toils; + And lest, from any prouder aim, + The daring mind should scorn her homely spoils, + She breathes maternal fogs to damp its restless flame. + + I.--2. + + Farewell the grave, pacific air, + Where never mountain zephyr blew: + The marshy levels lank and bare, + Which Pan, which Ceres never knew: + The Naiads, with obscene attire, + Urging in vain their urns to flow; + While round them chant the croaking choir, + And haply soothe some lover's prudent woe, + Or prompt some restive bard and modulate his lyre. + + I.--3. + + Farewell, ye nymphs, whom sober care of gain + Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of Love: + She render'd all his boasted arrows vain; + And all his gifts did he in spite remove. + Ye too, the slow-eyed fathers of the land, + With whom dominion steals from hand to hand, + Unown'd, undignified by public choice, + I go where Liberty to all is known, + And tells a monarch on his throne, + He reigns not but by her preserving voice. + + II.--1 + + O my loved England, when with thee + Shall I sit down, to part no more? + Far from this pale, discolour'd sea, + That sleeps upon the reedy shore: + When shall I plough thy azure tide? + When on thy hills the flocks admire, + Like mountain snows; till down their side + I trace the village and the sacred spire, + While bowers and copses green the golden slope divide? + + II.--2. + + Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove, + Ye blue-eyed sisters of the streams, + With whom I wont at morn to rove, + With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams; + Oh! take me to your haunts again, + The rocky spring, the greenwood glade; + To guide my lonely footsteps deign, + To prompt my slumbers in the murmuring shade, + And soothe my vacant ear with many an airy strain. + + II.--3. + + And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn + Thy drooping master's inauspicious hand: + Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, + Now fairer maids thy melody demand. + Daughters of Albion, listen to my lyre! + O Phoebus, guardian of the Aonian choir, + Why sounds not mine harmonious as thy own, + When all the virgin deities above + With Venus and with Juno move + In concert round the Olympian father's throne? + + III.--1. + + Thee too, protectress of my lays, + Elate with whose majestic call + Above degenerate Latium's praise, + Above the slavish boast of Gaul, + I dare from impious thrones reclaim, + And wanton sloth's ignoble charms, + The honours of a poet's name + To Somers' counsels, or to Hampden's arms, + Thee, Freedom, I rejoin, and bless thy genuine flame. + + III.--2. + + Great citizen of Albion! Thee + Heroic Valour still attends, + And useful Science, pleased to see + How Art her studious toil extends: + While Truth, diffusing from on high + A lustre unconfined as day, + Fills and commands the public eye; + Till, pierced and sinking by her powerful ray, + Tame Faith and monkish Awe, like nightly demons, fly. + + III.--3. + + Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares: + Hence dread Religion dwells with social Joy; + And holy passions and unsullied cares, + In youth, in age, domestic life employ. + O fair Britannia, hail!--With partial love + The tribes of men their native seats approve, + Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame: + But when for generous minds and manly laws + A nation holds her prime applause, + There public zeal shall all reproof disclaim. + + + + +ODE IX. + + TO CURIO. [1] 1744. + + 1 Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame + Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: + Eager through endless years to sound thy name, + Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. + How hast thou stain'd the splendour of my choice! + Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, + Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? + What can I now of thee to Time report, + Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, + Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? + + 2 There are, with eyes unmoved and reckless heart + Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, + Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart + The public vengeance on thy private foe. + But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, + The owl-eyed race whom virtue's lustre blinds, + Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, + I still believed thy aim from blemish free, + I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee, + And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice. + + 3 'Thou didst not dream of liberty decay'd, + Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong: + But the rash many, first by thee misled, + Bore thee at length unwillingly along.' + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For faith deserted or for cities sold, + Own here one untried, unexampled, deed; + One mystery of shame from Curio learn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, + And scape in Guilt's disguise from Virtue's offer'd meed. + + 4 For saw we not that dangerous power avow'd + Whom Freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, + Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, + And but with blushes suffereth in her train? + Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, + O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, + And call'd herself the state's directing soul: + Till Curio, like a good magician, tried + With Eloquence and Reason at his side, + By strength of holier spells the enchantress to control. + + 5 Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends: + The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: + Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends: + His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns: + The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + Now with like awe doth living merit scan: + While he, whom virtue in his bless'd retreat + Bade social ease and public passions meet, + Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. + + 6 At length in view the glorious end appear'd: + We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; + And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard + Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. + Waked in the strife the public Genius rose + More keen, more ardent from his long repose; + Deep through her bounds the city felt his call; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And murmuring challenged the deciding hour + Or that too vast event, the hope and dread of all. + + 7 O ye good powers who look on human kind, + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll; + And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind, + And steer his passions steady to the goal. + O Alfred, father of the English name, + O valiant Edward, first in civil fame, + O William, height of public virtue pure, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + Behold the sum of all your labours nigh, + Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. + + 8 'Twas then--O shame! O soul from faith estranged! + O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey! + 'Twas then--Thy thought what sudden frenzy changed? + What rushing palsy took thy strength away? + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved-- + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved-- + Whom the dead envied and the living bless'd-- + This patient slave by tinsel bonds allured-- + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured-- + Whom those that fear'd him scorn; that trusted him, detest? + + 9 O lost alike to action and repose! + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Sold to the mockery of relentless foes, + And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame, + To act with burning brow and throbbing heart + A poor deserter's dull exploded part, + To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, + Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, + And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign shore. + + 10 But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, + Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, + By courtly passions try the public cause; + Nor to the forms of rule betray the end. + O race erect! by manliest passions moved, + The labours which to Virtue stand approved, + Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey; + Yet, where Injustice works her wilful claim, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay. + + 11 These thy heart owns no longer. In their room + See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuous gloom, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. + Before her rites thy sickening reason flew, + Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, + While Laughter mock'd, or Pity stole a sigh: + Can Wit her tender movements rightly frame + Where the prime function of the soul is lame? + Can Fancy's feeble springs the force of Truth supply? + + 12 But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd: + With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends, + By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd. + There vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste, + For ever through the spacious courts resound: + There long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + Assail the giant chiefs, and press them to the ground. + + 13 In sight, old Time, imperious judge, awaits: + Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just, + He urgeth onward to those guilty gates + The great, the sage, the happy, and august. + And still he asks them of the hidden plan + Whence every treaty, every war began, + Evolves their secrets and their guilt proclaims: + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, + And crush their trophies huge, and raze their sculptured names. + + 14 Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: + Here his eternal mansion Curio seeks. + Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend, + And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks:-- + 'He comes, whom fate with surer arts prepared + To accomplish all which we but vainly dared; + Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: + Who soothed with gaudy dreams their raging power + Even to its last irrevocable hour; + Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them to the chain.' + + 15 But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, + Whom for her champions o'er the world she claims + (That household godhead whom of old your sires + Sought in the woods of Elbe and bore to Thames), + Drive ye this hostile omen far away; + Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; + Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be hers alone: + Still gird your swords to combat on her side; + Still frame your laws her generous test to abide; + And win to her defence the altar and the throne. + + 16 Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood + Of golden Luxury, which Commerce pours, + Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood, + Which not her lightest discipline endures: + Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: + Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws: + A wiser founder, and a nobler plan, + O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd: + Bring to that birthright but an equal mind, + And no sublimer lot will fate reserve for man. + + +[Footnote 1: 'To Curio:' see _Life_.] + + +ODE X. + +TO THE MUSE. + + + 1 Queen of my songs, harmonious maid, + Ah! why hast thou withdrawn thy aid? + Ah! why forsaken thus my breast + With inauspicious damps oppress'd? + Where is the dread prophetic heat + With which my bosom wont to beat? + Where all the bright mysterious dreams + Of haunted groves and tuneful streams, + That woo'd my genius to divinest themes? + + 2 Say, goddess, can the festal board, + Or young Olympia's form adored; + Say, can the pomp of promised fame + Relume thy faint, thy dying flame? + Or have melodious airs the power + To give one free, poetic hour? + Or, from amid the Elysian train, + The soul of Milton shall I gain, + To win thee back with some celestial strain? + + 3 O powerful strain! O sacred soul! + His numbers every sense control: + And now again my bosom burns; + The Muse, the Muse herself returns. + Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd, + I hail'd the fair immortal guest, + When first she seal'd me for her own, + Made all her blissful treasures known, + And bade me swear to follow Her alone. + + + + +ODE XI. + +ON LOVE. TO A FRIEND. + + + 1 No, foolish youth--to virtuous fame + If now thy early hopes be vow'd, + If true ambition's nobler flame + Command thy footsteps from the crowd, + Lean not to Love's enchanting snare; + His songs, his words, his looks beware, + Nor join his votaries, the young and fair. + + 2 By thought, by dangers, and by toils, + The wreath of just renown is worn; + Nor will ambition's awful spoils + The flowery pomp of ease adorn; + But Love unbends the force of thought; + By Love unmanly fears are taught; + And Love's reward with gaudy sloth is bought. + + 3 Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays, + And heard from many a zealous breast, + The pleasing tale of beauty's praise + In wisdom's lofty language dress'd; + Of beauty powerful to impart + Each finer sense, each comelier art, + And soothe and polish man's ungentle heart. + + 4 If then, from Love's deceit secure, + Thus far alone thy wishes tend, + Go; see the white-wing'd evening hour + On Delia's vernal walk descend: + Go, while the golden light serene, + The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene + Becomes the presence of the rural queen. + + 5 Attend, while that harmonious tongue + Each bosom, each desire commands: + Apollo's lute by Hermes strung, + And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands, + Attend. I feel a force divine, + O Delia, win my thoughts to thine; + That half the colour of thy life is mine. + + 6 Yet conscious of the dangerous charm, + Soon would I turn my steps away; + Nor oft provoke the lovely harm, + Nor lull my reason's watchful sway. + But thou, my friend--I hear thy sighs: + Alas, I read thy downcast eyes; + And thy tongue falters, and thy colour flies. + + 7 So soon again to meet the fair? + So pensive all this absent hour?-- + O yet, unlucky youth, beware, + While yet to think is in thy power. + In vain with friendship's flattering name + Thy passion veils its inward shame; + Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame! + + 8 Once, I remember, new to Love, + And dreading his tyrannic chain, + I sought a gentle maid to prove + What peaceful joys in friendship reign: + Whence we forsooth might safely stand, + And pitying view the love-sick band, + And mock the winged boy's malicious hand. + + 9 Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day, + To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd; + While I exulted to survey + One generous woman's real mind: + Till friendship soon my languid breast + Each night with unknown cares possess'd, + Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd. + + 10 Fool that I was--And now, even now + While thus I preach the Stoic strain, + Unless I shun Olympia's view, + An hour unsays it all again. + O friend!--when Love directs her eyes + To pierce where every passion lies, + Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise? + + + + +ODE XII. + + TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET. + + + 1 Behold, the Balance in the sky + Swift on the wintry scale inclines: + To earthy caves the Dryads fly, + And the bare pastures Pan resigns. + Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread + With recent soil the twice-mown mead, + Tainting the bloom which Autumn knows: + He whets the rusty coulter now, + He binds his oxen to the plough, + And wide his future harvest throws. + + 2 Now, London's busy confines round, + By Kensington's imperial towers, + From Highgate's rough descent profound, + Essexian heaths, or Kentish bowers, + Where'er I pass, I see approach + Some rural statesman's eager coach, + Hurried by senatorial cares: + While rural nymphs (alike, within, + Aspiring courtly praise to win) + Debate their dress, reform their airs. + + 3 Say, what can now the country boast, + O Drake, thy footsteps to detain, + When peevish winds and gloomy frost + The sunshine of the temper stain? + Say, are the priests of Devon grown + Friends to this tolerating throne, + Champions for George's legal right? + Have general freedom, equal law, + Won to the glory of Nassau + Each bold Wessexian squire and knight? + + 4 I doubt it much; and guess at least + That when the day, which made us free, + Shall next return, that sacred feast + Thou better may'st observe with me. + With me the sulphurous treason old + A far inferior part shall hold + In that glad day's triumphal strain; + And generous William be revered, + Nor one untimely accent heard + Of James, or his ignoble reign. + + 5 Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine + With modest cups our joy supplies, + We'll truly thank the power divine + Who bade the chief, the patriot rise; + Rise from heroic ease (the spoil + Due, for his youth's Herculean toil, + From Belgium to her saviour son), + Rise with the same unconquer'd zeal + For our Britannia's injured weal, + Her laws defaced, her shrines o'erthrown. + + 6 He came. The tyrant from our shore, + Like a forbidden demon, fled; + And to eternal exile bore + Pontific rage and vassal dread. + There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: + New years came forth, a liberal train, + Call'd by the people's great decree. + That day, my friend, let blessings crown;-- + Fill, to the demigod's renown + From whom thou hast that thou art free. + + 7 Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part + The public and the private weal?) + In vows to her who sways thy heart, + Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal. + Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek, + Or the soft ornaments that speak + So eloquent in Daphne's smile, + Whether the piercing lights that fly + From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye, + Haply thy fancy then beguile. + + 8 For so it is:--thy stubborn breast, + Though touch'd by many a slighter wound, + Hath no full conquest yet confess'd, + Nor the one fatal charmer found; + While I, a true and loyal swain, + My fair Olympia's gentle reign + Through all the varying seasons own. + Her genius still my bosom warms: + No other maid for me hath charms, + Or I have eyes for her alone. + + + + +ODE XIII. + +ON LYRIC POETRY. + + + I.--1. + + Once more I join the Thespian choir, + And taste the inspiring fount again: + O parent of the Grecian lyre, + Admit me to thy powerful strain-- + And lo, with ease my step invades + The pathless vale and opening shades, + Till now I spy her verdant seat; + And now at large I drink the sound, + While these her offspring, listening round. + By turns her melody repeat. + + + I.--2. + + I see Anacreon smile and sing, + His silver tresses breathe perfume: + His cheek displays a second spring + Of roses, taught by wine to bloom. + Away, deceitful cares, away, + And let me listen to his lay; + Let me the wanton pomp enjoy, + While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours + Lead round his lyre its patron powers, + Kind Laughter and Convivial Joy. + + + I.--3. + + Broke from the fetters of his native land, + Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, + With louder impulse and a threatening hand + The Lesbian patriot [1] smites the sounding chords: + Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, + Ye cursed of gods and free-born men, + Ye murderers of the laws, + Though now ye glory in your lust, + Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust, + Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause. + + + II.--1. + + But lo, to Sappho's melting airs + Descends the radiant queen of love: + She smiles, and asks what fonder cares + Her suppliant's plaintive measures move: + Why is my faithful maid distress'd? + Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast? + Say, flies he?--Soon he shall pursue: + Shuns he thy gifts?--He soon shall give: + Slights he thy sorrows?--He shall grieve, + And soon to all thy wishes bow. + + + II.--2. + + But, O Melpomene, for whom + Awakes thy golden shell again? + What mortal breath shall e'er presume + To echo that unbounded strain? + Majestic in the frown of years, + Behold, the man of Thebes [2] appears: + For some there are, whose mighty frame + The hand of Jove at birth endow'd + With hopes that mock the gazing crowd; + As eagles drink the noontide flame; + + + II.--3. + + While the dim raven beats her weary wings, + And clamours far below.--Propitious Muse, + While I so late unlock thy purer springs, + And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, + Wilt thou for Albion's sons around + (Ne'er hadst thou audience more renown'd) + Thy charming arts employ, + As when the winds from shore to shore + Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore, + Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy? + + III.--1. + + Yet then did Pleasure's lawless throng, + Oft rushing forth in loose attire, + Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song + Pollute with impious revels dire. + O fair, O chaste, thy echoing shade + May no foul discord here invade: + Nor let thy strings one accent move, + Except what earth's untroubled ear + 'Mid all her social tribes may hear, + And heaven's unerring throne approve. + + III.--2. + + Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat + The fairest flowers of Pindus glow; + The vine aspires to crown thy seat, + And myrtles round thy laurel grow. + Thy strings adapt their varied strain + To every pleasure, every pain, + Which mortal tribes were born to prove; + And straight our passions rise or fall, + As at the wind's imperious call + The ocean swells, the billows move. + + + III.--3. + + When midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth, + Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear: + When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth, + With airy murmurs touch my opening ear. + And ever watchful at thy side, + Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide + The tenor of thy lay: + To her of old by Jove was given + To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven; + 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. + + + IV.--1. + + Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd, + I quit the maze where Science toils, + Do thou refresh my yielding mind + With all thy gay, delusive spoils. + But, O indulgent, come not nigh + The busy steps, the jealous eye + Of wealthy care or gainful age; + Whose barren souls thy joys disdain, + And hold as foes to reason's reign + Whome'er thy lovely works engage. + + + IV.--2. + + When friendship and when letter'd mirth + Haply partake my simple board, + Then let thy blameless hand call forth + The music of the Teian chord. + Or if invoked at softer hours, + Oh! seek with me the happy bowers + That hear Olympia's gentle tongue; + To beauty link'd with virtue's train, + To love devoid of jealous pain, + There let the Sapphic lute be strung. + + + IV.--3. + + But when from envy and from death to claim + A hero bleeding for his native land; + When to throw incense on the vestal flame + Of Liberty my genius gives command, + Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre + From thee, O Muse, do I require; + While my presaging mind, + Conscious of powers she never knew, + Astonish'd, grasps at things beyond her view, + Nor by another's fate submits to be confined. + +[Footnote 1: 'The Lesbian patriot:' Alcaeus.] + +[Footnote 2: 'The man of Thebes:' Pindar.] + + + +ODE XIV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + FROM THE COUNTRY. + + + 1 Say, Townshend, what can London boast + To pay thee for the pleasures lost, + The health to-day resign'd, + When Spring from this her favourite seat + Bade Winter hasten his retreat, + And met the western wind. + + 2 Oh, knew'st thou how the balmy air, + The sun, the azure heavens prepare + To heal thy languid frame, + No more would noisy courts engage; + In vain would lying Faction's rage + Thy sacred leisure claim. + + 3 Oft I look'd forth, and oft admired; + Till with the studious volume tired + I sought the open day; + And sure, I cried, the rural gods + Expect me in their green abodes, + And chide my tardy lay. + + 4 But ah, in vain my restless feet + Traced every silent shady seat + Which knew their forms of old: + Nor Naiad by her fountain laid, + Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, + Did now their rites unfold: + + 5 Whether to nurse some infant oak + They turn--the slowly tinkling brook, + And catch the pearly showers, + Or brush the mildew from the woods, + Or paint with noontide beams the buds, + Or breathe on opening flowers. + + 6 Such rites, which they with Spring renew, + The eyes of care can never view; + And care hath long been mine: + And hence offended with their guest, + Since grief of love my soul oppress'd, + They hide their toils divine. + + 7 But soon shall thy enlivening tongue + This heart, by dear affliction wrung, + With noble hope inspire: + Then will the sylvan powers again + Receive me in their genial train, + And listen to my lyre. + + 8 Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade + A rustic altar shall be paid, + Of turf with laurel framed; + And thou the inscription wilt approve: + 'This for the peace which, lost by love, + By friendship was reclaim'd' + + + + +ODE XV. + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + 1 To-night retired, the queen of heaven + With young Endymion stays: + And now to Hesper it is given + A while to rule the vacant sky, + Till she shall to her lamp supply + A stream of brighter rays. + + 2 O Hesper, while the starry throng + With awe thy path surrounds, + Oh, listen to my suppliant song, + If haply now the vocal sphere + Can suffer thy delighted ear + To stoop to mortal sounds. + + 3 So may the bridegroom's genial strain + Thee still invoke to shine: + So may the bride's unmarried train + To Hymen chant their flattering vow, + Still that his lucky torch may glow + With lustre pure as thine. + + 4 Far other vows must I prefer + To thy indulgent power. + Alas, but now I paid my tear + On fair Olympia's virgin tomb: + And lo, from thence, in quest I roam + Of Philomela's bower. + + 5 Propitious send thy golden ray, + Thou purest light above: + Let no false flame seduce to stray + Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm: + But lead where music's healing charm + May soothe afflicted love. + + 6 To them, by many a grateful song + In happier seasons vow'd, + These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong: + Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd, + Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, + Beneath yon copses stood. + + 7 Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs + That roofless tower invade, + We came while her enchanting Muse + The radiant moon above us held: + Till by a clamorous owl compell'd + She fled the solemn shade. + + 8 But hark; I hear her liquid tone. + Now, Hesper, guide my feet + Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown, + Through yon wild thicket next the plain, + Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane, + Which leads to her retreat. + + 9 See the green space; on either hand + Enlarged it spreads around: + See, in the midst she takes her stand, + Where one old oak his awful shade + Extends o'er half the level mead + Enclosed in woods profound. + + 10 Hark, through many a melting note + She now prolongs her lays: + How sweetly down the void they float! + The breeze their magic path attends, + The stars shine out, the forest bends, + The wakeful heifers gaze. + + 11 Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring + To this sequester'd spot, + If then the plaintive Syren sing, + Oh! softly tread beneath her bower, + And think of heaven's disposing power, + Of man's uncertain lot. + + 12 Oh! think, o'er all this mortal stage, + What mournful scenes arise: + What ruin waits on kingly rage, + How often virtue dwells with woe, + How many griefs from knowledge flow, + How swiftly pleasure flies. + + 13 O sacred bird, let me at eve, + Thus wandering all alone, + Thy tender counsel oft receive, + Bear witness to thy pensive airs, + And pity Nature's common cares, + Till I forget my own. + + + + +ODE XVI. + + TO CALEB HARDINGE, M. D. + + 1 With sordid floods the wintry Urn [1] + Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green; + Her naked hill the Dryads mourn, + No longer a poetic scene. + No longer there the raptured eye + The beauteous forms of earth or sky + Surveys as in their Author's mind; + And London shelters from the year + Those whom thy social hours to share + The Attic Muse design'd. + + 2 From Hampstead's airy summit me + Her guest the city shall behold, + What day the people's stern decree + To unbelieving kings is told, + When common men (the dread of fame) + Adjudged as one of evil name, + Before the sun, the anointed head. + Then seek thou too the pious town, + With no unworthy cares to crown + That evening's awful shade. + + 3 Deem not I call thee to deplore + The sacred martyr of the day, + By fast, and penitential lore + To purge our ancient guilt away. + For this, on humble faith I rest + That still our advocate, the priest, + From heavenly wrath will save the land; + Nor ask what rites our pardon gain, + Nor how his potent sounds restrain + The thunderer's lifted hand. + + 4 No, Hardinge; peace to church and state! + That evening, let the Muse give law; + While I anew the theme relate + Which my first youth enamour'd saw. + Then will I oft explore thy thought, + What to reject which Locke hath taught, + What to pursue in Virgil's lay; + Till hope ascends to loftiest things, + Nor envies demagogues or kings + Their frail and vulgar sway. + + 5 O versed in all the human frame, + Lead thou where'er my labour lies, + And English fancy's eager flame + To Grecian purity chastise; + While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine, + Beauty with truth I strive to join, + And grave assent with glad applause; + To paint the story of the soul, + And Plato's visions to control + By Verulamian laws. + +[Footnote 1: 'The wintry Urn:' Aquarius.] + + + +ODE XVII. + + ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY. 1747. + + 1 Come then, tell me, sage divine, + Is it an offence to own + That our bosoms e'er incline + Toward immortal Glory's throne? + For with me, nor pomp, nor pleasure, + Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, + So can Fancy's dream rejoice, + So conciliate Reason's choice, + As one approving word of her impartial voice. + + 2 If to spurn at noble praise + Be the passport to thy heaven, + Follow thou those gloomy ways; + No such law to me was given, + Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me, + Faring like my friends before me; + Nor an holier place desire + Than Timoleon's arms acquire, + And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre. + + + + +ODE XVIII. + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON, 1747. + + + I.--1. + + The wise and great of every clime, + Through all the spacious walks of time, + Where'er the Muse her power display'd, + With joy have listen'd and obey'd. + For, taught of heaven, the sacred Nine + Persuasive numbers, forms divine, + To mortal sense impart: + They best the soul with glory fire; + They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire; + And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed heart. + + I.--2. + + Nor less prevailing is their charm + The vengeful bosom to disarm; + To melt the proud with human woe, + And prompt unwilling tears to flow. + Can wealth a power like this afford? + Can Cromwell's arts or Marlborough's sword, + An equal empire claim? + No, Hastings. Thou my words wilt own: + Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known; + Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name. + + + I.--3. + + The Muse's awful art, + And the blest function of the poet's tongue, + Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert + From all that scorned vice or slavish fear hath sung. + Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings + Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; + Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings + By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, + Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign. + A different strain, + And other themes + From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams + (Thou well canst witness), meet the purged ear: + Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell + Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear; + To hear the sweet instructress tell + (While men and heroes throng'd around) + How life its noblest use may find, + How well for freedom be resign'd; + And how, by glory, virtue shall be crown'd. + + + II.--1. + + Such was the Chian father's strain + To many a kind domestic train, + Whose pious hearth and genial bowl + Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul: + When, every hospitable rite + With equal bounty to requite, + He struck his magic strings, + And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth, + And seized their ears with tales of ancient worth, + And fill'd their musing hearts with vast heroic things. + + + II.--2. + + Now oft, where happy spirits dwell, + Where yet he tunes his charming shell, + Oft near him, with applauding hands, + The Genius of his country stands. + To listening gods he makes him known, + That man divine, by whom were sown + The seeds of Grecian fame: + Who first the race with freedom fired; + From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspired; + From whom Plataean palms and Cyprian trophies came. + + II.--3. + + O noblest, happiest age! + When Aristides ruled, and Cimon fought; + When all the generous fruits of Homer's page + Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. + O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me: + Not that Apollo fed thee from his shrine; + Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee; + Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, + Pan danced their measure with the sylvan throng: + But that thy song + Was proud to unfold + What thy base rulers trembled to behold; + Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell + The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame: + Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell. + But thou, O faithful to thy fame, + The Muse's law didst rightly know; + That who would animate his lays, + And other minds to virtue raise, + Must feel his own with all her spirit glow. + + + III.--1. + + Are there, approved of later times, + Whose verse adorn'd a tyrant's [1] crimes? + Who saw majestic Rome betray'd, + And lent the imperial ruffian aid? + Alas! not one polluted bard, + No, not the strains that Mincius heard, + Or Tibur's hills replied, + Dare to the Muse's ear aspire; + Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre, + With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful task they hide. + + + III.--2. + + Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, + Amid the domes of modern hands: + Amid the toys of idle state, + How simply, how severely great! + Then turn, and, while each western clime + Presents her tuneful sons to Time, + So mark thou Milton's name; + And add, 'Thus differs from the throng + The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, + Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's fame.' + + + III.--3. + + Yet hence barbaric zeal + His memory with unholy rage pursues; + While from these arduous cares of public weal + She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse. + O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind + Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey; + Must join the noblest forms of every kind, + The world's most perfect image to display, + Can e'er his country's majesty behold, + Unmoved or cold! + O fool! to deem + That he, whose thought must visit every theme, + Whose heart must every strong emotion know + Inspired by Nature, or by Fortune taught; + That he, if haply some presumptuous foe, + With false ignoble science fraught, + Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band: + That he their dear defence will shun, + Or hide their glories from the sun, + Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand! + + + IV.--1. + + I care not that in Arno's plain, + Or on the sportive banks of Seine, + From public themes the Muse's choir + Content with polish'd ease retire. + Where priests the studious head command, + Where tyrants bow the warlike hand + To vile ambition's aim, + Say, what can public themes afford, + Save venal honours to a hateful lord, + Reserved for angry heaven and scorn'd of honest fame? + + + IV.--2. + + But here, where Freedom's equal throne + To all her valiant sons is known; + Where all are conscious of her cares, + And each the power, that rules him, shares; + Here let the bard, whose dastard tongue + Leaves public arguments unsung, + Bid public praise farewell: + Let him to fitter climes remove, + Far from the hero's and the patriot's love, + And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell. + + + IV.--3. + + O Hastings, not to all + Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend: + Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call, + That to one general weal their different powers they bend, + Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine + Inform the bosom of the Muse's son; + Though with new honours the patrician's line + Advance from age to age; yet thus alone + They win the suffrage of impartial fame. + + The poet's name + He best shall prove, + Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. + But thee, O progeny of heroes old, + Thee to severer toils thy fate requires: + The fate which form'd thee in a chosen mould, + The grateful country of thy sires, + Thee to sublimer paths demand; + Sublimer than thy sires could trace, + Or thy own Edward teach his race, + Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand. + + + V.--1. + + From rich domains, and subject farms, + They led the rustic youth to arms; + And kings their stern achievements fear'd, + While private strife their banners rear'd. + But loftier scenes to thee are shown, + Where empire's wide establish'd throne + No private master fills: + Where, long foretold, the People reigns; + Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; + And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills. + + + V.--2. + + Here be it thine to calm and guide + The swelling democratic tide; + To watch the state's uncertain frame, + And baffle Faction's partial aim: + But chiefly, with determined zeal, + To quell that servile band, who kneel + To Freedom's banish'd foes; + That monster, which is daily found + Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; + Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. + + + V.--3. + + 'Tis highest Heaven's command, + That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue; + That what ensnares the heart should maim the hand, + And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. + But look on Freedom;--see, through every age, + What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! + What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, + Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! + For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains + Of happy swains, + Which now resound + Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures bound, + Bear witness;--there, oft let the farmer hail + The sacred orchard which embowers his gate, + And show to strangers passing down the vale, + Where Candish, Booth, and Osborne sate; + When, bursting from their country's chain, + Even in the midst of deadly harms, + Of papal snares and lawless arms, + They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. + + + VI.--1. + + This reign, these laws, this public care, + Which Nassau gave us all to share, + Had ne'er adorn'd the English name, + Could Fear have silenced Freedom's claim. + But Fear in vain attempts to bind + Those lofty efforts of the mind + Which social good inspires; + Where men, for this, assault a throne, + Each adds the common welfare to his own; + And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acquires. + + + VI.--2. + + Say, was it thus, when late we view'd + Our fields in civil blood imbrued? + When fortune crown'd the barbarous host, + And half the astonish'd isle was lost? + Did one of all that vaunting train, + Who dare affront a peaceful reign, + Durst one in arms appear? + Durst one in counsels pledge his life? + Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife? + Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer? + + + VI.--3. + + Yet, Hastings, these are they + Who challenge to themselves thy country's love; + The true; the constant: who alone can weigh, + What glory should demand, or liberty approve! + But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, + The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, + Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, + Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. + Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise + Oft nobly sways + Ingenuous youth; + But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth, + Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone + For mortals fixeth that sublime award. + He, from the faithful records of his throne, + Bids the historian and the bard + Dispose of honour and of scorn; + Discern the patriot from the slave; + And write the good, the wise, the brave, + For lessons to the multitude unborn. + + +[Footnote 1: 'A tyrant:' Octavianus Caesar.] + + + +BOOK II. + + +ODE I. + +THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKSPEARE: + + SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, WHILE THE + FRENCH COMEDIANS WERE ACTING BY SUBSCRIPTION. 1749. + + + If, yet regardful of your native land, + Old Shakspeare's tongue you deign to understand, + Lo, from the blissful bowers where heaven rewards + Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards, + I come, the ancient founder of the stage, + Intent to learn, in this discerning age, + What form of wit your fancies have embraced, + And whither tends your elegance of taste, + That thus at length our homely toils you spurn, + That thus to foreign scenes you proudly turn, 10 + That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim + To crown the rivals of your country's fame. + + What though the footsteps of my devious Muse + The measured walks of Grecian art refuse? + Or though the frankness of my hardy style + Mock the nice touches of the critic's file? + Yet, what my age and climate held to view, + Impartial I survey'd and fearless drew. + And say, ye skilful in the human heart, + Who know to prize a poet's noblest part, 20 + What age, what clime, could e'er an ampler field + For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield? + I saw this England break the shameful bands + Forged for the souls of men by sacred hands: + I saw each groaning realm her aid implore; + Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore: + Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard's bane) + Obey'd through all the circuit of the main. + Then, too, great Commerce, for a late found world, + Around your coast her eager sails unfurl'd! 30 + New hopes, new passions, thence the bosom fired; + New plans, new arts, the genius thence inspired; + Thence every scene, which private fortune knows, + In stronger life, with bolder spirit, rose. + + Disgraced I this full prospect which I drew, + My colours languid, or my strokes untrue? + Have not your sages, warriors, swains, and kings, + Confess'd the living draught of men and things? + What other bard in any clime appears + Alike the master of your smiles and tears? 40 + Yet have I deign'd your audience to entice + With wretched bribes to luxury and vice? + Or have my various scenes a purpose known + Which freedom, virtue, glory, might not own? + + Such from the first was my dramatic plan; + It should be yours to crown what I began: + And now that England spurns her Gothic chain, + And equal laws and social science reign, + I thought, Now surely shall my zealous eyes + View nobler bards and juster critics rise, 50 + Intent with learned labour to refine + The copious ore of Albion's native mine, + Our stately Muse more graceful airs to teach, + And form her tongue to more attractive speech, + Till rival nations listen at her feet, + And own her polish'd as they own her great. + + But do you thus my favourite hopes fulfil? + Is France at last the standard of your skill? + Alas for you! that so betray a mind + Of art unconscious and to beauty blind. 60 + Say, does her language your ambition raise, + Her barren, trivial, unharmonious phrase, + Which fetters eloquence to scantiest bounds, + And maims the cadence of poetic sounds? + Say, does your humble admiration choose + The gentle prattle of her Comic Muse, + While wits, plain-dealers, fops, and fools appear, + Charged to say nought but what the king may hear? + Or rather melt your sympathising hearts + Won by her tragic scene's romantic arts, 70 + Where old and young declaim on soft desire, + And heroes never, but for love, expire? + + No. Though the charms of novelty, a while, + Perhaps too fondly win your thoughtless smile, + Yet not for you design'd indulgent fate + The modes or manners of the Bourbon state. + And ill your minds my partial judgment reads, + And many an augury my hope misleads, + If the fair maids of yonder blooming train + To their light courtship would an audience deign, 80 + Or those chaste matrons a Parisian wife + Choose for the model of domestic life; + Or if one youth of all that generous band, + The strength and splendour of their native land, + Would yield his portion of his country's fame, + And quit old freedom's patrimonial claim, + With lying smiles oppression's pomp to see, + And judge of glory by a king's decree. + + O bless'd at home with justly-envied laws, + O long the chiefs of Europe's general cause, 90 + Whom heaven hath chosen at each dangerous hour + To check the inroads of barbaric power, + The rights of trampled nations to reclaim, + And guard the social world from bonds and shame; + Oh! let not luxury's fantastic charms + Thus give the lie to your heroic arms: + Nor for the ornaments of life embrace + Dishonest lessons from that vaunting race, + Whom fate's dread laws (for, in eternal fate + Despotic rule was heir to freedom's hate), 100 + Whom in each warlike, each commercial part, + In civil council, and in pleasing art, + The judge of earth predestined for your foes, + And made it fame and virtue to oppose. + + + + + +ODE II. + + +TO SLEEP. + + + 1 Thou silent power, whose welcome sway + Charms every anxious thought away; + In whose divine oblivion drown'd, + Sore pain and weary toil grow mild, + Love is with kinder looks beguiled, + And grief forgets her fondly cherish'd wound; + Oh, whither hast thou flown, indulgent god? + God of kind shadows and of healing dews, + Whom dost thou touch with thy Lethaean rod? + Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse? + + 2 Lo, Midnight from her starry reign + Looks awful down on earth and main. + The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, + With all that crop the verdant food, + With all that skim the crystal flood, + Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep. + No rushing winds disturb the tufted bowers; + No wakeful sound the moonlight valley knows, + Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours, + And lulls the waving scene to more profound repose. + + 3 Oh, let not me alone complain, + Alone invoke thy power in vain! + Descend, propitious, on my eyes; + Not from the couch that bears a crown, + Not from the courtly statesman's down, + Nor where the miser and his treasure lies: + Bring not the shapes that break the murderer's rest, + Nor those the hireling soldier loves to see, + Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breast: + Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams from me! + + 4 Nor yet those awful forms present, + For chiefs and heroes only meant: + The figured brass, the choral song, + The rescued people's glad applause, + The listening senate, and the laws + Fix'd by the counsels of Timoleon's [1] tongue, + Are scenes too grand for fortune's private ways; + And though they shine in youth's ingenuous view, + The sober gainful arts of modern days + To such romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu. + + 5 I ask not, god of dreams, thy care + To banish Love's presentments fair: + Nor rosy cheek nor radiant eye + Can arm him with such strong command + That the young sorcerer's fatal hand + Should round my soul his pleasing fetters tie. + Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile + (A lighter phantom, and a baser chain) + Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile + To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according strain. + + 6 But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing + Such honourable visions bring, + As soothed great Milton's injured age, + When in prophetic dreams he saw + The race unborn with pious awe + Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page: + Or such as Mead's benignant fancy knows + When health's deep treasures, by his art explored, + Have saved the infant from an orphan's woes, + Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restored. + +[Footnote: 1: After Timoleon had delivered Syracuse from the tyranny +of Dionysius, the people on every important deliberation sent for him +into the public assembly, asked his advice, and voted according to it. + --_Plutarch_.] + + + + +ODE III. + + +TO THE CUCKOO. + + + 1 O rustic herald of the spring, + At length in yonder woody vale + Fast by the brook I hear thee sing; + And, studious of thy homely tale, + Amid the vespers of the grove, + Amid the chanting choir of love, + Thy sage responses hail. + + 2 The time has been when I have frown'd + To hear thy voice the woods invade; + And while thy solemn accent drown'd + Some sweeter poet of the shade, + Thus, thought I, thus the sons of care + Some constant youth or generous fair + With dull advice upbraid. + + 3 I said, 'While Philomela's song + Proclaims the passion of the grove, + It ill beseems a cuckoo's tongue + Her charming language to reprove'-- + Alas, how much a lover's ear + Hates all the sober truth to hear, + The sober truth of love! + + 4 When hearts are in each other bless'd, + When nought but lofty faith can rule + The nymph's and swain's consenting breast, + How cuckoo-like in Cupid's school, + With store of grave prudential saws + On fortune's power and custom's laws, + Appears each friendly fool! + + 5 Yet think betimes, ye gentle train + Whom love, and hope, and fancy sway, + Who every harsher care disdain, + Who by the morning judge the day, + Think that, in April's fairest hours, + To warbling shades and painted flowers + The cuckoo joins his lay. + + + + +ODE IV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1750. + + + I.--1. + + How oft shall I survey + This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade, + The vale with sheaves o'erspread, + The glassy brook, the flocks which round thee stray? + When will thy cheerful mind + Of these have utter'd all her dear esteem? + Or, tell me, dost thou deem + No more to join in glory's toilsome race, + But here content embrace + That happy leisure which thou hadst resign'd? + + + I.--2. + + Alas, ye happy hours, + When books and youthful sport the soul could share, + Ere one ambitious care + Of civil life had awed her simpler powers; + Oft as your winged, train + Revisit here my friend in white array, + Oh, fail not to display + Each fairer scene where I perchance had part, + That so his generous heart + The abode of even friendship may remain. + + + I.--3. + + For not imprudent of my loss to come, + I saw from Contemplation's quiet cell + His feet ascending to another home, + Where public praise and envied greatness dwell. + But shall we therefore, O my lyre, + Reprove ambition's best desire,-- + Extinguish glory's flame? + Far other was the task enjoin'd + When to my hand thy strings were first assign'd: + Far other faith belongs to friendship's honour'd name. + + + II.--1. + + Thee, Townshend, not the arms + Of slumbering Ease, nor Pleasure's rosy chain, + Were destined to detain; + No, nor bright Science, nor the Muse's charms. + For them high heaven prepares + Their proper votaries, an humbler band: + And ne'er would Spenser's hand + Have deign'd to strike the warbling Tuscan shell, + Nor Harrington to tell + What habit an immortal city wears; + + + II.--2. + + Had this been born to shield + The cause which Cromwell's impious hand betray'd, + Or that, like Vere, display'd + His redcross banner o'er the Belgian field; + Yet where the will divine + Hath shut those loftiest paths, it next remains, + With reason clad in strains + Of harmony, selected minds to inspire, + And virtue's living fire + To feed and eternise in hearts like thine. + + + II.--3. + + For never shall the herd, whom envy sways, + So quell my purpose or my tongue control, + That I should fear illustrious worth to praise, + Because its master's friendship moved my soul. + Yet, if this undissembling strain + Should now perhaps thine ear detain + With any pleasing sound, + Remember thou that righteous Fame + From hoary age a strict account will claim + Of each auspicious palm with which thy youth was crown'd. + + + III.--1. + + Nor obvious is the way + Where heaven expects thee nor the traveller leads; + Through flowers or fragrant meads, + Or groves that hark to Philomela's lay. + The impartial laws of fate + To nobler virtues wed severer cares. + Is there a man who shares + The summit next where heavenly natures dwell? + Ask him (for he can tell) + What storms beat round that rough laborious height. + + + III.--2. + + Ye heroes, who of old + Did generous England Freedom's throne ordain; + From Alfred's parent reign + To Nassau, great deliverer, wise and bold; + I know your perils hard, + Your wounds, your painful marches, wintry seas, + The night estranged from ease, + The day by cowardice and falsehood vex'd, + The head with doubt perplex'd, + The indignant heart disdaining the reward, + + + III.--3. + + Which envy hardly grants. But, O renown, + O praise from judging heaven and virtuous men, + If thus they purchased thy divinest crown, + Say, who shall hesitate, or who complain? + And now they sit on thrones above: + And when among the gods they move + Before the Sovereign Mind, + 'Lo, these,' he saith, 'lo, these are they + Who to the laws of mine eternal sway + From violence and fear asserted human kind.' + + + IV.--1. + + Thus honour'd while the train + Of legislators in his presence dwell; + If I may aught foretell, + The statesman shall the second palm obtain. + For dreadful deeds of arms + Let vulgar bards, with undiscerning praise, + More glittering trophies raise: + But wisest Heaven what deeds may chiefly move + To favour and to love? + What, save wide blessings, or averted harms? + + + IV.--2. + + Nor to the embattled field + Shall these achievements of the peaceful gown, + The green immortal crown + Of valour, or the songs of conquest, yield. + Not Fairfax wildly bold, + While bare of crest he hew'd his fatal way + Through Naseby's firm array, + To heavier dangers did his breast oppose + Than Pym's free virtue chose, + When the proud force of Strafford he controll'd. + + + IV.--3. + + But what is man at enmity with truth? + What were the fruits of Wentworth's copious mind, + When (blighted all the promise of his youth) + The patriot in a tyrant's league had join'd? + Let Ireland's loud-lamenting plains, + Let Tyne's and Humber's trampled swains, + Let menaced London tell + How impious guile made wisdom base; + How generous zeal to cruel rage gave place; + And how unbless'd he lived and how dishonour'd fell. + + + V.--1. + + Thence never hath the Muse + Around his tomb Pierian roses flung: + Nor shall one poet's tongue + His name for music's pleasing labour choose. + And sure, when Nature kind + Hath deck'd some favour'd breast above the throng, + That man with grievous wrong + Affronts and wounds his genius, if he bends + To guilt's ignoble ends + The functions of his ill-submitting mind. + + + V.--2. + + For worthy of the wise + Nothing can seem but virtue; nor earth yield + Their fame an equal field, + Save where impartial freedom gives the prize. + There Somers fix'd his name, + Enroll'd the next to William. There shall Time + To every wondering clime + Point out that Somers, who from faction's crowd, + The slanderous and the loud, + Could fair assent and modest reverence claim. + + + V.--3. + + Nor aught did laws or social arts acquire, + Nor this majestic weal of Albion's land + Did aught accomplish, or to aught aspire, + Without his guidance, his superior hand. + And rightly shall the Muse's care + Wreaths like her own for him prepare, + Whose mind's enamour'd aim + Could forms of civil beauty draw + Sublime as ever sage or poet saw, + Yet still to life's rude scene the proud ideas tame. + + + VI.--1. + + Let none profane be near! + The Muse was never foreign to his breast: + On power's grave seat confess'd, + Still to her voice he bent a lover's ear. + And if the blessed know + Their ancient cares, even now the unfading groves, + Where haply Milton roves + With Spenser, hear the enchanted echoes round + Through farthest heaven resound + Wise Somers, guardian of their fame below. + + + VI.--2. + + He knew, the patriot knew, + That letters and the Muse's powerful art + Exalt the ingenuous heart, + And brighten every form of just and true. + They lend a nobler sway + To civil wisdom, than corruption's lure + Could ever yet procure: + They, too, from envy's pale malignant light + Conduct her forth to sight, + Clothed in the fairest colours of the day. + + + VI.--3. + + O Townshend, thus may Time, the judge severe, + Instruct my happy tongue of thee to tell: + And when I speak of one to Freedom dear + For planning wisely and for acting well, + Of one whom Glory loves to own, + Who still by liberal means alone + Hath liberal ends pursued; + Then, for the guerdon of my lay, + 'This man with faithful friendship,' will I say, + 'From youth to honour'd age my arts and me hath view'd.' + + + + + +ODE V. + +ON LOVE OF PRAISE. + + + 1 Of all the springs within the mind + Which prompt her steps in fortune's maze, + From none more pleasing aid we find + Than from the genuine love of praise. + + 2 Nor any partial, private end + Such reverence to the public bears; + Nor any passion, virtue's friend, + So like to virtue's self appears. + + 3 For who in glory can delight + Without delight in glorious deeds? + What man a charming voice can slight, + Who courts the echo that succeeds? + + 4 But not the echo on the voice + More than on virtue praise depends; + To which, of course, its real price + The judgment of the praiser lends. + + 5 If praise, then, with religious awe + From the sole perfect judge be sought, + A nobler aim, a purer law, + Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught. + + 6 With which in character the same, + Though in an humbler sphere it lies, + I count that soul of human fame, + The suffrage of the good and wise. + + + + + +ODE VI. + + TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQUIRE; WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU. + + + 1 Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; + While, fluent as the skylark sings + When first the morn allures its wings, + The epicure his theme pursues: + And tell me if, among the choir + Whose music charms the banks of Seine, + So full, so free, so rich a strain + E'er dictated the warbling Muse. + + 2 Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear + Admires the well-dissembled art + That can such harmony impart + To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes; + While wit from affectation clear, + Bright images, and passions true, + Recall to thy assenting view + The envied bards of nobler times; + + 3 Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong? + This priest of Pleasure, who aspires + To lead us to her sacred fires, + Knows he the ritual of her shrine? + Say (her sweet influence to thy song + So may the goddess still afford), + Doth she consent to be adored + With shameless love and frantic wine? + + 4 Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here + Need we in high indignant phrase + From their Elysian quiet raise: + But Pleasure's oracle alone + Consult; attentive, not severe. + O Pleasure, we blaspheme not thee; + Nor emulate the rigid knee + Which bends but at the Stoic throne. + + 5 We own, had fate to man assign'd + Nor sense, nor wish but what obey, + Or Venus soft, or Bacchus gay, + Then might our bard's voluptuous creed + Most aptly govern human kind: + Unless perchance what he hath sung + Of tortured joints and nerves unstrung, + Some wrangling heretic should plead. + + 6 But now, with all these proud desires + For dauntless truth and honest fame; + With that strong master of our frame, + The inexorable judge within, + What can be done? Alas, ye fires + Of love; alas, ye rosy smiles, + Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,-- + Ye have no bribe his grace to win. + + + + + +ODE VII. + + TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 1754. + + + I.--l. + + For toils which patriots have endured, + For treason quell'd and laws secured, + In every nation Time displays + The palm of honourable praise. + Envy may rail, and Faction fierce + May strive; but what, alas, can those + (Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) + To Gratitude and Love oppose, + To faithful story and persuasive verse? + + + I.--2. + + O nurse of freedom, Albion, say, + Thou tamer of despotic sway, + What man, among thy sons around, + Thus heir to glory hast thou found? + What page, in all thy annals bright, + Hast thou with purer joy survey'd + Than that where truth, by Hoadly's aid, + Shines through imposture's solemn shade, + Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? + + + I.--3. + + To him the Teacher bless'd, + Who sent religion, from the palmy field + By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, + And lifted up the veil which heaven from earth conceal'd, + To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd: + 'Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law + From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure: + Let not my peaceful name be made a lure, + Fell persecution's mortal snares to aid: + Let not my words be impious chains to draw + The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, + To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid.' + + + II.--1. + + No cold or unperforming hand + Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. + The world soon felt it; and, on high, + To William's ear with welcome joy + Did Locke among the blest unfold + The rising hope of Hoadly's name; + Godolphin then confirm'd the fame; + And Somers, when from earth he came, + And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told. + + + II.--2. + + Then drew the lawgivers around + (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd), + And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, + What private force could thus subdue + The vulgar and the great combined; + Could war with sacred folly wage; + Could a whole nation disengage + From the dread bonds of many an age, + And to new habits mould the public mind. + + + II.-3. + + For not a conqueror's sword, + Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, + Were his; but truth by faithful search explored, + And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. + Wherever it took root, the soul (restored + To freedom) freedom too for others sought. + Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, + Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine, + Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; + Nor the wild rabble to sedition wrought, + Nor synods by the papal Genius taught, + Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. + + + III.--1. + + But where shall recompense be found? + Or how such arduous merit crown'd? + For look on life's laborious scene: + What rugged spaces lie between + Adventurous Virtue's early toils + And her triumphal throne! The shade + Of death, meantime, does oft invade + Her progress; nor, to us display'd, + Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils. + + + III.--2. + + Yet born to conquer is her power;-- + O Hoadly, if that favourite hour + On earth arrive, with thankful awe + We own just Heaven's indulgent law, + And proudly thy success behold; + We attend thy reverend length of days + With benediction and with praise, + And hail thee in our public ways + Like some great spirit famed in ages old. + + + III.--3. + + While thus our vows prolong + Thy steps on earth, and when by us resign'd + Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng + Who rescued or preserved the rights of human kind, + Oh! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue + Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name: + Oh! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, + May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, + Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; + Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim + That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, + Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious guile. + + + + + +ODE VIII. + + + 1 If rightly tuneful bards decide, + If it be fix'd in Love's decrees, + That Beauty ought not to be tried + But by its native power to please, + Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, + What fair can Amoret excel? + + 2 Behold that bright unsullied smile, + And wisdom speaking in her mien: + Yet (she so artless all the while, + So little studious to be seen) + We nought but instant gladness know, + Nor think to whom the gift we owe. + + 3 But neither music, nor the powers + Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, + Add half that sunshine to the hours, + Or make life's prospect half so clear, + As memory brings it to the eye + From scenes where Amoret was by. + + 4 Yet not a satirist could there + Or fault or indiscretion find; + Nor any prouder sage declare + One virtue, pictured in his mind, + Whose form with lovelier colours glows + Than Amoret's demeanour shows. + + 5 This sure is Beauty's happiest part: + This gives the most unbounded sway: + This shall enchant the subject heart + When rose and lily fade away; + And she be still, in spite of time, + Sweet Amoret in all her prime. + + + + + +ODE IX. + +AT STUDY. + + + 1 Whither did my fancy stray? + By what magic drawn away + Have I left my studious theme, + From this philosophic page, + From the problems of the sage, + Wandering through a pleasing dream? + + 2 'Tis in vain, alas! I find, + Much in vain, my zealous mind + Would to learned Wisdom's throne + Dedicate each thoughtful hour: + Nature bids a softer power + Claim some minutes for his own. + + 3 Let the busy or the wise + View him with contemptuous eyes; + Love is native to the heart: + Guide its wishes as you will; + Without Love you'll find it still + Void in one essential part. + + 4 Me though no peculiar fair + Touches with a lover's care; + Though the pride of my desire + Asks immortal friendship's name, + Asks the palm of honest fame, + And the old heroic lyre; + + 5 Though the day have smoothly gone, + Or to letter'd leisure known, + Or in social duty spent; + Yet at eve my lonely breast + Seeks in vain for perfect rest; + Languishes for true content. + + + + + +ODE X. + + TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ESQ.; + ON THE LATE EDITION OF MR. POPE'S WORKS. 1751. + + + 1 Believe me, Edwards, to restrain + The licence of a railer's tongue + Is what but seldom men obtain + By sense or wit, by prose or song: + A task for more Herculean powers, + Nor suited to the sacred hours + Of leisure in the Muse's bowers. + + 2 In bowers where laurel weds with palm, + The Muse, the blameless queen, resides: + Fair Fame attends, and Wisdom calm + Her eloquence harmonious guides: + While, shut for ever from her gate, + Oft trying, still repining, wait + Fierce Envy and calumnious Hate. + + 3 Who, then, from her delightful bounds + Would step one moment forth to heed + What impotent and savage sounds + From their unhappy mouths proceed? + No: rather Spenser's lyre again + Prepare, and let thy pious strain + For Pope's dishonour'd shade complain. + + 4 Tell how displeased was every bard, + When lately in the Elysian grove + They of his Muse's guardian heard, + His delegate to fame above; + And what with one accord they said + Of wit in drooping age misled, + And Warburton's officious aid: + + 5 How Virgil mourn'd the sordid fate + To that melodious lyre assign'd, + Beneath a tutor who so late + With Midas and his rout combined + By spiteful clamour to confound + That very lyre's enchanting sound, + Though listening realms admired around: + + 6 How Horace own'd he thought the fire + Of his friend Pope's satiric line + Did further fuel scarce require + From such a militant divine: + How Milton scorn'd the sophist vain, + Who durst approach his hallow'd strain + With unwash'd hands and lips profane. + + 7 Then Shakspeare debonair and mild + Brought that strange comment forth to view; + Conceits more deep, he said and smiled, + Than his own fools or madmen knew: + But thank'd a generous friend above, + Who did with free adventurous love + Such pageants from his tomb remove. + + 8 And if to Pope, in equal need, + The same kind office thou wouldst pay, + Then, Edwards, all the band decreed + That future bards with frequent lay + Should call on thy auspicious name, + From each absurd intruder's claim + To keep inviolate their fame. + + + + + +ODE XI. + + TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND. 1758. + + + 1 Whither is Europe's ancient spirit fled? + Where are those valiant tenants of her shore, + Who from the warrior bow the strong dart sped, + Or with firm hand the rapid pole-axe bore? + Freeman and soldier was their common name, + Who late with reapers to the furrow came, + Now in the front of battle charged the foe: + Who taught the steer the wintry plough to endure, + Now in full councils check'd encroaching power, + And gave the guardian laws their majesty to know. + + 2 But who are ye? from Ebro's loitering sons + To Tiber's pageants, to the sports of Seine; + From Rhine's frail palaces to Danube's thrones + And cities looking on the Cimbric main, + Ye lost, ye self-deserted? whose proud lords + Have baffled your tame hands, and given your swords + To slavish ruffians, hired for their command: + These, at some greedy monk's or harlot's nod, + See rifled nations crouch beneath their rod: + These are the Public Will, the Reason of the land. + + 3 Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while + Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, + Yet vain of Freedom, how dost thou beguile, + With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? + Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, + The praise and envy of the nations round, + What care hast thou to guard from Fortune's sway? + Amid the storms of war, how soon may all + The lofty pile from its foundations fall, + Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day! + + 4 No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales + Add Industry's wise gifts to Nature's store, + And every port is crowded with thy sails, + And every wave throws treasure on thy shore. + What boots it? If luxurious Plenty charm + Thy selfish heart from Glory, if thy arm + Shrink at the frowns of Danger and of Pain, + Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine. + Oh, rather far be poor! Thy gold will shine + Tempting the eye of Force, and deck thee to thy bane. + + 5 But what hath Force or War to do with thee? + Girt by the azure tide, and throned sublime + Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou canst see, + With scorn, the fury of each hostile clime + Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe + Are thy fair fields: athwart thy guardian prow + No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand-- + Yet say, my country, will the waves and wind + Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd + To the sky's fickle faith, the pilot's wavering hand? + + 6 For, oh! may neither Fear nor stronger Love + (Love, by thy virtuous princes nobly won) + Thee, last of many wretched nations, move, + With mighty armies station'd round the throne + To trust thy safety. Then, farewell the claims + Of Freedom! Her proud records to the flames + Then bear, an offering at Ambition's shrine; + Whate'er thy ancient patriots dared demand + From furious John's, or faithless Charles' hand, + Or what great William seal'd for his adopted line. + + 7 But if thy sons be worthy of their name, + If liberal laws with liberal arts they prize, + Let them from conquest, and from servile shame, + In War's glad school their own protectors rise. + Ye chiefly, heirs of Albion's cultured plains, + Ye leaders of her bold and faithful swains, + Now not unequal to your birth be found; + The public voice bids arm your rural state, + Paternal hamlets for your ensigns wait, + And grange and fold prepare to pour their youth around. + + 8 Why are ye tardy? what inglorious care + Detains you from their head, your native post? + Who most their country's fame and fortune share, + 'Tis theirs to share her toils, her perils most. + Each man his task in social life sustains. + With partial labours, with domestic gains, + Let others dwell: to you indulgent Heaven + By counsel and by arms the public cause + To serve for public love and love's applause, + The first employment far, the noblest hire, hath given. + + 9 Have ye not heard of Lacedemon's fame? + Of Attic chiefs in Freedom's war divine? + Of Rome's dread generals? the Valerian name? + The Fabian sons? the Scipios, matchless line? + Your lot was theirs: the farmer and the swain + Met his loved patron's summons from the plain; + The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew: + Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd; + The conquerors to their household gods return'd, + And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough. + + 10 Shall, then, this glory of the antique age, + This pride of men, be lost among mankind? + Shall war's heroic arts no more engage + The unbought hand, the unsubjected mind? + Doth valour to the race no more belong? + No more with scorn of violence and wrong + Doth forming Nature now her sons inspire, + That, like some mystery to few reveal'd, + The skill of arms abash'd and awed they yield, + And from their own defence with hopeless hearts retire? + + 11 O shame to human life, to human laws! + The loose adventurer, hireling of a day, + Who his fell sword without affection draws, + Whose God, whose country, is a tyrant's pay, + This man the lessons of the field can learn; + Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn, + And every pledge of conquest: while in vain, + To guard your altars, your paternal lands, + Are social arms held out to your free hands: + Too arduous is the lore: too irksome were the pain. + + 12 Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allured, + From the bright sun and living breeze ye stray; + And deep in London's gloomy haunts immured, + Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay. + O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue! + The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields renew, + The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend; + While he doth riot's orgies haply share, + Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare, + Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend. + + 13 And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain + That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng; + That the rude village inmates now disdain + Those homely ties which ruled their fathers long. + Alas, your fathers did by other arts + Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, + And led in other paths their ductile will; + By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, + Won them the ancient manners to revere, + To prize their country's peace and heaven's due rites fulfil. + + 14 But mark the judgment of experienced Time, + Tutor of nations. Doth light discord tear + A state, and impotent sedition's crime? + The powers of warlike prudence dwell not there; + The powers who to command and to obey, + Instruct the valiant. There would civil sway + The rising race to manly concord tame? + Oft let the marshall'd field their steps unite, + And in glad splendour bring before their sight + One common cause and one hereditary fame. + + 15 Nor yet be awed, nor yet your task disown, + Though war's proud votaries look on severe; + Though secrets, taught erewhile to them alone, + They deem profaned by your intruding ear. + Let them in vain, your martial hope to quell, + Of new refinements, fiercer weapons tell, + And mock the old simplicity, in vain: + To the time's warfare, simple or refined, + The time itself adapts the warrior's mind: + And equal prowess still shall equal palms obtain. + + 16 Say then, if England's youth, in earlier days, + On glory's field with well-train'd armies vied, + Why shall they now renounce that generous praise? + Why dread the foreign mercenary's pride? + Though Valois braved young Edward's gentle hand, + And Albert rush'd on Henry's way-worn band, + With Europe's chosen sons in arms renown'd, + Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd, + Nor Audley's squires, nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd: + They saw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound. + + 17 Such were the laurels which your fathers won: + Such glory's dictates in their dauntless breast;-- + Is there no voice that speaks to every son? + No nobler, holier call to you address'd? + Oh! by majestic Freedom, righteous Laws, + By heavenly Truth's, by manly Reason's cause, + Awake; attend; be indolent no more: + By friendship, social peace, domestic love, + Rise; arm; your country's living safety prove; + And train her valiant youth, and watch around her shore. + + + + + +ODE XII. + + ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1758. + + + 1 Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's Hill, + Once more I seek, a languid guest: + With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast + Once more I climb thy steep aerial way. + O faithful cure of oft-returning ill, + Now call thy sprightly breezes round, + Dissolve this rigid cough profound, + And bid the springs of life with gentler movement play. + + 2 How gladly, 'mid the dews of dawn, + My weary lungs thy healing gale, + The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale! + How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove + Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn, + Awaked I stop, and look to find + What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind, + Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove! + + 3 Now, ere the morning walk is done, + The distant voice of Health I hear, + Welcome as beauty's to the lover's ear. + 'Droop not, nor doubt of my return,' she cries; + 'Here will I, 'mid the radiant calm of noon, + Meet thee beneath yon chestnut bower, + And lenient on thy bosom pour + That indolence divine which lulls the earth and skies.' + + 4 The goddess promised not in vain. + I found her at my favourite time. + Nor wish'd to breathe in any softer clime, + While (half-reclined, half-slumbering as I lay) + She hover'd o'er me. Then, among her train + Of Nymphs and Zephyrs, to my view + Thy gracious form appear'd anew, + Then first, O heavenly Muse, unseen for many a day. + + 5 In that soft pomp the tuneful maid + Shone like the golden star of love. + I saw her hand in careless measures move; + I heard sweet preludes dancing on her lyre, + While my whole frame the sacred sound obey'd. + New sunshine o'er my fancy springs, + New colours clothe external things, + And the last glooms of pain and sickly plaint retire. + + 6 O Goulder's Hill, by thee restored + Once more to this enliven'd hand, + My harp, which late resounded o'er the land + The voice of glory, solemn and severe, + My Dorian harp shall now with mild accord + To thee her joyful tribute pay, + And send a less ambitious lay + Of friendship and of love to greet thy master's ear. + + 7 For when within thy shady seat + First from the sultry town he chose, + And the tired senate's cares, his wish'd repose, + Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home + For social leisure: where my welcome feet, + Estranged from all the entangling ways + In which the restless vulgar strays, + Through Nature's simple paths with ancient Faith might roam. + + 8 And while around his sylvan scene + My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours, + Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers + Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk + The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: + And oft did Tully's reverend shade, + Though much for liberty afraid, + With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk. + + 9 But other guests were on their way, + And reach'd ere long this favour'd grove; + Even the celestial progeny of Jove, + Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son, + Whose golden shaft most willingly obey + The best and wisest. As they came, + Glad Hymen waved his genial flame, + And sang their happy gifts, and praised their spotless throne. + + 10 I saw when through yon festive gate + He led along his chosen maid, + And to my friend with smiles presenting said:-- + 'Receive that fairest wealth which Heaven assign'd + To human fortune. Did thy lonely state + One wish, one utmost hope, confess? + Behold, she comes, to adorn and bless: + Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind.' + + + + + +ODE XIII. + + TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE OF BRANDENBURG. 1751. + + + 1 The men renown'd as chiefs of human race, + And born to lead in counsels or in arms, + Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chase + To dwell with books, or court the Muse's charms. + Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought + Some genuine transcript of their calmer thought, + There still we own the wise, the great, or good; + And Caesar there and Xenophon are seen, + As clear in spirit and sublime of mien, + As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood. + + 2 Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? + Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage, + Except for this, except that future Fame + Might read thy genius in the faithful page? + That if hereafter Envy shall presume + With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb, + And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling, + That hence posterity may try thy reign, + Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain, + And view in native lights the hero and the king. + + 3 O evil foresight and pernicious care! + Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal? + Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare + With private honour or with public zeal? + Whence, then, at things divine those darts of scorn? + Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne + For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given? + What fiend, what foe of Nature urged thy arm + The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm, + To push this earth adrift and leave it loose from Heaven? + + 4 Ye godlike shades of legislators old, + Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise, + Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd, + Say, did not horror in your bosoms rise, + When thus, by impious vanity impell'd, + A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld + Affronting civil order's holiest bands, + Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve, + Those hopes and fears of justice from above, + Which tamed the savage world to your divine commands? + + + + +ODE XIV. + +THE COMPLAINT. + + + 1 Away! away! + Tempt me no more, insidious love: + Thy soothing sway + Long did my youthful bosom prove: + At length thy treason is discern'd, + At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: + Away! nor hope my riper age to move. + + 2 I know, I see + Her merit. Needs it now be shown, + Alas, to me? + How often, to myself unknown, + The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid + Have I admired! How often said, + What joy to call a heart like hers one's own! + + 3 But, flattering god, + O squanderer of content and ease, + In thy abode + Will care's rude lesson learn to please? + O say, deceiver, hast thou won + Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, + Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? + + + + + +ODE XV. + +ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. + + (UNFINISHED.) + + + 1 Meek Honour, female shame, + Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, + From Albion dost thou fly, + Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? + O beauty's only friend, + Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; + Who selfish, bold desire + Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; + Alas, of thee forlorn + What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend? + + 2 Behold, our youths in vain + Concerning nuptial happiness inquire: + Our maids no more aspire + The arts of bashful Hymen to attain; + But with triumphant eyes + And cheeks impassive, as they move along, + Ask homage of the throng. + The lover swears that in a harlot's arms + Are found the self-same charms, + And worthless and deserted lives and dies. + + 3 Behold, unbless'd at home, + The father of the cheerless household mourns: + The night in vain returns, + For Love and glad Content at distance roam; + While she, in whom his mind + Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares, + To meet him she prepares, + Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, + A listless, harass'd heart, + Where not one tender thought can welcome find. + + 4 'Twas thus, along the shore + Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard, + From many a tongue preferr'd, + Of strife and grief the fond invective lore: + At which the queen divine + Indignant, with her adamantine spear + Like thunder sounding near, + Smote the red cross upon her silver shield, + And thus her wrath reveal'd; + (I watch'd her awful words, and made them mine.) + + * * * * * + + + + + +NOTES. + + +BOOK FIRST. + +ODE XVIII, STANZA II.--2. + +Lycurgus the Lacedemonian lawgiver brought into Greece from Asia +Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works. At Plataea was +fought the decisive battle between the Persian army and the united +militia of Greece under Pausanias and Aristides. Cimon the Athenian +erected a trophy in Cyprus for two great victories gained on the +same day over the Persians by sea and land. Diodorus Siculus has +preserved the inscription which the Athenians affixed to the +consecrated spoils, after this great success; in which it is very +remarkable that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner +of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other +ancient inscriptions. It is this:-- + + [Greek: + EX. OU. G. EUROPAeN. ASIAS. DIChA. PONTOS. ENEIME. + KAI. POLEAS. ONAeTON. ThOUROS. ARAeS. EPEChEI. + OUDEN. PO. TOIOUTON. EPIChThONION. GENET. ANDRON. + ERGON. EN. AePEIROI. KAI. KATA. PONOTON. AMA. + OIAE. GAR. EN. KUPROI. MAeDOUS. POLLOUS. OLESANTES. + PhOINIKON. EKATON. NAUS. ELON. EN. PELAGEI. + ANDRON. PLAeThOUSAS. META. D. ESENEN. ASIS. UP. AUTON. + PLAeGEIS. AMPhOTERAIS. ChERSI. KRATEI. POLEMOU.] + + The following translation is almost literal:-- + + Since first the sea from Asia's hostile coast + Divided Europe, and the god of war + Assail'd imperious cities; never yet, + At once among the waves and on the shore, + Hath such a labour been achieved by men + Who earth inhabit. They, whose arms the Medes + In Cyprus felt pernicious, they, the same, + Have won from skilful Tyre an hundred ships + Crowded with warriors. Asia groans, in both + Her hands sore smitten, by the might of war. + + + +STANZA II.--3. + +Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cimon, in whom the glory +of ancient Greece was at its height. When Xerxes invaded Greece, +Pindar was true to the common interest of his country; though his +fellow-citizens, the Thebans, had sold themselves to the Persian king. +In one of his odes he expresses the great distress and anxiety of +his mind, occasioned by the vast preparations of Xerxes against +Greece (_Isthm_. 8). In another he celebrates the victories of +Salamis, Plataea, and Himera (_Pyth_. 1). It will be necessary to +add two or three other particulars of his life, real or fabulous, in +order to explain what follows in the text concerning him. First, then, +he was thought to be so great a favourite of Apollo, that the +priests of that deity allotted him a constant share of their +offerings. It was said of him, as of some other illustrious men, +that at his birth a swarm of bees lighted on his lips, and fed him +with their honey. It was also a tradition concerning him, that Pan +was heard to recite his poetry, and seen dancing to one of his hymns +on the mountains near Thebes. But a real historical fact in his life +is, that the Thebans imposed a large fine upon him on account of the +veneration which he expressed in his poems for that heroic spirit +shown by the people of Athens in defence of the common liberty, +which his own fellow-citizens had shamefully betrayed. And as the +argument of this ode implies, that great poetical talents and high +sentiments of liberty do reciprocally produce and assist each other, +so Pindar is perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connexion which +occurs in history. The Thebans were remarkable, in general, for a +slavish disposition through all the fortunes of their commonwealth; +at the time of its ruin by Philip; and even in its best state, under +the administration of Pelopidas and Epaminondas: and every one knows +they were no less remarkable for great dulness and want of all genius. +That Pindar should have equally distinguished himself from the rest +of his fellow-citizens in both these respects seems somewhat +extraordinary, and is scarce to be accounted for but by the +preceding observation. + + +STANZA III.--3. + +Alluding to his defence of the people of England against Salmasins. +See particularly the manner in which he himself speaks of that +undertaking, in the introduction to his reply to Morus. + + +STANZA IV.--3. + +Edward the Third; from whom descended Henry Hastings, third Earl of +Huntingdon, by the daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother to +Edward the Fourth. + + +STANZA V.--3. + +At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale in Derbyshire, +the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the Lord Delamere, privately +concerted the plan of the Revolution. The house in which they met is +at present a farmhouse, and the country people distinguish the room +where they sat by the name of _the plotting parlour_. + + * * * * * + + + +BOOK SECOND. + +ODE VII. STANZA II.--1. + +Mr. Locke died in 1704, when Mr. Hoadly was beginning to distinguish +himself in the cause of civil and religious liberty: Lord Godolphin +in 1712, when the doctrines of the Jacobite faction were chiefly +favoured by those in power: Lord Somers in 1716, amid the practices +of the nonjoining clergy against the Protestant establishment; and +Lord Stanhope in 1721, during the controversy with the lower house +of convocation. + + +ODE X. STANZA V. + +During Mr. Pope's war with Theobald, Concanen, and the rest of their +tribe, Mr. Warburton, the present Lord Bishop of Gloucester, did +with great zeal cultivate their friendship, having been introduced, +forsooth, at the meetings of that respectable confederacy--a favour +which he afterwards spoke of in very high terms of complacency and +thankfulness. At the same time, in his intercourse with them, he +treated Mr. Pope in a most contemptuous manner, and as a writer +without genius. Of the truth of these assertions his lordship can +have no doubt, if he recollects his own correspondence with Concanen, +a part of which is still in being, and will probably be remembered +as long as any of this prelate's writings. + + +ODE XIII. + +In the year 1751 appeared a very splendid edition, in quarto, of +'Memoires pour servir a l'Histoire de la Maison de Brandebourg, +a Berlin et a la Haye,' with a privilege, signed Frederic, the same +being engraved in imitation of handwriting. In this edition, among +other extraordinary passages, are the two following, to which the +third stanza of this ode more particularly refers:-- + +'Il se fit une migration' (the author is speaking of what happened +at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes), 'dont on n'avoit guere vu +d'exemples dans l'histoire: un peuple entier sortit du royaume par +l'esprit de parti en haine du pape, et pour recevoir sous un autre +ciel la communion sous les deux especes: quatre cens mille ames +s'expatrierent ainsi et abandonnerent tous leur biens pour detonner +dans d'autres temples les vieux pseaumes de Clement Marot.'--Page 163. + +'La crainte donna le jour a la credulite, et l'amour propre +interessa bientot le ciel au destin des hommes.'--Page 242. + + + + +HYMN TO THE NAIADS. 1746. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at +daybreak, in honour of their several functions, and of the relations +which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin +is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature, +according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning +the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then +successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting +summer breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; +as contributing to the fulness of navigable rivers, and consequently +to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means to the maritime +part of military power. Next is represented their favourable +influence upon health when assisted by rural exercise, which +introduces their connexion with the art of physic, and the happy +effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated +for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true +inspiration which temperance only can receive, in opposition to the +enthusiasm of the more licentious poets. + + + O'er yonder eastern bill the twilight pale + Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day, + With bright Astraea seated by his side, + Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, + Ye Nymphs, ye blue-eyed progeny of Thames, + Who now the mazes of this rugged heath + Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long + Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air, + Your lonely murmurs, tarry, and receive + My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, 10 + I leave the gates of sleep; nor shall my lyre + Too far into the splendid hours of morn + Engage your audience; my observant hand + Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam + Approach you. To your subterranean haunts + Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care + The humid sands; to loosen from the soil + The bubbling sources; to direct the rills + To meet in wider channels; or beneath + Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon 20 + To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven. + + Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs, or end? + Wide is your praise and copious--first of things, + First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, + Were Love and Chaos. Love,[A] the sire of Fate; [B] + Elder than Chaos. [C] Born of Fate was Time, [D] + Who many sons and many comely births + Devour'd, [E] relentless father; till the child + Of Rhea [F] drove him from the upper sky, [G] + And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd 30 + The kindred powers, [H] Tethys, and reverend Ops, + And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway + Remain'd the Cloud-Compeller. From the couch + Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, [I] + Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, + Send tribute to their parent; and from them + Are ye, O Naiads: [J] Arethusa fair, + And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name, + Bandusia; that soft family which dwelt + With Syrian Daphne; [K] and the honour'd tribes 40 + Beloved of Paeon. [L] Listen to my strain, + Daughters of Tethys: listen to your praise. + + You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, [M] which of old + Aurora to divine Astraeus bore, + Owns, and your aid beseecheth. When the might + Of Hyperion, [N] from his noontide throne, + Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you + They ask; Pavonius and the mild South-west + Prom you relief implore. Your sallying streams [O] + Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart. 50 + Again they fly, disporting; from the mead + Half-ripen'd and the tender blades of corn, + To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel + Contagious steams, which oft the parched earth + Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to eve. + Along the river and the paved brook, + Ascend the cheerful breezes: hail'd of bards + Who, fast by learned Cam, the AEolian lyre + Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth + Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclined 60 + O'er rushing Arno, with a pious hand + The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes, + Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp + Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans + The ruins, with a silent tear revolves + The fame and fortune of imperious Rome. + + You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid + The rural powers confess, and still prepare + For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, + Oft as the Delian king [P] with Sirius holds 70 + The central heavens, the father of the grove + Commands his Dryads over your abodes + To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god + Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied + Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. + + Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, + Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path + With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts + The laughing Chloris, [Q] with profusest hand, + Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you 80 + Pomona seeks to dwell; and o'er the lawns, + And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames + Ye love to wander, Amalthea [R] pours, + Well-pleased, the wealth of that Ammonian horn, + Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles + Nysaean or Atlantic. Nor canst thou + (Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock + The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, + O Bromius, O Lenaean), nor canst thou + Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, 90 + With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me, + Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, + Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, + Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. [S] + + For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, + As down the verdant slope your duteous rills + Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, + Delighted; and your piety applauds; + And bids his copious tide roll on secure, + For faithful are his daughters; and with words 100 + Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now + His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings + Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts + Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, + When Hermes, [T] from Olympus bent o'er earth + To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill + Stoops lightly sailing; oft intent your springs + He views: and waving o'er some new-born stream + His bless'd pacific wand, 'And yet,' he cries, + 'Yet,' cries the son of Maia, 'though recluse 110 + And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs, + Flows wealth and kind society to men. + By you my function and my honour'd name + Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic rale, + Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms + By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct + The English merchant; with the buxom fleece + Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe + Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods + Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, 120 + Dispense the mineral treasure [U] which of old + Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land + Was yet unconscious of those generous arts, + Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime + Transplanted to a more indulgent heaven.' + + Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, + O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits + Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: + And those who, sedulous in prudent works, + Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays 130 + With noble wealth, and his own seat on earth, + Pit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might + Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns + Not vainly to the hospitable arts + Of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, + Hath he not won [V] the unconquerable queen + Of arms to court your friendship You she owns + The fair associates who extend her sway + Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things + Of you she littereth, oft as from the shore 140 + Of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks + Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads + To Calpe's [W] foaming channel, or the rough + Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine + Imparting to the senate and the prince + Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, + The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings + Was ever scorn'd by Pallas; and of old + Rejoiced the virgin, from the brazen prow + Of Athens o'er AEgina's gloomy surge, [X] 150 + To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all + The Persian's promised glory, when the realms + Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime, + When Libya's torrid champaign and the rocks + Of cold Imaues join'd their servile bands, + To sweep the sons of Liberty from earth. + In vain; Minerva on the bounding prow + Of Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice + Denounced her terrors on their impious heads, + And shook her burning aegis. Xerxes saw; [Y] 160 + From Heracleum, on the mountain's height + Throned in his golden car, he knew the sign + Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake + His faltering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. + + Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power; + Who arm the hand of Liberty for war, + And give to the renown'd Britannic name + To awe contending monarchs: yet benign, + Yet mild of nature, to the works of peace + More prone, and lenient of the many ills 170 + Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid + Hygeia well can witness; she who saves, + From poisonous dates and cups of pleasing bane, + The wretch, devoted to the entangling snares + Of Bacchus and of Comus. Him she leads + To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils, + To beat the coverts, with the jovial horn + At dawn of day to summon the loud hounds, + She calls the lingering sluggard from his dreams, + And where his breast may drink the mountain breeze, 180 + And where the fervour of the sunny vale + May beat upon his brow, through devious paths + Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, + Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd + His eager bosom, does the queen of health + Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board + She guards, presiding, and the frugal powers + With joy sedate leads in; and while the brown + Ennaean dame with Pan presents her stores, + While changing still, and comely in the change, 190 + Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread + The garden's banquet, you to crown his feast, + To crown his feast, O Naiads, you the fair + Hygeia calls; and from your shelving seats, + And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring, + To slake his veins, till soon a purer tide + Flows down those loaded channels, washeth off + The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds + Of crude disease, and through the abodes of life + Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads, hail! 200 + Who give to labour, health; to stooping age, + The joys which youth had squander'd. Oft your urns + Will I invoke; and frequent in your praise, + Abash the frantic thyrsus [Z] with my song. + + For not estranged from your benignant arts + Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine + My youth was sacred, and my votive cares + Belong, the learned Paeon. Oft when all + His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain; + When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm 210 + Rich with the genial influence of the sun + (To rouse dark fancy from her plaintive dreams, + To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win + Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast + Which pines with silent passion), he in vain + Hath proved; to your deep mansions he descends. + Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, + He entereth; where empurpled veins of ore + Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine + Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god 220 + From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl + Wafts to his pale-eyed suppliants; wafts the seeds + Metallic and the elemental salts + Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink, and soon + Flies pain; flies inauspicious care; and soon + The social haunt or unfrequented shade + Hears Io, Io Paean, [AA] as of old, + When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, + Oft as for hapless mortals I implore + Your sultry springs, through every urn, 230 + Oh, shed your healing treasures! With the first + And finest breath, which from the genial strife + Of mineral fermentation springs, like light + O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then + The fountain, and inform the rising wave. + + My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye + That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand + Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes + Not unregarded of celestial powers, + I frame their language; and the Muses deign 240 + To guide the pious tenor of my lay. + The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine) + In early days did to my wondering sense + Their secrets oft reveal; oft my raised ear + In slumber felt their music; oft at noon, + Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream, + In field or shady grove, they taught me words + Of power from death and envy to preserve + The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful mind, + And offerings unprofaned by ruder eye, 250 + My vows I send, my homage, to the seats + Of rocky Cirrha, [BB] where with you they dwell, + Where you their chaste companions they admit, + Through all the hallow'd scene; where oft intent, + And leaning o'er Castalia's mossy verge, + They mark the cadence of your confluent urns, + How tuneful, yielding gratefullest repose + To their consorted measure, till again, + With emulation all the sounding choir, + And bright Apollo, leader of the song, 260 + Their voices through the liquid air exalt, + And sweep their lofty strings; those powerful strings + That charm the mind of gods, [CC] that fill the courts + Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet + Of evils, with immortal rest from cares, + Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove, + And quench the formidable thunderbolt + Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, + While now the solemn concert breathes around, + Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord 270 + Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number'd notes, + Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone, + Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, + His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels + That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, + Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, + Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men + In that great moment of divine delight, + Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er + He loves not, o'er the peopled earth and o'er 280 + The interminated ocean, he beholds + Cursed with abhorrence by his doom severe, + And troubled at the sound. Ye, Naiads, ye + With ravish'd ears the melody attend + Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves + Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive + To drown the heavenly strains, of highest Jove + Irreverent, and by mad presumption fired + Their own discordant raptures to advance + With hostile emulation. Down they rush 290 + From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames + Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, + With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd + Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild + Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air + The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch + Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's [DD] + Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd + With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods + From every unpolluted ear avert 300 + Their orgies! If within the seats of men, + Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds [EE] + The guardian key, if haply there be found + Who loves to mingle with the revel-band + And hearken to their accents, who aspires + From such instructors to inform his breast + With verse, let him, fit votarist, implore + Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts + Of young Lyaeus, and the dread exploits, + May sing in aptest numbers; he the fate 310 + Of sober Pentheus, [FF] he the Paphian rites, + And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, + And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, + May celebrate, applauded. But with you, + O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, + Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised themes + Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse + To your calm habitations, to the cave + Corycian[GG] or the Delphic mount, [HH] will guide + His footsteps, and with your unsullied streams 320 + His lips will bathe; whether the eternal lore + Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove, + To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre + The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils, + In those unfading islands of the bless'd, + Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nymphs; + Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaic shell, [II] + Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs + Be present ye with favourable feet, + And all profaner audience far remove. 330 + + + + +NOTES. + + * * * * * + + +[Footnote A: '_Love,.... Elder than Chaos_.'--L. 25. +Hesiod in his Theogony gives a different account, and makes Chaos the +eldest of beings, though he assigns to Love neither father nor +superior; which circumstance is particularly mentioned by Phaedrus, +in Plato's Banquet, as being observable not only in Hesiod, but in +all other writers both of verse and prose; and on the same occasion +he cites a line from Parmenides, in which Love is expressly styled +the eldest of all the gods. Yet Aristophanes, in 'The Birds,' affirms, +that 'Chaos, and Night, and Erebus, and Tartarus were first; and +that Love was produced from an egg, which the sable-winged Night +deposited in the immense bosom of Erebus.' But it must be observed, +that the Love designed by this comic poet was always distinguished +from the other, from that original and self-existent being the TO ON +[Greek] or AGAThON [Greek] of Plato, and meant only the +DAeMIOURGOS [Greek] or second person of the old Grecian Trinity; to +whom is inscribed a hymn among those which pass under the name of +Orpheus, where he is called Protogonos, or the first-begotten, is +said to have been born of an egg, and is represented as the +principal or origin of all these external appearances of nature. In +the fragments of Orpheus, collected by Henry Stephens, he is named +Phanes, the discoverer or discloser, who unfolded the ideas of the +supreme intelligence, and exposed them to the perception of inferior +beings in this visible frame of the world; as Macrobius, and Proclus, +and Athenagoras, all agree to interpret the several passages of +Orpheus which they have preserved. + +But the Love designed in our text is the one self-existent and +infinite mind; whom if the generality of ancient mythologists have +not introduced or truly described in accounting for the production +of the world and its appearances, yet, to a modern poet, it can be +no objection that he hath ventured to differ from them in this +particular, though in other respects he professeth to imitate their +manner and conform to their opinions; for, in these great points of +natural theology, they differ no less remarkably among themselves, +and are perpetually confounding the philosophical relations of +things with the traditionary circumstances of mythic history; upon +which very account Callimachus, in his hymn to Jupiter, declareth +his dissent from them concerning even an article of the national +creed, adding, that the ancient bards were by no means to be +depended on. And yet in the exordium of the old Argonautic poem, +ascribed to Orpheus, it is said, that 'Love, whom mortals in later +times call Phanes, was the father of the eternally-begotten Night;' +who is generally represented by these mythological poets as being +herself the parent of all things; and who, in the 'Indigitamenta,' +or Orphic Hymns, is said to be the same with Cypris, or Love itself. +Moreover, in the body of this Argonautic poem, where the personated +Orpheus introduceth himself singing to his lyre in reply to Chiron, +he celebrateth 'the obscure memory of Chaos, and the natures which +it contained within itself in a state of perpetual vicissitude; how +the heaven had its boundary determined, the generation of the earth, +the depth of the ocean, and also the sapient Love, the most ancient, +the self-sufficient, with all the beings which he produced when he +separated one thing from another.' Which noble passage is more +directly to Aristotle's purpose in the first book of his metaphysics +than any of those which he has there quoted, to show that the +ancient poets and mythologists agreed with Empedocles, Anaxagoras, +and the other more sober philosophers, in that natural anticipation +and common notion of mankind concerning the necessity of mind and +reason to account for the connexion, motion, and good order of the +world. For though neither this poem, nor the hymns which pass under +the same name, are, it should seem, the work of the real Orpheus, +yet beyond all question they are very ancient. The hymns, more +particularly, are allowed to be older than the invasion of Greece by +Xerxes, and were probably a set of public and solemn forms of +devotion, as appears by a passage in one of them which Demosthenes +hath almost literally cited in his first oration against Aristogiton, +as the saying of Orpheus, the founder of their most holy mysteries. +On this account, they are of higher authority than any other +mythological work now extant, the Theogony of Hesiod himself not +excepted. The poetry of them is often extremely noble; and the +mysterious air which prevails in them, together with its delightful +impression upon the mind, cannot be better expressed than in that +remarkable description with which they inspired the German editor, +Eschenbach, when he accidentally met with them at Leipsic: +--'Thesaurum me reperisse credidi,' says he, 'et profecto thesaurum +reperi. Incredibile dictu quo me sacro horrore afflaverint +indigitamenta ista deorum: nam et tempus ad illorum lectionem +eligere cogebar, quod vel solum horrorem incutere animo potest, +nocturnum; cum enim totam diem consumserim in contemplando urbis +splendore, et in adeundis, quibus scatet urbs illa, viris doctis; +sola nox restabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. In abyesum quendam +mysteriorum venerandae antiquitatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque +silente mundo, solis vigilantibus astris et luna, [Greek: +melanaephutous] istos hymnos ad manus sumsi.'] + +[Footnote B: '_Love, the sire of Fate_.'--L. 25. Fate is the +universal system of natural causes; the work of the Omnipotent Mind, +or of Love: so Minucius Felix:--'Quid enim aliud est fatum, quam +quod de unoquoque nostrum deus fatus est.' So also Cicero, in the +First Book on Divination:--'Fatum autem id appello, quod Graeci +EIMAPMENIIN: id est, ordinem seriemque causarum, cum causa causae nexa +rem ex se gignat--ex quo intelligitur, ut fatum sit non id quod +superstitiose, sed id quod physice dicitur causa asterna rerum.' To +the same purpose is the doctrine of Hierocles, in that excellent +fragment concerning Providence and Destiny. As to the three Fates, +or Destinies of the poets, they represented that part of the general +system of natural causes which relates to man, and to other mortal +beings: for so we are told in the hymn addressed to them among the +Orphic Indigitamenta, where they are called the daughters of Night +(or Love), and, contrary to the vulgar notion, are distinguished by +the epithets of gentle and tender-hearted. According to Hesiod, Theog. +ver. 904, they were the daughters of Jupiter and Themis: but in the +Orphic hymn to Venus, or Love, that goddess is directly styled the +mother of Necessity, and is represented, immediately after, as +governing the three Destinies, and conducting the whole system of +natural causes.] + +[Footnote C: '_Chaos_.'--L. 26. The unformed, undigested mass of +Moses and Plato; which Milton calls 'The womb of nature.'] + +[Footnote D: '_Born of Fate was Time_.'--L. 26. Chronos, Saturn, or +Time, was, according to Apollodorus, the son of Caelum and Tellus. +But the author of the hymns gives it quite undisguised by +mythological language, and calls him plainly the offspring of the +earth and the starry heaven; that is, of Fate, as explained in the +preceding note.] + +[Footnote E: '_Who many sons ... devour'd_.'--L. 27. The known fable +of Saturn devouring his children was certainly meant to imply the +dissolution of natural bodies, which are produced and destroyed by +Time.] + +[Footnote F: '_The Child of Rhea_.'-L. 29. Jupiter, so called by +Pindar.] + +[Footnote G: '_Drove him from the upper sky_.'--L. 29. That Jupiter +dethroned his father Saturn is recorded by all the mythologists. +Phurnutus, or Cornutus, the author of a little Greek treatise on the +nature of the gods, informs us that by Jupiter was meant the +vegetable soul of the world, which restrained and prevented those +uncertain alterations which Saturn, or Time, used formerly to cause +in the mundane system.] + +[Footnote H: '_Then social reign'd The kindred powers_.'--L. 31. +Our mythology here supposeth, that before the establishment of the +vital, vegetative, plastic nature (represented by Jupiter), the four +elements were in a variable and unsettled condition, but afterwards +well-disposed, and at peace among themselves. Tethys was the wife +of the Ocean; Ops, or Rhea, the Earth; Vesta, the eldest daughter +of Saturn, Fire; and the Cloud-Compeller, or [Greek: Zeus +nephelaegeretaes], the Air, though he also represented the plastic +principle of nature, as may be seen in the Orphic hymn inscribed to +him.] + + +NOTE I. + + '_The sedgy-crowned race_.'--L. 34. + +The river-gods, who, according to Hesiod's Theogony, were the sons of +Oceanus and Tethys. + + +NOTE J. + + '_From them are ye, O Naiads_.'--L. 37. + +The descent of the Naiads is less certain than most points of the +Greek mythology. Homer, Odyss. xiii. [Greek: kourai Dios]. Virgil, +in the eighth book of the AEneid, speaks as if the Nymphs, or Naiads, +were the parents of the rivers: but in this he contradicts the +testimony of Hesiod, and evidently departs from the orthodox system, +which represented several nymphs as retaining to every single river. +On the other hand, Callimachus, who was very learned in all the +school-divinity of those times, in his hymn to Delos, maketh Peneus, +the great Thessalian river-god, the father of his nymphs: and Ovid, +in the fourteenth book of his Metamorphoses, mentions the Naiads of +Latium as the immediate daughters of the neighbouring river-gods. +Accordingly, the Naiads of particular rivers are occasionally, both +by Ovid and Statius, called by patronymic, from the name of the +river to which they belong. + + +NOTE K. + + '_Syrian Daphne_.'--L. 40. + +The grove of Daphne in Syria, near Antioch, was famous for its +delightful fountains. + + +NOTE L. + + '_The tribes beloved by Paeon_.'--L. 40. + +Mineral and medicinal springs. Paeon was the physician of the gods. + + +NOTE M. + + '_The winged offspring_.'--L. 43. + +The winds; who, according to Hesiod and Apollodorus, were the sons of +Astraeus and Aurora. + + +NOTE N. + + '_Hyperion_.'--L. 46. + +A son of Caelum and Tellus, and father of the Sun, who is thence +called, by Pindar, Hyperionides. But Hyperion is put by Homer in the +same manner as here, for the Sun himself. + + +NOTE O. + + '_Your sallying streams_.'--L. 49. + +The state of the atmosphere with respect to rest and motion is, in +several ways, affected by rivers and running streams; and that more +especially in hot seasons: first, they destroy its equilibrium, by +cooling those parts of it with which they are in contact; and +secondly, they communicate their own motion: and the air which is +thus moved by them, being left heated, is of consequence more +elastic than other parts of the atmosphere, and therefore fitter to +preserve and to propagate that motion. + +NOTE P. + + '_Delian king_.'--L. 70. + +One of the epithets of Apollo, or the Sun, in the Orphic hymn +inscribed to him. + +NOTE Q. + + '_Chloris_.'--L. 79. + +The ancient Greek name for Flora. + +NOTE R. + + '_Amalthea_.'--L. 83. + +The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was +written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic +character, by Thymoetes, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with +Orpheus. Thymoetes had travelled over Libya to the country which +borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and +learned from the inhabitants, that 'Ammon, King of Libya, was +married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: +that he afterwards fell in love with a beautiful virgin whose name +was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a +neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape +nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian +horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that fearing the jealousy +of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus in the island of Nysa;' the +beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of +style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, +and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of +Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to +except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic +story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and +solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he +prefers it even to-- + + 'That Nysean isle + Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham + (Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove) + Hid Amalthea and her florid son, + Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.' + + +NOTE S. + + '_Edonian band_.'--L. 94. + +The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus: so called from Edonus, +a mountain of Thrace, where his rites were celebrated. + +NOTE T. + + '_When Hermes_.'--L. 105. + +Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent +character he is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta in +these beautiful lines:-- + +[Greek: + _Ermaeuen panton, kerdempore, lusimerimue, + O? cheiresthiu echei? oplun aremphe_?] + + +NOTE U. + + _'Dispense the mineral treasure'_.--L. 121. + +The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of +Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin. + +NOTE V. + + _'Hath he not won'_?--L. 136. + +Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the +good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the +friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war: for military power, at +least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the +establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, +that 'from bounty issueth power.' + +NOTE W. + + _'C'alpe ... Cantabrian surge'_--L. 143. + +Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay. + +NOTE X. + + _'AEgina's gloomy surge'_--L. 150. + +Near this island, the Athenians obtained the victory of Salamis, +over the Persian navy. + +NOTE Y. + + _'Xerxes saw'_--L. 160. + +This circumstance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most +splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, +in his Life of Themistocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium +and Salamis. + +NOTE Z. + + _'Thyrsus'_--L. 204. + +A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the +bacchanalian mysteries. + +NOTE AA. + + _'Io Paean.'_--L. 227. + +An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's +encounter with Python. + +NOTE BB. + + _'Rocky Cirrha'_--L. 252. + +One of the summits of Parnassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were +several fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses. Nysa, the +other eminence of the same mountain, was dedicated to Bacchus. + +NOTE CC. + + _'Charm the mind of gods'_--L. 263. + +This whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred music among the +gods, is taken from Pindar's first Pythian ode. + +NOTE DD. + + '_Phrygian pipe_.'--L. 297. + +The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite +disorderly passions. + + +NOTE EE. + + '_The gates where Pallas holds + The guardian key_.'--L. 302. + +It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; +whence she was named IIOAIAS and HOAIOYXOS, and had her statues +placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that +account styled KAHAOYXOS. + + +NOTE FF. + + 'Fate of sober Pentheus.'--L. 311. + +Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanalian priests and women, +for despising their mysteries. + + +NOTE GG. + + 'The cave Corycian:--L. 318. + +Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following +description:--'Between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus is a +road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph +Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One +may walk a great way into it without a torch. 'Tis of a considerable +height, and hath several springs within it; and yet a much greater +quantity of water distils from the shell and roof, so as to be +continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold +it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan.' + + +NOTE HH. + + 'Delphic mount.'--L. 319. + +Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky +situation, on the skirts of Parnassus. + + +NOTE II. + + 'Cyrenaic shell.'--L. 327. + +Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the +most remarkable example of that mythological passion which is +assumed in the preceding poem, and have always afforded particular +pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity +with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to +attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the +manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as +the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, +could have been but little interesting to a modern reader, it was +therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the +history of nature, and to employ these ancient divinities as it is +probable they were first employed; to wit, in personifying natural +causes, and in representing the mutual agreement or opposition of +the corporeal and moral powers of the world: which hath been +accounted the very highest office of poetry. + + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS. + + + +I. + +FOR A GROTTO. + + To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call + Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, + This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, + Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, + Were placed by Glycou. He with cowslips pale, + Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green + Before my threshold, and my shelving walls + With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, + Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, + I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend; + Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, + Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds + Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in, + O stranger, undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad + Here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts + Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread + My quiet mansion; chiefly, if thy name + Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own. + + +II. + +FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK. + + Such was old Chaucer; such the placid mien + Of him who first with harmony inform'd + The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt + For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls + Have often heard him, while his legends blithe + He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles + Of homely life; through each estate and age, + The fashions and the follies of the world + With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance + From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come + Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain + Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold + To him, this other hero; who, in times + Dark and untaught, began with charming verse + To tame the rudeness of his native land. + + + +III. + + Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies + Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove + Of branching oaks a rural palace old + Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord + Of all the harvest round. And onward thence + A low plain chapel fronts the morning light + Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk, + O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground; + And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest + Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand + Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew + Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest, + The learned shepherd; for each rural art + Famed, and for songs harmonious, and the woes + Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride + Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave + In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven, + With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care, + Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold + And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith + From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, + Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside + The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate + The mournful story. Haply some fair maid + May hold it in remembrance, and be taught + That riches cannot pay for truth or love. + + +IV. + + O youths and virgins: O declining eld: + O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell + Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait + In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: + O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch + That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds + Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand + Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam + In exile; ye who through the embattled field + Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms + Contend, the leaders of a public cause; + Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not + The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue + Told you the fashion of your own estate, + The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round + His monument with reverence while ye stand, + Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; + Who walk'd in every path of human life, + Felt every passion; and to all mankind + Doth now, will ever, that experience yield + Which his own genius only could acquire.' + + +V. + + GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE + AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; + CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS + ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE + NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE + DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, + GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS + P.G. A.M. A. + + +VI. + +FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE. + + Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, + While Thames among his willows from thy view + Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene + Around contemplate well. This is the place + Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms + And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king + (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure + The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on + Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid + Those thanks which God appointed the reward + Of public virtue. And if chance thy home + Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, + Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt + They owe their ancestors; and make them swear + To pay it, by transmitting down entire + Those sacred rights to which themselves were born. + + + + + +VII. + + +THE WOOD NYMPH. + + Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale + Which I, the Dryad of this hoary oak, + Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age + Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose + On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale + Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards + The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, + Obeys me. Many changes have I seen + In human things, and many awful deeds + Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove + Against the tyrants of the land, against + The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, + Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length + Expert in laws divine, I know the paths + Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end + Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait + Each evening till a noble youth, who loves + My shade, a while released from public cares, + Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down + Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind + I prompt, unseen; and place before his view + Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart + With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme + Of gods and men, with freedom's generous deeds, + The lofty voice of glory and the faith + Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told + My function. If within thy bosom dwell + Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave + Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear + A sparing benediction from thy tongue. + + +VIII. + + Ye powers unseen, to whom, the bards of Greece + Erected altars; ye who to the mind + More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart + With more divine emotions; if erewhile + Not quite uupleasing have my votive rites + Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat + To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe + Here with your instant energy to crown + My happy solitude. It is the hour + When most I love to invoke you, and have felt + Most frequent your glad ministry divine. + The air is calm: the sun's unveiled orb + Shines in the middle heaven. The harvest round + Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves + The reapers lie reclined. The neighbouring groves + Are mute, nor even a linnet's random strain + Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel + Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in heaven, + Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds + Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades + Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below + Do you converse retired? From what loved haunt + Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel + Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers: + And I will guard it well; nor shall a thought + Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move + Across my bosom unobserved, unstored + By faithful memory. And then at some + More active moment, will I call them forth + Anew; and join them in majestic forms, + And give them utterance in harmonious strains; + That all mankind shall wonder at your sway. + + +IX. + + Me though in life's sequester'd vale + The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, + Remote from glory's toilsome ways, + And the great scenes of public praise; + Yet let me still with grateful pride + Remember how my infant frame + He temper'd with prophetic flame, + And early music to my tongue supplied. + 'Twas then my future fate he weigh'd, + And, this be thy concern, he said, + At once with Passion's keen alarms, + And Beauty's pleasurable charms, + And sacred Truth's eternal light, + To move the various mind of Man; + Till, under one unblemish'd plan, + His Reason, Fancy, and his Heart unite. + + + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. [1] + + Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, + And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, + Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, + In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; + Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, + And proud to mix my memory with thine. + But now the cause that waked my song before, + With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. + If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, + Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 + Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, + And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; + If every tongue its large applauses owed, + And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; + If public Justice urged the high reward, + And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; + Say then, to him whose levity or lust + Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; + Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, + And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 + Does not each tongue its execrations owe? + Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, + And public Justice sanctify th' award, + And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard? + + Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, + Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, + Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, + And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise. + But since thy guilt still more entire appears, + Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 + Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, + And the first rage of party-hate is past; + Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come + To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: + So may my trust from all reproach be free; + And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree. + + There are who say they view'd without amaze + The sad reverse of all thy former praise: + That through the pageants of a patriot's name, + They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40 + Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw + The public thunder on a private foe. + But I, whose soul consented to thy cause, + Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause, + Who saw the spirits of each glorious age + Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage; + I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds, + The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds. + Spite of the learned in the ways of vice, + And all who prove that each man has his price, 50 + I still believed thy end was just and free; + And yet, even yet, believe it--spite of thee. + Even though thy mouth impure has dared disclaim, + Urged by the wretched impotence of shame, + Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid + To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd; + Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show; + Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe; + Has boasted in thy country's awful ear, + Her gross delusion when she held thee dear; 60 + How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous call, + And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-- + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For laws subverted, and for cities sold! + Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt, + The oaths you perjured, and the blood you spilt; + Yet must you one untempted vileness own, + One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; + With studied arts his country's praise to spurn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, 70 + To challenge hate when honour was his due, + And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew. + Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose + From each fair feeling human nature knows? + Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear + To all that reason, all that sense would hear? + Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, + In such unthankful baseness to be lost? + Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, + And yield thy glories at an idiot's price? 80 + + When they who, loud for liberty and laws, + In doubtful times had fought their country's cause, + When now of conquest and dominion sure, + They sought alone to hold their fruits secure; + When taught by these, Oppression hid the face, + To leave Corruption stronger in her place, + By silent spells to work the public fate, + And taint the vitals of the passive state, + Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, + And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd shore: 90 + Then, like some guardian god that flies to save + The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, + Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake + Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake; + Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, + To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, + Against Corruption Liberty to arm, + And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm. + + Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, + And with thy country's hopes thy honours grew. 100 + Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; + Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd; + Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds; + The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns; + Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires, + To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires; + The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + With new amazement hears a living name + Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; 110 + And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways, + Left the tame track of these dejected days, + The life of nobler ages to renew + In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, + Roused by thy labours from the bless'd retreat, + Where social ease and public passions meet, + Again ascending treads the civil scene, + To act and be a man, as thou hadst been. + + Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, + And the great end appear'd at last in view: 120 + We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, + We saw the senate bending to thy voice; + The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching reign + Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain; + While venal Faction, struck with new dismay, + Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay. + Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, + Abash'd and keener from his long repose; + Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear + Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear; 130 + The city felt his call: from man to man, + From street to street, the glorious horror ran; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And, murmuring, challenged the deciding hour. + + Lo! the deciding hour at last appears; + The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears! + Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name, + O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame! + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, + And guide each movement steady to the goal. 140 + Ye spirits by whose providential art + Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, + Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, + And watch his fancy, and his passions bind! + Ye shades immortal, who by Freedom led, + Or in the field or on the scaffold bled, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + And view the crown of all your labours nigh. + See Freedom mounting her eternal throne! + The sword submitted, and the laws her own: 150 + See! public Power chastised beneath her stands, + With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands! + See private Life by wisest arts reclaim'd! + See ardent youth to noblest manners framed! + See us acquire whate'er was sought by you, + If Curio, only Curio will be true. + + 'Twas then--o shame! O trust how ill repaid! + O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!-- + 'Twas then--What frenzy on thy reason stole? + What spells unsinewed thy determined soul?-- 160 + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved, + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved, + This patient slave by tinsel chains allured, + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured, + This Curio, hated and despised by all, + Who fell himself to work his country's fall? + O lost, alike to action and repose! + Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! + With all that conscious, undissembled pride, + Sold to the insults of a foe defied! 170 + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame! + The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art + To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, + Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, + Display thy virtue, though without a dower, + Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + And shut thy eyes that others may be blind.-- + Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, + When shameless mouths your majesty defile, 180 + Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, + And cast their own impieties on you. + For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power + My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, + How have I stood exulting, to survey + My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! + How with the sons of every foreign shore + The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the more! + O race erect! whose native strength of soul, + Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, 190 + Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, + And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; + Intent the laws of life to comprehend, + And fix dominion's limits by its end. + Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, + By conscious reason judging every state, + The man forget not, though in rags he lies, + And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: + Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view + Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, 200 + Or, all awake at pity's soft command, + Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand: + Thence large of heart, from envy far removed, + When public toils to virtue stand approved, + Not the young lover fonder to admire, + Not more indulgent the delighted sire; + Yet high and jealous of their free-born name, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway, + Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. 210 + But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, + My country must with him renounce her cause, + Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, + Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod; + Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail, + Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail: + Else, ere he change the style, bear me away + To where the Gracchi [2], where the Bruti stay! + + O long revered, and late resign'd to shame! + If this uncourtly page thy notice claim 220 + When the loud cares of business are withdrawn, + Nor well-dress'd beggars round thy footsteps fawn; + In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour, + When Truth exerts her unresisted power, + Breaks the false optics tinged with fortune's glare, + Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions bare; + Then turn thy eyes on that important scene, + And ask thyself--if all be well within. + Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of soul, + Which labour could not stop, nor fear control? 230 + Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe, + Which, half-abash'd, the proud and venal saw? + Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause? + Where the delightful taste of just applause? + Where the strong reason, the commanding tongue, + On which the senate fired or trembling hung? + All vanish'd, all are sold--and in their room, + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted gloom, + See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur dwell, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! 210 + To her in chains thy dignity was led; + At her polluted shrine thy honour bled; + With blasted weeds thy awful brow she crown'd, + Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound, + That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, + And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew: + For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; + No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; + No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, + With all her conscious majesty confess'd, 250 + Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty flame, + To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame, + And where she sees the catching glimpses roll, + Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the soul; + But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill, + And formal passions mock thy struggling will; + Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain, + And reach impatient at a nobler strain, + Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth + Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous birth, 260 + Till, blind with smart, from truth to frenzy toss'd, + And all the tenor of thy reason lost, + Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear; + While some with pity, some with laughter hear.-- + Can art, alas! or genius, guide the head, + Where truth and freedom from the heart are fled? + Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, + When the prime function of the soul is broke? + + But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend; + Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend; 270 + Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine, + Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; + For see the hand of Destiny display'd + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd! + See the dire fane of Infamy arise! + Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; + Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, + The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. + Eternal barriers guard the pathless road + To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode; 280 + But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, + The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. + There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, + And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates; + And still he asks them of their unknown aims, + Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, + Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, + And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. 290 + + At last the gates his potent voice obey; + Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey; + Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, + The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, + O'er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, + The great, the sage, the happy, and august [3]. + No gleam of hope their baleful mansion cheers, + No sound of honour hails their unbless'd ears; + But dire reproaches from the friend betray'd, + The childless sire and violated maid; 300 + But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From towns enslaved, and continents laid waste; + But long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + For ever through the trembling space resound, + And sink each impious forehead to the ground. + + Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, + Give way, do homage to a mightier guest! + Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, + See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface!-- 310 + Awed at the name, fierce Appius [4] rising bends, + And hardy Cinna from his throne attends: + 'He comes,' they cry, 'to whom the fates assign'd + With surer arts to work what we design'd, + From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, + Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage obey; + Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their power, + He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; + Then, tired and yielding, led them to the chain, + And quench'd the spirit we provoked in vain.' 320 + + But thou, Supreme, by whose eternal hands + Fair Liberty's heroic empire stands; + Whose thunders the rebellious deep control, + And quell the triumphs of the traitor's soul, + Oh! turn this dreadful omen far away: + On Freedom's foes their own attempts repay: + Relume her sacred fire so near suppress'd, + And fix her shrine in every Roman breast: + Though bold Corruption boast around the land, + 'Let virtue, if she can, my baits withstand!' 330 + Though bolder now she urge the accursed claim, + Gay with her trophies raised on Curio's shame; + Yet some there are who scorn her impious mirth, + Who know what conscience and a heart are worth.-- + O friend and father of the human mind, + Whose art for noblest ends our frame design'd! + If I, though fated to the studious shade + Which party-strife, nor anxious power invade, + If I aspire in public virtue's cause, + To guide the Muses by sublimer laws, 340 + Do thou her own authority impart, + And give my numbers entrance to the heart. + Perhaps the verse might rouse her smother'd flame, + And snatch the fainting patriot back to fame; + Perhaps by worthy thoughts of human kind, + To worthy deeds exalt the conscious mind; + Or dash Corruption in her proud career, + And teach her slaves that Vice was born to fear. + + +[Footnote 1: Curio was a young Roman senator, of distinguished +birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had +been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, +he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want +of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of +Csesar against the liberties of his country, although he had before +been a professed enemy to him. Cicero exerted himself with great +energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of +the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published +in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at +last successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted +the cause of his country, and became the foremost in support and +defence of the same measures he had so steadily and for such a +length of time contended against.] + +[Fotnote 2: The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, lost +their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that +could give stability and good order to the Roman republic. L. Junius +Brutus founded the commonwealth, and died in its defence.] + +[Footnote 3: Titles which have been generally ascribed to the most +pernicious of men.] + +[Footnote 4: Appius Claudius the Decemvir, and L. Cornelius Cinna +both attempted to establish a tyrannical dominion in Rome, and both +perished by the treason.] + + + + +THE VIRTUOSO. + + IN IMITATION OP SPENSER'S STYLE AND STANZA. + + + 'Videmus + Nugari solitos.'--PERSIUS. + + + + 1 Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream, + In London town there dwelt a subtile wight; + A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame, + Book-learn'd and quaint; a Virtuoso hight. + Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight; + From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten ease, + Nor ceasen he from study, day or night; + Until (advancing onward by degrees) + He knew whatever breeds on earth, or air, or seas. + + 2 He many a creature did anatomise, + Almost unpeopling water, air, and land; + Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies, + Were laid full low by his relentless hand, + That oft with gory crimson was distain'd: + He many a dog destroy'd, and many a cat; + Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drain'd, + Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat, + And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a gnat. + + 3 He knew the various modes of ancient times, + Their arts and fashions of each different guise, + Their weddings, funerals, punishments for crimes, + Their strength, their learning eke, and rarities; + Of old habiliments, each sort and size, + Male, female, high and low, to him were known; + Each gladiator-dress, and stage disguise; + With learned, clerkly phrase he could have shown + How the Greek tunic differ'd from the Roman gown. + + 4 A curious medalist, I wot, he was, + And boasted many a course of ancient coin; + Well as his wife's he knewen every face, + From Julius Caesar down to Constantine: + For some rare sculptor he would oft ypine + (As green-sick damosels for husbands do); + And when obtained, with enraptured eyne, + He'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, + And look, and look again, as he would look it through. + + 5 His rich museum, of dimensions fair, + With goods that spoke the owner's mind was fraught: + Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare, + From sea and land, from Greece and Rome were brought, + Which he with mighty sums of gold had bought: + On these all tides with joyous eyes he pored; + And, sooth to say, himself he greater thought, + When he beheld his cabinets thus stored, + Than if he'd been of Albion's wealthy cities lord. + + 6 Here in a corner stood a rich scrutoire, + With many a curiosity replete; + In seemly order furnish'd every drawer, + Products of art or nature as was meet; + Air-pumps and prisms were placed beneath his feet, + A Memphian mummy-king hung o'er his head; + Here phials with live insects small and great, + There stood a tripod of the Pythian maid; + Above, a crocodile diffused a grateful shade. + + 7 Fast by the window did a table stand, + Where modern and antique rarities, + From Egypt, Greece, and Rome, from sea and land, + Were thick-besprent, of every sort and size: + Here a Bahaman-spider's carcass lies, + There a dire serpent's golden skin doth shine; + Here Indian feathers, fruits, and glittering flies; + There gums and amber found beneath the line, + The beak of Ibis here, and there an Antonine. + + 8 Close at his back, or whispering in his ear, + There stood a sprite ycleped Phantasy; + Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near: + Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; + Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye; + Her glistering robes were of more various hue + Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky, + Or all the spangled drops of morning dew; + Their colour changing still at every different view. + + 9 Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay, + Various as the chameleon that she bore; + Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay, + Now mendicant in silks and golden ore: + A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar, + Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed; + A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore; + Now scribbling dunce, in sacred laurel clad, + Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd. + + 10 The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill, + On whom she doth with constant care attend, + Will for a dreadful giant take a mill, + Or a grand palace in a hog-sty find: + (From her dire influence me may heaven defend!) + All things with vitiated sight he spies; + Neglects his family, forgets his friend, + Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, + And eagerly pursues imaginary joys. + + + + + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. + + A FABLE. + + 'Optat quietem.'-HOR. + + While yet the world was young, and men were few, + Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew, + In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd, + Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: + No sumptuous fabrics yet were seen to rise, + Nor gushing fountains taught to invade the skies; + With nature, art had not begun the strife, + Nor swelling marble rose to mimic life; + No pencil yet had learn'd to express the fair; + The bounteous earth was all their homely care. 10 + + Then did Content exert her genial sway, + And taught the peaceful world her power to obey-- + Content, a female of celestial race, + Bright and complete in each celestial grace. + Serenely fair she was, as rising day, + And brighter than the sun's meridian ray; + Joy of all hearts, delight of every eye, + Nor grief nor pain appear'd when she was by; + Her presence from the wretched banish'd care, + Dispersed the swelling sigh, and stopp'd the falling tear. 20 + + Long did the nymph her regal state maintain, + As long mankind were bless'd beneath her reign; + Till dire Ambition, hellish fiend, arose + To plague the world, and banish man's repose, + A monster sprung from that rebellious crew + Which mighty Jove's Phlegraean thunder slew. + Resolved to dispossess the royal fair, + On all her friends he threaten'd open war; + Fond of the novelty, vain, fickle man + In crowds to his infernal standard ran; 30 + And the weak maid, defenceless left alone, + To avoid his rage, was forced to quit the throne. + + It chanced, as wandering through the fields she stray'd, + Forsook of all, and destitute of aid, + Upon a rising mountain's flowery side, + A pleasant cottage, roof'd with turf, she spied: + Fast by a gloomy, venerable wood + Of shady planes and ancient oaks it stood. + Around, a various prospect charm'd the sight; + Here waving harvests clad the field with white, 40 + Here a rough shaggy rock the clouds did pierce, + From which a torrent rush'd with rapid force; + Here mountain-woods diffused a dusky shade; + Here flocks and herds in flowery valleys play'd, + While o'er the matted grass the liquid crystal stray'd. + In this sweet place there dwelt a cheerful pair, + Though bent beneath the weight of many a year; + Who, wisely flying public noise and strife, + In this obscure retreat had pass'd their life; + The husband Industry was call'd, Frugality the wife. 50 + With tenderest friendship mutually bless'd, + No household jars had e'er disturbed their rest. + A numerous offspring graced their homely board, + That still with nature's simple gifts was stored. + + The father rural business only knew; + The sons the same delightful art pursue. + An only daughter, as a goddess fair, + Above the rest was the fond mother's care, + Plenty; the brightest nymph of all the plain, + Each heart's delight, adored by every swain. 60 + Soon as Content this charming scene espied, + Joyful within herself the goddess cried:-- + 'This happy sight my drooping heart doth raise; + The gods, I hope, will grant me gentler days. + When with prosperity my life was bless'd, + In yonder house I've been a welcome guest: + There now, perhaps, I may protection find; + For royalty is banish'd from my mind; + I'll thither haste: how happy should I be, + If such a refuge were reserved for me!' 70 + + Thus spoke the fair; and straight she bent her way + To the tall mountain, where the cottage lay: + Arrived, she makes her changed condition known; + Tells how the rebels drove her from the throne; + What painful, dreary wilds she'd wander'd o'er; + And shelter from the tyrant doth implore. + + The faithful, aged pair at once were seized + With joy and grief, at once were pain'd and pleased; + Grief for their banish'd queen their hearts' possess'd, + And joy succeeded for their future guest: 80 + 'And if you'll deign, bright goddess, here to dwell, + And with your presence grace our humble cell, + Whate'er the gods have given with bounteous hand, + Our harvest, fields, and flocks, our all command.' + + Meantime, Ambition, on his rival's flight, + Sole lord of man, attain'd his wish's height; + Of all dependence on his subjects eased, + He raged without a curb, and did whate'er he pleased; + As some wild flame, driven on by furious winds, + Wide spreads destruction, nor resistance finds; 90 + So rush'd the fiend destructive o'er the plain, + Defaced the labours of th' industrious swain; + Polluted every stream with human gore, + And scatter'd plagues and death from shore to shore. + + Great Jove beheld it from the Olympian towers, + Where sate assembled all the heavenly powers; + Then with a nod that shook the empyrean throne, + Thus the Saturnian thunderer begun:-- + 'You see, immortal inmates of the skies, + How this vile wretch almighty power defies; 100 + His daring crimes, the blood which he has spilt, + Demand a torment equal to his guilt. + Then, Cyprian goddess, let thy mighty boy + Swift to the tyrant's guilty palace fly; + There let him choose his sharpest, hottest dart, + And with his former rival wound his heart. + And thou, my son (the god to Hermes said), + Snatch up thy wand, and plume thy heels and head; + Dart through the yielding air with all thy force, + And down to Pluto's realms direct thy course; 110 + There rouse Oblivion from her sable cave, + Where dull she sits by Lethe's sluggish wave; + Command her to secure the sacred bound. + Where lives Content retired, and all around + Diffuse the deepest glooms of Stygian night, + And screen the virgin from the tyrant's sight; + That the vain purpose of his life may try + Still to explore, what still eludes his eye.' + He spoke; loud praises shake the bright abode, + And all applaud the justice of the god. 120 + + + + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + + Of all the various lots around the ball, + Which fate to man distributes, absolute, + Avert, ye gods! that of the Muse's son, + Cursed with dire poverty! poor hungry wretch! + What shall he do for life? He cannot work + With manual labour; shall those sacred hands, + That brought the counsels of the gods to light; + Shall that inspired tongue, which every Muse + Has touch'd divine, to charm the sons of men; + These hallow'd organs! these! be prostitute 10 + To the vile service of some fool in power, + All his behests submissive to perform, + Howe'er to him ungrateful? Oh! he scorns + The ignoble thought; with generous disdain, + More eligible deeming it to starve, + Like his famed ancestors renown'd in verse, + Than poorly bend to be another's slave,-- + Than feed and fatten in obscurity.-- + These are his firm resolves, which fate, nor time, + Nor poverty can shake. Exalted high 20 + In garret vile he lives; with remnants hung + Of tapestry. But oh! precarious state + Of this vain transient world! all-powerful Time, + What dost thou not subdue? See what a chasm + Gapes wide, tremendous! see where Saul, enraged, + High on his throne, encompass'd by his guards, + With levell'd spear, and arm extended, sits, + Ready to pierce old Jesse's valiant son, + Spoil'd of his nose!--around in tottering ranks, + On shelves pulverulent, majestic stands 30 + His library; in ragged plight, and old; + Replete with many a load of criticism, + Elaborate products of the midnight toil + Of Belgian brains; snatch'd from the deadly hands + Of murderous grocer, or the careful wight, + Who vends the plant, that clads the happy shore + Of Indian Patomac; which citizens + In balmy fumes exhale, when, o'er a pot + Of sage-inspiring coffee, they dispose + Of kings and crowns, and settle Europe's fate. 40 + + Elsewhere the dome is fill'd with various heaps + Of old domestic lumber; that huge chair + Has seen six monarchs fill the British throne: + Here a broad massy table stands, o'erspread + With ink and pens, and scrolls replete with rhyme: + Chests, stools, old razors, fractured jars, half-full + Of muddy Zythum, sour and spiritless: + Fragments of verse, hose, sandals, utensils + Of various fashion, and of various use, + With friendly influence hide the sable floor. 50 + + This is the bard's museum, this the fane + To Phoebus sacred, and the Aonian maids: + But, oh! it stabs his heart, that niggard fate + To him in such small measure should dispense + Her better gifts: to him! whose generous soul + Could relish, with as fine an elegance, + The golden joys of grandeur, and of wealth; + He who could tyrannise o'er menial slaves, + Or swell beneath a coronet of state, + Or grace a gilded chariot with a mien, 60 + Grand as the haughtiest Timon of them all. + + But 'tis in vain to rave at destiny: + Here he must rest and brook the best he can, + To live remote from grandeur, learning, wit; + Immured amongst th' ignoble, vulgar herd, + Of lowest intellect; whose stupid souls + But half inform their bodies; brains of lead + And tongues of thunder; whose insensate breasts + Ne'er felt the rapturous, soul-entrancing fire + Of the celestial Muse; whose savage ears 70 + Ne'er heard the sacred rules, nor even the names + Of the Venusian bard, or critic sage + Full-famed of Stagyra: whose clamorous tongues + Stun the tormented ear with colloquy, + Vociferate, trivial, or impertinent; + Replete with boorish scandal; yet, alas! + This, this! he must endure, or muse alone, + Pensive and moping o'er the stubborn rhyme, + Or line imperfect--No! the door is free, + And calls him to evade their deafening clang, 80 + By private ambulation;--'tis resolved: + Off from his waist he throws the tatter'd gown, + Beheld with indignation; and unloads + His pericranium of the weighty cap, + With sweat and grease discolour'd: then explores + The spacious chest, and from its hollow womb + Draws his best robe, yet not from tincture free + Of age's reverend russet, scant and bare; + Then down his meagre visage waving flows + The shadowy peruke; crown'd with gummy hat 90 + Clean brush'd; a cane supports him. Thus equipp'd + He sallies forth; swift traverses the streets, + And seeks the lonely walk.--'Hail, sylvan scenes, + Ye groves, ye valleys, ye meandering brooks, + Admit me to your joys!' in rapturous phrase, + Loud he exclaims; while with the inspiring Muse + His bosom labours; and all other thoughts, + Pleasure and wealth, and poverty itself, + Before her influence vanish. Rapt in thought, + Fancy presents before his ravish'd eyes 100 + Distant posterity, upon his page + With transport dwelling; while bright learning's sons + That ages hence must tread this earthly ball, + Indignant, seem to curse the thankless age, + That starved such merit. Meantime swallow'd up, + In meditation deep, he wanders on, + Unweeting of his way.--But, ah! he starts + With sudden fright! his glaring eyeballs roll, + Pale turn his cheeks, and shake his loosen'd joints; + His cogitations vanish into air, 110 + Like painted bubbles, or a morning dream. + Behold the cause! see! through the opening glade, + With rosy visage, and abdomen grand, + A cit, a dun!--As in Apulia's wilds, + Or where the Thracian Hebrus rolls his wave, + A heedless kid, disportive, roves around, + Unheeding, till upon the hideous cave + On the dire wolf she treads; half-dead she views + His bloodshot eyeballs, and his dreadful fangs, + And swift as Eurus from the monster flies. 120 + So fares the trembling bard; amazed he turns, + Scarce by his legs upborne; yet fear supplies + The place of strength; straight home he bends his course, + Nor looks behind him till he safe regain + His faithful citadel; there, spent, fatigued, + He lays him down to ease his heaving lungs, + Quaking, and of his safety scarce convinced. + Soon as the panic leaves his panting breast, + Down to the Muse's sacred rites he sits, + Volumes piled round him; see! upon his brow 130 + Perplex'd anxiety, and struggling thought, + Painful as female throes: whether the bard + Display the deeds of heroes; or the fall + Of vice, in lay dramatic; or expand + The lyric wing; or in elegiac strains + Lament the fair; or lash the stubborn age, + With laughing satire; or in rural scenes + With shepherds sport; or rack his hard-bound brains + For the unexpected turn. Arachne so, + In dusty kitchen corner, from her bowels 140 + Spins the fine web, but spins with better fate, + Than the poor bard: she! caitiff! spreads her snares, + And with their aid enjoys luxurious life, + Bloated with fat of insects, flesh'd in blood: + He! hard, hard lot! for all his toil and care, + And painful watchings, scarce protracts a while + His meagre, hungry days! ungrateful world! + If with his drama he adorn the stage, + No worth-discerning concourse pays the charge. + Or of the orchestra, or the enlightening torch. 150 + He who supports the luxury and pride + Of craving Lais; he! whose carnage fills + Dogs, eagles, lions; has not yet enough, + Wherewith to satisfy the greedier maw + Of that most ravenous, that devouring beast, + Ycleped a poet. What new Halifax, + What Somers, or what Dorset canst thou find, + Thou hungry mortal? Break, wretch, break thy quill, + Blot out the studied image; to the flames + + Commit the Stagyrite; leave this thankless trade; 160 + Erect some pedling stall, with trinkets stock'd, + There earn thy daily halfpence, nor again + Trust the false Muse; so shall the cleanly meal + Repel intruding hunger.--Oh! 'tis vain, + The friendly admonition's all in vain; + The scribbling itch has seized him, he is lost + To all advice, and starves for starving's sake. + + Thus sung the sportful Muse, in mirthful mood, + Indulging gay the frolic vein of youth; + But, oh! ye gods, avert th' impending stroke 170 + This luckless omen threatens! Hark! methinks + I hear my better angel cry, 'Retreat, + Rash youth! in time retreat; let those poor bards, + Who slighted all, all! for the flattering Muse, + Yet cursed with pining want, as landmarks stand, + To warn thee from the service of the ingrate.' + + + + + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + + OCCASIONED BY THE INSULTS OF THE SPANIARDS, + AND THE PRESENT PREPARATIONS + FOR WAR. 1738. + + Whence this unwonted transport in my breast? + Why glow my thoughts, and whither would the Muse + Aspire with rapid wing? Her country's cause + Demands her efforts: at that sacred call + She summons all her ardour, throws aside + The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump + She means to thunder in each British ear; + And if one spark of honour or of fame, + Disdain of insult, dread of infamy, + One thought of public virtue yet survive, 10 + She means to wake it, rouse the generous flame, + With patriot zeal inspirit every breast, + And fire each British heart with British wrongs. + + Alas, the vain attempt! what influence now + Can the Muse boast! or what attention now + Is paid to fame or virtue? Where is now + The British spirit, generous, warm, and brave, + So frequent wont from tyranny and woe + To free the suppliant nations? Where, indeed! + If that protection, once to strangers given, 20 + Be now withheld from sons? Each nobler thought, + That warrn'd our sires, is lost and buried now + In luxury and avarice. Baneful vice! + How it unmans a nation! yet I'll try, + I'll aim to shake this vile degenerate sloth; + I'll dare to rouse Britannia's dreaming sons + To fame, to virtue, and impart around + A generous feeling of compatriot woes. + + Come, then, the various powers of forceful speech, + All that can move, awaken, fire, transport! 30 + Come the bold ardour of the Theban bard! + The arousing thunder of the patriot Greek! + The soft persuasion of the Roman sage! + Come all! and raise me to an equal height, + A rapture worthy of my glorious cause! + Lest my best efforts, failing, should debase + The sacred theme; for with no common wing + The Muse attempts to soar. Yet what need these? + My country's fame, my free-born British heart, + Shall be my best inspirers, raise my flight 40 + High as the Theban's pinion, and with more + Than Greek or Roman flame exalt my soul. + Oh! could I give the vast ideas birth + Expressive of the thoughts that flame within, + No more should lazy Luxury detain + Our ardent youth; no more should Britain's sons + Sit tamely passive by, and careless hear + The prayers, sighs, groans, (immortal infamy!) + Of fellow Britons, with oppression sunk, + In bitterness of soul demanding aid, 50 + Calling on Britain, their dear native land, + The land of Liberty; so greatly famed + For just redress; the land so often dyed + With her best blood, for that arousing cause, + The freedom of her sons; those sons that now + Far from the manly blessings of her sway, + Drag the vile fetters of a Spanish lord. + And dare they, dare the vanquish'd sons of Spain + Enslave a Briton? Have they then forgot, + So soon forgot, the great, the immortal day, 60 + When rescued Sicily with joy beheld + The swift-wing'd thunder of the British arm + Disperse their navies? when their coward bands + Fled, like the raven from the bird of Jove, + From swift impending vengeance fled in vain? + Are these our lords? And can Britannia see + Her foes oft vanquish'd, thus defy her power, + Insult her standard, and enslave her sons, + And not arise to justice? Did our sires, + Unawed by chains, by exile, or by death, 70 + Preserve inviolate her guardian rights, + To Britons ever sacred, that her sons + Might give them up to Spaniards?--Turn your eyes, + Turn, ye degenerate, who with haughty boast + Call yourselves Britons, to that dismal gloom, + That dungeon dark and deep, where never thought + Of joy or peace can enter; see the gates + Harsh-creaking open; what a hideous void, + Dark as the yawning grave, while still as death + A frightful silence reigns! There on the ground 80 + Behold your brethren chain'd like beasts of prey: + There mark your numerous glories, there behold + The look that speaks unutterable woe; + The mangled limb, the faint, the deathful eye, + With famine sunk, the deep heart-bursting groan, + Suppress'd in silence; view the loathsome food, + Refused by dogs, and oh! the stinging thought! + View the dark Spaniard glorying in their wrongs, + The deadly priest triumphant in their woes, + And thundering worse damnation on their souls: 90 + While that pale form, in all the pangs of death, + Too faint to speak, yet eloquent of all, + His native British spirit yet untamed, + Raises his head; and with indignant frown + Of great defiance, and superior scorn, + Looks up and dies.--Oh! I am all on fire! + But let me spare the theme, lest future times + Should blush to hear that either conquer'd Spain + Durst offer Britain such outrageous wrong, + Or Britain tamely bore it-- 100 + Descend, ye guardian heroes of the land! + Scourges of Spain, descend! Behold your sons; + See! how they run the same heroic race, + How prompt, how ardent in their country's cause, + How greatly proud to assert their British blood, + And in their deeds reflect their fathers' fame! + Ah! would to heaven ye did not rather see + How dead to virtue in the public cause, + How cold, how careless, how to glory deaf, + They shame your laurels, and belie their birth! 110 + + Come, ye great spirits, Candish, Raleigh, Blake! + And ye of latter name, your country's pride, + Oh! come, disperse these lazy fumes of sloth, + Teach British hearts with British fires to glow! + In wakening whispers rouse our ardent youth, + Blazon the triumphs of your better days, + Paint all the glorious scenes of rightful war + In all its splendours; to their swelling souls + Say how ye bow'd th' insulting Spaniards' pride, + Say how ye thunder'd o'er their prostrate heads, 120 + Say how ye broke their lines and fired their ports, + Say how not death, in all its frightful shapes, + Could damp your souls, or shake the great resolve + For right and Britain: then display the joys + The patriot's soul exalting, while he views + Transported millions hail with loud acclaim + The guardian of their civil, sacred rights. + How greatly welcome to the virtuous man + Is death for others' good! the radiant thoughts + That beam celestial on his passing soul, 130 + The unfading crowns awaiting him above, + The exalting plaudit of the Great Supreme, + Who in his actions with complacence views + His own reflected splendour; then descend, + Though to a lower, yet a nobler scene; + Paint the just honours to his relics paid, + Show grateful millions weeping o'er his grave; + While his fair fame in each progressive age + For ever brightens; and the wise and good + Of every land in universal choir 140 + With richest incense of undying praise + His urn encircle, to the wondering world + His numerous triumphs blazon; while with awe, + With filial reverence, in his steps they tread, + And, copying every virtue, every fame, + Transplant his glories into second life, + And, with unsparing hand, make nations bless'd + By his example. Vast, immense rewards! + For all the turmoils which the virtuous mind + Encounters here. Yet, Britons, are ye cold? 150 + Yet deaf to glory, virtue, and the call + Of your poor injured countrymen? Ah! no: + I see ye are not; every bosom glows + With native greatness, and in all its state + The British spirit rises: glorious change! + Fame, virtue, freedom, welcome! Oh, forgive + The Muse, that, ardent in her sacred cause, + Your glory question'd; she beholds with joy, + She owns, she triumphs in her wish'd mistake. + See! from her sea-beat throne in awful march 160 + Britannia towers: upon her laurel crest + The plumes majestic nod; behold, she heaves + Her guardian shield, and terrible in arms + For battle shakes her adamantine spear: + Loud at her foot the British lion roars, + Frighting the nations; haughty Spain full soon + Shall hear and tremble. Go then, Britons, forth, + Your country's daring champions: tell your foes + Tell them in thunders o'er their prostrate land, + You were not born for slaves: let all your deeds 170 + Show that the sons of those immortal men, + The stars of shining story, are not slow + In virtue's path to emulate their sires, + To assert their country's rights, avenge her sons, + And hurl the bolts of justice on her foes. + + + + + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + + 'O vitas Philosophia dux! O virtutis indagatrix, expultrixque + vitiorum. Tu urbes peperisti; tu inventrix legum, tu magistra morum + et disciplinae fuisti: ad te confugimus, a te opem petimus.'-- + _Cic. Tusc. Quaest_. + + 1 Science! thou fair effusive ray + From the great source of mental day, + Free, generous, and refined! + Descend with all thy treasures fraught, + Illumine each bewilder'd thought, + And bless my labouring mind. + + 2 But first with thy resistless light, + Disperse those phantoms from my sight, + Those mimic shades of thee: + The scholiast's learning, sophist's cant, + The visionary bigot's rant, + The monk's philosophy. + + 3 Oh! let thy powerful charms impart + The patient head, the candid heart, + Devoted to thy sway; + Which no weak passions e'er mislead, + Which still with dauntless steps proceed + Where reason points the way. + + 4 Give me to learn each secret cause; + Let Number's, Figure's, Motion's laws + Reveal'd before me stand; + These to great Nature's scenes apply, + And round the globe, and through the sky, + Disclose her working hand. + + 5 Next, to thy nobler search resign'd, + The busy, restless, Human Mind + Through every maze pursue; + Detect Perception where it lies, + Catch the Ideas as they rise, + And all their changes view. + + 6 Say from what simple springs began + The vast ambitious thoughts of man, + Which range beyond control, + Which seek eternity to trace, + Dive through the infinity of space, + And strain to grasp the whole. + + 7 Her secret stores let Memory tell, + Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell, + In all her colours dress'd; + While prompt her sallies to control, + Reason, the judge, recalls the soul + To Truth's severest test. + + 8 Then launch through Being's wide extent; + Let the fair scale with just ascent + And cautious steps be trod; + And from the dead, corporeal mass, + Through each progressive order pass + To Instinct, Reason, God. + + 9 There, Science! veil thy daring eye; + Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high, + In that divine abyss; + To Faith content thy beams to lend, + Her hopes to assure, her steps befriend + And light her way to bliss. + + 10 Then downwards take thy flight again, + Mix with the policies of men, + And social Nature's ties; + The plan, the genius of each state, + Its interest and its powers relate, + Its fortunes and its rise. + + 11 Through private life pursue thy course, + Trace every action to its source, + And means and motives weigh: + Put tempers, passions, in the scale; + Mark what degrees in each prevail, + And fix the doubtful sway. + + 12 That last best effort of thy skill, + To form the life, and rule the will, + Propitious power! impart: + Teach me to cool my passion's fires, + Make me the judge of my desires, + The master of my heart. + + 13 Raise me above the Vulgar's breath, + Pursuit of fortune, fear of death, + And all in life that's mean: + Still true to reason be my plan, + Still let my actions speak the man, + Through every various scene. + + 14 Hail! queen of manners, light of truth; + Hail! charm of age, and guide of youth; + Sweet refuge of distress: + In business, thou! exact, polite; + Thou giv'st retirement its delight, + Prosperity its grace. + + 15 Of wealth, power, freedom, thou the cause; + Foundress of order, cities, laws, + Of arts inventress thou! + Without thee, what were human-kind? + How vast their wants, their thoughts how blind! + Their joys how mean, how few! + + 16 Sun of the soul! thy beams unveil: + Let others spread the daring sail + On Fortune's faithless sea: + While, undeluded, happier I + From the rain tumult timely fly, + And sit in peace with thee. + + + + + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + + Too much my heart of Beauty's power hath known, + Too long to Love hath reason left her throne; + Too long my genius mourn'd his myrtle chain, + And three rich years of youth consumed in vain. + My wishes, lull'd with soft inglorious dreams, + Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes: + Through each Elysian vale and fairy grove, + Through all the enchanted paradise of love, + Misled by sickly Hope's deceitful flame, + Averse to action, and renouncing fame. 10 + + At last the visionary scenes decay, + My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day, + Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road + In which my heedless feet securely trod, + And strip the phantoms of their lying charms + That lured my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms. + + For silver streams and banks bespread with flowers, + For mossy couches and harmonious bowers, + Lo! barren heaths appear, and pathless woods, + And rocks hung dreadful o'er unfathom'd floods: 20 + For openness of heart, for tender smiles, + Looks fraught with love, and wrath-disarming wiles; + Lo! sullen Spite, and perjured Lust of Gain, + And cruel Pride, and crueller Disdain; + Lo! cordial Faith to idiot airs refined, + Now coolly civil, now transporting kind. + For graceful Ease, lo! Affectation walks; + And dull Half-sense, for Wit and Wisdom talks. + New to each hour what low delight succeeds, + What precious furniture of hearts and heads! 30 + By nought their prudence, but by getting, known, + And all their courage in deceiving shown. + + See next what plagues attend the lover's state, + What frightful forms of Terror, Scorn, and Hate! + See burning Fury heaven and earth defy! + See dumb Despair in icy fetters lie! + See black Suspicion bend his gloomy brow, + The hideous image of himself to view! + And fond Belief, with all a lover's flame, + Sink in those arms that point his head with shame! 40 + There wan Dejection, faltering as he goes, + In shades and silence vainly seeks repose; + Musing through pathless wilds, consumes the day, + Then lost in darkness weeps the hours away. + Here the gay crowd of Luxury advance, + Some touch the lyre, and others urge the dance: + On every head the rosy garland glows, + In every hand the golden goblet flows. + The Syren views them with exulting eyes, + And laughs at bashful Virtue as she flies. 50 + But see behind, where Scorn and Want appear, + The grave remonstrance and the witty sneer; + See fell Remorse in action, prompt to dart + Her snaky poison through the conscious heart; + And Sloth to cancel, with oblivious shame, + The fair memorial of recording Fame. + + Are these delights that one would wish to gain? + Is this the Elysium of a sober brain? + To wait for happiness in female smiles, + Bear all her scorn, be caught with all her wiles, 60 + With prayers, with bribes, with lies, her pity crave, + Bless her hard bonds, and boast to be her slave; + To feel, for trifles, a distracting train + Of hopes and terrors equally in vain; + This hour to tremble, and the next to glow; + Can Pride, can Sense, can Reason, stoop so low: + When Virtue, at an easier price, displays + The sacred wreaths of honourable praise; + When Wisdom utters her divine decree, + To laugh at pompous Folly, and be free? 70 + + I bid adieu, then, to these woeful scenes; + I bid adieu to all the sex of queens; + Adieu to every suffering, simple soul, + That lets a woman's will his ease control. + There laugh, ye witty; and rebuke, ye grave! + For me, I scorn to boast that I'm a slave. + I bid the whining brotherhood be gone; + Joy to my heart! my wishes are my own! + Farewell the female heaven, the female hell; + To the great God of Love a glad farewell. 80 + Is this the triumph of thy awful name? + Are these the splendid hopes that urged thy aim, + When first my bosom own'd thy haughty sway? + When thus Minerva heard thee, boasting, say-- + 'Go, martial maid, elsewhere thy arts employ, + Nor hope to shelter that devoted boy. + Go teach the solemn sons of Care and Age, + The pensive statesman, and the midnight sage; + The young with me must other lessons prove, + Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love. 90 + Behold, his heart thy grave advice disdains; + Behold, I bind him in eternal chains.'-- + Alas! great Love, how idle was the boast! + Thy chains are broken, and thy lessons lost; + Thy wilful rage has tired my suffering heart, + And passion, reason, forced thee to depart. + But wherefore dost thou linger on thy way? + Why vainly search for some pretence to stay, + When crowds of vassals court thy pleasing yoke, + And countless victims bow them to the stroke? 100 + Lo! round thy shrine a thousand youths advance, + Warm with the gentle ardours of romance; + Each longs to assert thy cause with feats of arms, + And make the world confess Dulcinea's charms. + Ten thousand girls with flowery chaplets crown'd, + To groves and streams thy tender triumph sound: + Each bids the stream in murmurs speak her flame, + Each calls the grove to sigh her shepherd's name. + But, if thy pride such easy honour scorn, + If nobler trophies must thy toil adorn, 110 + Behold yon flowery antiquated maid + Bright in the bloom of threescore years display'd; + Her shalt thou bind in thy delightful chains, + And thrill with gentle pangs her wither'd veins, + Her frosty cheek with crimson blushes dye, + With dreams of rapture melt her maudlin eye. + + Turn then thy labours to the servile crowd, + Entice the wary, and control the proud; + Make the sad miser his best gains forego, + The solemn statesman sigh to be a beau, 120 + The bold coquette with fondest passion burn, + The Bacchanalian o'er his bottle mourn; + And that chief glory of thy power maintain, + 'To poise ambition in a female brain.' + Be these thy triumphs; but no more presume + That my rebellious heart will yield thee room: + I know thy puny force, thy simple wiles; + I break triumphant through thy flimsy toils; + I see thy dying lamp's last languid glow, + Thy arrows blunted and unbraced thy bow. 130 + I feel diviner fires my breast inflame, + To active science, and ingenuous fame; + Resume the paths my earliest choice began, + And lose, with pride, the lover in the man. + + + + + +TO CORDELIA. + + JULY 1740. + + 1 From pompous life's dull masquerade, + From Pride's pursuits, and Passion's war, + Far, my Cordelia, very far, + To thee and me may Heaven assign + The silent pleasures of the shade, + The joys of peace, unenvied, though divine! + + 2 Safe in the calm embowering grove, + As thy own lovely brow serene; + Behold the world's fantastic scene! + What low pursuits employ the great, + What tinsel things their wishes move, + The forms of Fashion, and the toys of State. + + 3 In vain are all Contentment's charms, + Her placid mien, her cheerful eye, + For look, Cordelia, how they fly! + Allured by Power, Applause, or Gain, + They fly her kind protecting arms; + Ah, blind to pleasure, and in love with pain! + + 4 Turn, and indulge a fairer view, + Smile on the joys which here conspire; + O joys harmonious as my lyre! + O prospect of enchanting things, + As ever slumbering poet knew, + When Love and Fancy wrapt him in their wings! + + 5 Here, no rude storm of Passion blows, + But Sports and Smiles, and Virtues play, + Cheer'd by Affection's purest ray; + The air still breathes Contentment's balm, + And the clear stream of Pleasure flows + For ever active, yet for ever calm. + + + + + +SONG. + + 1 The shape alone let others prize, + The features of the fair; + I look for spirit in her eyes, + And meaning in her air; + + 2 A damask cheek, an ivory arm, + Shall ne'er my wishes win: + Give me an animated form, + That speaks a mind within; + + 3 A face where awful honour shines, + Where sense and sweetness move, + And angel innocence refines + The tenderness of love. + + 4 These are the soul of Beauty's frame; + Without whose vital aid, + Unfinish'd all her features seem, + And all her roses dead. + + 5 But, ah! where both their charms unite, + How perfect is the view, + With every image of delight, + With graces ever new: + + 6 Of power to charm the greatest woe, + The wildest rage control, + Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, + And rapture through the soul. + + 7 Their power but faintly to express, + All language must despair; + But go, behold Arpasia's face, + And read it perfect there. + + + +END OF AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + +This file should be named 7aken10.txt or 7aken10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7aken11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7aken10a.txt + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince +and the Online Distribted Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. 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: Poetical Works of Akenside + +Author: Mark Akenside + [Edited by George Gilfillan] + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9814] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince +and the Online Distribted Proofreading Team + + + + +THE + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +MARK AKENSIDE. + + + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +THE LIFE OF AKENSIDE. + + +Mark Akenside was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 9th of November +1721. His family were Presbyterian Dissenters, and on the 30th of +that month he was baptized in the meeting, then held in Hanover +Square, by a Mr. Benjamin Bennet. His father, Mark, was a butcher in +respectable circumstances--his mother's name was Mary Lumsden. There +may seem something grotesque in finding the author of the "Pleasures +of Imagination" born in a place usually thought so anti-poetical as +a butcher's shop. And yet similar anomalies abound in the histories +of men of genius. Henry Kirke White, too, was a butcher's son, and +for some time carried his father's basket. The late Thomas Atkinson, +a very clever _littérateur_ of the West of Scotland, was also what +the Scotch call a "flesher's" son. The case of Cardinal Wolsey is +well known. Indeed, we do not understand why any decent calling +should be inimical to the existence--however it may be to the +adequate development--of genius. That is a spark of supernal +inspiration, lighting where it pleases, often conforming, and always +striving to conform, circumstances to itself, and sometimes even +strengthened and purified by the contradictions it meets in life. Nay, +genius has sprung up in stranger quarters than in butcher's shops or +tailor's attics--it has lived and nourished in the dens of robbers, +and in the gross and fetid atmosphere of taverns. There was an +Allen-a-Dale in Robin Hood's gang; it was in the Bell Inn, at +Gloucester, that George Whitefield, the most gifted of popular +orators, was reared; and Bunyan's Muse found him at the +disrespectable trade of a tinker, and amidst the clatter of pots, +and pans, and vulgar curses, made her whisper audible in his ear, +"Come up hither to the Mount of Vision--to the summit of Mount Clear!" + +It is said that Akenside was ashamed of his origin--and if so, he +deserved the perpetual recollection of it, produced by a life-long +lameness, originating in a cut from his father's cleaver. It is +fitting that men, and especially great men, should suffer through +their smallnesses of character. The boy was first sent to the +Free School of Newcastle, and thence to a private academy kept by +Mr. Wilson, a Dissenting minister of the place. He began rather early +to display a taste for poetry and verse-writing; and, in April 1737, +we find in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ a set of stanzas, entitled, +"The Virtuoso, in imitation of Spenser's style and stanza," prefaced +by a letter signed Marcus, in which the author, while requesting the +insertion of his piece, pleads the apology of his extreme youth. One +may see something of the future political zeal of the man in the +boy's selection of one of the names of Brutus. The _Gentleman's +Magazine_ was then rising toward that character of a readable medley +and agreeable _olla podrida_, which it long bore, although its +principal contributor--Johnson--did not join its staff till the next +year. Its old numbers will even still repay perusal--at least we +seldom enjoyed a greater treat than when in our boyhood we lighted +on and read some twenty of its brown-hued, stout-backed, +strong-bound volumes, filled with the debates in the Senate of +Lilliput--with Johnson's early Lives and Essays--with mediocre +poetry--interesting scraps of meteorological and scientific +information--ghost stories and fairy tales--alternating with timid +politics, and with sarcasms at the great, veiled under initials, +asterisks, and innuendoes; and even now many, we believe, feel it +quite a luxury to recur from the personalities and floridities of +modern periodicals to its quiet, cool, sober, and sensible pages. To +it Akenside contributed afterwards a fable, called "Ambition and +Content," a "Hymn to Science," and a few more poetical pieces +(written not, as commonly said, in Edinburgh, but in Newcastle, in +1739). It has been asserted that he composed his "Pleasures of +Imagination" while visiting some relations at Morpeth, when only +seventeen years of age; but although he himself assures us that he +spent many happy and inspired hours in that region, + + "Led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen," + +there is no direct evidence that he then fixed his vague, tumultuous, +youthful impressions in verse. Indeed, the texture and style of the +"Pleasures" forbid the thought that it was a hasty improvisation. +When nearly eighteen years old, Akenside was sent to Edinburgh, to +commence his studies for the pulpit, and received some pecuniary +assistance from the Dissenters' Society. One winter, however, served +to disgust him with the prospects of the profession--which he +resigned for the pursuit of medicine, repaying the contribution he +had received from the society. We know a similar case in the present +day of a well-known, able _littérateur_--once the editor of the +_Westminster Review_--who had been educated at the expense of the +Congregational body in Scotland, but who, after a change of +religious view and of profession, honourably refunded the whole sum. +What were the special reasons why Akenside turned aside from the +Church we are not informed. Perhaps he had fallen into youthful +indiscretions or early scepticism; or perhaps he felt that the +business of a Dissenting pastor was not then, any more than it is now, +a very lucrative one. Presbyterian Dissent at that time, besides, +did not stand very high in England. The leading Dissenting divines +were Independents--and the Presbyterian body was fast sinking into +Unitarian or Arian heresy. On the other hand, the Church of England +was in the last state of lukewarmness; the Church of Scotland was +groaning under the load of patronage; and the Secession body was +newly formed, and as yet insignificant. In such circumstances we +cannot wonder that an ardent, ambitious mind like that of Akenside +should revolt from divinity as a study, and the pulpit as a goal, +although some may think it strange how the pursuit of medicine +should commend itself instead to a genial and poetic mind. Yet let +us remember that some eminent poets have been students or practisers +of the art of medicine. Such--to name only a few--were Armstrong, +Smollett, Crabbe, Darwin, Delta, Keats, and the two Thomas Browns, +the Knight of the "Religio Medici," and the Philosopher of the +"Lectures," both genuine poets, although their best poetry is in +prose. There are, besides, connected with medicine, some departments +of thought and study peculiarly exciting to the imagination. Such is +anatomy, with its sad yet instructive revelations of the structure +of the human frame--so "fearfully and wonderfully made"--wielding in +its hand a scalpel which at first seems ruthless and disenchanting +as the scythe of death, but which afterwards becomes a key to unlock +some of the deepest mysteries, and leads us down whole galleries of +wonder. There is botany, culling from every nook and corner of the +earth weeds which are flowers, and flowers of all hues, and every +plant, from the "cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop which springs out of +the wall," and finding a terrible and imaginative pleasure in +handling the fell family of poisons, and in deriving the means of +protracting life and healing sickness from the very blossoms of death. +And there is chemistry, most poetical save astronomy of all the +sciences, seeking to spiritualise the material--to hunt the atom to +the point where it trembles over the gulf of nonentity--to weigh +gases in scales, and the elements in a balance, and, in its more +transcendental and daring shape, trying to interchange one kind of +metal with another, and all kinds of forms with all, as in a +music-led and mystic dance. Hence we find that such men as Beddoes, +the author of the "Bride's Tragedy," have turned away from poetry to +physiology, and found in it a grander if also ghastlier stimulus to +their imaginative faculty. Hence Crabbe delighted to load himself +with grasses and duckweed, and Goëthe to fill his carriage with +every variety of plant and mountain flower. Hence Davy, and the late +lamented Samuel Brown, analysed, in the spirit of poets as well as +of philosophers, and gave to the crucible what it had long lost, +something of the air of a weird cauldron, bubbling over with magical +foam, and shining, not so much in the severe light of science as in +the + + "Light that never was on sea or shore. + The consecration and the poet's dream." + +And hence, in the then state of Church matters, and of his own +effervescent soul, Akenside felt probably in medicine a deeper charm +than in theology, and imagined that it opened up a more congenial +field for his powers both of reason and of imagination. + +In December 1740, Akenside was elected a member of the Edinburgh +Medical Society. This society held meetings for discussion, and +in them our poet set himself to shine as a speaker. His ambition, +it is said, at this time, was to be a member of Parliament; and +Dr. Robertson, then a student in the University, used to attend the +meetings of the society chiefly to hear the speeches of the young +and fiery Southron. Indeed, the rhetoric of the "Pleasures of +Imagination" is finer than its poetry; and none but an orator could +have painted Brutus rising "refulgent from the stroke" which slew +Caesar, when he + + "Call'd on Tully's name, + And bade the father of his country hail!" + +Englishmen are naturally more eloquent than the Scotch; and once and +again has the Mark Akenside, the Joseph Gerald, or the George +Thompson overpowered and captivated even the sober and critical +children of the Modern Athens. While electrifying the Medical Society, +Akenside did not neglect, if he did not eminently excel in his +professional studies; and he continued to write sonorous verse, some +specimens of which, including an "Ode on the Winter Solstice," and +"Love, an Elegy," he is said to have printed for private distribution. + +In Edinburgh he became acquainted with Jeremiah Dyson, a young +law-student of fortune, who was afterwards our poet's principal +patron. He seems to have returned to Newcastle in 1741; and we find +him dating a letter to Dyson thence on the 18th of August 1742, and +directing his correspondent to address his reply to him as "Surgeon, +in Newcastle-upon-Tyne." It is doubtful, however, if he had yet +begun to practise; and there is reason to believe that he was busily +occupied with his great poem. This he completed in the close of 1743. +He offered the manuscript to Dodsley for £150. The bookseller, +although a liberal and generous man, was disposed at first to +_boggle_ a little at such a price for a didactic poem by an +unknown man. He carried the "Pleasures of Imagination" to Pope, who +glanced at it, saw its merit, and advised Dodsley not to make a +niggardly offer--for "this was no everyday writer." It appeared in +January 1744, and, in spite of its faults, nay, perhaps, partly in +consequence of them, was received with loud applause; and the +author--only twenty-three years of age--"awoke one morning, and found +himself famous;" for although his name was not attached to the poem, +it soon transpired. One Rolt, an obscure scribbler, then in Ireland, +claimed the authorship, transcribed the poem with his own hand; nay, +according to Dr. Johnson, published an edition with his own name, +and was invited to the best tables as the ingenious Mr. Rolt. His +conversation did not indeed sparkle with poetic fire, nor was his +appearance that of a poet, but people remembered that both Dryden +and Addison were dull or silent in company till warmed with wine, and +that it was not uncommon for authors to have sold all their thoughts +to their booksellers. Akenside, hearing of this, was obliged to +vindicate his claims by printing the next edition with his name, and +then the bubble of the ingenious Mr. Rolt burst. + +All fame, and especially all sudden fame, has its drawbacks. Gray +read the poem, and wrote of it to his friends, in a style thought at +the time depreciatory, although it comes pretty near the truth. He +says, "It seems to me above the middling, and now and then for a +little while rises even to the best, particularly in description. It +is often obscure and even unintelligible. In short, its great fault +is, that it was published at least nine years too early." Gray, +however, had not as yet himself emerged as a poet, and his word had +chiefly weight with his friends. Warburton was a more formidable +opponent. This divine acted then a good deal in the style of a +gigantic Church-bully, and seemed disposed to knock down all and +sundry who differed from him either on great or small theological +matters; and Humes, Churchills, Jortins, Middletons, Lowths, +Shaftesburys, Wesleys, Whitefields, and Akensides all felt the fury +of his onset, and the force of the "punishment" inflicted by his +strong fists. Akenside, in his poem, and in one of his notes, had +defended Shaftesbury's ridiculous notion that ridicule is the test +of truth, and for this Warburton assailed him in the preface to +"Remarks in Answer to Dr. Middleton." In this, while indirectly +disparaging the poem, he accuses the poet of infidelity, atheism, +and insulting the clergy. The preface appeared in March 1744, and in +the following May (Akenside being then in Holland) came forth a reply, +in "An Epistle to the Rev. Mr. Warburton, occasioned by his +Treatment of the Author of the Pleasures of Imagination," which had +been concocted between Dyson and our poet. This pamphlet was written +with considerable spirit; and although it left the question where it +found it, it augured no little courage on the part of the young +physician and the young lawyer mating themselves against the matured +author of the "Divine Legation of Moses." As to the question in +dispute, Johnson disposes of it satisfactorily in a single sentence. +"If ridicule be applied to any position as the test of truth, it +will then become a question whether such ridicule be just, and this +can only be decided by the application of truth as the test of +ridicule." How easy to make any subject or any person ridiculous! To +hold that ridicule is paramount to the discovery or attestation of +truth, is to exalt the ape-element in man above the human and the +angelic principles, which also belong to his nature, and to enthrone +a Voltaire over a Newton or a Milton. Those who laugh proverbially +do not always win, nor do they always deserve to win. Do we think +less of "Paradise Lost," and Shakspeare, because Cobbett has derided +both, or of the Old and New Testaments, because Paine has subjected +parts of them to his clumsy satire? When we find, indeed, a system +such as Jesuitism blasted by the ridicule of Pascal, we conclude +that it was not true,--but why? not merely because ridicule assailed +it, for ridicule has assailed ten thousand systems which never even +shook in the storm, but because, in the view of all candid and +liberal thinkers, the ridicule _prevailed_. Should it be said that +the question still recurs, How are we to be certain of the candour +and liberality of the men who think that Pascal's satire damaged +Jesuitism? we simply say, that it is not ridicule, but some stricter +and more satisfactory method that can determine _this_ inquiry. It +is remarkable that Akenside modified his statements on this subject +in his after revision of his poem. + +In April 1744 we find our bard in Leyden, and Mr. Dyce has published +some interesting letters dated thence to Mr. Dyson. He does not seem +to have admired Holland much, whether in its scenery, manners, taste, +or genius. On the 16th of May, he took his degree of Doctor of +Physic at Leyden, the subject of his Dissertation (which, according +to the usual custom, he published) being the "Origin and Growth of +the Human Foetus," in which he is reported to have opposed the views +then prevalent, and to have maintained the theory which is now +generally held. As soon as he received his diploma he returned to +England, signalising his departure by an "Ode to Holland," as dull +as any ditch in that country itself. In June he settled as a +physician in Northampton, where the eminent Doddridge was at the +time labouring. With him he is said to have held a friendly contest +about the opinions of the old heathens in reference to a future state, +Akenside, in keeping with the whole tenor of his intellectual history, +supporting the side of the ancients. Indeed, he never appears to +have had much religion, except that of the Pagan philosophy, Plato +being his Paul, and Socrates his Christ; and most cordially would he +have joined in Thorwaldsen's famous toast (announced at an evening +party in Rome, while the planet Jupiter was shining in great glory), +"Here's in honour of the ancient gods." In Northampton, partly owing +to the overbearing influence of Dr. Stonehouse, a long-established +practitioner, and partly to his violent political zeal, he did not +prosper. While residing there he produced his manly and spirited +"Epistle to Curio." Curio was Pulteney, who had been a flaming +patriot, but who, like the majority of such characters, had, for the +sake of a title--the earldom of Bath--subsided into a courtier. Him +Akenside lashes with unsparing energy. He committed afterwards an +egregious blunder in reference to this production. He frittered it +down into a stupid ode. Indeed, he had always an injudicious +trick--whether springing from fastidiousness or undue ambition--of +tinkering and tampering with his very best poems. + +In March 1745 he collected his odes into a quarto tract. It appeared +at a time when lyrical poetry was all but extinct. Dryden was gone; +Collins and Gray had not yet published their odes; and hence, and +partly too from the prestige of his former poem, Akenside's odes, +poor as they now seem, met with considerable acceptance, although +they did not reach a new edition till 1760. In 1747 his friend Dyson, +having been elected clerk to the House of Commons, took Akenside with +him to his house at Northend, Hampstead. Here, however, he felt +himself out of place, and in fine, in 1748, he settled down in +Bloomsbury Square, London, where Dyson very generously allowed him +£300 a-year, which, being equal to the value of twice that sum now, +enabled him to keep a chariot, and live like a gentleman. During the +years 1746, 1747, 1748, he composed a number of pieces, both in +prose and verse--his "Hymn to the Naiads," his "Ode to the Evening +Star," and several essays in _Dodsley's Museum_; such as these, +"On Correctness;" "The Table of Modern Fame, a Vision;" "Letter from +a Swiss Gentleman on English Liberty;" and "The Balance of Poets;" +besides an ode to Caleb Hardinge, M. D., and another to the Earl of +Huntingdon, which has been esteemed one of his best lyric poems. In +London he did not attain rapidly a good practice, nor was it ever +extensive. But for Mr. Dyson's aid he might have written a chapter on +"Early Struggles," nearly as rich and interesting as that famous one +in Warren's "Diary of a late Physician." Even his poetical name was +adverse to his prospects. His manners, too, were unconciliating and +haughty. At Tom's Coffeehouse, in Devereux Court, night after night, +appeared the author of the "Pleasures of Imagination," full of +knowledge, dogmatism, and a love of self-display; eager for talk, +fond of arguing--especially on politics and literature--and sometimes +narrowly escaping duels and other misadventures springing from his +hot and imperious temper. In sick chambers he was stiff, formal, and +reserved, carrying a frown about with him, which itself damped the +spirits and accelerated the pulse of his patients. It was only among +intimate friends that he descended to familiarity, and even then it +was with + + "Compulsion and laborious flight." + +One of these intimates for a while was Charles Townshend, a man +whose name now lives chiefly in the glowing encomium of Burke, a +part of which we may quote:--"Before this splendid orb (Lord Chatham) +was entirely set, and while the western horizon was in a blaze with +his descending glory, on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose +another luminary, and for his hour became lord of the ascendant. +Townshend was the delight and ornament of this House, and the charm +of every private society which he honoured with his presence. +Perhaps there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man +of more pointed and finished wit, and of a more refined, exquisite, +and penetrating judgment. He stated his matter skilfully and +powerfully. He particularly excelled in a most luminous explanation +and display of the subject. His style of argument was neither trite +and vulgar, nor subtle and abstruse. He hit the House between wind +and water. He had no failings which were not owing to a noble cause, +to an ardent, generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame; a +passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He worshipped that +goddess wheresoever she appeared: but he paid his particular +devotions to her in her favourite habitation, in her chosen temple, +the House of Commons." With this distinguished man Akenside was for +some time on friendly terms, but for causes not well known, their +friendship came to an abrupt termination; it might have been owing +to Townshend's rapid rise, or to Akenside's presumptuous and +overbearing disposition. Two odes, addressed by the latter to the +former, immortalise this incomplete and abortive amity. + +The years 1750 and 1751 were only signalised in Akenside's history +by one or two dull odes from his pen. But if not witty at that time +himself, he gave occasion to wit in others. Smollett, provoked, it +is said, by some aspersions Akenside had in conversation cast on +Scotland, and at all times prone to bitter and sarcastic views of +men and manners, fell foul of him in "Peregrine Pickle." If our +readers care for wading through that filthy novel--the most +disagreeable, although not the dullest of Smollett's fictions--they +will find a caricature of our poet in the character of the "Doctor," +who talks nonsense about liberty, quotes and praises his own poetry, +and invites his friends to an entertainment in the manner of the +ancients--a feast hideously accurate in its imitation of antique +cookery, and forming, if not an "entertainment" to the guests, a very +rich one to the readers of the tale. How Akenside bore this we are +not particularly informed. Probably he writhed in secret, but was +too proud to acknowledge his feelings. In 1753 he was consoled by +receiving a doctor's degree from Cambridge, and by being elected +Fellow of the Royal Society. The next year he became Fellow of the +College of Physicians. + +In June 1755 he read the Galstonian lectures in anatomy before the +College of Physicians, and in the next year the Croonian lectures +before the same institution. The subject of the latter course was +the "History of the Revival of Letters," which some of the learned +Thebans thought not germane to the matter; and, consequently, after +he had delivered three lectures, he desisted in disgust. This fact +seems somewhat to contradict Dr. Johnson's assertion, that "Akenside +appears not to have been wanting to his own success, and placed +himself in view by all the common methods." Had he been a thoroughly +self-seeking man, he never would have committed the blunder of +choosing literature as a subject of predilection to men who were +probably most of them materialists, or at least destitute of +literary taste. The Doctor says also, "He very eagerly forced +himself into notice, by an ambitious ostentation of elegance and +literature." But surely the author of such a popular poem as the +"Pleasures of Imagination" had no need to claim notice by an +ostentatious display of his parts, and had too much good sense to +imagine that such a vain display would conciliate any acute and +sensible person. Johnson, in fact, throughout his cursory and +careless "Life of Akenside," is manifestly labouring under deep +prejudice against the poet--prejudice founded chiefly on Akenside's +political sentiments. + +In 1759 our poet was appointed physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, +and afterwards to Christ's Hospital. Here he ruled the patients and +the under officials with a rod of iron. Dr. Lettsom became a +surgeon's dresser in St. Thomas's Hospital. He was an admirer of +poetry, especially of the "Pleasures of Imagination," and +anticipated much delight from intercourse with the author. He was +disappointed first of all with his personal appearance. He found him +a stiff-limbed, starched personage, with a lame foot, a pale +strumous face, a long sword, and a large white wig. Worse than this, +he was cruel, almost barbarous, to the patients, particularly to +females. Owing to an early love-disappointment, he had contracted a +disgust and aversion to the sex, and chose to express it in a +callous and cowardly harshness to those under his charge. It is +possible, however, that Lettsom might be influenced by some private +pique. Nothing is more common than for the hero-worshipper, +disenchanted of his early idolatry, to rush to the opposite extreme, +and to become the hero-hater; and the fault is as frequently +his own as that of his idol. And it must be granted that an +hospital--especially of that age--was no congenial atmosphere for a +poet so Platonic and ideal as Akenside. + +In October 1759 he delivered the Harveian oration before the College +of Physicians, and by their order it was published the next year. In +1761 Mr. T. Hollis presented him with a bed which had once belonged +to Milton, on the condition that he would write an ode to the memory +of that great poet. Akenside joyfully accepted the bed, had it set +up in his house, and, we suppose, slept in it; but the muse forgot +to visit _his_ "slumbers nightly," and no ode was ever produced. +We think that Akenside had sympathy enough with Milton's politics and +poetry to have written a fine blank-verse tribute to his memory, +resembling that of Thomson to Sir Isaac Newton; but odes of much +merit he could not produce, and yet at odes he was always sweltering + + "With labour dire and weary woe." + +In 1760, George the Third mounted the throne, and the author of the +"Epistle to Curio" began to follow the precise path of Pulteney. In +this he was preceded by Dyson, who became suddenly a supporter of +Lord Bute, and drew his friend in his train. By Dyson's influence +Akenside was appointed, in 1761, physician to the Queen. His +secession from the Whig ranks cost him a great deal of obloquy. +Dr. Hardinge had told the two turncoats long before "that, like a +couple of idiots, they did not leave themselves a loophole--they +could not _sidle away_ into the opposite creed." He never, however, +became a violent Tory partisan. It is singular how Johnson, with all +his aversion to Akenside, has no allusion to his apostasy, in which +we might have _à priori_ expected him to glory, as a proof of the +poet's inconsistency, if not corruption. + +In one point Akenside differed from the majority of his tuneful +brethren, before, then, or since. He was a warm and wide-hearted +commender of the works of other poets. Most of our sweet singers +rather resemble birds of prey than nightingales or doves, and are at +least as strong in their talons as they are musical in their tongues. +And hence the groves of Parnassus have in all ages rung with the +screams of wrath and contest, frightfully mingling with the melodies +of song. Akenside, by a felicitous conjunction of elements, which +you could not have expected from other parts of his character, was +entirely exempted from this defect, and not only warmly admired Pope, +Young, Thomson, and Dyer, whose "Fleece" he corrected, but had kind +words to spare for even such "small deer" as Welsted and Fenton. + +In 1763, he read a paper before the Royal Society, on the "Effects +of a Blow on the Heart," which was published in the _Philosophical +Transactions_ of the year. And, in 1764 he established his character +as a medical writer by an elegant and elaborate treatise on +"The Dysentery," still, we believe, consulted for its information, +and studied for the purity and precision of its Latin style. About +this time, too, he commenced a recasting of his "Pleasures of +Imagination," which he did not live to finish; and in which, on the +whole, there is more of laborious alteration than of felicitous +improvement. In 1766, Warburton, his old foe, who had now been made a +bishop, reprinted, in a new edition of his "Divine Legation of Moses," +his attack on Akenside's notions about ridicule, without deigning to +take any notice of the explanations he had given in his reply. This +renewal of hostilities, coming, especially as it did, from the +vantage ground of the Episcopal bench, enraged our poet, and, by way +of rejoinder, he issued a lyrical satire which he had had lying past +him in pickle for fifteen years, and which nothing but a fresh +provocation would have induced him to publish. It was entitled +"An Ode to the late Thomas Edwards, Esq." Edwards had opposed +Warburton ably in a book entitled "Canons of Criticism," and was +himself a poet. The real sting of this attack lay in Akenside's +production of a letter from Warburton to Concanen, dated 2d January +1726, which had fallen accidentally into the hands of our poet; and +in which Warburton had accused Addison of plagiarism, and said that +when "Pope borrows it is from want of genius." Concanen was one of +the "Dunces," and it was, of course, Akenside's purpose to shew +Warburton's inconsistency in the different opinions he had expressed +at different times of them and of their great adversary. We know not +if the sturdy bishop took any notice of this ode. Even his Briarean +arms were sometimes too full of the controversial work which his +overbearing temper and fierce passions were constantly giving him. + +In 1766, Akenside received the thanks of the College of Physicians +for an edition of Harvey's works, which he prepared for the press, +and to which he had prefixed a preface. In June 1767 he read before +the College two papers, one on "Cancers and Asthmas," and the other +on "White Swelling of the Joints," both of which were published the +next year in the first volume of the _Medical Transactions_. In the +same year, one Archibald Campbell, a Scotchman, a purser in the navy, +and called, from his ungainly countenance, "horrible Campbell," +produced a small _jeu d'esprit_, entitled "Lexiphanes, imitated from +Lucian, and suited to the present times," in which he tries to +ridicule Johnson's prose and Akenside's poetry. His object was +probably to attract their notice, but both passed over this grin of +the "Grim Feature" in silent contempt. Akenside was still busy with +the revisal of his poem, had finished two books, "made considerable +progress with the third, and written a fragment of the fourth;" but +death stepped in and blighted his prospects, both as a physician, +with increasing practice and reputation, and as a poet, whose +favourite work was approaching what he deemed perfection. He was +seized with putrid fever; and, after a short illness, died on the 23 +d June 1770 at an age when many men are in their very prime, both of +body and mind--that of 49. He died in his house in Burlington Street, +and was buried on the 28th in St. James's Church. + +Akenside had been, notwithstanding his many acquaintances and friends, +on the whole, a lonely man; without domestic connexions, and having, +so far as we are informed, either no surviving relations or no +intercourse with those who might be still alive. He was not +especially loved in society; he wanted humour and good-humour both, +and had little of that frank cordiality which, according to Sidney +Smith, "warms and cheers more than meat or wine." He had far less +geniality than genius. Yet, in certain select circles, his mind, +which was richly stored with all knowledge, opened delightfully, and +men felt that he _was_ the author of his splendid poem. One of his +biographers gives him the palm for learning, next to Ben Jonson, +Milton, and Gray (he might perhaps have also excepted Landor and +Coleridge), over all our English poets. + +In 1772, Mr. Dyson published an edition of his friend's poems, +containing the original form of the "Pleasures of Imagination," as +well as its half-finished second shape; his "Odes," "Inscriptions," +"Hymn to the Naiads," etc., omitting, however, his poem to Curio in +its first and best version, and some of his smaller pieces. This +edition, too, contained an account of Akenside's life by his friend, +so short and so cold as either to say little for Dyson's heart, or a +great deal for his modesty and reticence. His uniform and munificent +kindness to the poet during his lifetime, however, determines us in +favour of the latter side of the alternative. + +Of Akenside, as a man, our previous remarks have perhaps indicated +our opinion. He was rather a scholar somewhat out of his element, +and unreconciled to the world, than a thorough gentleman; irritable, +vehement, and proud--his finer traits were only known to his +intimates, who probably felt that in Wordsworth's words, + + "You must love him ere to you + He doth, seem worthy of your love." + +In religion his opinions seem to have been rather unsettled; but, of +whatever doubts he had, he gave the benefit latterly to the +Christian side--at least he was ever ready to rebuke noisy and +dogmatic infidelity. It is said that he intended to have included +the doctrine of immortality in his later version of the "Pleasures +of Imagination"--and even as the poem is, it contains some transient +allusions to that great object of human hope, although none, it must +be admitted, to its special Christian grounds. + +We have now a very few sentences to enounce about his poetry, or, +more properly speaking, about his two or three good poems, for we +must dismiss the most of his odes, in their deep-sounding dulness, +as nearly unworthy of their author's genius. Up to the days of +Keats' "Endymion" and "Hyperion," Akenside's "Hymn to the Naiads" +was thought one of the best attempts to reproduce the classical +spirit and ideas. It now takes a secondary place; and at no time +could be compared to an actual hymn of Callimachus or Pindar, any +more than Smollett's "Supper after the Manner of the Ancients" was +equal to a real Roman Coena, the ideal of which Croly has so +superbly described in "Salathiel." His "Epistle to Curio" is a +masterpiece of vigorous composition, terse sentiment, and glowing +invective. It gathers around Pulteney as a ring of fire round the +scorpion, and leaves him writhing and shrivelled. Out of Dryden and +Pope, it is perhaps the best satiric piece in our poetry. + +Of the "Pleasures of Imagination," it is not necessary to say a +great deal. A poem that has been so widely circulated, so warmly +praised, so frequently quoted and imitated--the whole of which +nearly a man like Thomas Brown has quoted in the course of his +lectures--must possess no ordinary merit. Its great beauty is its +richness of description and language--its great fault is its +obscurity; a beauty and a fault closely connected together, even as +the luxuriance of a tropical forest implies intricacy, and its +lavish loveliness creates a gloom. His attempt to express Plato's +philosophy in blank verse is not always successful. Perhaps prose +might better have answered his purpose in expressing the awfully +sublime thought of the "archetypes of all things existing in God." +We know that in certain objects of nature--in certain rocks, for +instance (such as Coleridge describes in his "Wanderings of Cain")-- +there lie silent prefigurations and aboriginal types of artificial +objects, such as ships, temples, and other orders of architecture; +and it is so also in certain shells, woods, and even in clouds. How +interesting and beautiful those painted prophecies of nature, those +quiet hieroglyphics of God, those mystic letters, which, unlike +those on the Babylonian wall, do _not_, + + "Careering shake, + And blaze IMPATIENT to be read," + +but bide calmly the time when their artificial archetypes shall +appear, and the "wisdom" in them shall be "justified" in these its +children! So, according to Plato, comparing great to small things, +there lay in the Divine mind the archetypes of all that was to be +created, with this important difference, that they lay in God +_spiritually_ and consciously. How poetical and how solemn to +approach, under the guidance of this thought, and gaze on the mind +of God as on an ancient awful mirror; and even as in a clear lake we +behold the forms of the surrounding scenery reflected from the white +strip of pebbled shore up to the gray scalp of the mountain summit, +and tremble as we look down on the "skies of a far nether world," on +an inverted sun, and on snow unmelted amidst the water; so to see +the entire history of man, from the first glance of life in the eye +of Adam, down to the last sparkle of the last ember of the general +conflagration, lying silently and inverted there--how sublime, but +at the same time how bewildering and how appalling! Our readers will +find, in the "Pleasures of Imagination," an expansion--perhaps they +may think it a dilution--of this Platonic idea. + +They will find there, too, the germ of the famous theory of Alison +and Jeffrey about Beauty. These theorists held 'that beauty resides +not so much in the object as in the mind; that we receive but what +we give; that our own soul is the urn whence beauty is showered over +the universe; that flower and star are lovely because the mind has +breathed on them; that the imagination and the heart of man are the +twin beautifiers of creation; that the dwelling of beauty is not in +the light of setting suns, nor in the beams of morning stars, nor in +the waves of summer seas, but in the human spirit; that sublimity +tabernacles not in the palaces of the thunder, walks not on the +wings of the wind, rides not on the forked lightning, but that it is +the soul which is lifted up there; that it is the soul which, in its +high aspirings,' + + "Yokes with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + and scatters grandeur around it on its way." + +All this seems anticipated, and, as it were, coiled up in the words +of our poet:-- + + "Mind, mind alone (bear witness earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime." + +That Akenside was a real poet many expressions in his "Pleasures of +Imagination" prove, such as that just quoted-- + + "Yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast + Sweeps the long tract of day;" + +but, taking his poem as a whole, it is rather a tissue of eloquence +and philosophical declamation than of imagination. He deals rather +in sheet lightning than in forked flashes. As a didactic poem it has +a high, but not the highest place. It must not be named beside the +"De Rerum Natura" of Lucretius, or the "Georgics" of Virgil, or the +"Night Thoughts" of Young; and in poetry, yields even to the +"Queen Mab" of Shelley. It ranks high, however, amongst that fine +class of works which have called themselves, by no misnomer, +"Pleasures;" and to recount all the names of which were to give an +"enumeration of sweets" as delightful as that in "Don Juan." How +cheering to think of that beautiful bead-roll--of which the +"Pleasures of Memory," "Pleasures of Hope," "Pleasures of Melancholy," +"Pleasures of Imagination," are only a few! We may class, too, with +them, Addison's essays on the "Pleasures of Imagination" in _The +Spectator_, which, although in prose, glow throughout with the +mildest and truest spirit of poetry; and if inferior to Akenside in +richness and swelling pomp of words, and in dashing rhetorical force, +far excel him in clearness, in chastened beauty, and in those +inimitable touches and unconscious felicities of thought and +expression which drop down, like ripe apples falling suddenly across +your path from a laden bough, and which could only have proceeded +from Addison's exquisite genius. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + Notes to Book III. + + +THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + Book I. + + Book II. + + Book III. + + Book IV. + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS:-- + + Book I.-- + + Ode I. Preface. + + Ode II. On the Winter-solstice, 1740. + + Ode II. For the Winter-solstice, December 11, 1740. + As originally written. + + Ode III. To a Friend, Unsuccessful in Love. + + Ode IV. Affected Indifference. To the same. + + Ode V. Against Suspicion. + + Ode VI. Hymn to Cheerfulness. + + Ode VII. On the Use of Poetry. + + Ode VIII. On leaving Holland. + + Ode IX. To Curio. + + Ode X. To the Muse. + + Ode XI. On Love. To a Friend. + + Ode XII. To Sir Francis Henry Drake, Baronet. + + Ode XIII. On Lyric Poetry. + + Ode XIV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; from the + Country. + + Ode XV. To the Evening Star. + + Ode XVI. To Caleb Hardinge, M. D. + + Ode XVII. On a Sermon against Glory. + + Ode XVIII. To the Right Honourable Francis, Earl of Huntingdon. + + + +Book II.-- + + Ode I. The Remonstrance of Shakspeare. + + Ode II. To Sleep. + + Ode III. To the Cuckoo. + + Ode IV. To the Honourable Charles Townshend; in the Country. + + Ode V. On Love of Praise. + + Ode VI. To William Hall, Esquire; with the Works of + Chaulieu. + + Ode VII. To the Right Reverend Benjamin, Lord Bishop of + Winchester. + + Ode VIII. + + Ode IX. At Study. + + Ode X. To Thomas Edwards, Esq.; on the late Edition + of Mr. Pope's Works. + + Ode XI. To the Country Gentlemen of England. + + Ode XII. On Recovering from a Fit of Sickness; in the + Country. + + Ode XIII. To the Author of Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg. + + Ode XIV. The Complaint. + + Ode XV. On Domestic Manners. + + Notes to Book I. + + Notes to Book II. + + + HYMN TO THE NAIADS. + + Notes. + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS:-- + + I. For a Grotto. + + II. For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock. + + III. + + IV. + + V. + + VI. For a Column at Runnymede. + + VII. The Wood Nymph. + + VIII. + + IX. + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. + +THE VIRTUOSO. + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. A FABLE. + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + +TO CORDELIA. + +SONG. + + + + + +AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + +THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. + + A POEM, IN THREE BOOKS. + + [Greek: 'Asebous men 'estin 'anthropou tas para tou theou + charitas 'atimazein.] + EPICT. apud Arrian. II. 23. + + +THE DESIGN. + +There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle +place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral +perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers +of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and +motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to +those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of +some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, +it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have +sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, +independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave +rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting +and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were +admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to +remembrance by signs universally established and understood. + +But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were, of +course, led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of +the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of +language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently +become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. +Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, +and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they, of +course, retain their original character; and all the different +pleasures which they excite, are termed, in general, Pleasures of +Imagination. + +The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the +largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination +feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various +entertainment we meet with, either in poetry, painting, music, or +any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of +those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are +here established and explained. + +In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to +distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the +next place to characterise those original forms or properties of +being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted +to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These +properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of +greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every +object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to +the imagination. But such an object may also include many other +sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will +make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides +which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their +effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the +imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, +we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths +discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and +final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to +awaken and engage the passions. It was, therefore, necessary to +enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; +especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the +noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a +little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn +of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance. + +After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, +or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very +different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be +considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the +arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it +was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to +distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of +characters is derived. Here, too, a change of style became necessary; +such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general +taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject: nor is it +an easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, +without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock +heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; +neither of which would have been proper here. + +The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now +remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise +either from the relations of different objects one to another, or +from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that +various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts +of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of +metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the +early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is +the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account +bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, +it is therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. Then +follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, +and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the +resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. +After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general +conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral +usefulness in life. + +Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this +piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two +models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as +it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary +way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a +greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of +readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, +especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more +concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of +modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest +parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure +formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending +almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to +demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This, too, appeared +more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal +precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by +exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and +harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the +minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, +morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful +to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in +every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also +to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same point of view +with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them +in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful +and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some +sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to +the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the +authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will +best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves +he makes no apology. + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Difficulty of treating it poetically. The +ideas of the Divine Mind the origin of every quality pleasing to the +imagination. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men; +with its final cause. The idea of a fine imagination, and the state +of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords. +All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the +perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. The +pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. Pleasure from novelty +or wonderfulness, with its final cause. Pleasure from beauty, with +its final cause. The connexion of beauty with truth and good, +applied to the conduct of life. Invitation to the study of moral +philosophy. The different degrees of beauty in different species of +objects; colour, shape, natural concretes, vegetables, animals, the +mind. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. The +connexion of the imagination and the moral faculty. Conclusion. + + With what attractive charms this goodly frame + Of Nature touches the consenting hearts + Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores + Which beauteous Imitation thence derives + To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, + My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle Powers + Of musical delight! and while I sing + Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. + Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, + Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks 10 + Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee + Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings + Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, + Which, by the glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend 20 + And join this festive train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, + Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come, + Her sister Liberty will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, + New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear + With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye + The bloom of Nature, and before him turn + The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 + Oft have the laws of each poetic strain + The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung + Lay this prime subject, though importing most + A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt, + By dull obedience and by creeping toil + Obscure to conquer the severe ascent + Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath + Must fire the chosen genius; Nature's hand + Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings, + Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 + High as the summit; there to breathe at large + AEthereal air, with bards and sages old, + Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes, + To this neglected labour court my song; + Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task + To paint the finest features of the mind, + And to most subtile and mysterious things + Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love + Of Nature and the Muses bids explore, + Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 + The fair poetic region, to detect + Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts, + And shade my temples with unfading flowers + Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess, + Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the human breast, + And love and beauty, and poetic joy + And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun + Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night 60 + The moon suspended her serener lamp; + Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe, + Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore; + Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retired + In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things; + The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, + The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe, + And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first + Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 + His admiration: till in time complete + What he admired and loved, his vital smile + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame; + Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares; + Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold, + And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims 80 + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wise intent + The hand of Nature on peculiar minds + Imprints a different bias, and to each + Decrees its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave + To weigh the moment of eternal things, + Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 + And will's quick impulse; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue swells the tender veins + Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn + Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind + In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds + The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 + The transcript of Himself. On every part + They trace the bright impressions of his hand: + In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form + Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd + That uncreated beauty, which delights + The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd + By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110 + Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string + Consenting, sounded through the warbling air + Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand + To certain species of external things, + Attune the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of congenial powers, + Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, + The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, + Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, + From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120 + They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul + At length discloses every tuneful spring, + To that harmonious movement from without + Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain + Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, + And vales of bliss: the intellectual power + Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, + And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away, + Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 + Alone are waking; love and joy, serene + As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, + Whose candid bosom the refining love + Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her loveliest features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140 + With love and admiration thus inflame + The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons + To three illustrious orders have referr'd; + Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, + The poet's tongue confesses--the Sublime, + The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn! + I see the radiant visions, where they rise, + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 + + Say, why was man [Endnote A] so eminently raised + Amid the vast Creation; why ordain'd + Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth + In sight of mortal and immortal powers, + As on a boundless theatre, to run + The great career of justice; to exalt + His generous aim to all diviner deeds; + To chase each partial purpose from his breast; 160 + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, + To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice + Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent + Of nature, calls him to his high reward, + The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns + In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, + That breathes from day to day sublimer things, + And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind, + With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 + Majestic forms; impatient to be free, + Spurning the gross control of wilful might; + Proud of the strong contention of her toils; + Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns + To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 + Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? + Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye + Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey + Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave + Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, 180 + And continents of sand, will turn his gaze + To mark the windings of a scanty rill + That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul + Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing + Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth + And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft + Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; + Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens; + Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, + Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 190 + The blue profound, and hovering round the sun + Beholds him pouring the redundant stream + Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway + Bend the reluctant planets to absolve + The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused + She darts her swiftness up the long career + Of devious comets; through its burning signs + Exulting measures the perennial wheel + Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, + Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 + Invests the orient. Now amazed she views + The empyreal waste, [Endnote B] where happy spirits hold, + Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode; + And fields of radiance, whose unfading light [Endnote C] + + Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, + Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. + Even on the barriers of the world untired + She meditates the eternal depth below; 208 + Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep + She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up + In that immense of being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth + Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said, + That not in humble nor in brief delight, + Not in the fading echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find enjoyment: but from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, + Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 + And infinite perfection close the scene. + + Call now to mind what high capacious powers + Lie folded up in man; how far beyond + The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth + Of Nature to perfection half divine, + Expand the blooming soul! What pity then + Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth + Her tender blossom; choke the streams of life, + And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd + Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares 230 + The obedient heart far otherwise incline. + Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown + Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power + To brisker measures: witness the neglect + Of all familiar prospects, [Endnote D] though beheld + With transport once; the fond attentive gaze + Of young astonishment; the sober zeal + Of age, commenting on prodigious things. + For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, + In every breast implanting this desire 240 + Of objects new and strange, [Endnote E] to urge us on + With unremitted labour to pursue + Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, + In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words + To paint its power? For this the daring youth + Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, + In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage, + Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, + Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired + The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 + The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale, + From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, + Unmindful of the happy dress that stole + The wishes of the youth, when every maid + With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night + The village matron, round the blazing hearth, + Suspends the infant audience with her tales, + Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes, + And evil spirits; of the death-bed call + Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 + The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls + Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt + Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk + At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave + The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. + At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, + Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd + With shivering sighs: till eager for the event, + Around the beldame all erect they hang, + Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. 270 + + But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp, + Where Beauty onward moving claims the verse + Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse + In thy immortal praise, O form divine, + Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee + The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray + The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun! + For ever beamest on the enchanted heart + Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight + Poetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven! 280 + How shall I trace thy features? where select + The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom? + Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, + Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, + To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly + With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles, + And range with him the Hesperian field, and see + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 + The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step + Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow + With purple ripeness, and invest each hill + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, + Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades, + The smooth Penéus from his glassy flood + Reflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene? + Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers, + Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age 300 + They play'd in secret on the shady brink + With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps + Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand + Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews, + And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store + To thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watch + Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits + From thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved, + Thy smiling treasures to the green recess + Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 + Entice her forth to lend her angel form + For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn + Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid, + Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes + Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn; + And may the fanning breezes waft aside + Thy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bends + With airy softness from the marble neck, + The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, + Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 320 + With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend + Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force + Of Nature, and her kind parental care + Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth, + With each admiring virgin, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, while I point on high + Where Beauty's living image, like the Morn + That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, + Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stood + Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, 330 + Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, + To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, + And each cerulean sister of the flood + With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves, + To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band + Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze + Of young desire with rival steps pursue + This charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 + I do not mean to wake the gloomy form + Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb, + To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth + To fright you from your joys: my cheerful song + With better omens calls you to the field, + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, + Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 + And active use are strangers? Is her charm + Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? Or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart + Of idle faith? Oh, no! with better cares + The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 + Still most illustrious where the object holds + Its native powers most perfect, she by this + Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, + And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe + Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract + Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, + The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, + And every charm of animated things, + Are only pledges of a state sincere, + The integrity and order of their frame, 370 + When all is well within, and every end + Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, + The lovely ministries of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them, [Endnote F] and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, + Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand + Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene 380 + Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire + Where is the sanction of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly! Wanting these, + Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace, + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam + Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, + Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, + To learn the lore of undeceitful Good, 390 + And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms + Of baleful Superstition guide the feet + Of servile numbers, through a dreary way + To their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire; + And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn + To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom + Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells; + To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, + And to the screaming owl's accursed song + Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Your lovely search illumines. From the grove + Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, + Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then should my powerful verse at once dispel + Those monkish horrors: then in light divine + Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps + Of those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks, + Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 + Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, + Led by their winged Genius, and the choir + Of laurell'd science and harmonious art, + Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us, + Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh, let us not a moment pause to join 420 + That godlike band. And if the gracious Power + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, + Will to my invocation breathe anew + The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths, + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead, + When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 + And wake the strong divinity of soul + That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck + For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils + Upon the lofty summit, round her brow + To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise; + To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed, + Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form; + Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, 440 + Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene + In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, + Through various being's fair proportion'd scale, + To trace the rising lustre of her charms, + From their first twilight, shining forth at length + To full meridian splendour. Of degree + The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth + Of colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line + And variation of determined shape, 450 + Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + Unites this varied symmetry of parts + With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl + Shines in the concave of its azure bed, + And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. + Then more attractive rise the blooming forms + Through which the breath of Nature has infused + Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins + Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 + In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers + Their purple honours with the Spring resume; + And such the stately tree which Autumn bends + With blushing treasures. But more lovely still + Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent + Of complicated members, to the bloom + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, + And active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed 470 + With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell + There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, + Where dawns the high expression of a mind: + By steps conducting our enraptured search + To that eternal origin, whose power, + Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, + Like rays effulging from the parent sun, + This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 480 + Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven!) + The living fountains in itself contains + Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand, + Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned, + Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, + Invites the soul to never-fading joy. + Look then abroad through nature, to the range + Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the void immense; + And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 + With half that kindling majesty dilate + Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose [Endnote G] + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending, like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, + And bade the father of his country, hail! + For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500 + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn, + In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair + As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush + Of him who strives with fortune to be just? + The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? + Or the mild majesty of private life, + Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns + The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse + Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 + Of Innocence and Love protect the scene? + Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound + Where Nature works in secret; view the beds + Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault + That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms + Of atoms moving with incessant change + Their elemental round; behold the seeds + Of being, and the energy of life + Kindling the mass with ever-active flame; + Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 + Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call + Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! + Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour + That saw the heavens created: then declare + If aught were found in those external scenes + To move thy wonder now. For what are all + The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, + Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? + Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows + The superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530 + And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. + Not so the moral species, nor the powers + Of genius and design; the ambitious mind + There sees herself: by these congenial forms + Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her features in the mirror. For, of all + The inhabitants of earth, to man alone + Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye + To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540 + The sacred laws of action and of will, + Discerning justice from unequal deeds, + And temperance from folly. But beyond + This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind + Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, + To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, + Has added bright Imagination's rays: + Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsake + The unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550 + And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, + Assumes a various feature, to attract, + With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, + The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, + The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires + With purest wishes, from the pensive shade + Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse + That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme + Of harmony and wonder: while among + The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 + Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, + And through the rolls of memory appeals + To ancient honour; or in act serene, + Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword + Of public Power, from dark Ambition's reach + To guard the sacred volume of the laws. + + Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps + Well pleased I follow through the sacred paths + Of Nature and of Science; nurse divine + Of all heroic deeds and fair desires! 570 + Oh! let the breath of thy extended praise + Inspire my kindling bosom to the height + Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + That soothes this vernal evening into smiles, + I steal impatient from the sordid haunts + Of strife and low ambition, to attend + Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned. + Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye! 580 + Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air, + As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung + With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth + To see thee rend the pageants of his throne; + And at the lightning of thy lifted spear + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth + Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 590 + Through fair Lycéum's [Endnote I] walk, the green retreats + Of Academus, [Endnote J] and the thymy vale, + Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, + Ilissus [Endnote K] pure devolved his tuneful stream + In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store + Of these auspicious fields, may I unblamed + Transplant some living blossoms to adorn + My native clime: while far above the flight + Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join 600 + Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise + Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth + I point the high example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The separation of the works of Imagination from Philosophy, the +cause of their abuse among the moderns. Prospect of their reunion +under the influence of public Liberty. Enumeration of accidental +pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the +Imagination. The pleasures of sense. Particular circumstances of the +mind. Discovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and design. +Emotion of the passions. All the natural passions partake of a +pleasing sensation; with the final cause of this constitution +illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, +terror, and indignation. + + When shall the laurel and the vocal string + Resume their honours? When shall we behold + The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan band + Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, + How slow the dawn of Beauty and of Truth + Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night + Which yet involves the nations! Long they groan'd + Beneath the furies of rapacious force; + Oft as the gloomy north, with iron swarms + Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, 10 + Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works + Of Liberty and Wisdom down the gulf + Of all-devouring night. As long immured + In noontide darkness, by the glimmering lamp, + Each Muse and each fair Science pined away + The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands + Their mysteries profaned, unstrung the lyre, + And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. + At last the Muses rose, [Endnote L] and spurn'd their bonds, + And, wildly warbling, scatter'd as they flew, 20 + Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's [Endnote M] bowers + To Arno's [Endnote N] myrtle border and the shore + Of soft Parthenopé. [Endnote O] But still the rage + Of dire ambition [Endnote P] and gigantic power, + From public aims and from the busy walk + Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train + Of penetrating Science to the cells, + Where studious Ease consumes the silent hour + In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. + Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts [Endnote Q] 30 + Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, + To priestly domination and the lust + Of lawless courts, their amiable toil + For three inglorious ages have resign'd, + In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue + Was tuned for slavish pasans at the throne + Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand + Effused its fair creation to enchant + The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes + To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 + The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. + But now, behold! the radiant era dawns, + When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length + For endless years on Albion's happy shore + In full proportion, once more shall extend + To all the kindred powers of social bliss + A common mansion, a parental roof. + There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, + Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, + Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 + The Muses and the Graces. Then no more + Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts + To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn + Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, + The patriot bosom; then no more the paths + Of public care or intellectual toil, + Alone by footsteps haughty and severe + In gloomy state be trod: the harmonious Muse + And her persuasive sisters then shall plant + Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 + And scatter flowers along the rugged way. + Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dared + To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, + And teach the Muse her lore; already strove + Their long-divided honours to unite, + While tempering this deep argument we sang + Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task + Impends; now urging our ambitious toil, + We hasten to recount the various springs + Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin 70 + Their grateful influence to the prime effect + Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge + The complicated joy. The sweets of sense, + Do they not oft with kind accession flow, + To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm? + So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, + Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view + Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill + Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst + Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 + Of cool refreshment, o'er the mossy brink + Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves + With sweeter music murmur as they flow? + + Nor this alone; the various lot of life + Oft from external circumstance assumes + A moment's disposition to rejoice + In those delights which, at a different hour, + Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring, + When rural songs and odours wake the morn, + To every eye; but how much more to his 90 + Round whom the bed of sickness long diffused + Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair, + When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales + The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun + Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life + Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! + + Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth + Her awful light discloses, to bestow + A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? + For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100 + More welcome touch his understanding's eye, + Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, + Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet + The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctured hues + To me have shown so pleasing, as when first + The hand of Science pointed out the path + In which the sunbeams, gleaming from the west, + Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil + Involves the orient; and that trickling shower + Piercing through every crystalline convex 110 + Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed, + Recoil at length where concave all behind + The internal surface of each glassy orb + Repels their forward passage into air; + That thence direct they seek the radiant goal + From which their course began; and, as they strike + In different lines the gazer's obvious eye, + Assume a different lustre, through the brede + Of colours changing from the splendid rose + To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 + + Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, + That springs to each fair object, while we trace, + Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim, + Disposing every part, and gaining still, + By means proportion'd, her benignant end? + Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps + The lamp of Science through the jealous maze + Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal + Her secret honours: whether in the sky, + The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 + That wheel the pensile planets round the year; + Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, + Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, + Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, + Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. + + What, when to raise the meditated scene, + The flame of passion, through the struggling soul + Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze + The object of its rapture, vast of size, + With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140 + What, like a storm from their capacious bed + The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might + Of these eruptions, working from the depth + Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame + Even to the base; from every naked sense + Of pain or pleasure, dissipating all + Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil + Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times + To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks + Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 + Big with the very motion of their souls, + Declare with what accumulated force + The impetuous nerve of passion urges on + The native weight and energy of things. + + Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims, + Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, + From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holds + Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse + Rouses the mind's whole fabric; with supplies + Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 + Intensely poised, and polishes anew + By that collision all the fine machine: + Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees + Encumbering, choke at last what heaven design'd + For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.-- + But say, does every passion thus to man + Administer delight? That name indeed + Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes + The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand + Of admiration: but the bitter shower 170 + That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave; + But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, + Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart + Of panting indignation, find we there + To move delight?--Then listen while my tongue + The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe + Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach + My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd + Within his learned mind whate'er the schools + Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 + O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws + Which govern and support this mighty frame + Of universal being. Oft the hours + From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away, + While mute attention hung upon his lips, + As thus the sage his awful tale began:-- + + ''Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, + When spotless youth with solitude resigns + To sweet philosophy the studious day, + What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 + Musing I roved. Of good and evil much, + And much of mortal man my thought revolved; + When starting full on fancy's gushing eye + The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, + That hour, O long beloved and long deplored! + When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts, + Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, + Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears + Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; + Thy agonising looks, thy last farewell 200 + Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul + As with the hand of Death. At once the shade + More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds + With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark + As midnight storms, the scene of human things + Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, + Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south, + And desolation blasting all the west + With rapine and with murder: tyrant power + Here sits enthroned with blood; the baleful charms 210 + Of superstition there infect the skies, + And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven! + What is the life of man? Or cannot these, + Not these portents thy awful will suffice, + That, propagated thus beyond their scope, + They rise to act their cruelties anew + In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed + The universal sensitive of pain, + The wretched heir of evils not its own?' + + Thus I impatient: when, at once effused, 220 + A flashing torrent of celestial day + Burst through the shadowy void. With slow descent + A purple cloud came floating through the sky, + And, poised at length within the circling trees, + Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide + Its lucid orb, a more than human form + Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head, + And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. + Then melted into air the liquid cloud, + And all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 + A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, + And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, + Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist + Collected with a radiant zone of gold + Aethereal: there in mystic signs engraved, + I read his office high and sacred name, + Genius of human kind! Appall'd I gazed + The godlike presence; for athwart his brow + Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, + Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 + Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air: + + 'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth! + And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span + Capacious of this universal frame?-- + Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! + Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord + Of Nature and his works--to lift thy voice + Against the sovereign order he decreed, + All good and lovely--to blaspheme the bands + Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 + Holiest of things! by which the general orb + Of being, as by adamantine links, + Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd + From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs + Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, + So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish + The ties of Nature broken from thy frame, + That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart + Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then + The wretched heir of evils not its own? 260 + O fair benevolence of generous minds! + O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!' + + He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, + As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awed + Before his presence, though my secret soul + Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground + I fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couch + He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand + My dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried, + 'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270 + + I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed; + For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, + A solitary prospect, wide and wild, + Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pile + Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, + With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. + Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, + The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springs + Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine + The crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280 + Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, + Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods + With hoarser inundation; till at last + They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts + Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, + And drank the gushing moisture, where confined + In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale + Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils + Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, + Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290 + As in a sylvan theatre enclosed + That flowery level. On the river's brink + I spied a fair pavilion, which diffused + Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade + Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd + Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, + And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, + On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light + That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers + Were awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300 + And wondering expectation. Then the voice + Of that celestial power, the mystic show + Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd:-- + + 'Inhabitant of earth, [Endnote S] to whom is given + The gracious ways of Providence to learn, + Receive my sayings with a steadfast ear-- + Know then, the Sovereign Spirit of the world, + Though, self-collected from eternal time, + Within his own deep essence he beheld + The bounds of true felicity complete, 310 + Yet by immense benignity inclined + To spread around him that primeval joy + Which fill'd himself, he raised his plastic arm, + And sounded through the hollow depths of space + The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose + These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life, + Effusive kindled by his breath divine + Through endless forms of being. Each inhaled + From him its portion of the vital flame, + In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 + Of coexistent orders, one might rise, + One order, [Endnote T] all-involving and entire. + He too, beholding in the sacred light + Of his essential reason, all the shapes + Of swift contingence, all successive ties + Of action propagated through the sum + Of possible existence, he at once, + Down the long series of eventful time, + So fix'd the dates of being, so disposed, + To every living soul of every kind 330 + The field of motion and the hour of rest, + That all conspired to his supreme design, + To universal good: with full accord + Answering the mighty model he had chose, + The best and fairest [Endnote U] of unnumber'd worlds + That lay from everlasting in the store + Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, + By one exertion of creative power + His goodness to reveal; through every age, + Through every moment up the tract of time, 340 + His parent hand with ever new increase + Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd + The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + For ever leads the generations on + To higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day with his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, [Endnote V] 350 + As bodies to their proper centre move, + As the poised ocean to the attracting moon + Obedient swells, and every headlong stream + Devolves its winding waters to the main; + So all things which have life aspire to God, + The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, + Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice + Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps + Aright; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From granting to the task proportion'd aid; 360 + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine.-- + + 'That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn + Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene + Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat + Of man, and where the Will Supreme ordain'd + His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffused + Along the shady brink; in this recess + To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 + Till riper hours should open to his toil + The high communion of superior minds, + Of consecrated heroes and of gods. + Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget + His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld + Celestial footsteps from his green abode. + Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, + He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair, + The effluence of his glory, whom he placed + Before his eyes for ever to behold; 380 + The goddess from whose inspiration flows + The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; + Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, + Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass, + Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire + Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, + The folded powers to open, to direct + The growth luxuriant of his young desires, + And from the laws of this majestic world + To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390 + Her daily care attended, by her side + With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, + The fair Euphrosyné, the gentle queen + Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights + That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men + And powers immortal. See the shining pair! + Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosed + They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.' + + I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood + Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 + Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower + Of beauty: sweetest innocence illumed + His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow + Sate young simplicity. With fond regard + He view'd the associates, as their steps they moved; + The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd, + With mild regret invoking her return. + Bright as the star of evening she appear'd + Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth + O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410 + And smiles eternal from her candid eyes + Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn + Effusive trembling on the placid waves. + The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils + To bind her sable tresses: full diffused + Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze; + And in her hand she waved a living branch + Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm + The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes + To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 + The heavenly partner moved. The prime of age + Composed her steps. The presence of a god, + High on the circle of her brow enthroned, + From each majestic motion darted awe, + Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks + Benevolent and meek, confiding love + To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. + Free in her graceful hand she poised the sword + Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown + Display'd the old simplicity of pomp 430 + Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe, + White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds, + Her stately form invested. Hand in hand + The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green, + Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light + Gleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard, + And through the fragrant air ethereal dews + Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds, + Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew + Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 + Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd, + Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scan + What object it involved. My feeble eyes + Endured not. Bending down to earth I stood, + With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, + As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, + With sacred invocation thus began: + + 'Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm + With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, + Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450 + I seek to finish thy divine decree. + With frequent steps I visit yonder seat + Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds + Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve + The latent honours of his generous frame; + Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot + From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks, + The temple of thy glory. But not me, + Not my directing voice he oft requires, + Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, 460 + The associate thou hast given me, her alone + He loves, O Father! absent, her he craves; + And but for her glad presence ever join'd, + Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes + This thy benignant purpose to fulfil, + I deem uncertain: and my daily cares + Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee + Still further aided in the work divine.' + + She ceased; a voice more awful thus replied:-- + 'O thou, in whom for ever I delight, 470 + Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven, + Best image of thy Author! far from thee + Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame; + Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil, + And no resistance find. If man refuse + To hearken to thy dictates; or, allured + By meaner joys, to any other power + Transfer the honours due to thee alone; + That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste, + That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 + Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil; + Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend + Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! + With thee the son of Nemesis I send; + The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account + Of sacred order's violated laws. + See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, + Pierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath + On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, + Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 + Thy tender charge; that when despair shall grasp + His agonising bosom, he may learn, + Then he may learn to love the gracious hand + Alone sufficient in the hour of ill, + To save his feeble spirit; then confess + Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! + When all the plagues that wait the deadly will + Of this avenging demon, all the storms + Of night infernal, serve but to display + The energy of thy superior charms 500 + With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, + And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.' + + Here ceased that awful voice, and soon I felt + The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve + Was closed once more, from that immortal fire + Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd + A vast gigantic spectre striding on + Through murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds, + With dreadful action. Black as night his brow + Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 + With sharp impatience violent he writhed, + As through convulsive anguish; and his hand, + Arm'd with a scorpion lash, full oft he raised + In madness to his bosom; while his eyes + Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook + The void with horror. Silent by his side + The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd + Her features. From the glooms which hung around, + No stain of darkness mingled with the beam + Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 + Upon the river bank; and now to hail + His wonted guests, with eager steps advanced + The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. + + As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long + Had ranged the Alpine snows, by chance at morn + Sees from a cliff, incumbent o'er the smoke + Of some lone village, a neglected kid + That strays along the wild for herb or spring; + Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, + And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage, 530 + The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. + Amazed the stripling stood: with panting breast + Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail + Of helpless consternation, struck at once, + And rooted to the ground. The Queen beheld + His terror, and with looks of tenderest care + Advanced to save him. Soon the tyrant felt + Her awful power. His keen tempestuous arm + Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage + Had aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retired 540 + With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovereign maid + Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy, + Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek; + Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue:-- + + 'Oh, wake thee, rouse thy spirit! Shall the spite + Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, + While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand + To rescue and to heal? Oh, let thy soul + Remember, what the will of heaven ordains + Is ever good for all; and if for all, 550 + Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth + And soothing sunshine of delightful things, + Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled + By that bland light, the young unpractised views + Of reason wander through a fatal road, + Far from their native aim; as if to lie + Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait + The soft access of ever circling joys, + Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, + This pleasing error did it never lull 560 + Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refused + The silken fetters of delicious ease? + Or when divine Euphrosyné appear'd + Within this dwelling, did not thy desires + Hang far below the measure of thy fate, + Which I reveal'd before thee, and thy eyes, + Impatient of my counsels, turn away + To drink the soft effusion of her smiles? + Know then, for this the everlasting Sire + Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 + O wise and still benevolent! ordains + This horrid visage hither to pursue + My steps; that so thy nature may discern + Its real good, and what alone can save + Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill + From folly and despair. O yet beloved! + Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm + Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage + Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, + While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 + Above the generous question of thy arm. + Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong, + This hour he triumphs: but confront his might, + And dare him to the combat, then with ease + Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns + To bondage and to scorn: while thus inured + By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, + The immortal mind, superior to his fate, + Amid the outrage of external things, + Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 + Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds! + Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempest on; + Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky! + Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire + Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene, + The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; + And ever stronger as the storms advance, + Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, + Where Nature calls him to the destined goal.' + + So spake the goddess; while through all her frame 600 + Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word, + In every motion kindling warmth divine + To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift + As lightning fires the aromatic shade + In Aethiopian fields, the stripling felt + Her inspiration catch his fervid soul, + And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd:-- + + 'Then let the trial come! and witness thou, + If terror be upon me; if I shrink + To meet the storm, or falter in my strength 610 + When hardest it besets me. Do not think + That I am fearful and infirm of soul, + As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast changed + My nature; thy commanding voice has waked + My languid powers to bear me boldly on, + Where'er the will divine my path ordains + Through toil or peril: only do not thou + Forsake me; Oh, be thou for ever near, + That I may listen to thy sacred voice, + And guide by thy decrees my constant feet. 620 + But say, for ever are my eyes bereft? + Say, shall the fair Euphrosyné not once + Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven! + O thou eternal arbiter of things! + Be thy great bidding done: for who am I, + To question thy appointment? Let the frowns + Of this avenger every morn o'ercast + The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp + With double night my dwelling; I will learn + To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 + His hateful presence: but permit my tongue + One glad request, and if my deeds may find + Thy awful eye propitious, oh! restore + The rosy-featured maid; again to cheer + This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.' + + He spoke; when instant through the sable glooms + With which that furious presence had involved + The ambient air, a flood of radiance came + Swift as the lightning flash; the melting clouds + Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 640 + Euphrosyné appear'd. With sprightly step + The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, + And to her wondering audience thus began:-- + + 'Lo! I am here to answer to your vows, + And be the meeting fortunate! I come + With joyful tidings; we shall part no more-- + Hark! how the gentle echo from her cell + Talks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream + Repeats the accents; we shall part no more.-- + O my delightful friends! well pleased on high 650 + The Father has beheld you, while the might + Of that stern foe with bitter trial proved + Your equal doings: then for ever spake + The high decree, that thou, celestial maid! + Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps + May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more + Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, + Alone endure the rancour of his arm, + Or leave thy loved Euphrosyné behind.' + + She ended, and the whole romantic scene 660 + Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills, + The mantling tent, and each mysterious form + Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, + When sunshine fills the bed. Awhile I stood + Perplex'd and giddy; till the radiant power + Who bade the visionary landscape rise, + As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks + Preventing my inquiry, thus began:-- + + 'There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint + How blind, how impious! There behold the ways 670 + Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, + For ever just, benevolent, and wise: + That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued + By vexing fortune and intrusive pain, + Should never be divided from her chaste, + Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge + Thy tardy thought through all the various round + Of this existence, that thy softening soul + At length may learn what energy the hand + Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 + Of passion swelling with distress and pain, + To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops + Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego + That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 690 + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture.--Ask the crowd + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while sacred Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; + While every mother closer to her breast 700 + Catches her child, and pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down: Oh! deemest thou indeed + No kind endearment here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No sweetly melting softness which attracts, + O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 + To this their proper action and their end?-- + Ask thy own heart, when, at the midnight hour, + Slow through that studious gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame + For Grecian heroes, where the present power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father blessing, while he reads + The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 + Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, + Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their flame, + Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, + When, rooted from the base, heroic states + Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown + Of cursed ambition; when the pious band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires, + Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To slavish empty pageants, to adorn + A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns + Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust + And storied arch, to glut the coward rage + Of regal envy, strew the public way + With hallow'd ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow + To sweep the works of glory from their base; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street + Expands his raven wings, and up the wall, + Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, + Hisses the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column; thus defaced, 750 + Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills + Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's [Endnote W] brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; + Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 + Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, + And bears aloft his gold-invested front, + And says within himself, I am a king, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?--The baleful dregs + Of these late ages, this inglorious draught + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the eternal Ruler of the world! + Defiled to such a depth of sordid shame + The native honours of the human soul, 770 + Nor so effaced the image of its Sire.' + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Pleasure in observing the tempers and manners of men, even where +vicious or absurd. The origin of Vice, from false representations of +the fancy, producing false opinions concerning good and evil. +Inquiry into ridicule. The general sources of ridicule in the minds +and characters of men, enumerated. Final cause of the sense of +ridicule. The resemblance of certain aspects of inanimate things to +the sensations and properties of the mind. The operations of the +mind in the production of the works of Imagination, described. The +secondary pleasure from Imitation. The benevolent order of the world +illustrated in the arbitrary connexion of these pleasures with the +objects which excite them. The nature and conduct of taste. +Concluding with an account of the natural and moral advantages +resulting from a sensible and well formed imagination. + + What wonder therefore, since the endearing ties + Of passion link the universal kind + Of man so close, what wonder if to search + This common nature through the various change + Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame + Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind + With unresisted charms? The spacious west, + And all the teeming regions of the south, + Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight + Of Knowledge, half so tempting or so fair, 10 + As man to man. Nor only where the smiles + Of Love invite; nor only where the applause + Of cordial Honour turns the attentive eye + On Virtue's graceful deeds. For, since the course + Of things external acts in different ways + On human apprehensions, as the hand + Of Nature temper'd to a different frame + Peculiar minds; so haply where the powers + Of Fancy [Endnote X] neither lessen nor enlarge + The images of things, but paint in all 20 + Their genuine hues, the features which they wore + In Nature; there Opinion will be true, + And Action right. For Action treads the path + In which Opinion says he follows good, + Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye, + With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 + Is there a man, who, at the sound of death, + Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up, + And black before him; nought but death-bed groans + And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink + Of light and being, down the gloomy air, + An unknown depth? Alas! in such a mind, + If no bright forms of excellence attend + The image of his country; nor the pomp + Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice + Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 + The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame; + Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, + Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill + Than to betray his country? And in act + Will he not choose to be a wretch and live? + Here vice begins then. From the enchanting cup + Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst + Of youth oft swallows a Circaean draught, + That sheds a baleful tincture o'er the eye + Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 + And only guides to err. Then revel forth + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps + The empire of the soul; thus pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands + Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, + Watch to o'erturn the barrier of the laws + That keeps them from their prey; thus all the plagues + The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scone + The tragic Muse discloses, under shapes 60 + Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, + Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all + Those lying forms, which Fancy in the brain + Engenders, are the kindling passions driven + To guilty deeds; nor Reason bound in chains, + That Vice alone may lord it: oft adorn'd + With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears; a thousand ways + She wheels her giddy empire.--Lo! thus far 70 + With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre + I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well pleased + A stricter note: now haply must my song + Unbend her serious measure, and reveal + In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts [Endnote Y] + Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + The sportive province of the comic Muse. + + See! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance: + Each would outstrip the other, each prevent + Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 + Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, + My curious friends! and let us first arrange + In proper order your promiscuous throng. + + Behold the foremost band; [Endnote Z] of slender thought, + And easy faith; whom flattering Fancy soothes + With lying spectres, in themselves to view + Illustrious forms of excellence and good, + That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts + They spread their spurious treasures to the sun, + And bid the world admire! But chief the glance 90 + Of wishful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, + And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. + In number boundless as the blooms of Spring, + Behold their glaring idols, empty shades + By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up + For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, + With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, + And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate + With martial splendour, steely pikes and swords + Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 + Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port + Of stately Valour: listening by his side + There stands a female form; to her, with looks + Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, + He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, + And sulphurous mines, and ambush: then at once + Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, + And asks some wondering question of her fears. + Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'd + With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 + And bending oft their sanctimonious eyes + Take homage of the simple-minded throng; + Ambassadors of Heaven! Nor much unlike + Is he, whose visage in the lazy mist + That mantles every feature, hides a brood + Of politic conceits, of whispers, nods, + And hints deep omen'd with unwieldy schemes, + And dark portents of state. Ten thousand more, + Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues, + Pour dauntless in and swell the boastful band. 120 + + Then comes the second order; [Endnote AA] all who seek + The debt of praise, where watchful Unbelief + Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye + On some retired appearance which belies + The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause + That Justice else would pay. Here side by side + I see two leaders of the solemn train + Approaching: one a female old and gray, + With eyes demure, and wrinkle-furrow'd brow, + Pale as the cheeks of death; yet still she stuns 130 + The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, + How many youths her myrtle chains have worn, + How many virgins at her triumphs pined! + Yet how resolved she guards her cautious heart; + Such is her terror at the risks of love, + And man's seducing tongue! The other seems + A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, + And sordid all his habit; peevish Want + Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng + He stalks, resounding in magnific praise 140 + The vanity of riches, the contempt + Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, + Ye grave associates! let the silent grace + Of her who blushes at the fond regard + Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold + The praise of spotless honour: let the man, + Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp + And ample store, but as indulgent streams + To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits + Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 + The price of riches and the end of power. + + Another tribe succeeds; [Endnote BB] deluded long + By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold + The images of some peculiar things + With brighter hues resplendent, and portray'd + With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd + Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart + Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms; + Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, + Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays! 160 + And serious manhood from the towering aim + Of wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast + Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form + Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells! + Not with intenser view the Samian sage + Bent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, + When first the order of that radiant scene + Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surveys + A muckworm's entrails, or a spider's fang. + Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 170 + Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, + With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, + To win her coy regard: adieu, for him, + The dull engagements of the bustling world! + Adieu the sick impertinence of praise! + And hope, and action! for with her alone, + By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, + Is all he asks, and all that fate can give! + Thee too, facetious Momion, wandering here, + Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 + Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long + Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils + Of sly derision! till on every side + Hurling thy random bolts, offended Truth + Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves + Of Folly. Thy once formidable name + Shall grace her humble records, and be heard + In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips + Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, + So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. 190 + + But now, ye gay! [Endnote CC] to whom indulgent fate, + Of all the Muse's empire hath assign'd + The fields of folly, hither each advance + Your sickles; here the teeming soil affords + Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears, + In whom the demon, with a mother's joy, + Views all her charms reflected, all her cares + At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band! + Who, scorning Reason's tame, pedantic rules, + And Order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 + For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal + Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, + And yield Deformity the fond applause + Which Beauty wont to claim, forgive my song, + That for the blushing diffidence of youth, + It shuns the unequal province of your praise. + + Thus far triumphant [Endnote DD] in the pleasing guile + Of bland Imagination, Folly's train + Have dared our search: but now a dastard kind + Advance reluctant, and with faltering feet 210 + Shrink from the gazer's eye: enfeebled hearts + Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, + Or bends to servile tameness with conceits + Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, + Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave + Who droops abash'd when sullen Pomp surveys + His humbler habit; here the trembling wretch + Unnerved and struck with Terror's icy bolts, + Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, + At every dream of danger: here, subdued 220 + By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn + Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, + Who, blushing, half resigns the candid praise + Of Temperance and Honour; half disowns + A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride; + And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth + With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. + + Last of the motley bands [Endnote EE] on whom the power + Of gay Derision bends her hostile aim, + Is that where shameful Ignorance presides. 230 + Beneath her sordid banners, lo! they march + Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands + Attempt, Confusion straight appears behind, + And troubles all the work. Through many a maze, + Perplex'd they struggle, changing every path, + O'erturning every purpose; then at last + Sit down dismay'd, and leave the entangled scene + For Scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode + Of Folly in the mind; and such the shapes + In which she governs her obsequious train. 240 + + Through every scene of ridicule in things + To lead the tenor of my devious lay; + Through every swift occasion, which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her sallying nerves and chokes her tongue; + What were it but to count each crystal drop + Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms + Of May distil? Suffice it to have said, [Endnote FF] + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, 250 + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on the quick observer: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity are wont to dwell; + Or whether these with violation loathed, + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + + Ask we for what fair end, [Endnote GG] the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 + These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + The giddy aims of Folly? Though the light + Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mind, + At length unfolds, through many a subtile tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil! yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of truth appears 270 + To thousands; conscious what a scanty pause + From labours and from care, the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature; therefore stamp'd + The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + + Such are the various aspects of the mind-- + Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts + Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 + The etherial spirit with its mould of clay, + Oh! teach me to reveal the grateful charm + That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man + Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, + The inexpressive semblance [Endnote HH] of himself, + Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods + That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow: + With what religious awe the solemn scene + Commands your steps! as if the reverend form + Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 + The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade + Move to your pausing eye! Behold the expanse + Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds + Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze: + Now their gray cincture skirts the doubtful sun; + Now streams of splendour, through their opening veil + Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn + The aërial shadows, on the curling brook, + And on the shady margin's quivering leaves + With quickest lustre glancing; while you view 300 + The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast + Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth + With clouds and sunshine chequer'd, while the round + Of social converse, to the inspiring tongue + Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, + Moves all obsequious? Whence is this effect, + This kindred power of such discordant things? + Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone + To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers + At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 + Which artful custom twines around her frame? + + For when the different images of things, + By chance combined, have struck the attentive soul + With deeper impulse, or, connected long, + Have drawn her frequent eye; howe'er distinct + The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain + From that conjunction an eternal tie, + And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind + Recall one partner of the various league, + Immediate, lo! the firm confederates rise, 320 + And each his former station straight resumes: + One movement governs the consenting throng, + And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, + Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. + 'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, + Two faithful needles, [Endnote II] from the informing touch + Of the same parent stone, together drew + Its mystic virtue, and at first conspired + With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: + Then, though disjoin'd by kingdoms, though the main 330 + Roll'd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars + Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved + The former friendship, and remember'd still + The alliance of their birth: whate'er the line + Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew + The sure associate, ere with trembling speed + He found its path and fix'd unerring there. + Such is the secret union, when we feel + A song, a flower, a name, at once restore + Those long-connected scenes where first they moved 340 + The attention, backward through her mazy walks + Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, + To temples, courts, or fields, with all the band + Of painted forms, of passions and designs + Attendant; whence, if pleasing in itself, + The prospect from that sweet accession gains + Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. + + By these mysterious ties, [Endnote JJ] the busy power + Of Memory her ideal train preserves + Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 + Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste + Of dark oblivion; thus collecting all + The various forms of being to present, + Before the curious aim of mimic art, + Their largest choice; like Spring's unfolded blooms + Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee + May taste at will, from their selected spoils + To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse + Of living lakes in Summer's noontide calm, + Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens, 360 + With fairer semblance; not the sculptured gold + More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace, + Than he whose birth the sister powers of Art + Propitious view'd, and from his genial star + Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind, + Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve + The seal of Nature. There alone unchanged, + Her form remains. The balmy walks of May + There breathe perennial sweets; the trembling chord + Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 + Melodious; and the virgin's radiant eye, + Superior to disease, to grief, and time, + Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length + Endow'd with all that nature can bestow, + The child of Fancy oft in silence bends + O'er these mix'd treasures of his pregnant breast + With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves + To frame he knows not what excelling things, + And win he knows not what sublime reward + Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 + Feels her young nerves dilate: the plastic powers + Labour for action: blind emotions heave + His bosom; and with loveliest frenzy caught, + From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, + From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, + Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call, + Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, + From ocean's bed they come: the eternal heavens + Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss + Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 + He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares + Their different forms; now blends them, now divides, + Enlarges and extenuates by turns; + Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, + And infinitely varies. Hither now, + Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, + With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan + Begins to open. Lucid order dawns; + And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds + Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 + Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd + Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sun + Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees + Thus disentangled, his entire design + Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, + And lines converge: the fainter parts retire; + The fairer eminent in light advance; + And every image on its neighbour smiles. + Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy + Contemplates. Then with Promethéan art, 410 + Into its proper vehicle [Endnote KK] he breathes + The fair conception; which, embodied thus, + And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears + An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, + The various organs of his mimic skill, + The consonance of sounds, the featured rock, + The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, + Beyond their proper powers attract the soul + By that expressive semblance, while in sight + Of Nature's great original we scan 420 + The lively child of Art; while line by line, + And feature after feature we refer + To that sublime exemplar whence it stole + Those animating charms. Thus Beauty's palm + Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding Love + Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires + To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud + Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice + Enclosed and obvious to the beaming sun, + Collects his large effulgence; straight the heavens 430 + With equal flames present on either hand + The radiant visage; Persia stands at gaze, + Appall'd; and on the brink of Ganges doubts + The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, + To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, + To which his warbled orisons ascend. + + Such various bliss the well-tuned heart enjoys, + Favour'd of Heaven! while, plunged in sordid cares, + The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine; + And harsh Austerity, from whose rebuke 440 + Young Love and smiling Wonder shrink away + Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns + Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, + Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge + Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, + And calls the love and beauty which I sing, + The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, + Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms + Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, + To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 + Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, + Might smile with scorn while raptured vision tells + Of the gay-colour'd radiance flushing bright + O'er all creation. From the wise be far + Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song + Descend so low; but rather now unfold, + If human thought could reach, or words unfold, + By what mysterious fabric of the mind, + The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound + Result from airy motion; and from shape 460 + The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. + By what fine ties hath God connected things + When present in the mind, which in themselves + Have no connexion? Sure the rising sun + O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, + With equal brightness and with equal warmth + Might roll his fiery orb, nor yet the soul + Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers + Exulting in the splendour she beholds, + Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp 470 + Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, + Soft murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath + Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain + Attemper, could not man's discerning ear + Through all its tones the sympathy pursue, + Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy + Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd heart, + Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song? + + But were not Nature still endow'd at large + With all that life requires, though unadorn'd 480 + With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form + So exquisitely fair? her breath perfumed + With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice + Inform'd at will to raise or to depress + The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light + Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp + Than Fancy can describe? Whence but from Thee, + O source divine of ever-flowing love! + And Thy unmeasured goodness? Not content + With every food of life to nourish man, 490 + By kind illusions of the wondering sense + Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, + Or music to his ear; well pleased he scans + The goodly prospect, and with inward smiles + Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain, + Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, + And living lamps that over-arch his head + With more than regal splendour; bends his ears + To the full choir of water, air, and earth; + Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 + Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, + Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds, + Than space, or motion, or eternal time; + So sweet he feels their influence to attract + The fixed soul, to brighten the dull glooms + Of care, and make the destined road of life + Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, + The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, + Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells + Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510 + A visionary paradise disclosed + Amid the dubious wild; with streams, and shades, + And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, + Cheers his long labours and renews his frame. + + What then is taste, but these internal powers + Active, and strong, and feelingly alive + To each fine impulse,--a discerning sense + Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust + From things deform'd, or disarranged, or gross + In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 + Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; + But God alone, when first His active hand + Imprints the secret bias of the soul. + He, mighty Parent! wise and just in all, + Free as the vital breeze or light of heaven, + Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain + Who journeys homeward from a summer day's + Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils + And due repose, he loiters to behold + The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, 530 + O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, + His rude expression and untutor'd airs, + Beyond the power of language, will unfold + The form of beauty, smiling at his heart, + How lovely! how commanding! But though Heaven + In every breast hath sown these early seeds + Of love and admiration, yet in vain, + Without fair culture's kind parental aid, + Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, + And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 + The tender plant should rear its blooming head, + Or yield the harvest promised in its spring. + Nor yet will every soul with equal stores + Repay the tiller's labour, or attend + His will, obsequious, whether to produce + The olive or the laurel. Different minds + Incline to different objects; one pursues + The vast alone, [Endnote LL] the wonderful, the wild; + Another sighs for harmony, and grace, + And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 550 + The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, + When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, + And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, + Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; + Amid the mighty uproar, while below + The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad + Prom some high cliff, superior, and enjoys + The elemental war. But Waller longs, [Endnote MM] + All on the margin of some flowery stream + To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 + Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer + The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain + Resound soft-warbling all the livelong day; + Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill + Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; + And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. + Such and so various are the tastes of men. + + Oh! bless'd of Heaven, whom not the languid songs + Of Luxury, the siren! not the bribes + Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 + Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave + Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store + Of Nature fair Imagination culls + To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all + Of mortal offspring can attain the heights + Of envied life; though only few possess + Patrician treasures or imperial state; + Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, + With richer treasures and an ampler state, + Endows at large whatever happy man 580 + Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, + The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns + The princely dome, the column, and the arch, + The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, + Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, + His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring + Distils her dews, and from the silken gem + Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him, the hand + Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch + With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. 590 + Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings; + And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, + And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze [Endnote NN] + Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes + The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain + From all the tenants of the warbling shade + Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake + Fresh pleasure, unreproved. Nor thence partakes + Fresh pleasure only; for the attentive mind, + By this harmonious action on her powers 600 + Becomes herself harmonious; wont so oft + In outward things to meditate the charm + Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home + To find a kindred order, to exert + Within herself this elegance of love, + This fair-inspired delight; her temper'd powers + Refine at length, and every passion wears + A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. + But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze + On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 + These lesser graces, she assumes the port + Of that Eternal Majesty that weigh'd + The world's foundations, if to these the mind + Exalts her daring eye, then mightier far + Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms + Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? + Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth + Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down + To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? + Lo! she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620 + And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, + The elements and seasons; all declare + For what the Eternal Maker has ordain'd + The powers of man; we feel within ourselves + His energy divine; he tells the heart, + He meant, he made us to behold and love + What he beholds and loves, the general orb + Of life and being; to be great like him, + Beneficent and active. Thus the men + Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself 630 + Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, + With his conceptions, act upon his plan; + And form to his, the relish of their souls. + + + + + +_NOTES_ + + * * * * * + + +BOOK FIRST. + + +ENDNOTE A. + + _'Say why was man'_, etc.--P.8. + +In apologising for the frequent negligences of the sublimest authors +of Greece, 'Those godlike geniuses,' says Longinus, 'were well +assured, that Nature had not intended man for a low-spirited or +ignoble being: but bringing us into life and the midst of this wide +universe, as before a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, +that we might be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates +high in emulation for the prize of glory; she has therefore +implanted in our souls an inextinguishable love of everything great +and exalted, of everything which appears divine beyond our +comprehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole world is +not an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of human +imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits of all that +surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the whole circle of +our existence, and consider how especially it abounds in excellent +and grand objects, he will soon acknowledge for what enjoyments +and pursuits we were destined. Thus by the very propensity of +nature we are led to admire, not little springs or shallow rivulets, +however clear and delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, +and, much more than all, the Ocean,' etc. + --_Dionys. Longin. de Sublim_. ss. xxiv. + + +ENDNOTE B. + + _'The empyreal waste'_.--P. 9. + +'Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand espace au-delà de la région +des étoiles? Que ce soit le ciel empyrée, ou non, toujours cet +espace immense quî environne toute cette region, pourra être rempli +de bonheur et de gloire. Il pourra être conçu comme l'océan, òu se +rendent les fleuves de toutes les créatures bienheureuses, quand +elles seront venues à leur perfection dans le système des étoiles.' + --_Leibnitz dans la Theodicée_, part i. par. 19. + + +ENDNOTE C. + + _'Whose unfading light'_, etc.--P. 9. + +It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that there may be fixed +stars at such a distance from our solar system, as that their light +should not have had time to reach us, even from the creation of the +world to this day. + + + +ENDNOTE D. + + _'The neglect + Of all familiar prospects'_, etc.--P. 10. + +It is here said, that in consequence of the love of novelty, objects +which at first were highly delightful to the mind, lose that effect +by repeated attention to them. But the instance of habit is opposed +to this observation; for there, objects at first distasteful are in +time rendered entirely agreeable by repeated attention. + +The difficulty in this case will be removed if we consider, that, +when objects at first agreeable, lose that influence by frequently +recurring, the mind is wholly passive, and the perception involuntary; +but habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice and activity +accompanying it: so that the pleasure arises here not from the object, +but from the mind's conscious determination of its own activity; and +consequently increases in proportion to the frequency of that +determination. + +It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity with disagreeable +objects renders them at length acceptable, even when there is no +room for the mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the +appearance must be accounted for one of these ways. + +The pleasure from habit may be merely negative. The object at first +gave uneasiness: this uneasiness gradually wears off as the object +grows familiar: and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, +reckons its situation really pleasurable, compared with what it had +experienced before. + +The dislike conceived of the object at first, might be owing to +prejudice or want of attention. Consequently the mind being +necessitated to review it often, may at length perceive its own +mistake, and be reconciled to what it had looked on with aversion. +In which case, a sort of instinctive justice naturally leads it to +make amends for the injury, by running toward the other extreme of +fondness and attachment. + +Or lastly, though the object itself should always continue +disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure or good fortune may +occur along with it. Thus an association may arise in the mind, and +the object never be remembered without those pleasing circumstances +attending it; by which means the disagreeable impression which it at +first occasioned will in time be quite obliterated. + + + +ENDNOTE E. + + _'This desire + Of objects new and strange'_.--P. 10. + +These two ideas are oft confounded; though it is evident the mere +novelty of an object makes it agreeable, even where the mind is not +affected with the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed +always implies novelty, being never excited by common or well-known +appearances. But the pleasure in both cases is explicable from the +same final cause, the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of +our views of nature: on this account it is natural to treat of them +together. + + + +ENDNOTE F. + + _'Truth and Good are one, + And Beauty dwells in them'_, etc.--P. 14. + +'Do you imagine,' says Socrates to Aristippus, 'that what is good is +not beautiful? Have you not observed that these appearances always +coincide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect as to which we +call it good, is ever acknowledged to be beautiful also. In the +characters of men we always [1] join the two denominations together. +The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in like manner, with that +economy of parts which constitutes them good; and in every +circumstance of life, the same object is constantly accounted both +beautiful and good, inasmuch as it answers the purposes for which it +was designed.' + --_Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat_. 1.iii.c.8. + +This excellent observation has been illustrated and extended by the +noble restorer of ancient philosophy. (See the _Characteristics_, vol. +ii., pp. 339 and 422, and vol. iii., p. 181.) And another ingenious +author has particularly shewn, that it holds in the general laws of +nature, in the works of art, and the conduct of the sciences +(_Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_, +treat, i. Section 8). As to the connexion between beauty and truth, +there are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers assert an +independent and invariable law in nature, in consequence of which +all rational beings must alike perceive beauty in some certain +proportions, and deformity in the contrary. And this necessity being +supposed the same with that which commands the assent or dissent of +the understanding, it follows, of course, that beauty is founded on +the universal and unchangeable law of truth. + +But others there are who believe beauty to be merely a relative and +arbitrary thing; that, indeed, it was a benevolent provision in +nature to annex so delightful a sensation to those objects which are +best and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be engaged to +the choice of them at once, and without staying to infer their +usefulness from their structure and effects; but that it is not +impossible, in a physical sense, that two beings, of equal +capacities for truth, should perceive, one of them beauty, and the +other deformity, in the same proportions. And upon this supposition, +by that truth which is always connected with beauty, nothing more +can be meant than the conformity of any object to those proportions +upon which, after careful examination, the beauty of that species is +found to depend. Polycletus, for instance, a famous ancient sculptor, +from an accurate mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect +human bodies, deduced a canon or system of proportions, which was +the rule of all succeeding artists. Suppose a statue modelled +according to this: a man of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, +without entering into its proportions, confesses and admires its +beauty; whereas a professor of the art applies his measures to the +head, the neck, or the hand, and, without attending to its beauty, +pronounces the workmanship to be just and true. + +[Footnote 1: This the Athenians did in a peculiar manner, by the +words [Greek: kalokagathus] and [Greek: kalokagathia].] + + +ENDNOTE G. + + '_As when Brutus rose_,' etc.--P. 18. + +Cicero himself describes this fact--'Cassare interfecto--statim +cruentum alte extollens M. Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim +exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus.' + --_Cic. Philipp_. ii. 12. + + +ENDNOTE H. + + '_Where Virtue rising from the awful depth + Of Truth's mysterious bosom_,' etc.--P. 20. + +According to the opinion of those who assert moral obligation to be +founded on an immutable and universal law; and that which is usually +called the moral sense, to be determined by the peculiar temper of +the imagination and the earliest associations of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE I. + + '_Lycéum_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Aristotle. + + +ENDNOTE J. + + '_Academus_.'--P. 21. + +The school of Plato. + + +ENDNOTE K. + + '_Ilissus_.'--P. 21. + +One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. Plato, in some of +his finest dialogues, lays the scene of the conversation with +Socrates on its banks. + + * * * * * + + +BOOK SECOND. + + +ENDNOTE L + + '_At last the Muses rose_,' etc.--P. 22. + +About the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the third race of French +kings, the poets of Provence were in high reputation; a sort of +strolling bards or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes +and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with music and poetry. +They attempted both the epic, ode, and satire; and abounded in a +wild and fantastic vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly +founded on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These were the +rudiments of Italian poetry. But their taste and composition must +have been extremely barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed +the turn of their fable in much politer times; such as Boiardo, +Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, etc. + + +ENDNOTE M. + + '_Valclusa_.'--P. 22. + +The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the father of Italian +poetry, and his mistress, Laura, a lady of Avignon. + + +ENDNOTE N. + + '_Arno_.'--P. 22. + +The river which runs by Florence, the birth-place of Dante and +Boccaccio. + + +ENDNOTE O. + + '_Parthenopé_.'--P. 23. + +Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The great Torquato Tasso was +born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples. + + +ENDNOTE P. + + '_The rage + Of dire ambition_,' etc.--P. 23. + +This relates to the cruel wars among the republics of Italy, and +abominable politics of its little princes, about the fifteenth +century. These, at last, in conjunction with the papal power, +entirely extinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and +established that abuse of the fine arts which has been since +propagated over all Europe. + + +ENDNOTE Q. + + '_Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts_,' etc.--P. 23. + +Nor were they only losers by the separation. For philosophy itself, +to use the words of a noble philosopher, 'being thus severed from +the sprightly arts and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, +insipid, pedantic, useless, and directly opposite to the real +knowledge and practice of the world.' Insomuch that 'a gentleman,' +says another excellent writer, 'cannot easily bring himself to like +so austere and ungainly a form: so greatly is it changed from what +was once the delight of the finest gentlemen of antiquity, and their +recreation after the hurry of public affairs! From this condition it +cannot be recovered but by uniting it once more with the works of +imagination; and we have had the pleasure of observing a very great +progress made towards their union in England within these few years. +It is hardly possible to conceive them at a greater distance from +each other than at the Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of +one party, and Dryden of the other. But the general spirit of liberty, +which has ever since been growing, naturally invited our men of wit +and genius to improve that influence which the arts of persuasion +gave them with the people, by applying them to subjects of +importance to society. Thus poetry and eloquence became considerable; +and philosophy is now, of course, obliged to borrow of their +embellishments, in order even to gain audience with the public. + + +ENDNOTE R. + + '_From passion's power alone_,' etc.--P. 26. + +This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which is often found in the +exercise of passions generally counted painful, has been taken +notice of by several authors. Lucretius resolves it into self-love:-- + + 'Suave mari magno,' etc., lib. ii. 1. + +As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the distress of a +tragedy, without a cool reflection that though these fictitious +personages were so unhappy, yet he himself was perfectly at ease and +in safety. The ingenious author of the _Reflections Critiques sur la +Poésie et sur la Peinture_ accounts for it by the general delight +which the mind takes in its own activity, and the abhorrence it +feels of an indolent and inattentive state: and this, joined with the +moral approbation of its own temper, which attends these emotions +when natural and just, is certainly the true foundation of the +pleasure, which, as it is the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, +deserved a very particular consideration in this poem. + + +ENDNOTE S. + + '_Inhabitant of earth_,' etc.--P. 31. + +The account of the economy of Providence here introduced, as the +most proper to calm and satisfy the mind when under the compunction +of private evils, seems to have come originally from the Pythagorean +school: but of the ancient philosophers, Plato has most largely +insisted upon it, has established it with all the strength of his +capacious understanding, and ennobled it with all the magnificence +of his divine imagination. He has one passage so full and clear on +this head, that I am persuaded the reader will be pleased to see it +here, though somewhat long. Addressing himself to such as are not +satisfied concerning divine Providence: 'The Being who presides over +the whole,' says he, 'has disposed and complicated all things for +the happiness and virtue of the whole, every part of which, +according to the extent of its influence, does and suffers what is +fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, O unhappy man, which +though in itself most inconsiderable and minute, yet being connected +with the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that supreme order. +You in the meantime are ignorant of the very end for which all +particular natures are brought into existence, that the +all-comprehending nature of the whole may be perfect and happy; +existing, as it does, not for your sake, but the cause and reason of +your existence, which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, +must of necessity concur with the general design of the artist, and +be subservient to the whole of which it is a part. Your complaint +therefore is ignorant and groundless; since, according to the +various energy of creation, and the common laws of nature, there is +a constant provision of that which is best at the same time for you +and for the whole.--For the governing intelligence clearly beholding +all the actions of animated and self-moving creatures, and that +mixture of good and evil which diversifies them, considered first of +all by what disposition of things, and by what situation of each +individual in the general system, vice might be depressed and subdued, +and virtue made secure of victory and happiness with the greatest +facility and in the highest degree possible. In this manner he +ordered through the entire circle of being, the internal +constitution of every mind, where should be its station in the +universal fabric, and through what variety of circumstances it +should proceed in the whole tenor of its existence.' He goes on in +his sublime manner to assert a future state of retribution, 'as well +for those who, by the exercise of good dispositions being harmonised +and assimilated into the divine virtue, are consequently removed to +a place of unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those who by +the most flagitious arts have risen from contemptible beginnings to +the greatest affluence and power, and whom you therefore look upon +as unanswerable instances of negligence in the gods, because you are +ignorant of the purposes to which they are subservient, and in what +manner they contribute to that supreme intention of good to the whole.' + --_Plato de Leg_. x. 16. + +This theory has been delivered of late, especially abroad, in a +manner which subverts the freedom of human actions; whereas Plato +appears very careful to preserve it, and has been in that respect +imitated by the best of his followers. + +ENDNOTE T. + + '_One might rise, + One order_,' etc.--P. 31. + +See the _Meditations_ of Antoninus and the _Characteristics_, passim. + +ENDNOTE U. + + '_The best and fairest_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion is so old, that Timaeus Locrus calls the Supreme Being +[Greek: demiourgos tou beltionos], the artificer of that which is +best; and represents him as resolving in the beginning to produce +the most excellent work, and as copying the world most exactly from +his own intelligible and essential idea; 'so that it yet remains, as +it was at first, perfect in beauty, and will never stand in need of +any correction or improvement.' There can be no room for a caution +here, to understand the expressions, not of any particular +circumstances of human life separately considered, but of the sum or +universal system of life and being. See also the vision at the end +of the _Theodicée_ of Leibnitz. + +ENDNOTE V. + + '_As flame ascends_,' etc.--P. 32. + +This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any of the ancients, is +yet a very natural consequence of his principles. But the +disquisition is too complex and extensive to be entered upon here. + +ENDNOTE W. + + '_Philip_.'--P. 44. + +The Macedonian. + + +BOOK THIRD. + +ENDNOTE X. + + '_Where the powers + Of Fancy_,' etc.--P. 46. + +The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life is one of +the most important points in moral philosophy. It were easy, by an +induction of facts, to prove that the imagination directs almost all +the passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance of action or +pleasure. Let any man, even of the coldest head and soberest industry, +analyse the idea of what he calls his interest; he will find that it +consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, and order, +variously combined into one system, the idol which he seeks to enjoy +by labour, hazard, and self-denial. It is, on this account, of the +last consequence to regulate these images by the standard of nature +and the general good; otherwise the imagination, by heightening some +objects beyond their real excellence and beauty, or by representing +others in a more odions or terrible shape than they deserve, may, of +course, engage us in pursuits utterly inconsistent with the moral +order of things. + +If it be objected that this account of things supposes the passions +to be merely accidental, whereas there appears in some a natural and +hereditary disposition to certain passions prior to all +circumstances of education or fortune, it may be answered, that +though no man is born ambitious or a miser, yet he may inherit from +his parents a peculiar temper or complexion of mind, which shall +render his imagination more liable to be struck with some particular +objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions of good and ill, +and entertain passions of a particular turn. Some men, for instance, +by the original frame of their minds, are more delighted with the +vast and magnificent, others, on the contrary, with the elegant and +gentle aspects of nature. And it is very remarkable, that the +disposition of the moral powers is always similar to this of the +imagination; that those who are most inclined to admire prodigious +and sublime objects in the physical world, are also most inclined to +applaud examples of fortitude and heroic virtue in the moral. While +those who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweetness of +colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail in like manner to yield +the preference to the softer scenes of virtue and the sympathies of +a domestic life. And this is sufficient to account for the objection. + +Among the ancient philosophers, though we have several hints +concerning this influence of the imagination upon morals among the +remains of the Socratic school, yet the Stoics were the first who +paid it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought it impossible +to preserve any tolerable regularity in life, without frequently +inspecting those pictures or appearances of things, which the +imagination offers to the mind (_Diog. Laërt_. I. vii.) The +meditations of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, are +full of the same sentiment; insomuch that the latter makes the +[Greek: Chresis oia dei, fantasion], or right management of the +fancies, the only thing for which we are accountable to Providence, +and without which a man is no other than stupid or frantic (_Arrian_. +I. i. c. 12. and I. ii. c. 22). See also the _Characteristics_, +vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where this Stoical doctrine is embellished +with all the elegance and graces of Plato. + +ENDNOTE Y. + + '_How Folly's awkward arts_,' etc.--P. 47. + +Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule on private and +civil life, as well as on learning and the sciences, it has been +almost constantly neglected or misrepresented, by divines especially. +The manner of treating these subjects in the science of human nature, +should be precisely the same as in natural philosophy; from +particular facts to investigate the stated order in which they appear, +and then apply the general law, thus discovered, to the explication +of other appearances and the improvement of useful arts. + +ENDNOTE Z. + + '_Behold the foremost band_,' etc.--P. 48. + +The first and most general source of ridicule in the characters +of men, is vanity or self-applause for some desirable quality or +possession which evidently does not belong to those who assume it. + + +ENDNOTE AA. + + '_Then comes the second order_,' etc.--P, 49. + +Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the possession be real, +yet no merit can arise from it, because of some particular +circumstances, which, though obvious to the spectator, are yet +overlooked by the ridiculous character. + + +ENDNOTE BB. + + '_Another tribe succeeds_,' etc.--P. 50. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular objects +disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and inconsistent with the +order of nature. + + +ENDNOTE CC. + + '_But now, ye gay_,' etc.--P. 51. + +Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the object is absolutely +odious or contemptible. This is the highest degree of the ridiculous; +as in the affectation of diseases or vices. + + +ENDNOTE DD. + + '_Thus far triumphant_,' etc.--P. 51 + +Ridicule from false shame or groundless fear. + + +ENDNOTE EE. + + '_Last of the motley bands_,' etc.--P. 52. + +Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our circumstances +require us to know. + + +ENDNOTE FF. + + '_Suffice it to have said_,' etc.--P. 52. + +By comparing these general sources of ridicule with each other, and +examining the ridiculous in other objects, we may obtain a general +definition of it, equally applicable to every species. The most +important circumstance of this definition is laid down in the lines +referred to; but others more minute we shall subjoin here. +Aristotle's account of the matter seems both imperfect and false. +[Greek: To ghar geloion], says he, [Greek: estin hamartaema ti kai +aischos]: 'The ridiculous is some certain fault or turpitude without +pain, and not destructive to its subject' (_Poet_. c. 5). For +allowing it to be true, as it is not, that the ridiculous is never +accompanied with pain, yet we might produce many instances of such a +fault or turpitude which cannot with any tolerable propriety be +called ridiculous. So that the definition does not distinguish the +thing designed. Nay, further, even when we perceive the turpitude +tending to the destruction of its subject, we may still be sensible +of a ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, and the +keener sensations of pity or terror banish the ludicrous +apprehension from our minds; for the sensation of ridicule is not a +bare perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, but a +passion or emotion of the mind consequential to that perception; so +that the mind may perceive the agreement or disagreement, and yet +not feel the ridiculous, because it is engrossed by a more violent +emotion. Thus it happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, +to which others cannot endure to apply the name, because in them +they excite a much intenser and more important feeling. And this +difference, among other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion +into this question. + +'That which makes objects ridiculous is some ground of admiration or +esteem connected with other more general circumstances comparatively +worthless or deformed; or it is some circumstance of turpitude or +deformity connected with what is in general excellent or beautiful: +the inconsistent properties existing either in the objects themselves, +or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate, belonging +always to the same order or class of being, implying sentiment or +design, and exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the heart.' + +To prove the several parts of this definition: 'The appearance of +excellence or beauty connected with a general condition +comparatively sordid or deformed' is ridiculous; for instance, +pompous pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly in the +Socrates of Aristophanes, and the ostentations of military glory +with cowardice and stupidity in the Thraso of Terence. + +'The appearance of deformity or turpitude in conjunction with what +is in general excellent or venerable,' is also ridiculous: for +instance, the personal weaknesses of a magistrate appearing in the +solemn and public functions of his station. + +'The incongruous properties may either exist in the objects +themselves, or in the apprehension of the person to whom they relate:' +in the last--mentioned instance, they both exist in the objects; in +the instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of them is +objective and real, the other only founded in the apprehension of +the ridiculous character. + +'The inconsistent properties must belong to the same order or class +of being.' A coxcomb in fine clothes, bedaubed by accident in foul +weather, is a ridiculous object, because his general apprehension of +excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour and expense of +his dress. A man of sense and merit, in the same circumstances, is +not counted ridiculous, because the general ground of excellence and +esteem in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, of a +very different species. + +'Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or design.' A column +placed by an architect without a capital or base is laughed at: the +same column in a ruin causes a very different sensation. + +And lastly, 'the occurrence must excite no acute or vehement emotion +of the heart,' such as terror, pity, or indignation; for in that case, +as was observed above, the mind is not at leisure to contemplate the +ridiculous. Whether any appearance not ridiculous be involved in +this description, and whether it comprehend every species and form +of the ridiculous, must be determined by repeated applications of it +to particular instances. + + +ENDNOTE GG. + + _'Ask we for what fair end'_, etc.--P. 53. + +Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that we have a natural +sense or feeling of the ridiculous, and since so good a reason may +be assigned to justify the supreme Being for bestowing it, one cannot, +without astonishment, reflect on the conduct of those men who +imagine it is for the service of true religion to vilify and blacken +it without distinction, and endeavour to persuade us that it is +never applied but in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with +mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not in abstract +propositions or theorems, but in actions and passions, good and evil, +beauty and deformity, that we find materials for it; and all these +terms are relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask them +whether ridicule be a test of truth, is, in other words, to ask +whether that which is ridiculous can be morally true, can be just and +becoming; or whether that which is just and becoming can be +ridiculous?--a question that does not deserve a serious answer. For +it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical proposition offered +to the understanding for its assent, the faculty of reason examines +the terms of the proposition, and finding one idea, which was +supposed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of consequence +rejects the proposition as a falsehood; so, in objects offered to +the mind for its esteem or applause, the faculty of ridicule, +finding an incongruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it +with laughter and contempt. When, therefore, we observe such a claim +obtruded upon mankind, and the inconsistent circumstances carefully +concealed from the eye of the public, it is our business, if the +matter be of importance to society, to drag out those latent +circumstances, and, by setting them in full view, to convince the +world how ridiculous the claim is: and thus a double advantage is +gained; for we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the +way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds of men with a +stronger sense of the vanity and error of its authors. And this, and +no more, is meant by the application of ridicule. + +But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent +with the regard we owe to objects of real dignity and excellence. I +answer, the practice fairly managed can never be dangerous; men may +be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to the object, and +we may be inadvertent in allowing those circumstances to impose upon +us: but the sense of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of +Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever was drawn: +--true; but it is not the character of Socrates, the divine moralist +and father of ancient wisdom. What then? did the ridicule of the +poet hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaiming those +foreign circumstances which he had falsely introduced into his +character, and thus rendered the satirist doubly ridiculous in his +turn? No; but it nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of +the people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made many atheists: +he has founded it, indeed, on suppositions utterly false; but allow +him these, and his conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must +reject the use of ridicule, because, by the imposition of false +circumstances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which are not +so in themselves; why we ought not in the same manner to reject the +use of reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, +conclusions will appear true which are impossible in nature, let the +vehement and obstinate declaimers against ridicule determine. + + +ENDNOTE HH. + + _'The inexpressive semblance'_, etc.--P. 53. + +This similitude is the foundation of almost all the ornaments of +poetic diction. + + +ENDNOTE II. + + _'Two faithful needles'_, etc.--P. 55. + +See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo in the character of +Lucretius.-_Strada Prolus_. vi. _Academ_. 2. c. v. + + +ENDNOTE JJ. + + _'By these mysterious ties'_, etc.--P. 55. + +The act of remembering seems almost wholly to depend on the +association of ideas. + + +ENDNOTE KK. + + _'Into its proper vehicle'_, etc.--P. 57. + +This relates to the different sorts of corporeal mediums, by which +the ideas of the artists are rendered palpable to the senses: as by +sounds, in music; by lines and shadows, in painting; by diction, in +poetry, etc. + + +ENDNOTE LL. + + _'One pursues + The vast alone'_, etc.--P. 61. + +See the note to ver. 18 of this book. + + +ENDNOTE MM. + + _'Waller longs'_, etc.--P. 61. + + Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay + Under the plantane shade; and all the day + With amorous airs my fancy entertain, etc. + _WALLER, Battle of the Summer-Islands_, Canto I. + + And again, + While in the park I sing, the list'ning deer + Attend my passion, and forget to fear, etc. + At Pens-hurst. + +ENDNOTE NN. + + _'Not a breeze'_, etc.--P. 63. + +That this account may not appear rather poetically extravagant than +just in philosophy, it may be proper to produce the sentiment of one +of the greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head; one so little +to be suspected of partiality in the case, that he reckons it among +those favours for which he was especially thankful to the gods, that +they had not suffered him to make any great proficiency in the arts +of eloquence and poetry, lest by that means he should have been +diverted from pursuits of more importance to his high station. +Speaking of the beauty of universal nature, he observes, that there +'is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every object we perceive,' +when once we consider its connexion with that general order. He +instances in many things which at first sight would be thought +rather deformities; and then adds, 'that a man who enjoys a +sensibility of temper with a just comprehension of the universal +order--will discern many amiable things, not credible to every mind, +but to those alone who have entered into an honourable familiarity +with nature and her works.' + --_M. Antonin_. iii. 2. + + + + +THE + +PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. + + +A POEM. + +GENERAL ARGUMENT. + +The pleasures of the imagination proceed either from natural objects, +as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm +sea by moonlight; or from works of art, such as a noble edifice, a +musical tune, a statue, a picture, a poem. In treating of these +pleasures, we must begin with the former class; they being original +to the other; and nothing more being necessary, in order to explain +them, than a view of our natural inclination toward greatness and +beauty, and of those appearances, in the world around us, to which +that inclination is adapted. This is the subject of the first book +of the following poem. + +But the pleasures which we receive from the elegant arts, from music, +sculpture, painting, and poetry, are much more various and +complicated. In them (besides greatness and beauty, or forms proper +to the imagination) we find interwoven frequent representations of +truth, of virtue and vice, of circumstances proper to move us with +laughter, or to excite in us pity, fear, and the other passions. +These moral and intellectual objects are described in the second book; +to which the third properly belongs as an episode, though too large +to have been included in it. + +With the above-mentioned causes of pleasure, which are universal in +the course of human life, and appertain to our higher faculties, +many others do generally occur, more limited in their operation, or +of an inferior origin: such are the novelty of objects, the +association of ideas, affections of the bodily senses, influences of +education, national habits, and the like. To illustrate these, and +from the whole to determine the character of a perfect taste, is the +argument of the fourth book. + +Hitherto the pleasures of the imagination belong to the human +species in general. But there are certain particular men whose +imagination is endowed with powers, and susceptible of pleasures, +which the generality of mankind never participate. These are the men +of genius, destined by nature to excel in one or other of the arts +already mentioned. It is proposed, therefore, in the last place, to +delineate that genius which in some degree appears common to them all; +yet with a more peculiar consideration of poetry: inasmuch as poetry +is the most extensive of those arts, the most philosophical, and the +most useful. + + + + +BOOK I. 1757. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The subject proposed. Dedication. The ideas of the Supreme Being, the +exemplars of all things. The variety of constitution in the minds of +men; with its final cause. The general character of a fine +imagination. All the immediate pleasures of the human imagination +proceed either from Greatness or Beauty in external objects. The +pleasure from Greatness; with its final cause. The natural connexion +of Beauty with truth [2] and good. The different orders of Beauty in +different objects. The infinite and all-comprehending form of Beauty, +which belongs to the Divine Mind. The partial and artificial forms +of Beauty, which belong to inferior intellectual beings. The origin +and general conduct of beauty in man. The subordination of local +beauties to the beauty of the Universe. Conclusion. + + With what enchantment Nature's goodly scene + Attracts the sense of mortals; how the mind + For its own eye doth objects nobler still + Prepare; how men by various lessons learn + To judge of Beauty's praise; what raptures fill + The breast with fancy's native arts endow'd, + And what true culture guides it to renown, + My verse unfolds. Ye gods, or godlike powers, + Ye guardians of the sacred task, attend + Propitious. Hand in hand around your bard 10 + Move in majestic measures, leading on + His doubtful step through many a solemn path, + Conscious of secrets which to human sight + Ye only can reveal. Be great in him: + And let your favour make him wise to speak + Of all your wondrous empire; with a voice + So temper'd to his theme, that those who hear + May yield perpetual homage to yourselves. + Thou chief, O daughter of eternal Love, + Whate'er thy name; or Muse, or Grace, adored 20 + By Grecian prophets; to the sons of Heaven + Known, while with deep amazement thou dost there + The perfect counsels read, the ideas old, + Of thine omniscient Father; known on earth + By the still horror and the blissful tear + With which thou seizest on the soul of man; + Thou chief, Poetic Spirit, from the banks + Of Avon, whence thy holy fingers cull + Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf + Where Shakspeare lies, be present. And with thee 30 + Let Fiction come, on her aërial wings + Wafting ten thousand colours, which in sport, + By the light glances of her magic eye, + She blends and shifts at will through countless forms, + Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, + Whose awful tones control the moving sphere, + Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend, + And join this happy train? for with thee comes + The guide, the guardian of their mystic rites, + Wise Order: and, where Order deigns to come, 40 + Her sister, Liberty, will not be far. + Be present all ye Genii, who conduct + Of youthful bards the lonely wandering step + New to your springs and shades; who touch their ear + With finer sounds, and heighten to their eye + The pomp of nature, and before them place + The fairest, loftiest countenance of things. + + Nor thou, my Dyson, [3] to the lay refuse + Thy wonted partial audience. What though first, + In years unseason'd, haply ere the sports 50 + Of childhood yet were o'er, the adventurous lay + With many splendid prospects, many charms, + Allured my heart, nor conscious whence they sprung, + Nor heedful of their end? yet serious Truth + Her empire o'er the calm, sequester'd theme + Asserted soon; while Falsehood's evil brood, + Vice and deceitful Pleasure, she at once + Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil + Drew to the better cause. Maturer aid + Thy friendship added, in the paths of life, 60 + The busy paths, my unaccustom'd feet + Preserving: nor to Truth's recess divine, + Through this wide argument's unbeaten space, + Withholding surer guidance; while by turns + We traced the sages old, or while the queen + Of sciences (whom manners and the mind + Acknowledge) to my true companion's voice + Not unattentive, o'er the wintry lamp + Inclined her sceptre, favouring. Now the fates + Have other tasks imposed;--to thee, my friend, 70 + The ministry of freedom and the faith + Of popular decrees, in early youth, + Not vainly they committed; me they sent + To wait on pain, and silent arts to urge, + Inglorious; not ignoble, if my cares, + To such as languish on a grievous bed, + Ease and the sweet forgetfulness of ill + Conciliate; nor delightless, if the Muse, + Her shades to visit and to taste her springs, + If some distinguish'd hours the bounteous Muse 80 + Impart, and grant (what she, and she alone, + Can grant to mortals) that my hand those wreaths + Of fame and honest favour, which the bless'd + Wear in Elysium, and which never felt + The breath of envy or malignant tongues, + That these my hand for thee and for myself + May gather. Meanwhile, O my faithful friend, + O early chosen, ever found the same, + And trusted and beloved, once more the verse + Long destined, always obvious to thine ear, 90 + Attend, indulgent: so in latest years, + When time thy head with honours shall have clothed + Sacred to even virtue, may thy mind, + Amid the calm review of seasons past, + Fair offices of friendship, or kind peace, + Or public zeal, may then thy mind well pleased + Recall these happy studies of our prime. + From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends + The flame of genius to the chosen breast, + And beauty with poetic wonder join'd, 100 + And inspiration. Ere the rising sun + Shone o'er the deep, or 'mid the vault of night + The moon her silver lamp suspended; ere + The vales with springs were water'd, or with groves + Of oak or pine the ancient hills were crown'd; + Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore, + Within his own deep essence view'd the forms, + The forms eternal of created things: + The radiant sun; the moon's nocturnal lamp; + The mountains and the streams; the ample stores 110 + Of earth, of heaven, of nature. From the first, + On that full scene his love divine he fix'd, + His admiration: till, in time complete, + What he admired and loved his vital power + Unfolded into being. Hence the breath + Of life informing each organic frame: + Hence the green earth, and wild-resounding waves: + Hence light and shade, alternate; warmth and cold; + And bright autumnal skies, and vernal showers, + And all the fair variety of things. 120 + But not alike to every mortal eye + Is this great scene unveil'd. For while the claims + Of social life to different labours urge + The active powers of man, with wisest care + Hath Nature on the multitude of minds + Impress'd a various bias, and to each + Decreed its province in the common toil. + To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, + The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, + The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave 130 + To search the story of eternal thought; + Of space, and time; of fate's unbroken chain, + And will's quick movement; others by the hand + She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore + What healing virtue dwells in every vein + Of herbs or trees. But some to nobler hopes + Were destined; some within a finer mould + She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame. + To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds, + In fuller aspects and with fairer lights, 140 + This picture of the world. Through every part + They trace the lofty sketches of his hand; + In earth, or air, the meadow's flowery store, + The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's mien + Dress'd in attractive smiles, they see portray'd + (As far as mortal eyes the portrait scan) + Those lineaments of beauty which delight + The Mind Supreme. They also feel their force, + Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. + + For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 150 + Through fabling Egypt, at the genial touch + Of morning, from its inmost frame sent forth + Spontaneous music, so doth Nature's hand, + To certain attributes which matter claims, + Adapt the finer organs of the mind; + So the glad impulse of those kindred powers + (Of form, of colour's cheerful pomp, of sound + Melodious, or of motion aptly sped), + Detains the enliven'd sense; till soon the soul + Feels the deep concord, and assents through all 160 + Her functions. Then the charm by fate prepared + Diffuseth its enchantment Fancy dreams, + Rapt into high discourse with prophets old, + And wandering through Elysium, Fancy dreams + Of sacred fountains, of o'ershadowing groves, + Whose walks with godlike harmony resound: + Fountains, which Homer visits; happy groves, + Where Milton dwells; the intellectual power, + On the mind's throne, suspends his graver cares, + And smiles; the passions, to divine repose 170 + Persuaded yield, and love and joy alone + Are waking: love and joy, such as await + An angel's meditation. Oh! attend, + Whoe'er thou art whom these delights can touch; + Whom Nature's aspect, Nature's simple garb + Can thus command; oh! listen to my song; + And I will guide thee to her blissful walks, + And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, + And point her gracious features to thy view. + + Know then, whate'er of the world's ancient store, 180 + Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected scenes, + With love and admiration thus inspire + Attentive Fancy, her delighted sons + In two illustrious orders comprehend, + Self-taught: from him whose rustic toil the lark + Cheers warbling, to the bard whose daring thoughts + Range the full orb of being, still the form, + Which Fancy worships, or sublime or fair, + Her votaries proclaim. I see them dawn: + I see the radiant visions where they rise, 190 + More lovely than when Lucifer displays + His glittering forehead through the gates of morn, + To lead the train of Phoebus and the Spring. + + Say, why was man so eminently raised + Amid the vast creation; why empower'd + Through life and death to dart his watchful eye, + With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; + But that the Omnipotent might send him forth, + In sight of angels and immortal minds, + As on an ample theatre to join 200 + In contest with his equals, who shall best + The task achieve, the course of noble toils, + By wisdom and by mercy preordain'd? + Might send him forth the sovereign good to learn; + To chase each meaner purpose from his breast; + And through the mists of passion and of sense, + And through the pelting storms of chance and pain, + To hold straight on, with constant heart and eye + Still fix'd upon his everlasting palm, + The approving smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns 210 + In mortal bosoms this unquenchèd hope, + That seeks from day to day sublimer ends, + Happy, though restless? Why departs the soul + Wide from the track and journey of her times, + To grasp the good she knows not? In the field + Of things which may be, in the spacious field + Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms, + To raise up scenes in which her own desires + Contented may repose; when things, which are, + Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale: 220 + Her temper, still demanding to be free; + Spurning the rude control of wilful might; + Proud of her dangers braved, her griefs endured, + Her strength severely proved? To these high aims, + Which reason and affection prompt in man, + Not adverse nor unapt hath Nature framed + His bold imagination. For, amid + The various forms which this full world presents + Like rivals to his choice, what human breast + E'er doubts, before the transient and minute, 230 + To prize the vast, the stable, the sublime? + Who, that from heights aërial sends his eye + Around a wild horizon, and surveys + Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave + Through mountains, plains, through spacious cities old, + And regions dark with woods, will turn away + To mark the path of some penurious rill + Which murmureth at his feet? Where does the soul + Consent her soaring fancy to restrain, + Which bears her up, as on an eagle's wings, 240 + Destined for highest heaven; or which of fate's + Tremendous barriers shall confine her flight + To any humbler quarry? The rich earth + Cannot detain her; nor the ambient air + With all its changes. For a while with joy + She hovers o'er the sun, and views the small + Attendant orbs, beneath his sacred beam, + Emerging from the deep, like cluster'd isles + Whose rocky shores to the glad sailor's eye + Reflect the gleams of morning; for a while 250 + With pride she sees his firm, paternal sway + Bend the reluctant planets to move each + Round its perpetual year. But soon she quits + That prospect; meditating loftier views, + She darts adventurous up the long career + Of comets; through the constellations holds + Her course, and now looks back on all the stars + Whose blended flames as with a milky stream + Part the blue region. Empyréan tracts, + Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven 260 + Abide, she then explores, whence purer light + For countless ages travels through the abyss, + Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived. + Upon the wide creation's utmost shore + At length she stands, and the dread space beyond + Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless, down + The gloomy void, astonish'd, yet unquell'd, + She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulf + Where God alone hath being. There her hopes + Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth 270 + Of human kind, the Sovereign Maker said + That not in humble, nor in brief delight, + Not in the fleeting echoes of renown, + Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, + The soul should find contentment; but, from these + Turning disdainful to an equal good, + Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, + Till every bound at length should disappear, + And infinite perfection fill the scene. + + But lo, where Beauty, dress'd in gentler pomp, 280 + With comely steps advancing, claims the verse + Her charms inspire. O Beauty, source of praise, + Of honour, even to mute and lifeless things; + O thou that kindlest in each human heart + Love, and the wish of poets, when their tongue + Would teach to other bosoms what so charms + Their own; O child of Nature and the soul, + In happiest hour brought forth; the doubtful garb + Of words, of earthly language, all too mean, + Too lowly I account, in which to clothe 290 + Thy form divine; for thee the mind alone + Beholds, nor half thy brightness can reveal + Through those dim organs, whose corporeal touch + O'ershadoweth thy pure essence. Yet, my Muse, + If Fortune call thee to the task, wait thou + Thy favourable seasons; then, while fear + And doubt are absent, through wide nature's bounds + Expatiate with glad step, and choose at will + Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, + Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300 + To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise, + And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend + Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles + Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime, + Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on, + And learn from him; while, as he roves around, + Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, + The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot + Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell, + Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310 + In purple lights, till every hillock glows + As with the blushes of an evening sky? + Or wilt thou that Thessalian landscape trace, + Where slow Penéus his clear glassy tide + Draws smooth along, between the winding cliffs + Of Ossa and the pathless woods unshorn + That wave o'er huge Olympus? Down the stream, + Look how the mountains with their double range + Embrace the vale of Tempé: from each side + Ascending steep to heaven, a rocky mound 320 + Cover'd with ivy and the laurel boughs + That crown'd young Phoebus for the Python slain. + Fair Tempé! on whose primrose banks the morn + Awoke most fragrant, and the noon reposed + In pomp of lights and shadows most sublime: + Whose lawns, whose glades, ere human footsteps yet + Had traced an entrance, were the hallow'd haunt + Of sylvan powers immortal: where they sate + Oft in the golden age, the Nymphs and Fauns, + Beneath some arbour branching o'er the flood, 330 + And leaning round hung on the instructive lips + Of hoary Pan, or o'er some open dale + Danced in light measures to his sevenfold pipe, + While Zephyr's wanton hand along their path + Flung showers of painted blossoms, fertile dews, + And one perpetual spring. But if our task + More lofty rites demand, with all good vows + Then let us hasten to the rural haunt + Where young Melissa dwells. Nor thou refuse + The voice which calls thee from thy loved retreat, 340 + But hither, gentle maid, thy footsteps turn: + Here, to thy own unquestionable theme, + O fair, O graceful, bend thy polish'd brow, + Assenting; and the gladness of thy eyes + Impart to me, like morning's wishèd light + Seen through the vernal air. By yonder stream, + Where beech and elm along the bordering mead + Send forth wild melody from every bough, + Together let us wander; where the hills + Cover'd with fleeces to the lowing vale 350 + Reply; where tidings of content and peace + Each echo brings. Lo, how the western sun + O'er fields and floods, o'er every living soul, + Diffuseth glad repose! There,--while I speak + Of Beauty's honours, thou, Melissa, thou + Shalt hearken, not unconscious, while I tell + How first from Heaven she came: how, after all + The works of life, the elemental scenes, + The hours, the seasons, she had oft explored, + At length her favourite mansion and her throne 360 + She fix'd in woman's form; what pleasing ties + To virtue bind her; what effectual aid + They lend each other's power; and how divine + Their union, should some unambitious maid, + To all the enchantment of the Idalian queen, + Add sanctity and wisdom; while my tongue + Prolongs the tale, Melissa, thou may'st feign + To wonder whence my rapture is inspired; + But soon the smile which dawns upon thy lip + Shall tell it, and the tenderer bloom o'er all 370 + That soft cheek springing to the marble neck, + Which bends aside in vain, revealing more + What it would thus keep silent, and in vain + The sense of praise dissembling. Then my song + Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform + With joy and love the rugged breast of man, + Should sound in numbers worthy such a theme: + While all whose souls have ever felt the force + Of those enchanting passions, to my lyre + Should throng attentive, and receive once more 380 + Their influence, unobscured by any cloud + Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand + Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm + Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn + To join his dictates to the genuine strain + Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear + Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band + Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish + And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene + Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured 390 + By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil + Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn + Your favourable ear, and trust my words. + I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat, + Presenting Superstition's gloomy form, + To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean + To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, + Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth, + And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song + With happier omens calls you to the field, 400 + Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, + And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know), + Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use + And aptitude are strangers? is her praise + Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends + Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean + This pleasing call the herald of a lie, + To hide the shame of discord and disease, + And win each fond admirer into snares, + Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence 410 + The general mother, conscious how infirm + Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, + Thus, to the choice of credulous desire, + Doth objects the completest of their tribe + Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank + Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring, + Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask + The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill + Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock, + Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn 420 + And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool + With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine + Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage + Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl + Report of her, as of the swelling grape + Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem + When first it meets the sun. Or what are all + The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd? + Are they not pledges of a state entire, + Where native order reigns, with every part 430 + In health, and every function well perform'd? + + Thus, then, at first was Beauty sent from Heaven, + The lovely ministress of Truth and Good + In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one; + And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, + With like participation. Wherefore then, + O sons of earth, would ye dissolve the tie? + Oh! wherefore with a rash and greedy aim + Seek ye to rove through every flattering scene + Which Beauty seems to deck, nor once inquire 440 + Where is the suffrage of eternal Truth, + Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, + To save your search from folly? Wanting these, + Lo, Beauty withers in your void embrace; + And with the glittering of an idiot's toy + Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor yet let hope, + That kindliest inmate of the youthful breast, + Be hence appall'd, be turn'd to coward sloth + Sitting in silence, with dejected eyes + Incurious and with folded hands; far less 450 + Let scorn of wild fantastic folly's dreams, + Or hatred of the bigot's savage pride + Persuade you e'er that Beauty, or the love + Which waits on Beauty, may not brook to hear + The sacred lore of undeceitful Good + And Truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd + Though Superstition, tyranness abhorr'd, + The reverence due to this majestic pair + With threats and execration still demands; + Though the tame wretch, who asks of her the way 460 + To their celestial dwelling, she constrains + To quench or set at nought the lamp of God + Within his frame; through many a cheerless wild + Though forth she leads him credulous and dark + And awed with dubious notion; though at length + Haply she plunge him into cloister'd cells + And mansions unrelenting as the grave, + But void of quiet, there to watch the hours + Of midnight; there, amid the screaming owl's + Dire song, with spectres or with guilty shades 470 + To talk of pangs and everlasting woe; + Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star + Presides o'er your adventure. From the bower + Where Wisdom sat with her Athenian sons, + Could but my happy hand entwine a wreath + Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, + Then (for what need of cruel fear to you, + To you whom godlike love can well command?), + Then should my powerful voice at once dispel + Those monkish horrors; should in words divine 480 + Relate how favour'd minds like you inspired, + And taught their inspiration to conduct + By ruling Heaven's decree, through various walks + And prospects various, but delightful all, + Move onward; while now myrtle groves appear, + Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods + Of empire with the curule throne, or now + The domes of contemplation and the Muse. + + Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye + Through the fair toils and ornaments of earth 490 + Discerns the nobler life reserved for heaven, + Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine + Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, + The undivided partners of her sway, + With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh! let not us + By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd, + Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, + Oh! let not us one moment pause to join + That chosen band. And if the gracious Power, + Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 500 + Will to my invocation grant anew + The tuneful spirit, then through all our paths + Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre + Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead + When Summer smiles, to warn the melting heart + Of Luxury's allurement; whether firm + Against the torrent and the stubborn hill + To urge free Virtue's steps, and to her side + Summon that strong divinity of soul + Which conquers Chance and Fate: or on the height, 510 + The goal assign'd her, haply to proclaim + Her triumph; on her brow to place the crown + Of uncorrupted praise; through future worlds + To follow her interminated way, + And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. + + Such is the worth of Beauty; such her power, + So blameless, so revered. It now remains, + In just gradation through the various ranks + Of being, to contemplate how her gifts + Rise in due measure, watchful to attend 520 + The steps of rising Nature. Last and least, + In colours mingling with a random blaze, + Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the forms + Of simplest, easiest measure; in the bounds + Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent + To symmetry adds colour: thus the pearl + Shines in the concave of its purple bed, + And painted shells along some winding shore + Catch with indented folds the glancing sun. + Next, as we rise, appear the blooming tribes 530 + Which clothe the fragrant earth; which draw from her + Their own nutrition; which are born and die, + Yet, in their seed, immortal; such the flowers + With which young Maia pays the village maids + That hail her natal morn; and such the groves + Which blithe Pomona rears on Vaga's bank, + To feed the bowl of Ariconian swains + Who quaff beneath her branches. Nobler still + Is Beauty's name where, to the full consent + Of members and of features, to the pride 540 + Of colour, and the vital change of growth, + Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given, + While active motion speaks the temper'd soul: + So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed + With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain, + And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy + Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp + Adorns the seat where Virtue dwells on earth, + And Truth's eternal day-light shines around, + What palm belongs to man's imperial front, 550 + And woman powerful with becoming smiles, + Chief of terrestrial natures, need we now + Strive to inculcate? Thus hath Beauty there + Her most conspicuous praise to matter lent, + Where most conspicuous through that shadowy veil + Breaks forth the bright expression of a mind, + By steps directing our enraptured search + To Him, the first of minds; the chief; the sole; + From whom, through this wide, complicated world, + Did all her various lineaments begin; 560 + To whom alone, consenting and entire, + At once their mutual influence all display. + He, God most high (bear witness, Earth and Heaven), + The living fountains in himself contains + Of beauteous and sublime; with him enthroned + Ere days or years trod their ethereal way, + In his supreme intelligence enthroned, + The queen of love holds her unclouded state, + Urania. Thee, O Father! this extent + Of matter; thee the sluggish earth and tract 570 + Of seas, the heavens and heavenly splendours feel + Pervading, quickening, moving. From the depth + Of thy great essence, forth didst thou conduct + Eternal Form: and there, where Chaos reign'd, + Gav'st her dominion to erect her seat, + And sanctify the mansion. All her works + Well pleased thou didst behold: the gloomy fires + Of storm or earthquake, and the purest light + Of summer; soft Campania's new-born rose, + And the slow weed which pines on Russian hills 580 + Comely alike to thy full vision stand: + To thy surrounding vision, which unites + All essences and powers of the great world + In one sole order, fair alike they stand, + As features well consenting, and alike + Required by Nature ere she could attain + Her just resemblance to the perfect shape + Of universal Beauty, which with thee + Dwelt from the first. Thou also, ancient Mind, + Whom love and free beneficence await 590 + In all thy doings; to inferior minds, + Thy offspring, and to man, thy youngest son, + Refusing no convenient gift nor good; + Their eyes didst open, in this earth, yon heaven, + Those starry worlds, the countenance divine + Of Beauty to behold. But not to them + Didst thou her awful magnitude reveal + Such as before thine own unbounded sight + She stands (for never shall created soul + Conceive that object), nor, to all their kinds, 600 + The same in shape or features didst thou frame + Her image. Measuring well their different spheres + Of sense and action, thy paternal hand + Hath for each race prepared a different test + Of Beauty, own'd and reverenced as their guide + Most apt, most faithful. Thence inform'd, they scan + The objects that surround them; and select, + Since the great whole disclaims their scanty view, + Each for himself selects peculiar parts + Of Nature; what the standard fix'd by Heaven 610 + Within his breast approves, acquiring thus + A partial Beauty, which becomes his lot; + A Beauty which his eye may comprehend, + His hand may copy, leaving, O Supreme, + O thou whom none hath utter'd, leaving all + To thee that infinite, consummate form, + Which the great powers, the gods around thy throne + And nearest to thy counsels, know with thee + For ever to have been; but who she is, + Or what her likeness, know not. Man surveys 620 + A narrower scene, where, by the mix'd effect + Of things corporeal on his passive mind, + He judgeth what is fair. Corporeal things + The mind of man impel with various powers, + And various features to his eye disclose. + The powers which move his sense with instant joy, + The features which attract his heart to love, + He marks, combines, reposits. Other powers + And features of the self-same thing (unless + The beauteous form, the creature of his mind, 630 + Request their close alliance) he o'erlooks + Forgotten; or with self-beguiling zeal, + Whene'er his passions mingle in the work, + Half alters, half disowns. The tribes of men + Thus from their different functions and the shapes + Familiar to their eye, with art obtain, + Unconscious of their purpose, yet with art + Obtain the Beauty fitting man to love; + Whose proud desires from Nature's homely toil + Oft turn away, fastidious, asking still 640 + His mind's high aid, to purify the form + From matter's gross communion; to secure + For ever, from the meddling hand of Change + Or rude Decay, her features; and to add + Whatever ornaments may suit her mien, + Where'er he finds them scatter'd through the paths + Of Nature or of Fortune. Then he seats + The accomplish'd image deep within his breast, + Reviews it, and accounts it good and fair. + + Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, 650 + The universal Venus, far beyond + The keenest effort of created eyes, + And their most wide horizon, dwells enthroned + In ancient silence. At her footstool stands + An altar burning with eternal fire + Unsullied, unconsumed. Here every hour, + Here every moment, in their turns arrive + Her offspring; an innumerable band + Of sisters, comely all! but differing far + In age, in stature, and expressive mien, 660 + More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. + To this maternal shrine in turns they come, + Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source + Of living flame, which here immortal flows, + Their portions of its lustre they may draw + For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; + As their great parent's discipline requires. + Then to their several mansions they depart, + In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores + Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, 670 + Even on the surface of this rolling earth, + How many make abode? The fields, the groves, + The winding rivers and the azure main, + Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, + Their rites sublime. There each her destined home + Informs with that pure radiance from the skies + Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere, + Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night + Turn toward a distant flame, so some fit eye, + Among the various tenants of the scene, 680 + Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, + And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, + Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, + Bears witness with its people, gods and men, + To Beauty's blissful power, and with the voice + Of grateful admiration still resounds: + That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine + As is the cunning of the master's hand + To the sweet accent of the well-tuned lyre. + + Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps 690 + Have led us to these awful solitudes + Of Nature and of Science; nurse revered + Of generous counsels and heroic deeds; + Oh! let some portion of thy matchless praise + Dwell in my breast, and teach me to adorn + This unattempted theme. Nor be my thoughts + Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm + Which Hesper sheds along the vernal heaven, + If I, from vulgar Superstition's walk, + Impatient steal, and from the unseemly rites 700 + Of splendid Adulation, to attend + With hymns thy presence in the sylvan shade, + By their malignant footsteps unprofaned. + Come, O renownèd power; thy glowing mien + Such, and so elevated all thy form, + As when the great barbaric lord, again + And yet again diminish'd, hid his face + Among the herd of satraps and of kings; + And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear, + Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 710 + Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, + Thy smiling band of Arts, thy godlike sires + Of civil wisdom, thy unconquer'd youth, + After some glorious day rejoicing round + Their new-erected trophy. Guide my feet + Through fair Lycéum's walk, the olive shades + Of Academus, and the sacred vale + Haunted by steps divine, where once, beneath + That ever living platane's ample boughs, + Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain'd, 720 + On his neglected urn attentive lay; + While Boreas, lingering on the neighbouring steep + With beauteous Orithyía, his love tale + In silent awe suspended. There let me + With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields, + Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn + My native clime; while, far beyond the meed + Of Fancy's toil aspiring, I unlock + The springs of ancient wisdom; while I add + (What cannot be disjoin'd from Beauty's praise) 730 + Thy name and native dress, thy works beloved + And honour'd; while to my compatriot youth + I point the great example of thy sons, + And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. + +[Footnote 2: Truth is here taken, not in a logical, but in a mixed +and popular sense, or for what has been called the truth of things; +denoting as well their natural and regular condition, as a proper +estimate or judgment concerning them.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Dyson:' see _Life_.] + + + + +BOOK II. 1765. + + +ARGUMENT. + +Introduction to this more difficult part of the subject. Of Truth +and its three classes, matter of fact, experimental or scientifical +truth (contra-distinguished from opinion), and universal truth; +which last is either metaphysical or geometrical, either purely +intellectual or perfectly abstracted. On the power of discerning +truth depends that of acting with the view of an end; a circumstance +essential to virtue. Of Virtue, considered in the divine mind as a +perpetual and universal beneficence. Of human virtue, considered as +a system of particular sentiments and actions, suitable to the +design of Providence and the condition of man; to whom it +constitutes the chief good and the first beauty. Of Vice, and its +origin. Of Ridicule: its general nature and final cause. Of the +Passions; particularly of those which relate to evil natural or moral, +and which are generally accounted painful, though not always +unattended with pleasure. + + + Thus far of Beauty and the pleasing forms + Which man's untutor'd fancy, from the scenes + Imperfect of this ever changing world, + Creates; and views, enarnour'd. Now my song + Severer themes demand: mysterious Truth; + And Virtue, sovereign good: the spells, the trains, + The progeny of Error; the dread sway + Of Passion; and whatever hidden stores + From her own lofty deeds and from herself + The mind acquires. Severer argument: 10 + Not less attractive; nor deserving less + A constant ear. For what are all the forms + Educed by fancy from corporeal things, + Greatness, or pomp, or symmetry of parts? + Not tending to the heart, soon feeble grows, + As the blunt arrow 'gainst the knotty trunk, + Their impulse on the sense: while the pall'd eye + Expects in vain its tribute; asks in vain, + Where are the ornaments it once admired? + Not so the moral species, nor the powers 20 + Of Passion and of Thought. The ambitious mind + With objects boundless as her own desires + Can there converse: by these unfading forms + Touch'd and awaken'd still, with eager act + She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased + Her gifts, her godlike fortune. Such the scenes + Now opening round us. May the destined verse + Maintain its equal tenor, though in tracts + Obscure and arduous! May the source of light, + All-present, all-sufficient, guide our steps 30 + Through every maze! and whom, in childish years, + From the loud throng, the beaten paths of wealth + And power, thou didst apart send forth to speak + In tuneful words concerning highest things, + Him still do thou, O Father, at those hours + Of pensive freedom, when the human soul + Shuts out the rumour of the world, him still + Touch thou with secret lessons; call thou back + Each erring thought; and let the yielding strains + From his full bosom, like a welcome rill 40 + Spontaneous from its healthy fountain, flow! + + But from what name, what favourable sign, + What heavenly auspice, rather shall I date + My perilous excursion, than from Truth, + That nearest inmate of the human soul; + Estranged from whom, the countenance divine + Of man, disfigured and dishonour'd, sinks + Among inferior things? For to the brutes + Perception and the transient boons of sense + Hath Fate imparted; but to man alone 50 + Of sublunary beings was it given. + Each fleeting impulse on the sensual powers + At leisure to review; with equal eye + To scan the passion of the stricken nerve, + Or the vague object striking; to conduct + From sense, the portal turbulent and loud, + Into the mind's wide palace one by one + The frequent, pressing, fluctuating forms, + And question and compare them. Thus he learns + Their birth and fortunes; how allied they haunt 60 + The avenues of sense; what laws direct + Their union; and what various discords rise, + Or fixed, or casual; which when his clear thought + Retains and when his faithful words express, + That living image of the external scene, + As in a polish'd mirror held to view, + Is Truth; where'er it varies from the shape + And hue of its exemplar, in that part + Dim Error lurks. Moreover, from without + When oft the same society of forms 70 + In the same order have approach'd his mind, + He deigns no more their steps with curious heed + To trace; no more their features or their garb + He now examines; but of them and their + Condition, as with some diviner's tongue, + Affirms what Heaven in every distant place, + Through every future season, will decree. + This too is Truth; where'er his prudent lips + Wait till experience diligent and slow + Has authorised their sentence, this is Truth; 80 + A second, higher kind: the parent this + Of Science; or the lofty power herself, + Science herself, on whom the wants and cares + Of social life depend; the substitute + Of God's own wisdom in this toilsome world; + The providence of man. Yet oft in vain, + To earn her aid, with fix'd and anxious eye + He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's course: + Too much in vain. His duller visual ray + The stillness and the persevering acts 90 + Of Nature oft elude; and Fortune oft + With step fantastic from her wonted walk + Turns into mazes dim; his sight is foil'd; + And the crude sentence of his faltering tongue + Is but opinion's verdict, half believed, + And prone to change. Here thou, who feel'st thine ear + Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone, + Pause, and be watchful. Hitherto the stores, + Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, + Partake the relish of their native soil, 100 + Their parent earth. But know, a nobler dower + Her Sire at birth decreed her; purer gifts + From his own treasure; forms which never deign'd + In eyes or ears to dwell, within the sense + Of earthly organs; but sublime were placed + In his essential reason, leading there + That vast ideal host which all his works + Through endless ages never will reveal. + Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, + The slave of hunger and the prey of death, 110 + Even now, even here, in earth's dim prison bound, + The language of intelligence divine + Attains; repeating oft concerning one + And many, past and present, parts and whole, + Those sovereign dictates which in furthest heaven, + Where no orb rolls, Eternity's fix'd ear + Hears from coeval Truth, when Chance nor Change, + Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's self + Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. + Ere long, o'er this corporeal world he learns 120 + To extend her sway; while calling from the deep, + From earth and air, their multitudes untold + Of figures and of motions round his walk, + For each wide family some single birth + He sets in view, the impartial type of all + Its brethren; suffering it to claim, beyond + Their common heritage, no private gift, + No proper fortune. Then whate'er his eye + In this discerns, his bold unerring tongue + Pronounceth of the kindred, without bound, 130 + Without condition. Such the rise of forms + Sequester'd far from sense and every spot + Peculiar in the realms of space or time; + Such is the throne which man for Truth amid + The paths of mutability hath built + Secure, unshaken, still; and whence he views, + In matter's mouldering structures, the pure forms + Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, + Impassive all; whose attributes nor force + Nor fate can alter. There he first conceives 140 + True being, and an intellectual world + The same this hour and ever. Thence he deems + Of his own lot; above the painted shapes + That fleeting move o'er this terrestrial scene + Looks up; beyond the adamantine gates + Of death expatiates; as his birthright claims + Inheritance in all the works of God; + Prepares for endless time his plan of life, + And counts the universe itself his home. + + Whence also but from Truth, the light of minds, 150 + Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays + Of Virtue? with the moral colours thrown + On every walk of this our social scene, + Adorning for the eye of gods and men + The passions, actions, habitudes of life, + And rendering earth like heaven, a sacred place + Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell? + Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin + The reign of Virtue. Ere the dayspring flow'd, + Like sisters link'd in Concord's golden chain, 160 + They stood before the great Eternal Mind, + Their common parent, and by him were both + Sent forth among his creatures, hand in hand, + Inseparably join'd; nor e'er did Truth + Find an apt ear to listen to her lore, + Which knew not Virtue's voice; nor, save where Truth's + Majestic words are heard and understood, + Doth Virtue deign to inhabit. Go, inquire + Of Nature; not among Tartarian rocks, + Whither the hungry vulture with its prey 170 + Returns; not where the lion's sullen roar + At noon resounds along the lonely banks + Of ancient Tigris; but her gentler scenes, + The dovecote and the shepherd's fold at morn, + Consult; or by the meadow's fragrant hedge, + In spring-time when the woodlands first are green, + Attend the linnet singing to his mate + Couch'd o'er their tender young. To this fond care + Thou dost not Virtue's honourable name + Attribute; wherefore, save that not one gleam 180 + Of Truth did e'er discover to themselves + Their little hearts, or teach them, by the effects + Of that parental love, the love itself + To judge, and measure its officious deeds? + But man, whose eyelids Truth has fill'd with day, + Discerns how skilfully to bounteous ends + His wise affections move; with free accord + Adopts their guidance; yields himself secure + To Nature's prudent impulse; and converts + Instinct to duty and to sacred law. 190 + Hence Right and Fit on earth; while thus to man + The Almighty Legislator hath explain'd + The springs of action fix'd within his breast; + Hath given him power to slacken or restrain + Their effort; and hath shewn him how they join + Their partial movements with the master-wheel + Of the great world, and serve that sacred end + Which he, the unerring reason, keeps in view. + + For (if a mortal tongue may speak of him + And his dread ways) even as his boundless eye, 200 + Connecting every form and every change, + Beholds the perfect Beauty; so his will, + Through every hour producing good to all + The family of creatures, is itself + The perfect Virtue. Let the grateful swain + Remember this, as oft with joy and praise + He looks upon the falling dews which clothe + His lawns with verdure, and the tender seed + Nourish within his furrows; when between + Dead seas and burning skies, where long unmoved 210 + The bark had languish'd, now a rustling gale + Lifts o'er the fickle waves her dancing prow, + Let the glad pilot, bursting out in thanks, + Remember this; lest blind o'erweening pride + Pollute their offerings; lest their selfish heart + Say to the heavenly ruler, 'At our call + Relents thy power; by us thy arm is moved.' + Fools! who of God as of each other deem; + Who his invariable acts deduce + From sudden counsels transient as their own; 220 + Nor further of his bounty, than the event + Which haply meets their loud and eager prayer, + Acknowledge; nor, beyond the drop minute + Which haply they have tasted, heed the source + That flows for all; the fountain of his love + Which, from the summit where he sits enthroned, + Pours health and joy, unfailing streams, throughout + The spacious region flourishing in view, + The goodly work of his eternal day, + His own fair universe; on which alone 230 + His counsels fix, and whence alone his will + Assumes her strong direction. Such is now + His sovereign purpose; such it was before + All multitude of years. For his right arm + Was never idle; his bestowing love + Knew no beginning; was not as a change + Of mood that woke at last and started up + After a deep and solitary sloth + Of boundless ages. No; he now is good, + He ever was. The feet of hoary Time 240 + Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er + No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes + Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp + Of worlds, for gladness round the Maker's throne + Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects + Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence + The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd + Were all the dates of being, so disposed + To every living soul of every kind + The field of motion and the hour of rest, 250 + That each the general happiness might serve; + And, by the discipline of laws divine + Convinced of folly or chastised from guilt, + Each might at length be happy. What remains + Shall be like what is past; but fairer still, + And still increasing in the godlike gifts + Of Life and Truth. The same paternal hand, + From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, + To men, to angels, to celestial minds, + Will ever lead the generations on 260 + Through higher scenes of being; while, supplied + From day to day by his enlivening breath, + Inferior orders in succession rise + To fill the void below. As flame ascends, + As vapours to the earth in showers return, + As the poised ocean towards the attracting moon + Swells, and the ever-listening planets, charm'd + By the sun's call, their onward pace incline, + So all things which have life aspire to God, + Exhaustless fount of intellectual day! 270 + Centre of souls! Nor doth the mastering voice + Of Nature cease within to prompt aright + Their steps; nor is the care of Heaven withheld + From sending to the toil external aid; + That in their stations all may persevere + To climb the ascent of being, and approach + For ever nearer to the life divine. + + But this eternal fabric was not raised + For man's inspection. Though to some be given + To catch a transient visionary glimpse 280 + Of that majestic scene which boundless power + Prepares for perfect goodness, yet in vain + Would human life her faculties expand + To embosom such an object. Nor could e'er + Virtue or praise have touch'd the hearts of men, + Had not the Sovereign Guide, through every stage + Of this their various journey, pointed out + New hopes, new toils, which, to their humble sphere + Of sight and strength, might such importance hold + As doth the wide creation to his own. 290 + Hence all the little charities of life, + With all their duties; hence that favourite palm + Of human will, when duty is sufficed, + And still the liberal soul in ampler deeds + Would manifest herself; that sacred sign + Of her revered affinity to Him + Whose bounties are his own; to whom none said, + 'Create the wisest, fullest, fairest world, + And make its offspring happy;' who, intent + Some likeness of Himself among his works 300 + To view, hath pour'd into the human breast + A ray of knowledge and of love, which guides + Earth's feeble race to act their Maker's part, + Self-judging, self-obliged; while, from before + That godlike function, the gigantic power + Necessity, though wont to curb the force + Of Chaos and the savage elements, + Retires abash'd, as from a scene too high + For her brute tyranny, and with her bears + Her scornèd followers, Terror, and base Awe 310 + Who blinds herself, and that ill-suited pair, + Obedience link'd with Hatred. Then the soul + Arises in her strength; and, looking round + Her busy sphere, whatever work she views, + Whatever counsel bearing any trace + Of her Creator's likeness, whether apt + To aid her fellows or preserve herself + In her superior functions unimpair'd, + Thither she turns exulting: that she claims + As her peculiar good: on that, through all 320 + The fickle seasons of the day, she looks + With reverence still: to that, as to a fence + Against affliction and the darts of pain, + Her drooping hopes repair--and, once opposed + To that, all other pleasure, other wealth, + Vile, as the dross upon the molten gold, + Appears, and loathsome as the briny sea + To him who languishes with thirst, and sighs + For some known fountain pure. For what can strive + With Virtue? Which of Nature's regions vast 330 + Can in so many forms produce to sight + Such powerful Beauty? Beauty, which the eye + Of Hatred cannot look upon secure: + Which Envy's self contemplates, and is turn'd + Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, + Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair + In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, + The Summer's noontide groves, the purple eve + At harvest-home, or in the frosty moon + Glittering on some smooth sea; is aught so fair 340 + As virtuous friendship? as the honour'd roof + Whither, from highest heaven, immortal Love + His torch ethereal and his golden bow + Propitious brings, and there a temple holds + To whose unspotted service gladly vow'd + The social band of parent, brother, child, + With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds + Adore his power? What gift of richest clime + E'er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such + Deep wishes, as the zeal that snatcheth back 350 + From Slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown; + Or crosseth Danger in his lion walk, + A rival's life to rescue? as the young + Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, + That his great father's body might not want + A peaceful, humble tomb? the Roman wife + Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound + Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, + Who nothing more could threaten to afflict + Their faithful love? Or is there in the abyss, 360 + Is there, among the adamantine spheres + Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, + Aught that with half such majesty can fill + The human bosom, as when Brutus rose + Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate + Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm + Aloft extending like eternal Jove + When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud + On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword + Of justice in his rapt astonish'd eye, 370 + And bade the father of his country hail, + For lo, the tyrant prostrate on the dust, + And Rome again is free? Thus, through the paths + Of human life, in various pomp array'd + Walks the wise daughter of the judge of heaven, + Fair Virtue; from her father's throne supreme + Sent down to utter laws, such as on earth + Most apt he knew, most powerful to promote + The weal of all his works, the gracious end + Of his dread empire. And, though haply man's 380 + Obscurer sight, so far beyond himself + And the brief labours of his little home, + Extends not; yet, by the bright presence won + Of this divine instructress, to her sway + Pleased he assents, nor heeds the distant goal. + To which her voice conducts him. Thus hath God, + Still looking toward his own high purpose, fix'd + The virtues of his creatures; thus he rules + The parent's fondness and the patriot's zeal; + Thus the warm sense of honour and of shame; 390 + The vows of gratitude, the faith of love; + And all the comely intercourse of praise, + The joy of human life, the earthly heaven! + + How far unlike them must the lot of guilt + Be found! Or what terrestrial woe can match + The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought + The bane of others, or enslaved itself + With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, + Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate + Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, 400 + Were at that season an unwish'd exchange, + When the soul loathes herself; when, flying thence + To crowds, on every brow she sees portray'd + Pell demons, Hate or Scorn, which drive her back + To solitude, her judge's voice divine + To hear in secret, haply sounding through + The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still + Demanding for his violated laws + Fit recompense, or charging her own tongue + To speak the award of justice on herself. 410 + For well she knows what faithful hints within + Were whisper'd, to beware the lying forms + Which turn'd her footsteps from the safer way, + What cautions to suspect their painted dress, + And look with steady eyelid on their smiles, + Their frowns, their tears. In vain; the dazzling hues + Of Fancy, and Opinion's eager voice, + Too much prevail'd. For mortals tread the path + In which Opinion says they follow good + Or fly from evil; and Opinion gives 420 + Report of good or evil, as the scene + Was drawn by Fancy, pleasing or deform'd; + Thus her report can never there be true + Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye + With glaring colours and distorted lines. + Is there a man to whom the name of death + Brings terror's ghastly pageants conjured up + Before him, death-bed groans, and dismal vows, + And the frail soul plunged headlong from the brink + Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, 430 + An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire + Unvisited by mercy? Then what hand + Can snatch this dreamer from the fatal toils + Which Fancy and Opinion thus conspire + To twine around his heart? Or who shall hush + Their clamour, when they tell him that to die, + To risk those horrors, is a direr curse + Than basest life can bring? Though Love with prayers + Most tender, with affliction's sacred tears, + Beseech his aid; though Gratitude and Faith 440 + Condemn each step which loiters; yet let none + Make answer for him that if any frown + Of Danger thwart his path, he will not stay + Content, and be a wretch to be secure. + Here Vice begins then: at the gate of life, + Ere the young multitude to diverse roads + Part, like fond pilgrims on a journey unknown, + Sits Fancy, deep enchantress; and to each + With kind maternal looks presents her bowl, + A potent beverage. Heedless they comply, 450 + Till the whole soul from that mysterious draught + Is tinged, and every transient thought imbibes + Of gladness or disgust, desire or fear, + One homebred colour, which not all the lights + Of Science e'er shall change; not all the storms + Of adverse Fortune wash away, nor yet + The robe of purest Virtue quite conceal. + Thence on they pass, where, meeting frequent shapes + Of good and evil, cunning phantoms apt + To fire or freeze the breast, with them they join 460 + In dangerous parley; listening oft, and oft + Gazing with reckless passion, while its garb + The spectre heightens, and its pompous tale + Repeats, with some new circumstance to suit + That early tincture of the hearer's soul. + And should the guardian, Reason, but for one + Short moment yield to this illusive scene + His ear and eye, the intoxicating charm + Involves him, till no longer he discerns, + Or only guides to err. Then revel forth 470 + A furious band that spurn him from the throne, + And all is uproar. Hence Ambition climbs + With sliding feet and hands impure, to grasp + Those solemn toys which glitter in his view + On Fortune's rugged steep; hence pale Revenge + Unsheaths her murderous dagger; Rapine hence + And envious Lust, by venal fraud upborne, + Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws + Which kept them from their prey; hence all the crimes + That e'er defiled the earth, and all the plagues 480 + That follow them for vengeance, in the guise + Of Honour, Safety, Pleasure, Ease, or Pomp, + Stole first into the fond believing mind. + + Yet not by Fancy's witchcraft on the brain + Are always the tumultuous passions driven + To guilty deeds, nor Reason bound in chains + That Vice alone may lord it. Oft, adorn'd + With motley pageants, Folly mounts his throne, + And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. + A thousand garbs she wears: a thousand ways 490 + She whirls her giddy empire. Lo, thus far + With bold adventure to the Mantuan lyre + I sing for contemplation link'd with love, + A pensive theme. Now haply should my song + Unbend that serious countenance, and learn + Thalia's tripping gait, her shrill-toned voice, + Her wiles familiar: whether scorn she darts + In wanton ambush from her lip or eye, + Or whether, with a sad disguise of care + O'ermantling her gay brow, she acts in sport 500 + The deeds of Folly, and from all sides round + Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; + Her province. But through every comic scene + To lead my Muse with her light pencil arm'd; + Through every swift occasion which the hand + Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting + Distends her labouring sides and chokes her tongue, + Were endless as to sound each grating note + With which the rooks, and chattering daws, and grave + Unwieldy inmates of the village pond, 510 + The changing seasons of the sky proclaim; + Sun, cloud, or shower. Suffice it to have said, + Where'er the power of Ridicule displays + Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, + Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, + Strikes on her quick perception: whether Pomp, + Or Praise, or Beauty be dragg'd in and shewn + Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, + Where foul Deformity is wont to dwell; + Or whether these with shrewd and wayward spite 520 + Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, + The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise. + Ask we for what fair end the Almighty Sire + In mortal bosoms stirs this gay contempt, + These grateful pangs of laughter; from disgust + Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid + The tardy steps of Reason, and at once + By this prompt impulse urge us to depress + Wild Folly's aims? For, though the sober light + Of Truth slow dawning on the watchful mind 530 + At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie, + How these uncouth disorders end at last + In public evil; yet benignant Heaven, + Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears + To thousands, conscious what a scanty pause + From labour and from care the wider lot + Of humble life affords for studious thought + To scan the maze of Nature, therefore stamp'd + These glaring scenes with characters of scorn, + As broad, as obvious to the passing clown 540 + As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. + But other evils o'er the steps of man + Through all his walks impend; against whose might + The slender darts of Laughter nought avail: + A trivial warfare. Some, like cruel guards, + On Nature's ever-moving throne attend; + With mischief arm'd for him whoe'er shall thwart + The path of her inexorable wheels, + While she pursues the work that must be done + Through ocean, earth, and air. Hence, frequent forms 550 + Of woe; the merchant, with his wealthy bark, + Buried by dashing waves; the traveller, + Pierced by the pointed lightning in his haste; + And the poor husbandman, with folded arms, + Surveying his lost labours, and a heap + Of blasted chaff the product of the field + Whence he expected bread. But worse than these, + I deem far worse, that other race of ills + Which human kind rear up among themselves; + That horrid offspring which misgovern'd Will 560 + Bears to fantastic Error; vices, crimes, + Furies that curse the earth, and make the blows, + The heaviest blows, of Nature's innocent hand + Seem sport: which are indeed but as the care + Of a wise parent, who solicits good + To all her house, though haply at the price + Of tears and froward wailing and reproach + From some unthinking child, whom not the less + Its mother destines to be happy still. + + These sources then of pain, this double lot 570 + Of evil in the inheritance of man, + Required for his protection no slight force, + No careless watch; and therefore was his breast + Fenced round with passions quick to be alarm'd, + Or stubborn to oppose; with Fear, more swift + Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill, + Where armies land: with Anger, uncontroll'd + As the young lion bounding on his prey; + With Sorrow, that locks up the struggling heart; + And Shame, that overcasts the drooping eye 580 + As with a cloud of lightning. These the part + Perform of eager monitors, and goad + The soul more sharply than with points of steel, + Her enemies to shun or to resist. + And as those passions, that converse with good, + Are good themselves; as Hope and Love and Joy, + Among the fairest and the sweetest boons + Of life, we rightly count: so these, which guard + Against invading evil, still excite + Some pain, some tumult; these, within the mind 590 + Too oft admitted or too long retain'd, + Shock their frail seat, and by their uncurb'd rage + To savages more fell than Libya breeds + Transform themselves, till human thought becomes + A gloomy ruin, haunt of shapes unbless'd, + Of self-tormenting fiends; Horror, Despair, + Hatred, and wicked Envy: foes to all + The works of Nature and the gifts of Heaven. + + But when through blameless paths to righteous ends + Those keener passions urge the awaken'd soul, 600 + I would not, as ungracious violence, + Their sway describe, nor from their free career + The fellowship of Pleasure quite exclude. + For what can render, to the self-approved, + Their temper void of comfort, though in pain? + Who knows not with what majesty divine + The forms of Truth and Justice to the mind + Appear, ennobling oft the sharpest woe + With triumph and rejoicing? Who, that bears + A human bosom, hath not often felt 610 + How dear are all those ties which bind our race + In gentleness together, and how sweet + Their force, let Fortune's wayward hand the while + Be kind or cruel? Ask the faithful youth, + Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved + So often fills his arms; so often draws + His lonely footsteps, silent and unseen, + To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? + Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds + Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 620 + Those sacred hours when, stealing from the noise + Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes + With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, + And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd, + Which flies impatient from the village walk + To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below + The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast + Some helpless bark; while holy Pity melts + The general eye, or Terror's icy hand + Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; 630 + While every mother closer to her breast + Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves + Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud + As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms + For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, + As now another, dash'd against the rock, + Drops lifeless down. Oh! deemest thou indeed + No pleasing influence here by Nature given + To mutual terror and compassion's tears? + No tender charm mysterious, which attracts 640 + O'er all that edge of pain the social powers + To this their proper action and their end? + Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, + Slow through that pensive gloom thy pausing eye, + Led by the glimmering taper, moves around + The reverend volumes of the dead, the songs + Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame + For Grecian heroes, where the sovereign Power + Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, + Even as a father meditating all 650 + The praises of his son, and bids the rest + Of mankind there the fairest model learn + Of their own nature, and the noblest deeds + Which yet the world hath seen. If then thy soul + Join in the lot of those diviner men; + Say, when the prospect darkens on thy view; + When, sunk by many a wound, heroic states + Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown + Of hard Ambition; when the generous band + Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires 660 + Lie side by side in death; when brutal Force + Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp + Of guardian power, the majesty of rule, + The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, + To poor dishonest pageants, to adorn + A robber's walk, and glitter in the eyes + Of such as bow the knee; when beauteous works, + Rewards of virtue, sculptured forms which deck'd + With more than human grace the warrior's arch, + Or patriot's tomb, now victims to appease 670 + Tyrannic envy, strew the common path + With awful ruins; when the Muse's haunt, + The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk + With Socrates or Tully, hears no more + Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, + Or female Superstition's midnight prayer; + When ruthless Havoc from the hand of Time + Tears the destroying scythe, with surer stroke + To mow the monuments of Glory down; + Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 680 + Expands her raven wings, and, from the gate + Where senates once the weal of nations plann'd, + Hisseth the gliding snake through hoary weeds + That clasp the mouldering column: thus when all + The widely-mournful scene is fix'd within + Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear + Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm + In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove + To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, + Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; 690 + Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste + The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange + Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot + Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd + Of silent flatterers bending to his nod; + And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye, + And says within himself, 'I am a King, + And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe + Intrude upon mine ear?' The dregs corrupt + Of barbarous ages, that Circaean draught 700 + Of servitude and folly, have not yet, + Bless'd be the Eternal Ruler of the world! + Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd + The native judgment of the human soul, + Nor so effaced the image of her Sire. + + + + +BOOK III. 1770. + + + What tongue then may explain the various fate + Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes + Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth + Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man + Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind + From passions, wants, and envy far estranged, + Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd + Each part so richly with whate'er pertains + To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he + The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 + The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, + While the poor inmate looks around and smiles + Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? + Hard is the question, and from ancient days + Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; + Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre + Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er + Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light + Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, + Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 + What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes + And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, + Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, + Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know. + Could I the speech of lawgivers assume, + One old and splendid tale I would record, + With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains + Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all + Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, + Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 + Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, + Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height + Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice + Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; + Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join + In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed + Minerva's eager people to his laws, + Which their own goddess in his breast inspired? + + 'Twas now the time when his heroic task + Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 + Of flattering service, the fond multitude + Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath + Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, + Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, + Even from his birth, to every powerful art + Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips + Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, + Could steal away suspicion from the hearts + Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day + He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 + Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd + Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, + As one less kindly treated, who had hoped + To merit favour, but submits perforce + To find another's services preferr'd, + Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. + Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, + Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd + Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, + His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 + And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, + He burst into the public place, as there, + There only, were his refuge; and declared + In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, + The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. + Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, + To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, + Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, + Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, + And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 + The generous people! Now behold him fenced + By mercenary weapons, like a king, + Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve + To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp + Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, + And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, + And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. + Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; + Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, + Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 + Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, + His train increased; till, at that fatal time + Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame + Startled, began to question what it saw, + Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice + Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd + The rocky citadel with hostile arms, + Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within + Amid his hirelings, meditating death + To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 + Where then was Solon? After ten long years + Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, + The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: + Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that + Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd + To Liberty and Concord, now profaned + By savage hate, or sunk into a den + Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, + And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. + Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 + His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined + One moment with such woman-like distress + To view the transient storms of civil war, + As thence to yield his country and her hopes + To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, + Even while the traitor's impious act is told, + He buckles on his hoary head; he girds + With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear + He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides + The assembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 + It was no time for counsel; in their spears + Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet + Was not so firmly seated on his throne, + But that one shock of their united force + Would dash him from the summit of his pride, + Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else + Can reassert the lost Athenian name, + So cheaply to the laughter of the world + Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith + So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 + And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; + Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, + And through the walks of Danger or of Death + Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all + Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye + He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard + Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen + Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust + Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down + Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 + From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime + Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, + Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last + A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, + O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, + Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd + Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!' + No more he added; but with lonely steps + Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, + And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 + Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd. + There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man + Whom from the service of the war his chief + Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, + He fix'd in general view. One wishful look + He sent, unconscious, toward the public place + At parting; then beneath his quiet roof + Without a word, without a sigh, retired. + Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays + From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 + Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores, + When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet + Of four Athenians, by the same sad care + Conducted all, than whom the state beheld + None nobler. First came Megacles, the son + Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, + The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days + Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, + Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs + And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 + Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well + That hospitable favour which erewhile + Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, + Whom he, with offerings worthy of the god, + Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere + Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles + Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, + The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand + Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far + In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 + From arms controll'd by justice, from the love + Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath + Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once + His warlike steeds the hero led, and there + Contended through the tumult of the course + With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, + Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, + High on his car he stood and waved his arm. + Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice + Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 + Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, + To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, + The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, + Within the circuit of the following year, + To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand + With his fair daughter, him among the guests + Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all + The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: + From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian shore, + Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge 190 + Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes + Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race + Of great Achilles governs, glorying still + In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse + Of men who first among the Greeks threw off + The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms + Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, + Where flows Penéus near the lofty walls + Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen + Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 + On the steep margin of Euripus, views + Across the tide the Marathonian plain, + Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, + Minerva's care, among her graceful sons + Found equal lovers for the princely maid: + Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes + Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves + That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft + Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious band + Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 + In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. + His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, + Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate + Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm + Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd + When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, + And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart + Throbb'd full of bursting passions, anger, grief + With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy + Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, 220 + Are destined for his country and himself + In riper years to bring forth fruits divine + Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd + Two brave companions, whom one mother bore + To different lords; but whom the better ties + Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more + Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew + From godlike Æacus his ancient line; + That Æacus whose unimpeach'd renown + For sanctity and justice won the lyre 230 + Of elder bards to celebrate him throned + In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees + The guilty soul within the burning gates + Of Tartarus compel, or send the good + To inhabit with eternal health and peace + The valleys of Elysium. From a stem + So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring + Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long + The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, + Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 + Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore + To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth + Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect + With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now + Save for his injured country, here he stands + In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: + Unconscious both what widely different lots + Await them, taught by nature as they are + To know one common good, one common ill. + For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 + Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts + Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; + No, not the Olympic olive, by himself + From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind + Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve + From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, + And their assassin dagger. But if death + Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, + Yet fate an ample recompense prepares + In his victorious son, that other great 260 + Miltiades, who o'er the very throne + Of Glory shall with Time's assiduous hand + In adamantine characters engrave + The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd + 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, + Shall all the achievements of the heroes old + Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd + From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought + For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy. + + Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 + Of Solon had assembled. But the gate + Now opens, and across the ample floor + Straight they proceed into an open space + Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, + Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods + Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, + Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found + Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd + With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. + He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 + Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd + Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; + Calling meantime the Muses to accept + His simple offering, by no victim tinged + With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, + But such as for himself Apollo claims + In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt + Is thence the Altar of the Pious named. + + Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd + That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 + Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay + A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd + Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, + As loath that care or tumult should approach + Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, + So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such + Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce + To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' + He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? + Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 + Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause + Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might + Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove + Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, + As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, + From impious violation to assert + The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! + What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld + The Athenian people. Many bitter days + Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 + Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room + For just resentment, or their hands indure + To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all + Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. + That time will come, however. Be it yours + To watch its fair approach, and urge it on + With honest prudence; me it ill beseems + Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd + To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold + That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 + They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge + In counsels deep and various, nor prepare + For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread + On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades + Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold + What care employs me now. My vows I pay + To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth + And solace of my age. If right I deem + Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, + The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 + Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues + With sacred silence favour what I speak, + And haply shall my faithful lips be taught + To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, + As with impenetrable steel your breasts, + For the long strife before you, and repel + The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd + The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, + Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before + The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 + Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light + Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised + Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:-- + + 'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove + And Memory divine, Pierian maids, + Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, + When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, + To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps + Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate + My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 + Of flowing harmony to soften war's + Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm + The public eye, to clothe the form austere + Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, + Neglected, and supplanted of the hope + On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, + To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved + Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach + The visions of my bed whate'er the gods + In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 + Or the first heroes acted; ye can make + The morning light more gladsome to my sense + Than ever it appear'd to active youth + Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give + To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, + A labour as sublime, as when the sons + Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, + To hear pronounced for all their future deeds + The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers! + I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 + To meet your energy divine, I bring + A high and sacred theme; not less than those + Which to the eternal custody of Fame + Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd + With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent + The groves of Hæmus or the Chian shore. + + 'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all + My various life was e'er from you estranged?) + Oft hath my solitary song to you + Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 + To willing exile; earnest to withdraw + From envy and the disappointed thirst + Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, + Which in the eye of Athens they upheld + Against her legislator, should impair + With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. + To Egypt therefore through the Ægean isles + My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile + Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes + Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 + I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, + Through many changing moons, attentive heard + The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue + At morn or midnight the deep story told + Of her who represents whate'er has been, + Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil + No mortal hand hath ever yet removed. + By him exhorted, southward to the walls + Of On I pass'd, the city of the sun, + The ever-youthful god. Twas there, amid 400 + His priests and sages, who the livelong night + Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, + Or who in wondrous fables half disclose + The secrets of the elements, 'twas there + That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears + The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, + And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd. + Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale; + And often, while I listen'd, did my mind + Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 + Should sometime for an Attic audience raise + Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs + Call forth those ancient demigods, to speak + Of Justice and the hidden Providence + That walks among mankind. But yet meantime + The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons + Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed + On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, + To which the double yoke of king and priest + Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 + Invoking our own Pallas and the gods + Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave + To Egypt, and before the southern wind + Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, + What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm + Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian shore, + The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now + Consent that I reveal. But when at length + Ten times the sun returning from the south + Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 + The groves with music, pleased I then beheld + The term of those long errors drawing nigh. + Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within + The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod + The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts + Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth + As from their ancient home, and still to Greece + Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim. + Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, + Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 + Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, + I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps + The city of Minos enter'd. O ye gods, + Who taught the leaders of the simpler time + By written words to curb the untoward will + Of mortals, how within that generous isle + Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd + Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords + Of traffic and the sea, with what delight + I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 + Of the same household, join the plainer sort + Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these + Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, + Alike was strange; but noble concord still + Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, + Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, + How pleasing to behold them in their schools, + Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, + O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye. + Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 + Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns + Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve + Their country's heroes from oblivious night, + Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; + There, on the verge of manhood, others met, + In heavy armour through the heats of noon + To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb + With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow + To send resistless arrows to their mark, + Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 + Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, + Now with the biting falchion, and the fence + Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute + Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains + Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite + To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. + Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, + So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war + Each bold invader, and in peace to guard + That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 + Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood + Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, + Could quench or slacken. First of human names + In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; + And holiest far, of what the sun surveys + Through his whole course, were those primeval seats + Which with religious footsteps he had taught + Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave + Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads + Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where 490 + His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne + Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came + Each ninth returning year, the king of gods + And mortals there in secret to consult + On justice, and the tables of his law + To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal + Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates + Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane + Built on that sacred spot, along the banks + Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 + And his majestic consort join'd their hands + And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there + That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds + I first received; what time an annual feast + Had summon'd all the genial country round, + By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind + That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths + And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, + Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke + The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 + Of strangers from those naval cities drawn + Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore, + A merchant of Ægina I descried, + My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung + To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, + Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest," + He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites + Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: + Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne." + He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 + Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct + I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold + And my eyes dim; the altars and their train + No more were present to me; how I fared, + Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall + Aught of those moments, other than the sense + Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, + And, from the toils of some distressful dream + To break away, with palpitating heart, + Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 + Makes many a painful effort. When at last + The sun and nature's face again appear'd, + Not far I found me, where the public path, + Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, + From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends. + Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts + Of Ida rose before me, and the vault + Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side. + Entering within the threshold, on the ground + I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540 + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK + OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770. + + One effort more, one cheerful sally more, + Our destined course will finish; and in peace + Then, for an offering sacred to the powers + Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then + Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, + O my adventurous song! With steady speed + Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, + Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, + Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts + Of Passion and Opinion; like a waste 10 + Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, + Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now + Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, + Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, + If haply the discourses of the gods, + A curious, but an unpresuming guest, + Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain + Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, + And apt to be conceived of man below. + A different task remains; the secret paths 20 + Of early genius to explore: to trace + Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, + Like to the demigods of old, doth nurse + Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls + Who now her tender discipline obey, + Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve + Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon + Use ye to visit, often breaking forth + In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, + Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 + Would I again were with you!-O ye dales + Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, + Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, + And his banks open, and his lawns extend, + Stops short the pleased traveller to view + Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower + Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: + O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook + The rocky pavement and the mossy falls + Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 + How gladly I recall your well-known seats + Beloved of old, and that delightful time + When all alone, for many a summer's day, + I wander'd through your calm recesses, led + In silence by some powerful hand unseen. + + Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er + The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice + Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim + Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn + Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 + For every future year: whence even now + From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, + And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd + In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts + Of honourable fame, of truth divine + Or moral, and of minds to virtue won + By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; + The themes which now expect us. For thus far + On general habits, and on arts which grow + Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 + Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, + Though seldom conscious of their own employ, + In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene + Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire + Those forms set up, as idols in the soul + For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, + In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie + These pleasing stores, unless the casual force + Of things external prompt the heedless mind + To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 + Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man + O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves + Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance + And momentary passion, can at will + Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; + Review their features; scan the secret laws + Which bind them to each other: and display + By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense + Of all the world their latent charms display; + Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 + If such a word, so bold, may from the lips + Of man proceed) as in this outward frame + Of things, the great Artificer portrays + His own immense idea. Various names + These among mortals bear, as various signs + They use, and by peculiar organs speak + To human sense. There are who, by the flight + Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, + Or by extended chords in measure taught + To vibrate, can assemble powerful sounds 90 + Expressing every temper of the mind + From every cause, and charming all the soul + With passion void of care. Others mean time + The rugged mass of metal, wood, or stone, + Patiently taming; or with easier hand + Describing lines, and with more ample scope + Uniting colours; can to general sight + Produce those permanent and perfect forms, + Those characters of heroes and of gods, + Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 + Their own high minds created. But the chief + Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth + To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves + With language and with numbers. Hence to these + A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; + Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts + Of human wit, and vast as the demands + Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, + Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, + To every organ of the copious mind, 110 + He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, + The seasons him obey, and changeful Time + Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, + At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, + He summoneth, from the uttermost extent + Of things which God hath taught him, every form + Auxiliar, every power; and all beside + Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand + Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense + And every stately function of the soul. 120 + The soul itself to him obsequious lies, + Like matter's passive heap; and as he wills, + To reason and affection he assigns + Their just alliances, their just degrees: + Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race + Of men who people his delightful world, + Men genuine and according to themselves, + Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, + As earth itself to his delightful world, + The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130 + + + * * * * * + + + + +ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS. + +BOOK I. + + + +ODE I. + +PREFACE. + + 1 Off yonder verdant hillock laid, + Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, + O'erlook the falling stream, + O master of the Latin lyre, + A while with thee will I retire + From summer's noontide beam. + + 2 And, lo, within my lonely bower, + The industrious bee from many a flower + Collects her balmy dews: + 'For me,' she sings, 'the gems are born, + For me their silken robe adorn, + Their fragrant breath diffuse.' + + 3 Sweet murmurer! may no rude storm + This hospitable scene deform, + Nor check thy gladsome toils; + Still may the buds unsullied spring, + Still showers and sunshine court thy wing + To these ambrosial spoils. + + 4 Nor shall my Muse hereafter fail + Her fellow labourer thee to hail; + And lucky be the strains! + For long ago did Nature frame + Your seasons and your arts the same, + Your pleasures and your pains. + + 5 Like thee, in lowly, sylvan scenes, + On river banks and flowery greens, + My Muse delighted plays; + Nor through the desert of the air, + Though swans or eagles triumph there, + With fond ambition strays. + + 6 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, + Nor near the owl's unhallow'd haunts + Will she her cares employ; + But flies from ruins and from tombs, + From Superstition's horrid glooms, + To day-light and to joy. + + 7 Nor will she tempt the barren waste; + Nor deigns the lurking strength to taste + Of any noxious thing; + But leaves with scorn to Envy's use + The insipid nightshade's baneful juice, + The nettle's sordid sting. + + 8 From all which Nature fairest knows, + The vernal blooms, the summer rose, + She draws her blameless wealth; + And, when the generous task is done, + She consecrates a double boon, + To Pleasure and to Health. + + + +ODE II. + +ON THE WINTER-SOLSTICE. 1740. + + 1 The radiant ruler of the year + At length his wintry goal attains; + Soon to reverse the long career, + And northward bend his steady reins. + Now, piercing half Potosi's height, + Prone rush the fiery floods of light + Ripening the mountain's silver stores: + While, in some cavern's horrid shade, + The panting Indian hides his head, + And oft the approach of eve implores. + + 2 But lo, on this deserted coast, + How pale the sun! how thick the air! + Mustering his storms, a sordid host, + Lo, Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their latest bloom; + No more the breezes waft perfume, + No more the streams in music roll: + But snows fall dark, or rains resound; + And, while great Nature mourns around, + Her griefs infect the human soul. + + 3 Hence the loud city's busy throngs + Urge the warm bowl and splendid fire: + Harmonious dances, festive songs, + Against the spiteful heaven conspire. + Meantime, perhaps, with tender fears + Some village dame the curfew hears, + While round the hearth her children play: + At morn their father went abroad; + The moon is sunk, and deep the road; + She sighs, and vonders at his stay. + + 4 But thou, my lyre, awake, arise, + And hail the sun's returning force: + Even now he climbs the northern skies, + And health and hope attend his course. + Then louder howl the aerial waste, + Be earth with keener cold embraced, + Yet gentle hours advance their wing; + And Fancy, mocking Winter's might, + With flowers and dews and streaming light + Already decks the new-born Spring. + + 5 O fountain of the golden day, + Could mortal vows promote thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each hovering tempest fly, + Whose stores for mischief arm the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + Or, thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 6 But let not man's unequal views + Presume o'er Nature and her laws: + 'Tis his with grateful joy to use + The indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that health and beauty springs + Through this majestic frame of things, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that Heaven's all-subduing will, + With good, the progeny of ill, + Attempereth every state below. + + 7 How pleasing wears the wintry night, + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful scenes to tread + Where chiefs or legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + In arms and antique pomp array'd; + While now I taste the Ionian song, + Now bend to Plato's godlike tongue + Resounding through the olive shade. + + 8 But should some cheerful, equal friend + Bid leave the studious page a while. + Let mirth on wisdom then attend, + And social ease on learned toil. + Then while, at love's uncareful shrine, + Each dictates to the god of wine + Her name whom all his hopes obey, + What flattering dreams each bosom warm, + While absence, heightening every charm, + Invokes the slow-returning May! + + 9 May, thou delight of heaven and earth, + When will thy genial star arise? + The auspicious morn, which gives thee birth, + Shall bring Eudora to my eyes. + Within her sylvan haunt, behold, + As in the happy garden old, + She moves like that primeval fair: + Thither, ye silver-sounding lyres, + Ye tender smiles, ye chaste desires, + Fond hope and mutual faith, repair. + + 10 And if believing love can read + His better omens in her eye, + Then shall my fears, O charming maid, + And every pain of absence die: + Then shall my jocund harp, attuned + To thy true ear, with sweeter sound + Pursue the free Horatian song: + Old Tyne shall listen to my tale, + And Echo, down the bordering vale, + The liquid melody prolong. + + + +FOR THE WINTER SOLSTICE, DECEMBER 11, 1740. + AS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN. + + 1 Now to the utmost southern goal + The sun has traced his annual way, + And backward now prepares to roll, + And bless the north with earlier day. + Prone on Potosi's lofty brow + Floods of sublimer splendour flow, + Ripening the latent seeds of gold, + Whilst, panting in the lonely shade, + Th' afflicted Indian hides his head, + Nor dares the blaze of noon behold. + + 2 But lo! on this deserted coast + How faint the light, how chill the air! + Lo! arm'd with whirlwind, hail, and frost, + Fierce Winter desolates the year. + The fields resign their cheerful bloom, + No more the breezes breathe perfume, + No more the warbling waters roll; + Deserts of snow fatigue the eye, + Successive tempests bloat the sky, + And gloomy damps oppress the soul. + + 3 But let my drooping genius rise, + And hail the sun's remotest ray: + Now, now he climbs the northern skies, + To-morrow nearer than to-day. + Then louder howl the stormy waste, + Be land and ocean worse defaced, + Yet brighter hours are on the wing, + And Fancy, through the wintry gloom, + Radiant with dews and flowers in bloom, + Already hails th' emerging spring. + + 4 O fountain of the golden day! + Could mortal vows but urge thy speed, + How soon before thy vernal ray + Should each unkindly damp recede! + How soon each tempest hovering fly, + That now fermenting loads the sky, + Prompt on our heads to burst amain, + To rend the forest from the steep, + And thundering o'er the Baltic deep, + To whelm the merchant's hopes of gain! + + 5 But let not man's imperfect views + Presume to tax wise Nature's laws; + 'Tis his with silent joy to use + Th' indulgence of the Sovereign Cause; + Secure that from the whole of things + Beauty and good consummate springs, + Beyond what he can reach to know; + And that the providence of Heaven + Has some peculiar blessing given + To each allotted state below. + + 6 Even now how sweet the wintry night + Spent with the old illustrious dead! + While, by the taper's trembling light, + I seem those awful courts to tread, + Where chiefs and legislators lie, + Whose triumphs move before my eye, + With every laurel fresh display'd; + While charm'd I rove in classic song, + Or bend to freedom's fearless tongue, + Or walk the academic shade. + + + +ODE III. + +TO A FRIEND, UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE. + + 1 Indeed, my Phædria, if to find + That wealth can female wishes gain, + Had e'er disturb'd your thoughtful mind, + Or caused one serious moment's pain, + I should have said that all the rules + You learn'd of moralists and schools + Were very useless, very vain. + + 2 Yet I perhaps mistake the case-- + Say, though with this heroic air, + Like one that holds a nobler chase, + You try the tender loss to bear, + Does not your heart renounce your tongue? + Seems not my censure strangely wrong + To count it such a slight affair? + + 3 When Hesper gilds the shaded sky, + Oft as you seek the well-known grove, + Methinks I see you cast your eye + Back to the morning scenes of love: + Each pleasing word you heard her say, + Her gentle look, her graceful way, + Again your struggling fancy move. + + 4 Then tell me, is your soul entire? + Does Wisdom calmly hold her throne? + Then can you question each desire, + Bid this remain, and that be gone? + No tear half-starting from your eye? + No kindling blush, you know not why? + No stealing sigh, nor stifled groan? + + 5 Away with this unmanly mood! + See where the hoary churl appears, + Whose hand hath seized the favourite good + Which you reserved for happier years: + While, side by side, the blushing maid + Shrinks from his visage, half afraid, + Spite of the sickly joy she wears. + + 6 Ye guardian powers of love and fame, + This chaste, harmonious pair behold; + And thus reward the generous flame + Of all who barter vows for gold. + O bloom of youth, O tender charms + Well-buried in a dotard's arms! + O equal price of beauty sold! + + 7 Cease then to gaze with looks of love: + Bid her adieu, the venal fair: + Unworthy she your bliss to prove; + Then wherefore should she prove your care? + No: lay your myrtle garland down; + And let a while the willow's crown + With luckier omens bind your hair. + + 8 O just escaped the faithless main, + Though driven unwilling on the land; + To guide your favour'd steps again, + Behold your better Genius stand: + Where Truth revolves her page divine, + Where Virtue leads to Honour's shrine, + Behold, he lifts his awful hand. + + 9 Fix but on these your ruling aim, + And Time, the sire of manly care, + Will fancy's dazzling colours tame; + A soberer dress will beauty wear: + Then shall esteem, by knowledge led, + Enthrone within your heart and head + Some happier love, some truer fair. + + + + +ODE IV. + +AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE. TO THE SAME. + + + 1 Yes: you contemn the perjured maid + Who all your favourite hopes betray'd: + Nor, though her heart should home return, + Her tuneful tongue its falsehood mourn, + Her winning eyes your faith implore, + Would you her hand receive again, + Or once dissemble your disdain, + Or listen to the siren's theme, + Or stoop to love: since now esteem + And confidence, and friendship, is no more. + + 2 Yet tell me, Phaedria, tell me why, + When, summoning your pride, you try + To meet her looks with cool neglect, + Or cross her walk with slight respect + (For so is falsehood best repaid), + Whence do your cheeks indignant glow? + Why is your struggling tongue so slow? + What means that darkness on your brow, + As if with all her broken vow + You meant the fair apostate to upbraid? + + + + +ODE V. + +AGAINST SUSPICION. + + + 1 Oh, fly! 'tis dire Suspicion's mien; + And, meditating plagues unseen, + The sorceress hither bends: + Behold her touch in gall imbrued: + Behold--her garment drops with blood + Of lovers and of friends. + + 2 Fly far! Already in your eyes + I see a pale suffusion rise; + And soon through every vein, + Soon will her secret venom spread, + And all your heart and all your head + Imbibe the potent stain. + + 3 Then many a demon will she raise + To vex your sleep, to haunt your ways; + While gleams of lost delight + Raise the dark tempest of the brain, + As lightning shines across the main + Through whirlwinds and through night. + + 4 No more can faith or candour move; + But each ingenuous deed of love, + Which reason would applaud, + Now, smiling o'er her dark distress, + Fancy malignant strives to dress + Like injury and fraud. + + 5 Farewell to virtue's peaceful times: + Soon will you stoop to act the crimes + Which thus you stoop to fear: + Guilt follows guilt; and where the train + Begins with wrongs of such attain, + What horrors form the rear! + + 6 'Tis thus to work her baleful power, + Suspicion waits the sullen hour + Of fretfulness and strife, + When care the infirmer bosom wrings, + Or Eurus waves his murky wings + To damp the seats of life. + + 7 But come, forsake the scene unbless'd, + Which first beheld your faithful breast + To groundless fears a prey: + Come where, with my prevailing lyre, + The skies, the streams, the groves conspire + To charm your doubts away. + + 8 Throned in the sun's descending car, + What power unseen diffuseth far + This tenderness of mind? + What Genius smiles on yonder flood? + What God, in whispers from the wood, + Bids every thought be kind? + + 9 O Thou, whate'er thy awful name, + Whose wisdom our untoward frame + With social love restrains; + Thou, who by fair affection's ties + Giv'st us to double all our joys, + And half disarm our pains; + + 10 If far from Dyson and from me + Suspicion took, by thy decree, + Her everlasting flight; + If firm on virtue's ample base + Thy parent hand has deign'd to raise + Our friendship's honour'd height; + + 11 Let universal candour still, + Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill, + Preserve my open mind; + Nor this nor that man's crooked ways + One sordid doubt within me raise + To injure human kind. + + + + + +ODE VI. + +HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS. + + + How thick the shades of evening close! + How pale the sky with weight of snows! + Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire, + And bid the joyless day retire.-- + Alas, in vain I try within + To brighten the dejected scene, + While, roused by grief, these fiery pains + Tear the frail texture of my veins; + While Winter's voice, that storms around, + And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound 10 + Renew my mind's oppressive gloom, + Till starting Horror shakes the room. + + Is there in nature no kind power + To soothe affliction's lonely hour? + To blunt the edge of dire disease, + And teach these wintry shades to please? + Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair, + Shine through the hovering cloud of care: + O sweet of language, mild of mien, + O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, 20 + Assuage the flames that burn my breast, + Compose my jarring thoughts to rest; + And while thy gracious gifts I feel, + My song shall all thy praise reveal. + + As once ('twas in Astræa's reign) + The vernal powers renew'd their train, + It happen'd that immortal Love + Was ranging through the spheres above, + And downward hither cast his eye + The year's returning pomp to spy. 30 + He saw the radiant god of day + Waft in his car the rosy May; + The fragrant Airs and genial Hours + Were shedding round him dews and flowers; + Before his wheels Aurora pass'd, + And Hesper's golden lamp was last. + But, fairest of the blooming throng, + When Health majestic moved along, + Delighted to survey below + The joys which from her presence flow, 40 + While earth enliven'd hears her voice, + And swains, and flocks, and fields rejoice; + Then mighty Love her charms confess'd, + And soon his vows inclined her breast, + And, known from that auspicious morn, + The pleasing Cheerfulness was born. + + Thou, Cheerfulness, by heaven design'd + To sway the movements of the mind, + Whatever fretful passion springs, + Whatever wayward fortune brings 50 + To disarrange the power within, + And strain the musical machine; + Thou Goddess, thy attempering hand + Doth each discordant string command, + Refines the soft, and swells the strong; + And, joining Nature's general song, + Through many a varying tone unfolds + The harmony of human souls. + + Fair guardian of domestic life, 59 + Kind banisher of homebred strife, + Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye + Deforms the scene where thou art by: + No sickening husband damns the hour + Which bound his joys to female power; + No pining mother weeps the cares + Which parents waste on thankless heirs: + The officious daughters pleased attend; + The brother adds the name of friend: + By thee with flowers their board is crown'd, + With songs from thee their walks resound; 70 + And morn with welcome lustre shines, + And evening unperceived declines. + + Is there a youth whose anxious heart + Labours with love's unpitied smart? + Though now he stray by rills and bowers, + And weeping waste the lonely hours, + Or if the nymph her audience deign, + Debase the story of his pain + With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes, + And accents faltering into sighs; 80 + Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease + Canst yield him happier arts to please, + Inform his mien with manlier charms, + Instruct his tongue with nobler arms, + With more commanding passion move, + And teach the dignity of love. + + Friend to the Muse and all her train, + For thee I court the Muse again: + The Muse for thee may well exert + Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art, 90 + Who owes to thee that pleasing sway + Which earth and peopled heaven obey. + + Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue + Repeat what later bards have sung; + But thine was Homer's ancient might, + And thine victorious Pindar's flight: + Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attired: + Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspired: + Thy spirit lent the glad perfume + Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom; 100 + Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale + Delicious blows the enlivening gale, + While Horace calls thy sportive choir, + Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre. + But see, where yonder pensive sage + (A prey perhaps to fortune's rage, + Perhaps by tender griefs oppress'd, + Or glooms congenial to his breast) + Retires in desert scenes to dwell, + And bids the joyless world farewell. 110 + + Alone he treads the autumnal shade, + Alone beneath the mountain laid + He sees the nightly damps ascend, + And gathering storms aloft impend; + He hears the neighbouring surges roll, + And raging thunders shake the pole; + Then, struck by every object round, + And stunn'd by every horrid sound, + He asks a clue for Nature's ways; + But evil haunts him through the maze: 120 + He sees ten thousand demons rise + To wield the empire of the skies, + And Chance and Fate assume the rod, + And Malice blot the throne of God.-- + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + Thy lenient influence hither bring; + Compose the storm, dispel the gloom, + Till Nature wear her wonted bloom, + Till fields and shades their sweets exhale, + And music swell each opening gale: 130 + Then o'er his breast thy softness pour, + And let him learn the timely hour + To trace the world's benignant laws, + And judge of that presiding cause + Who founds on discord beauty's reign, + Converts to pleasure every pain, + Subdues each hostile form to rest, + And bids the universe be bless'd. + + O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, + If right I touch the votive string, 140 + If equal praise I yield thy name, + Still govern thou thy poet's flame; + Still with the Muse my bosom share, + And soothe to peace intruding care. + But most exert thy pleasing power + On friendship's consecrated hour; + And while my Sophron points the road + To godlike wisdom's calm abode, + Or warm in freedom's ancient cause + Traceth the source of Albion's laws, 150 + Add thou o'er all the generous toil + The light of thy unclouded smile. + But if, by fortune's stubborn sway + From him and friendship torn away, + I court the Muse's healing spell + For griefs that still with absence dwell, + Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams + To such indulgent placid themes, + As just the struggling breast may cheer, + And just suspend the starting tear, 160 + Yet leave that sacred sense of woe + Which none but friends and lovers know. + + + +ODE VII. + +ON THE USE OF POETRY. + + 1 Not for themselves did human kind + Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd + On life's wide scene to play: + Not Scipio's force nor Caesar's skill + Can conquer Glory's arduous hill, + If Fortune close the way. + + 2 Yet still the self-depending soul, + Though last and least in Fortune's roll, + His proper sphere commands; + And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd, + And sees, before the throne of God, + The rank in which he stands. + + 3 Who train'd by laws the future age, + Who rescued nations from the rage + Of partial, factious power, + My heart with distant homage views; + Content, if thou, celestial Muse, + Didst rule my natal hour. + + 4 Not far beneath the hero's feet, + Nor from the legislator's seat + Stands far remote the bard. + Though not with public terrors crown'd. + Yet wider shall his rule be found, + More lasting his award. + + 5 Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, + And Pompey to the Roman name + Gave universal sway: + Where are they?--Homer's reverend page + Holds empire to the thirtieth age, + And tongues and climes obey. + + 6 And thus when William's acts divine + No longer shall from Bourbon's line + Draw one vindictive vow; + When Sydney shall with Cato rest, + And Russel move the patriot's breast + No more than Brutus now; + + 7 Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art + O'er every passion, every heart, + Confirm his awful throne: + Tyrants shall bow before his laws; + And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause, + Their dread assertor own. + + + +ODE VIII. + +ON LEAVING HOLLAND. + + I.--1. + + Farewell to Leyden's lonely bound. + The Belgian Muse's sober seat; + Where, dealing frugal gifts around + To all the favourites at her feet, + She trains the body's bulky frame + For passive persevering toils; + And lest, from any prouder aim, + The daring mind should scorn her homely spoils, + She breathes maternal fogs to damp its restless flame. + + I.--2. + + Farewell the grave, pacific air, + Where never mountain zephyr blew: + The marshy levels lank and bare, + Which Pan, which Ceres never knew: + The Naiads, with obscene attire, + Urging in vain their urns to flow; + While round them chant the croaking choir, + And haply soothe some lover's prudent woe, + Or prompt some restive bard and modulate his lyre. + + I.--3. + + Farewell, ye nymphs, whom sober care of gain + Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of Love: + She render'd all his boasted arrows vain; + And all his gifts did he in spite remove. + Ye too, the slow-eyed fathers of the land, + With whom dominion steals from hand to hand, + Unown'd, undignified by public choice, + I go where Liberty to all is known, + And tells a monarch on his throne, + He reigns not but by her preserving voice. + + II.--1 + + O my loved England, when with thee + Shall I sit down, to part no more? + Far from this pale, discolour'd sea, + That sleeps upon the reedy shore: + When shall I plough thy azure tide? + When on thy hills the flocks admire, + Like mountain snows; till down their side + I trace the village and the sacred spire, + While bowers and copses green the golden slope divide? + + II.--2. + + Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove, + Ye blue-eyed sisters of the streams, + With whom I wont at morn to rove, + With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams; + Oh! take me to your haunts again, + The rocky spring, the greenwood glade; + To guide my lonely footsteps deign, + To prompt my slumbers in the murmuring shade, + And soothe my vacant ear with many an airy strain. + + II.--3. + + And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn + Thy drooping master's inauspicious hand: + Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, + Now fairer maids thy melody demand. + Daughters of Albion, listen to my lyre! + O Phoebus, guardian of the Aonian choir, + Why sounds not mine harmonious as thy own, + When all the virgin deities above + With Venus and with Juno move + In concert round the Olympian father's throne? + + III.--1. + + Thee too, protectress of my lays, + Elate with whose majestic call + Above degenerate Latium's praise, + Above the slavish boast of Gaul, + I dare from impious thrones reclaim, + And wanton sloth's ignoble charms, + The honours of a poet's name + To Somers' counsels, or to Hampden's arms, + Thee, Freedom, I rejoin, and bless thy genuine flame. + + III.--2. + + Great citizen of Albion! Thee + Heroic Valour still attends, + And useful Science, pleased to see + How Art her studious toil extends: + While Truth, diffusing from on high + A lustre unconfined as day, + Fills and commands the public eye; + Till, pierced and sinking by her powerful ray, + Tame Faith and monkish Awe, like nightly demons, fly. + + III.--3. + + Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares: + Hence dread Religion dwells with social Joy; + And holy passions and unsullied cares, + In youth, in age, domestic life employ. + O fair Britannia, hail!--With partial love + The tribes of men their native seats approve, + Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame: + But when for generous minds and manly laws + A nation holds her prime applause, + There public zeal shall all reproof disclaim. + + + + +ODE IX. + + TO CURIO. [1] 1744. + + 1 Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame + Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: + Eager through endless years to sound thy name, + Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. + How hast thou stain'd the splendour of my choice! + Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, + Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? + What can I now of thee to Time report, + Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, + Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? + + 2 There are, with eyes unmoved and reckless heart + Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, + Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart + The public vengeance on thy private foe. + But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, + The owl-eyed race whom virtue's lustre blinds, + Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, + I still believed thy aim from blemish free, + I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee, + And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice. + + 3 'Thou didst not dream of liberty decay'd, + Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong: + But the rash many, first by thee misled, + Bore thee at length unwillingly along.' + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For faith deserted or for cities sold, + Own here one untried, unexampled, deed; + One mystery of shame from Curio learn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, + And scape in Guilt's disguise from Virtue's offer'd meed. + + 4 For saw we not that dangerous power avow'd + Whom Freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, + Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, + And but with blushes suffereth in her train? + Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, + O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, + And call'd herself the state's directing soul: + Till Curio, like a good magician, tried + With Eloquence and Reason at his side, + By strength of holier spells the enchantress to control. + + 5 Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends: + The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: + Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends: + His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns: + The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + Now with like awe doth living merit scan: + While he, whom virtue in his bless'd retreat + Bade social ease and public passions meet, + Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. + + 6 At length in view the glorious end appear'd: + We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; + And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard + Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. + Waked in the strife the public Genius rose + More keen, more ardent from his long repose; + Deep through her bounds the city felt his call; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And murmuring challenged the deciding hour + Or that too vast event, the hope and dread of all. + + 7 O ye good powers who look on human kind, + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll; + And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind, + And steer his passions steady to the goal. + O Alfred, father of the English name, + O valiant Edward, first in civil fame, + O William, height of public virtue pure, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + Behold the sum of all your labours nigh, + Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. + + 8 'Twas then--O shame! O soul from faith estranged! + O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey! + 'Twas then--Thy thought what sudden frenzy changed? + What rushing palsy took thy strength away? + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved-- + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved-- + Whom the dead envied and the living bless'd-- + This patient slave by tinsel bonds allured-- + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured-- + Whom those that fear'd him scorn; that trusted him, detest? + + 9 O lost alike to action and repose! + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Sold to the mockery of relentless foes, + And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame, + To act with burning brow and throbbing heart + A poor deserter's dull exploded part, + To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, + Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, + And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign shore. + + 10 But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, + Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, + By courtly passions try the public cause; + Nor to the forms of rule betray the end. + O race erect! by manliest passions moved, + The labours which to Virtue stand approved, + Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey; + Yet, where Injustice works her wilful claim, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay. + + 11 These thy heart owns no longer. In their room + See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuous gloom, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. + Before her rites thy sickening reason flew, + Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, + While Laughter mock'd, or Pity stole a sigh: + Can Wit her tender movements rightly frame + Where the prime function of the soul is lame? + Can Fancy's feeble springs the force of Truth supply? + + 12 But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd: + With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends, + By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd. + There vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste, + For ever through the spacious courts resound: + There long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + Assail the giant chiefs, and press them to the ground. + + 13 In sight, old Time, imperious judge, awaits: + Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just, + He urgeth onward to those guilty gates + The great, the sage, the happy, and august. + And still he asks them of the hidden plan + Whence every treaty, every war began, + Evolves their secrets and their guilt proclaims: + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, + And crush their trophies huge, and raze their sculptured names. + + 14 Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: + Here his eternal mansion Curio seeks. + Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend, + And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks:-- + 'He comes, whom fate with surer arts prepared + To accomplish all which we but vainly dared; + Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: + Who soothed with gaudy dreams their raging power + Even to its last irrevocable hour; + Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them to the chain.' + + 15 But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, + Whom for her champions o'er the world she claims + (That household godhead whom of old your sires + Sought in the woods of Elbe and bore to Thames), + Drive ye this hostile omen far away; + Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; + Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be hers alone: + Still gird your swords to combat on her side; + Still frame your laws her generous test to abide; + And win to her defence the altar and the throne. + + 16 Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood + Of golden Luxury, which Commerce pours, + Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood, + Which not her lightest discipline endures: + Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: + Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws: + A wiser founder, and a nobler plan, + O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd: + Bring to that birthright but an equal mind, + And no sublimer lot will fate reserve for man. + + +[Footnote 1: 'To Curio:' see _Life_.] + + +ODE X. + +TO THE MUSE. + + + 1 Queen of my songs, harmonious maid, + Ah! why hast thou withdrawn thy aid? + Ah! why forsaken thus my breast + With inauspicious damps oppress'd? + Where is the dread prophetic heat + With which my bosom wont to beat? + Where all the bright mysterious dreams + Of haunted groves and tuneful streams, + That woo'd my genius to divinest themes? + + 2 Say, goddess, can the festal board, + Or young Olympia's form adored; + Say, can the pomp of promised fame + Relume thy faint, thy dying flame? + Or have melodious airs the power + To give one free, poetic hour? + Or, from amid the Elysian train, + The soul of Milton shall I gain, + To win thee back with some celestial strain? + + 3 O powerful strain! O sacred soul! + His numbers every sense control: + And now again my bosom burns; + The Muse, the Muse herself returns. + Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd, + I hail'd the fair immortal guest, + When first she seal'd me for her own, + Made all her blissful treasures known, + And bade me swear to follow Her alone. + + + + +ODE XI. + +ON LOVE. TO A FRIEND. + + + 1 No, foolish youth--to virtuous fame + If now thy early hopes be vow'd, + If true ambition's nobler flame + Command thy footsteps from the crowd, + Lean not to Love's enchanting snare; + His songs, his words, his looks beware, + Nor join his votaries, the young and fair. + + 2 By thought, by dangers, and by toils, + The wreath of just renown is worn; + Nor will ambition's awful spoils + The flowery pomp of ease adorn; + But Love unbends the force of thought; + By Love unmanly fears are taught; + And Love's reward with gaudy sloth is bought. + + 3 Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays, + And heard from many a zealous breast, + The pleasing tale of beauty's praise + In wisdom's lofty language dress'd; + Of beauty powerful to impart + Each finer sense, each comelier art, + And soothe and polish man's ungentle heart. + + 4 If then, from Love's deceit secure, + Thus far alone thy wishes tend, + Go; see the white-wing'd evening hour + On Delia's vernal walk descend: + Go, while the golden light serene, + The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene + Becomes the presence of the rural queen. + + 5 Attend, while that harmonious tongue + Each bosom, each desire commands: + Apollo's lute by Hermes strung, + And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands, + Attend. I feel a force divine, + O Delia, win my thoughts to thine; + That half the colour of thy life is mine. + + 6 Yet conscious of the dangerous charm, + Soon would I turn my steps away; + Nor oft provoke the lovely harm, + Nor lull my reason's watchful sway. + But thou, my friend--I hear thy sighs: + Alas, I read thy downcast eyes; + And thy tongue falters, and thy colour flies. + + 7 So soon again to meet the fair? + So pensive all this absent hour?-- + O yet, unlucky youth, beware, + While yet to think is in thy power. + In vain with friendship's flattering name + Thy passion veils its inward shame; + Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame! + + 8 Once, I remember, new to Love, + And dreading his tyrannic chain, + I sought a gentle maid to prove + What peaceful joys in friendship reign: + Whence we forsooth might safely stand, + And pitying view the love-sick band, + And mock the wingèd boy's malicious hand. + + 9 Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day, + To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd; + While I exulted to survey + One generous woman's real mind: + Till friendship soon my languid breast + Each night with unknown cares possess'd, + Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd. + + 10 Fool that I was--And now, even now + While thus I preach the Stoic strain, + Unless I shun Olympia's view, + An hour unsays it all again. + O friend!--when Love directs her eyes + To pierce where every passion lies, + Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise? + + + + +ODE XII. + + TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET. + + + 1 Behold, the Balance in the sky + Swift on the wintry scale inclines: + To earthy caves the Dryads fly, + And the bare pastures Pan resigns. + Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread + With recent soil the twice-mown mead, + Tainting the bloom which Autumn knows: + He whets the rusty coulter now, + He binds his oxen to the plough, + And wide his future harvest throws. + + 2 Now, London's busy confines round, + By Kensington's imperial towers, + From Highgate's rough descent profound, + Essexian heaths, or Kentish bowers, + Where'er I pass, I see approach + Some rural statesman's eager coach, + Hurried by senatorial cares: + While rural nymphs (alike, within, + Aspiring courtly praise to win) + Debate their dress, reform their airs. + + 3 Say, what can now the country boast, + O Drake, thy footsteps to detain, + When peevish winds and gloomy frost + The sunshine of the temper stain? + Say, are the priests of Devon grown + Friends to this tolerating throne, + Champions for George's legal right? + Have general freedom, equal law, + Won to the glory of Nassau + Each bold Wessexian squire and knight? + + 4 I doubt it much; and guess at least + That when the day, which made us free, + Shall next return, that sacred feast + Thou better may'st observe with me. + With me the sulphurous treason old + A far inferior part shall hold + In that glad day's triumphal strain; + And generous William be revered, + Nor one untimely accent heard + Of James, or his ignoble reign. + + 5 Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine + With modest cups our joy supplies, + We'll truly thank the power divine + Who bade the chief, the patriot rise; + Rise from heroic ease (the spoil + Due, for his youth's Herculean toil, + From Belgium to her saviour son), + Rise with the same unconquer'd zeal + For our Britannia's injured weal, + Her laws defaced, her shrines o'erthrown. + + 6 He came. The tyrant from our shore, + Like a forbidden demon, fled; + And to eternal exile bore + Pontific rage and vassal dread. + There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: + New years came forth, a liberal train, + Call'd by the people's great decree. + That day, my friend, let blessings crown;-- + Fill, to the demigod's renown + From whom thou hast that thou art free. + + 7 Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part + The public and the private weal?) + In vows to her who sways thy heart, + Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal. + Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek, + Or the soft ornaments that speak + So eloquent in Daphne's smile, + Whether the piercing lights that fly + From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye, + Haply thy fancy then beguile. + + 8 For so it is:--thy stubborn breast, + Though touch'd by many a slighter wound, + Hath no full conquest yet confess'd, + Nor the one fatal charmer found; + While I, a true and loyal swain, + My fair Olympia's gentle reign + Through all the varying seasons own. + Her genius still my bosom warms: + No other maid for me hath charms, + Or I have eyes for her alone. + + + + +ODE XIII. + +ON LYRIC POETRY. + + + I.--1. + + Once more I join the Thespian choir, + And taste the inspiring fount again: + O parent of the Grecian lyre, + Admit me to thy powerful strain-- + And lo, with ease my step invades + The pathless vale and opening shades, + Till now I spy her verdant seat; + And now at large I drink the sound, + While these her offspring, listening round. + By turns her melody repeat. + + + I.--2. + + I see Anacreon smile and sing, + His silver tresses breathe perfume: + His cheek displays a second spring + Of roses, taught by wine to bloom. + Away, deceitful cares, away, + And let me listen to his lay; + Let me the wanton pomp enjoy, + While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours + Lead round his lyre its patron powers, + Kind Laughter and Convivial Joy. + + + I.--3. + + Broke from the fetters of his native land, + Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, + With louder impulse and a threatening hand + The Lesbian patriot [1] smites the sounding chords: + Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, + Ye cursed of gods and free-born men, + Ye murderers of the laws, + Though now ye glory in your lust, + Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust, + Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause. + + + II.--1. + + But lo, to Sappho's melting airs + Descends the radiant queen of love: + She smiles, and asks what fonder cares + Her suppliant's plaintive measures move: + Why is my faithful maid distress'd? + Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast? + Say, flies he?--Soon he shall pursue: + Shuns he thy gifts?--He soon shall give: + Slights he thy sorrows?--He shall grieve, + And soon to all thy wishes bow. + + + II.--2. + + But, O Melpomene, for whom + Awakes thy golden shell again? + What mortal breath shall e'er presume + To echo that unbounded strain? + Majestic in the frown of years, + Behold, the man of Thebes [2] appears: + For some there are, whose mighty frame + The hand of Jove at birth endow'd + With hopes that mock the gazing crowd; + As eagles drink the noontide flame; + + + II.--3. + + While the dim raven beats her weary wings, + And clamours far below.--Propitious Muse, + While I so late unlock thy purer springs, + And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, + Wilt thou for Albion's sons around + (Ne'er hadst thou audience more renown'd) + Thy charming arts employ, + As when the winds from shore to shore + Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore, + Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy? + + III.--1. + + Yet then did Pleasure's lawless throng, + Oft rushing forth in loose attire, + Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song + Pollute with impious revels dire. + O fair, O chaste, thy echoing shade + May no foul discord here invade: + Nor let thy strings one accent move, + Except what earth's untroubled ear + 'Mid all her social tribes may hear, + And heaven's unerring throne approve. + + III.--2. + + Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat + The fairest flowers of Pindus glow; + The vine aspires to crown thy seat, + And myrtles round thy laurel grow. + Thy strings adapt their varied strain + To every pleasure, every pain, + Which mortal tribes were born to prove; + And straight our passions rise or fall, + As at the wind's imperious call + The ocean swells, the billows move. + + + III.--3. + + When midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth, + Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear: + When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth, + With airy murmurs touch my opening ear. + And ever watchful at thy side, + Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide + The tenor of thy lay: + To her of old by Jove was given + To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven; + 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. + + + IV.--1. + + Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd, + I quit the maze where Science toils, + Do thou refresh my yielding mind + With all thy gay, delusive spoils. + But, O indulgent, come not nigh + The busy steps, the jealous eye + Of wealthy care or gainful age; + Whose barren souls thy joys disdain, + And hold as foes to reason's reign + Whome'er thy lovely works engage. + + + IV.--2. + + When friendship and when letter'd mirth + Haply partake my simple board, + Then let thy blameless hand call forth + The music of the Teian chord. + Or if invoked at softer hours, + Oh! seek with me the happy bowers + That hear Olympia's gentle tongue; + To beauty link'd with virtue's train, + To love devoid of jealous pain, + There let the Sapphic lute be strung. + + + IV.--3. + + But when from envy and from death to claim + A hero bleeding for his native land; + When to throw incense on the vestal flame + Of Liberty my genius gives command, + Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre + From thee, O Muse, do I require; + While my presaging mind, + Conscious of powers she never knew, + Astonish'd, grasps at things beyond her view, + Nor by another's fate submits to be confined. + +[Footnote 1: 'The Lesbian patriot:' Alcaeus.] + +[Footnote 2: 'The man of Thebes:' Pindar.] + + + +ODE XIV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + FROM THE COUNTRY. + + + 1 Say, Townshend, what can London boast + To pay thee for the pleasures lost, + The health to-day resign'd, + When Spring from this her favourite seat + Bade Winter hasten his retreat, + And met the western wind. + + 2 Oh, knew'st thou how the balmy air, + The sun, the azure heavens prepare + To heal thy languid frame, + No more would noisy courts engage; + In vain would lying Faction's rage + Thy sacred leisure claim. + + 3 Oft I look'd forth, and oft admired; + Till with the studious volume tired + I sought the open day; + And sure, I cried, the rural gods + Expect me in their green abodes, + And chide my tardy lay. + + 4 But ah, in vain my restless feet + Traced every silent shady seat + Which knew their forms of old: + Nor Naiad by her fountain laid, + Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, + Did now their rites unfold: + + 5 Whether to nurse some infant oak + They turn--the slowly tinkling brook, + And catch the pearly showers, + Or brush the mildew from the woods, + Or paint with noontide beams the buds, + Or breathe on opening flowers. + + 6 Such rites, which they with Spring renew, + The eyes of care can never view; + And care hath long been mine: + And hence offended with their guest, + Since grief of love my soul oppress'd, + They hide their toils divine. + + 7 But soon shall thy enlivening tongue + This heart, by dear affliction wrung, + With noble hope inspire: + Then will the sylvan powers again + Receive me in their genial train, + And listen to my lyre. + + 8 Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade + A rustic altar shall be paid, + Of turf with laurel framed; + And thou the inscription wilt approve: + 'This for the peace which, lost by love, + By friendship was reclaim'd' + + + + +ODE XV. + +TO THE EVENING STAR. + + 1 To-night retired, the queen of heaven + With young Endymion stays: + And now to Hesper it is given + A while to rule the vacant sky, + Till she shall to her lamp supply + A stream of brighter rays. + + 2 O Hesper, while the starry throng + With awe thy path surrounds, + Oh, listen to my suppliant song, + If haply now the vocal sphere + Can suffer thy delighted ear + To stoop to mortal sounds. + + 3 So may the bridegroom's genial strain + Thee still invoke to shine: + So may the bride's unmarried train + To Hymen chant their flattering vow, + Still that his lucky torch may glow + With lustre pure as thine. + + 4 Far other vows must I prefer + To thy indulgent power. + Alas, but now I paid my tear + On fair Olympia's virgin tomb: + And lo, from thence, in quest I roam + Of Philomela's bower. + + 5 Propitious send thy golden ray, + Thou purest light above: + Let no false flame seduce to stray + Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm: + But lead where music's healing charm + May soothe afflicted love. + + 6 To them, by many a grateful song + In happier seasons vow'd, + These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong: + Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd, + Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, + Beneath yon copses stood. + + 7 Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs + That roofless tower invade, + We came while her enchanting Muse + The radiant moon above us held: + Till by a clamorous owl compell'd + She fled the solemn shade. + + 8 But hark; I hear her liquid tone. + Now, Hesper, guide my feet + Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown, + Through yon wild thicket next the plain, + Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane, + Which leads to her retreat. + + 9 See the green space; on either hand + Enlarged it spreads around: + See, in the midst she takes her stand, + Where one old oak his awful shade + Extends o'er half the level mead + Enclosed in woods profound. + + 10 Hark, through many a melting note + She now prolongs her lays: + How sweetly down the void they float! + The breeze their magic path attends, + The stars shine out, the forest bends, + The wakeful heifers gaze. + + 11 Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring + To this sequester'd spot, + If then the plaintive Syren sing, + Oh! softly tread beneath her bower, + And think of heaven's disposing power, + Of man's uncertain lot. + + 12 Oh! think, o'er all this mortal stage, + What mournful scenes arise: + What ruin waits on kingly rage, + How often virtue dwells with woe, + How many griefs from knowledge flow, + How swiftly pleasure flies. + + 13 O sacred bird, let me at eve, + Thus wandering all alone, + Thy tender counsel oft receive, + Bear witness to thy pensive airs, + And pity Nature's common cares, + Till I forget my own. + + + + +ODE XVI. + + TO CALEB HARDINGE, M. D. + + 1 With sordid floods the wintry Urn [1] + Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green; + Her naked hill the Dryads mourn, + No longer a poetic scene. + No longer there the raptured eye + The beauteous forms of earth or sky + Surveys as in their Author's mind; + And London shelters from the year + Those whom thy social hours to share + The Attic Muse design'd. + + 2 From Hampstead's airy summit me + Her guest the city shall behold, + What day the people's stern decree + To unbelieving kings is told, + When common men (the dread of fame) + Adjudged as one of evil name, + Before the sun, the anointed head. + Then seek thou too the pious town, + With no unworthy cares to crown + That evening's awful shade. + + 3 Deem not I call thee to deplore + The sacred martyr of the day, + By fast, and penitential lore + To purge our ancient guilt away. + For this, on humble faith I rest + That still our advocate, the priest, + From heavenly wrath will save the land; + Nor ask what rites our pardon gain, + Nor how his potent sounds restrain + The thunderer's lifted hand. + + 4 No, Hardinge; peace to church and state! + That evening, let the Muse give law; + While I anew the theme relate + Which my first youth enamour'd saw. + Then will I oft explore thy thought, + What to reject which Locke hath taught, + What to pursue in Virgil's lay; + Till hope ascends to loftiest things, + Nor envies demagogues or kings + Their frail and vulgar sway. + + 5 O versed in all the human frame, + Lead thou where'er my labour lies, + And English fancy's eager flame + To Grecian purity chastise; + While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine, + Beauty with truth I strive to join, + And grave assent with glad applause; + To paint the story of the soul, + And Plato's visions to control + By Verulamian laws. + +[Footnote 1: 'The wintry Urn:' Aquarius.] + + + +ODE XVII. + + ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY. 1747. + + 1 Come then, tell me, sage divine, + Is it an offence to own + That our bosoms e'er incline + Toward immortal Glory's throne? + For with me, nor pomp, nor pleasure, + Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, + So can Fancy's dream rejoice, + So conciliate Reason's choice, + As one approving word of her impartial voice. + + 2 If to spurn at noble praise + Be the passport to thy heaven, + Follow thou those gloomy ways; + No such law to me was given, + Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me, + Faring like my friends before me; + Nor an holier place desire + Than Timoleon's arms acquire, + And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre. + + + + +ODE XVIII. + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON, 1747. + + + I.--1. + + The wise and great of every clime, + Through all the spacious walks of time, + Where'er the Muse her power display'd, + With joy have listen'd and obey'd. + For, taught of heaven, the sacred Nine + Persuasive numbers, forms divine, + To mortal sense impart: + They best the soul with glory fire; + They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire; + And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed heart. + + I.--2. + + Nor less prevailing is their charm + The vengeful bosom to disarm; + To melt the proud with human woe, + And prompt unwilling tears to flow. + Can wealth a power like this afford? + Can Cromwell's arts or Marlborough's sword, + An equal empire claim? + No, Hastings. Thou my words wilt own: + Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known; + Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name. + + + I.--3. + + The Muse's awful art, + And the blest function of the poet's tongue, + Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert + From all that scorned vice or slavish fear hath sung. + Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings + Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; + Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings + By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, + Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign. + A different strain, + And other themes + From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams + (Thou well canst witness), meet the purgèd ear: + Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell + Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear; + To hear the sweet instructress tell + (While men and heroes throng'd around) + How life its noblest use may find, + How well for freedom be resign'd; + And how, by glory, virtue shall be crown'd. + + + II.--1. + + Such was the Chian father's strain + To many a kind domestic train, + Whose pious hearth and genial bowl + Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul: + When, every hospitable rite + With equal bounty to requite, + He struck his magic strings, + And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth, + And seized their ears with tales of ancient worth, + And fill'd their musing hearts with vast heroic things. + + + II.--2. + + Now oft, where happy spirits dwell, + Where yet he tunes his charming shell, + Oft near him, with applauding hands, + The Genius of his country stands. + To listening gods he makes him known, + That man divine, by whom were sown + The seeds of Grecian fame: + Who first the race with freedom fired; + From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspired; + From whom Plataean palms and Cyprian trophies came. + + II.--3. + + O noblest, happiest age! + When Aristides ruled, and Cimon fought; + When all the generous fruits of Homer's page + Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. + O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me: + Not that Apollo fed thee from his shrine; + Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee; + Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, + Pan danced their measure with the sylvan throng: + But that thy song + Was proud to unfold + What thy base rulers trembled to behold; + Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell + The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame: + Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell. + But thou, O faithful to thy fame, + The Muse's law didst rightly know; + That who would animate his lays, + And other minds to virtue raise, + Must feel his own with all her spirit glow. + + + III.--1. + + Are there, approved of later times, + Whose verse adorn'd a tyrant's [1] crimes? + Who saw majestic Rome betray'd, + And lent the imperial ruffian aid? + Alas! not one polluted bard, + No, not the strains that Mincius heard, + Or Tibur's hills replied, + Dare to the Muse's ear aspire; + Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre, + With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful task they hide. + + + III.--2. + + Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, + Amid the domes of modern hands: + Amid the toys of idle state, + How simply, how severely great! + Then turn, and, while each western clime + Presents her tuneful sons to Time, + So mark thou Milton's name; + And add, 'Thus differs from the throng + The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, + Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's fame.' + + + III.--3. + + Yet hence barbaric zeal + His memory with unholy rage pursues; + While from these arduous cares of public weal + She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse. + O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind + Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey; + Must join the noblest forms of every kind, + The world's most perfect image to display, + Can e'er his country's majesty behold, + Unmoved or cold! + O fool! to deem + That he, whose thought must visit every theme, + Whose heart must every strong emotion know + Inspired by Nature, or by Fortune taught; + That he, if haply some presumptuous foe, + With false ignoble science fraught, + Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band: + That he their dear defence will shun, + Or hide their glories from the sun, + Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand! + + + IV.--1. + + I care not that in Arno's plain, + Or on the sportive banks of Seine, + From public themes the Muse's choir + Content with polish'd ease retire. + Where priests the studious head command, + Where tyrants bow the warlike hand + To vile ambition's aim, + Say, what can public themes afford, + Save venal honours to a hateful lord, + Reserved for angry heaven and scorn'd of honest fame? + + + IV.--2. + + But here, where Freedom's equal throne + To all her valiant sons is known; + Where all are conscious of her cares, + And each the power, that rules him, shares; + Here let the bard, whose dastard tongue + Leaves public arguments unsung, + Bid public praise farewell: + Let him to fitter climes remove, + Far from the hero's and the patriot's love, + And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell. + + + IV.--3. + + O Hastings, not to all + Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend: + Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call, + That to one general weal their different powers they bend, + Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine + Inform the bosom of the Muse's son; + Though with new honours the patrician's line + Advance from age to age; yet thus alone + They win the suffrage of impartial fame. + + The poet's name + He best shall prove, + Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. + But thee, O progeny of heroes old, + Thee to severer toils thy fate requires: + The fate which form'd thee in a chosen mould, + The grateful country of thy sires, + Thee to sublimer paths demand; + Sublimer than thy sires could trace, + Or thy own Edward teach his race, + Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand. + + + V.--1. + + From rich domains, and subject farms, + They led the rustic youth to arms; + And kings their stern achievements fear'd, + While private strife their banners rear'd. + But loftier scenes to thee are shown, + Where empire's wide establish'd throne + No private master fills: + Where, long foretold, the People reigns; + Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; + And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills. + + + V.--2. + + Here be it thine to calm and guide + The swelling democratic tide; + To watch the state's uncertain frame, + And baffle Faction's partial aim: + But chiefly, with determined zeal, + To quell that servile band, who kneel + To Freedom's banish'd foes; + That monster, which is daily found + Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; + Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. + + + V.--3. + + 'Tis highest Heaven's command, + That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue; + That what ensnares the heart should maim the hand, + And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. + But look on Freedom;--see, through every age, + What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! + What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, + Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! + For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains + Of happy swains, + Which now resound + Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures bound, + Bear witness;--there, oft let the farmer hail + The sacred orchard which embowers his gate, + And show to strangers passing down the vale, + Where Candish, Booth, and Osborne sate; + When, bursting from their country's chain, + Even in the midst of deadly harms, + Of papal snares and lawless arms, + They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. + + + VI.--1. + + This reign, these laws, this public care, + Which Nassau gave us all to share, + Had ne'er adorn'd the English name, + Could Fear have silenced Freedom's claim. + But Fear in vain attempts to bind + Those lofty efforts of the mind + Which social good inspires; + Where men, for this, assault a throne, + Each adds the common welfare to his own; + And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acquires. + + + VI.--2. + + Say, was it thus, when late we view'd + Our fields in civil blood imbrued? + When fortune crown'd the barbarous host, + And half the astonish'd isle was lost? + Did one of all that vaunting train, + Who dare affront a peaceful reign, + Durst one in arms appear? + Durst one in counsels pledge his life? + Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife? + Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer? + + + VI.--3. + + Yet, Hastings, these are they + Who challenge to themselves thy country's love; + The true; the constant: who alone can weigh, + What glory should demand, or liberty approve! + But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, + The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, + Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, + Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. + Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise + Oft nobly sways + Ingenuous youth; + But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth, + Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone + For mortals fixeth that sublime award. + He, from the faithful records of his throne, + Bids the historian and the bard + Dispose of honour and of scorn; + Discern the patriot from the slave; + And write the good, the wise, the brave, + For lessons to the multitude unborn. + + +[Footnote 1: 'A tyrant:' Octavianus Cæsar.] + + + +BOOK II. + + +ODE I. + +THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKSPEARE: + + SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, WHILE THE + FRENCH COMEDIANS WERE ACTING BY SUBSCRIPTION. 1749. + + + If, yet regardful of your native land, + Old Shakspeare's tongue you deign to understand, + Lo, from the blissful bowers where heaven rewards + Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards, + I come, the ancient founder of the stage, + Intent to learn, in this discerning age, + What form of wit your fancies have embraced, + And whither tends your elegance of taste, + That thus at length our homely toils you spurn, + That thus to foreign scenes you proudly turn, 10 + That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim + To crown the rivals of your country's fame. + + What though the footsteps of my devious Muse + The measured walks of Grecian art refuse? + Or though the frankness of my hardy style + Mock the nice touches of the critic's file? + Yet, what my age and climate held to view, + Impartial I survey'd and fearless drew. + And say, ye skilful in the human heart, + Who know to prize a poet's noblest part, 20 + What age, what clime, could e'er an ampler field + For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield? + I saw this England break the shameful bands + Forged for the souls of men by sacred hands: + I saw each groaning realm her aid implore; + Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore: + Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard's bane) + Obey'd through all the circuit of the main. + Then, too, great Commerce, for a late found world, + Around your coast her eager sails unfurl'd! 30 + New hopes, new passions, thence the bosom fired; + New plans, new arts, the genius thence inspired; + Thence every scene, which private fortune knows, + In stronger life, with bolder spirit, rose. + + Disgraced I this full prospect which I drew, + My colours languid, or my strokes untrue? + Have not your sages, warriors, swains, and kings, + Confess'd the living draught of men and things? + What other bard in any clime appears + Alike the master of your smiles and tears? 40 + Yet have I deign'd your audience to entice + With wretched bribes to luxury and vice? + Or have my various scenes a purpose known + Which freedom, virtue, glory, might not own? + + Such from the first was my dramatic plan; + It should be yours to crown what I began: + And now that England spurns her Gothic chain, + And equal laws and social science reign, + I thought, Now surely shall my zealous eyes + View nobler bards and juster critics rise, 50 + Intent with learned labour to refine + The copious ore of Albion's native mine, + Our stately Muse more graceful airs to teach, + And form her tongue to more attractive speech, + Till rival nations listen at her feet, + And own her polish'd as they own her great. + + But do you thus my favourite hopes fulfil? + Is France at last the standard of your skill? + Alas for you! that so betray a mind + Of art unconscious and to beauty blind. 60 + Say, does her language your ambition raise, + Her barren, trivial, unharmonious phrase, + Which fetters eloquence to scantiest bounds, + And maims the cadence of poetic sounds? + Say, does your humble admiration choose + The gentle prattle of her Comic Muse, + While wits, plain-dealers, fops, and fools appear, + Charged to say nought but what the king may hear? + Or rather melt your sympathising hearts + Won by her tragic scene's romantic arts, 70 + Where old and young declaim on soft desire, + And heroes never, but for love, expire? + + No. Though the charms of novelty, a while, + Perhaps too fondly win your thoughtless smile, + Yet not for you design'd indulgent fate + The modes or manners of the Bourbon state. + And ill your minds my partial judgment reads, + And many an augury my hope misleads, + If the fair maids of yonder blooming train + To their light courtship would an audience deign, 80 + Or those chaste matrons a Parisian wife + Choose for the model of domestic life; + Or if one youth of all that generous band, + The strength and splendour of their native land, + Would yield his portion of his country's fame, + And quit old freedom's patrimonial claim, + With lying smiles oppression's pomp to see, + And judge of glory by a king's decree. + + O bless'd at home with justly-envied laws, + O long the chiefs of Europe's general cause, 90 + Whom heaven hath chosen at each dangerous hour + To check the inroads of barbaric power, + The rights of trampled nations to reclaim, + And guard the social world from bonds and shame; + Oh! let not luxury's fantastic charms + Thus give the lie to your heroic arms: + Nor for the ornaments of life embrace + Dishonest lessons from that vaunting race, + Whom fate's dread laws (for, in eternal fate + Despotic rule was heir to freedom's hate), 100 + Whom in each warlike, each commercial part, + In civil council, and in pleasing art, + The judge of earth predestined for your foes, + And made it fame and virtue to oppose. + + + + + +ODE II. + + +TO SLEEP. + + + 1 Thou silent power, whose welcome sway + Charms every anxious thought away; + In whose divine oblivion drown'd, + Sore pain and weary toil grow mild, + Love is with kinder looks beguiled, + And grief forgets her fondly cherish'd wound; + Oh, whither hast thou flown, indulgent god? + God of kind shadows and of healing dews, + Whom dost thou touch with thy Lethæan rod? + Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse? + + 2 Lo, Midnight from her starry reign + Looks awful down on earth and main. + The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, + With all that crop the verdant food, + With all that skim the crystal flood, + Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep. + No rushing winds disturb the tufted bowers; + No wakeful sound the moonlight valley knows, + Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours, + And lulls the waving scene to more profound repose. + + 3 Oh, let not me alone complain, + Alone invoke thy power in vain! + Descend, propitious, on my eyes; + Not from the couch that bears a crown, + Not from the courtly statesman's down, + Nor where the miser and his treasure lies: + Bring not the shapes that break the murderer's rest, + Nor those the hireling soldier loves to see, + Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breast: + Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams from me! + + 4 Nor yet those awful forms present, + For chiefs and heroes only meant: + The figured brass, the choral song, + The rescued people's glad applause, + The listening senate, and the laws + Fix'd by the counsels of Timoleon's [1] tongue, + Are scenes too grand for fortune's private ways; + And though they shine in youth's ingenuous view, + The sober gainful arts of modern days + To such romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu. + + 5 I ask not, god of dreams, thy care + To banish Love's presentments fair: + Nor rosy cheek nor radiant eye + Can arm him with such strong command + That the young sorcerer's fatal hand + Should round my soul his pleasing fetters tie. + Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile + (A lighter phantom, and a baser chain) + Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile + To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according strain. + + 6 But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing + Such honourable visions bring, + As soothed great Milton's injured age, + When in prophetic dreams he saw + The race unborn with pious awe + Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page: + Or such as Mead's benignant fancy knows + When health's deep treasures, by his art explored, + Have saved the infant from an orphan's woes, + Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restored. + +[Footnote: 1: After Timoleon had delivered Syracuse from the tyranny +of Dionysius, the people on every important deliberation sent for him +into the public assembly, asked his advice, and voted according to it. + --_Plutarch_.] + + + + +ODE III. + + +TO THE CUCKOO. + + + 1 O rustic herald of the spring, + At length in yonder woody vale + Fast by the brook I hear thee sing; + And, studious of thy homely tale, + Amid the vespers of the grove, + Amid the chanting choir of love, + Thy sage responses hail. + + 2 The time has been when I have frown'd + To hear thy voice the woods invade; + And while thy solemn accent drown'd + Some sweeter poet of the shade, + Thus, thought I, thus the sons of care + Some constant youth or generous fair + With dull advice upbraid. + + 3 I said, 'While Philomela's song + Proclaims the passion of the grove, + It ill beseems a cuckoo's tongue + Her charming language to reprove'-- + Alas, how much a lover's ear + Hates all the sober truth to hear, + The sober truth of love! + + 4 When hearts are in each other bless'd, + When nought but lofty faith can rule + The nymph's and swain's consenting breast, + How cuckoo-like in Cupid's school, + With store of grave prudential saws + On fortune's power and custom's laws, + Appears each friendly fool! + + 5 Yet think betimes, ye gentle train + Whom love, and hope, and fancy sway, + Who every harsher care disdain, + Who by the morning judge the day, + Think that, in April's fairest hours, + To warbling shades and painted flowers + The cuckoo joins his lay. + + + + +ODE IV. + + TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1750. + + + I.--1. + + How oft shall I survey + This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade, + The vale with sheaves o'erspread, + The glassy brook, the flocks which round thee stray? + When will thy cheerful mind + Of these have utter'd all her dear esteem? + Or, tell me, dost thou deem + No more to join in glory's toilsome race, + But here content embrace + That happy leisure which thou hadst resign'd? + + + I.--2. + + Alas, ye happy hours, + When books and youthful sport the soul could share, + Ere one ambitious care + Of civil life had awed her simpler powers; + Oft as your winged, train + Revisit here my friend in white array, + Oh, fail not to display + Each fairer scene where I perchance had part, + That so his generous heart + The abode of even friendship may remain. + + + I.--3. + + For not imprudent of my loss to come, + I saw from Contemplation's quiet cell + His feet ascending to another home, + Where public praise and envied greatness dwell. + But shall we therefore, O my lyre, + Reprove ambition's best desire,-- + Extinguish glory's flame? + Far other was the task enjoin'd + When to my hand thy strings were first assign'd: + Far other faith belongs to friendship's honour'd name. + + + II.--1. + + Thee, Townshend, not the arms + Of slumbering Ease, nor Pleasure's rosy chain, + Were destined to detain; + No, nor bright Science, nor the Muse's charms. + For them high heaven prepares + Their proper votaries, an humbler band: + And ne'er would Spenser's hand + Have deign'd to strike the warbling Tuscan shell, + Nor Harrington to tell + What habit an immortal city wears; + + + II.--2. + + Had this been born to shield + The cause which Cromwell's impious hand betray'd, + Or that, like Vere, display'd + His redcross banner o'er the Belgian field; + Yet where the will divine + Hath shut those loftiest paths, it next remains, + With reason clad in strains + Of harmony, selected minds to inspire, + And virtue's living fire + To feed and eternise in hearts like thine. + + + II.--3. + + For never shall the herd, whom envy sways, + So quell my purpose or my tongue control, + That I should fear illustrious worth to praise, + Because its master's friendship moved my soul. + Yet, if this undissembling strain + Should now perhaps thine ear detain + With any pleasing sound, + Remember thou that righteous Fame + From hoary age a strict account will claim + Of each auspicious palm with which thy youth was crown'd. + + + III.--1. + + Nor obvious is the way + Where heaven expects thee nor the traveller leads; + Through flowers or fragrant meads, + Or groves that hark to Philomela's lay. + The impartial laws of fate + To nobler virtues wed severer cares. + Is there a man who shares + The summit next where heavenly natures dwell? + Ask him (for he can tell) + What storms beat round that rough laborious height. + + + III.--2. + + Ye heroes, who of old + Did generous England Freedom's throne ordain; + From Alfred's parent reign + To Nassau, great deliverer, wise and bold; + I know your perils hard, + Your wounds, your painful marches, wintry seas, + The night estranged from ease, + The day by cowardice and falsehood vex'd, + The head with doubt perplex'd, + The indignant heart disdaining the reward, + + + III.--3. + + Which envy hardly grants. But, O renown, + O praise from judging heaven and virtuous men, + If thus they purchased thy divinest crown, + Say, who shall hesitate, or who complain? + And now they sit on thrones above: + And when among the gods they move + Before the Sovereign Mind, + 'Lo, these,' he saith, 'lo, these are they + Who to the laws of mine eternal sway + From violence and fear asserted human kind.' + + + IV.--1. + + Thus honour'd while the train + Of legislators in his presence dwell; + If I may aught foretell, + The statesman shall the second palm obtain. + For dreadful deeds of arms + Let vulgar bards, with undiscerning praise, + More glittering trophies raise: + But wisest Heaven what deeds may chiefly move + To favour and to love? + What, save wide blessings, or averted harms? + + + IV.--2. + + Nor to the embattled field + Shall these achievements of the peaceful gown, + The green immortal crown + Of valour, or the songs of conquest, yield. + Not Fairfax wildly bold, + While bare of crest he hew'd his fatal way + Through Naseby's firm array, + To heavier dangers did his breast oppose + Than Pym's free virtue chose, + When the proud force of Strafford he controll'd. + + + IV.--3. + + But what is man at enmity with truth? + What were the fruits of Wentworth's copious mind, + When (blighted all the promise of his youth) + The patriot in a tyrant's league had join'd? + Let Ireland's loud-lamenting plains, + Let Tyne's and Humber's trampled swains, + Let menaced London tell + How impious guile made wisdom base; + How generous zeal to cruel rage gave place; + And how unbless'd he lived and how dishonour'd fell. + + + V.--1. + + Thence never hath the Muse + Around his tomb Pierian roses flung: + Nor shall one poet's tongue + His name for music's pleasing labour choose. + And sure, when Nature kind + Hath deck'd some favour'd breast above the throng, + That man with grievous wrong + Affronts and wounds his genius, if he bends + To guilt's ignoble ends + The functions of his ill-submitting mind. + + + V.--2. + + For worthy of the wise + Nothing can seem but virtue; nor earth yield + Their fame an equal field, + Save where impartial freedom gives the prize. + There Somers fix'd his name, + Enroll'd the next to William. There shall Time + To every wondering clime + Point out that Somers, who from faction's crowd, + The slanderous and the loud, + Could fair assent and modest reverence claim. + + + V.--3. + + Nor aught did laws or social arts acquire, + Nor this majestic weal of Albion's land + Did aught accomplish, or to aught aspire, + Without his guidance, his superior hand. + And rightly shall the Muse's care + Wreaths like her own for him prepare, + Whose mind's enamour'd aim + Could forms of civil beauty draw + Sublime as ever sage or poet saw, + Yet still to life's rude scene the proud ideas tame. + + + VI.--1. + + Let none profane be near! + The Muse was never foreign to his breast: + On power's grave seat confess'd, + Still to her voice he bent a lover's ear. + And if the blessed know + Their ancient cares, even now the unfading groves, + Where haply Milton roves + With Spenser, hear the enchanted echoes round + Through farthest heaven resound + Wise Somers, guardian of their fame below. + + + VI.--2. + + He knew, the patriot knew, + That letters and the Muse's powerful art + Exalt the ingenuous heart, + And brighten every form of just and true. + They lend a nobler sway + To civil wisdom, than corruption's lure + Could ever yet procure: + They, too, from envy's pale malignant light + Conduct her forth to sight, + Clothed in the fairest colours of the day. + + + VI.--3. + + O Townshend, thus may Time, the judge severe, + Instruct my happy tongue of thee to tell: + And when I speak of one to Freedom dear + For planning wisely and for acting well, + Of one whom Glory loves to own, + Who still by liberal means alone + Hath liberal ends pursued; + Then, for the guerdon of my lay, + 'This man with faithful friendship,' will I say, + 'From youth to honour'd age my arts and me hath view'd.' + + + + + +ODE V. + +ON LOVE OF PRAISE. + + + 1 Of all the springs within the mind + Which prompt her steps in fortune's maze, + From none more pleasing aid we find + Than from the genuine love of praise. + + 2 Nor any partial, private end + Such reverence to the public bears; + Nor any passion, virtue's friend, + So like to virtue's self appears. + + 3 For who in glory can delight + Without delight in glorious deeds? + What man a charming voice can slight, + Who courts the echo that succeeds? + + 4 But not the echo on the voice + More than on virtue praise depends; + To which, of course, its real price + The judgment of the praiser lends. + + 5 If praise, then, with religious awe + From the sole perfect judge be sought, + A nobler aim, a purer law, + Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught. + + 6 With which in character the same, + Though in an humbler sphere it lies, + I count that soul of human fame, + The suffrage of the good and wise. + + + + + +ODE VI. + + TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQUIRE; WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU. + + + 1 Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre; + While, fluent as the skylark sings + When first the morn allures its wings, + The epicure his theme pursues: + And tell me if, among the choir + Whose music charms the banks of Seine, + So full, so free, so rich a strain + E'er dictated the warbling Muse. + + 2 Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear + Admires the well-dissembled art + That can such harmony impart + To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes; + While wit from affectation clear, + Bright images, and passions true, + Recall to thy assenting view + The envied bards of nobler times; + + 3 Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong? + This priest of Pleasure, who aspires + To lead us to her sacred fires, + Knows he the ritual of her shrine? + Say (her sweet influence to thy song + So may the goddess still afford), + Doth she consent to be adored + With shameless love and frantic wine? + + 4 Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here + Need we in high indignant phrase + From their Elysian quiet raise: + But Pleasure's oracle alone + Consult; attentive, not severe. + O Pleasure, we blaspheme not thee; + Nor emulate the rigid knee + Which bends but at the Stoic throne. + + 5 We own, had fate to man assign'd + Nor sense, nor wish but what obey, + Or Venus soft, or Bacchus gay, + Then might our bard's voluptuous creed + Most aptly govern human kind: + Unless perchance what he hath sung + Of tortured joints and nerves unstrung, + Some wrangling heretic should plead. + + 6 But now, with all these proud desires + For dauntless truth and honest fame; + With that strong master of our frame, + The inexorable judge within, + What can be done? Alas, ye fires + Of love; alas, ye rosy smiles, + Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,-- + Ye have no bribe his grace to win. + + + + + +ODE VII. + + TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 1754. + + + I.--l. + + For toils which patriots have endured, + For treason quell'd and laws secured, + In every nation Time displays + The palm of honourable praise. + Envy may rail, and Faction fierce + May strive; but what, alas, can those + (Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes) + To Gratitude and Love oppose, + To faithful story and persuasive verse? + + + I.--2. + + O nurse of freedom, Albion, say, + Thou tamer of despotic sway, + What man, among thy sons around, + Thus heir to glory hast thou found? + What page, in all thy annals bright, + Hast thou with purer joy survey'd + Than that where truth, by Hoadly's aid, + Shines through imposture's solemn shade, + Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? + + + I.--3. + + To him the Teacher bless'd, + Who sent religion, from the palmy field + By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, + And lifted up the veil which heaven from earth conceal'd, + To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd: + 'Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law + From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure: + Let not my peaceful name be made a lure, + Fell persecution's mortal snares to aid: + Let not my words be impious chains to draw + The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, + To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid.' + + + II.--1. + + No cold or unperforming hand + Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. + The world soon felt it; and, on high, + To William's ear with welcome joy + Did Locke among the blest unfold + The rising hope of Hoadly's name; + Godolphin then confirm'd the fame; + And Somers, when from earth he came, + And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told. + + + II.--2. + + Then drew the lawgivers around + (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd), + And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, + What private force could thus subdue + The vulgar and the great combined; + Could war with sacred folly wage; + Could a whole nation disengage + From the dread bonds of many an age, + And to new habits mould the public mind. + + + II.-3. + + For not a conqueror's sword, + Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, + Were his; but truth by faithful search explored, + And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. + Wherever it took root, the soul (restored + To freedom) freedom too for others sought. + Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, + Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine, + Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; + Nor the wild rabble to sedition wrought, + Nor synods by the papal Genius taught, + Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. + + + III.--1. + + But where shall recompense be found? + Or how such arduous merit crown'd? + For look on life's laborious scene: + What rugged spaces lie between + Adventurous Virtue's early toils + And her triumphal throne! The shade + Of death, meantime, does oft invade + Her progress; nor, to us display'd, + Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils. + + + III.--2. + + Yet born to conquer is her power;-- + O Hoadly, if that favourite hour + On earth arrive, with thankful awe + We own just Heaven's indulgent law, + And proudly thy success behold; + We attend thy reverend length of days + With benediction and with praise, + And hail thee in our public ways + Like some great spirit famed in ages old. + + + III.--3. + + While thus our vows prolong + Thy steps on earth, and when by us resign'd + Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng + Who rescued or preserved the rights of human kind, + Oh! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue + Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name: + Oh! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, + May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, + Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; + Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim + That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, + Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious guile. + + + + + +ODE VIII. + + + 1 If rightly tuneful bards decide, + If it be fix'd in Love's decrees, + That Beauty ought not to be tried + But by its native power to please, + Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, + What fair can Amoret excel? + + 2 Behold that bright unsullied smile, + And wisdom speaking in her mien: + Yet (she so artless all the while, + So little studious to be seen) + We nought but instant gladness know, + Nor think to whom the gift we owe. + + 3 But neither music, nor the powers + Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, + Add half that sunshine to the hours, + Or make life's prospect half so clear, + As memory brings it to the eye + From scenes where Amoret was by. + + 4 Yet not a satirist could there + Or fault or indiscretion find; + Nor any prouder sage declare + One virtue, pictured in his mind, + Whose form with lovelier colours glows + Than Amoret's demeanour shows. + + 5 This sure is Beauty's happiest part: + This gives the most unbounded sway: + This shall enchant the subject heart + When rose and lily fade away; + And she be still, in spite of time, + Sweet Amoret in all her prime. + + + + + +ODE IX. + +AT STUDY. + + + 1 Whither did my fancy stray? + By what magic drawn away + Have I left my studious theme, + From this philosophic page, + From the problems of the sage, + Wandering through a pleasing dream? + + 2 'Tis in vain, alas! I find, + Much in vain, my zealous mind + Would to learned Wisdom's throne + Dedicate each thoughtful hour: + Nature bids a softer power + Claim some minutes for his own. + + 3 Let the busy or the wise + View him with contemptuous eyes; + Love is native to the heart: + Guide its wishes as you will; + Without Love you'll find it still + Void in one essential part. + + 4 Me though no peculiar fair + Touches with a lover's care; + Though the pride of my desire + Asks immortal friendship's name, + Asks the palm of honest fame, + And the old heroic lyre; + + 5 Though the day have smoothly gone, + Or to letter'd leisure known, + Or in social duty spent; + Yet at eve my lonely breast + Seeks in vain for perfect rest; + Languishes for true content. + + + + + +ODE X. + + TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ESQ.; + ON THE LATE EDITION OF MR. POPE'S WORKS. 1751. + + + 1 Believe me, Edwards, to restrain + The licence of a railer's tongue + Is what but seldom men obtain + By sense or wit, by prose or song: + A task for more Herculean powers, + Nor suited to the sacred hours + Of leisure in the Muse's bowers. + + 2 In bowers where laurel weds with palm, + The Muse, the blameless queen, resides: + Fair Fame attends, and Wisdom calm + Her eloquence harmonious guides: + While, shut for ever from her gate, + Oft trying, still repining, wait + Fierce Envy and calumnious Hate. + + 3 Who, then, from her delightful bounds + Would step one moment forth to heed + What impotent and savage sounds + From their unhappy mouths proceed? + No: rather Spenser's lyre again + Prepare, and let thy pious strain + For Pope's dishonour'd shade complain. + + 4 Tell how displeased was every bard, + When lately in the Elysian grove + They of his Muse's guardian heard, + His delegate to fame above; + And what with one accord they said + Of wit in drooping age misled, + And Warburton's officious aid: + + 5 How Virgil mourn'd the sordid fate + To that melodious lyre assign'd, + Beneath a tutor who so late + With Midas and his rout combined + By spiteful clamour to confound + That very lyre's enchanting sound, + Though listening realms admired around: + + 6 How Horace own'd he thought the fire + Of his friend Pope's satiric line + Did further fuel scarce require + From such a militant divine: + How Milton scorn'd the sophist vain, + Who durst approach his hallow'd strain + With unwash'd hands and lips profane. + + 7 Then Shakspeare debonair and mild + Brought that strange comment forth to view; + Conceits more deep, he said and smiled, + Than his own fools or madmen knew: + But thank'd a generous friend above, + Who did with free adventurous love + Such pageants from his tomb remove. + + 8 And if to Pope, in equal need, + The same kind office thou wouldst pay, + Then, Edwards, all the band decreed + That future bards with frequent lay + Should call on thy auspicious name, + From each absurd intruder's claim + To keep inviolate their fame. + + + + + +ODE XI. + + TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND. 1758. + + + 1 Whither is Europe's ancient spirit fled? + Where are those valiant tenants of her shore, + Who from the warrior bow the strong dart sped, + Or with firm hand the rapid pole-axe bore? + Freeman and soldier was their common name, + Who late with reapers to the furrow came, + Now in the front of battle charged the foe: + Who taught the steer the wintry plough to endure, + Now in full councils check'd encroaching power, + And gave the guardian laws their majesty to know. + + 2 But who are ye? from Ebro's loitering sons + To Tiber's pageants, to the sports of Seine; + From Rhine's frail palaces to Danube's thrones + And cities looking on the Cimbric main, + Ye lost, ye self-deserted? whose proud lords + Have baffled your tame hands, and given your swords + To slavish ruffians, hired for their command: + These, at some greedy monk's or harlot's nod, + See rifled nations crouch beneath their rod: + These are the Public Will, the Reason of the land. + + 3 Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while + Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, + Yet vain of Freedom, how dost thou beguile, + With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? + Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, + The praise and envy of the nations round, + What care hast thou to guard from Fortune's sway? + Amid the storms of war, how soon may all + The lofty pile from its foundations fall, + Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day! + + 4 No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales + Add Industry's wise gifts to Nature's store, + And every port is crowded with thy sails, + And every wave throws treasure on thy shore. + What boots it? If luxurious Plenty charm + Thy selfish heart from Glory, if thy arm + Shrink at the frowns of Danger and of Pain, + Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine. + Oh, rather far be poor! Thy gold will shine + Tempting the eye of Force, and deck thee to thy bane. + + 5 But what hath Force or War to do with thee? + Girt by the azure tide, and throned sublime + Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou canst see, + With scorn, the fury of each hostile clime + Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe + Are thy fair fields: athwart thy guardian prow + No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand-- + Yet say, my country, will the waves and wind + Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd + To the sky's fickle faith, the pilot's wavering hand? + + 6 For, oh! may neither Fear nor stronger Love + (Love, by thy virtuous princes nobly won) + Thee, last of many wretched nations, move, + With mighty armies station'd round the throne + To trust thy safety. Then, farewell the claims + Of Freedom! Her proud records to the flames + Then bear, an offering at Ambition's shrine; + Whate'er thy ancient patriots dared demand + From furious John's, or faithless Charles' hand, + Or what great William seal'd for his adopted line. + + 7 But if thy sons be worthy of their name, + If liberal laws with liberal arts they prize, + Let them from conquest, and from servile shame, + In War's glad school their own protectors rise. + Ye chiefly, heirs of Albion's cultured plains, + Ye leaders of her bold and faithful swains, + Now not unequal to your birth be found; + The public voice bids arm your rural state, + Paternal hamlets for your ensigns wait, + And grange and fold prepare to pour their youth around. + + 8 Why are ye tardy? what inglorious care + Detains you from their head, your native post? + Who most their country's fame and fortune share, + 'Tis theirs to share her toils, her perils most. + Each man his task in social life sustains. + With partial labours, with domestic gains, + Let others dwell: to you indulgent Heaven + By counsel and by arms the public cause + To serve for public love and love's applause, + The first employment far, the noblest hire, hath given. + + 9 Have ye not heard of Lacedemon's fame? + Of Attic chiefs in Freedom's war divine? + Of Rome's dread generals? the Valerian name? + The Fabian sons? the Scipios, matchless line? + Your lot was theirs: the farmer and the swain + Met his loved patron's summons from the plain; + The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew: + Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd; + The conquerors to their household gods return'd, + And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough. + + 10 Shall, then, this glory of the antique age, + This pride of men, be lost among mankind? + Shall war's heroic arts no more engage + The unbought hand, the unsubjected mind? + Doth valour to the race no more belong? + No more with scorn of violence and wrong + Doth forming Nature now her sons inspire, + That, like some mystery to few reveal'd, + The skill of arms abash'd and awed they yield, + And from their own defence with hopeless hearts retire? + + 11 O shame to human life, to human laws! + The loose adventurer, hireling of a day, + Who his fell sword without affection draws, + Whose God, whose country, is a tyrant's pay, + This man the lessons of the field can learn; + Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn, + And every pledge of conquest: while in vain, + To guard your altars, your paternal lands, + Are social arms held out to your free hands: + Too arduous is the lore: too irksome were the pain. + + 12 Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allured, + From the bright sun and living breeze ye stray; + And deep in London's gloomy haunts immured, + Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay. + O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue! + The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields renew, + The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend; + While he doth riot's orgies haply share, + Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare, + Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend. + + 13 And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain + That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng; + That the rude village inmates now disdain + Those homely ties which ruled their fathers long. + Alas, your fathers did by other arts + Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, + And led in other paths their ductile will; + By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, + Won them the ancient manners to revere, + To prize their country's peace and heaven's due rites fulfil. + + 14 But mark the judgment of experienced Time, + Tutor of nations. Doth light discord tear + A state, and impotent sedition's crime? + The powers of warlike prudence dwell not there; + The powers who to command and to obey, + Instruct the valiant. There would civil sway + The rising race to manly concord tame? + Oft let the marshall'd field their steps unite, + And in glad splendour bring before their sight + One common cause and one hereditary fame. + + 15 Nor yet be awed, nor yet your task disown, + Though war's proud votaries look on severe; + Though secrets, taught erewhile to them alone, + They deem profaned by your intruding ear. + Let them in vain, your martial hope to quell, + Of new refinements, fiercer weapons tell, + And mock the old simplicity, in vain: + To the time's warfare, simple or refined, + The time itself adapts the warrior's mind: + And equal prowess still shall equal palms obtain. + + 16 Say then, if England's youth, in earlier days, + On glory's field with well-train'd armies vied, + Why shall they now renounce that generous praise? + Why dread the foreign mercenary's pride? + Though Valois braved young Edward's gentle hand, + And Albert rush'd on Henry's way-worn band, + With Europe's chosen sons in arms renown'd, + Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd, + Nor Audley's squires, nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd: + They saw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound. + + 17 Such were the laurels which your fathers won: + Such glory's dictates in their dauntless breast;-- + Is there no voice that speaks to every son? + No nobler, holier call to you address'd? + Oh! by majestic Freedom, righteous Laws, + By heavenly Truth's, by manly Reason's cause, + Awake; attend; be indolent no more: + By friendship, social peace, domestic love, + Rise; arm; your country's living safety prove; + And train her valiant youth, and watch around her shore. + + + + + +ODE XII. + + ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS; + IN THE COUNTRY. 1758. + + + 1 Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's Hill, + Once more I seek, a languid guest: + With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast + Once more I climb thy steep aërial way. + O faithful cure of oft-returning ill, + Now call thy sprightly breezes round, + Dissolve this rigid cough profound, + And bid the springs of life with gentler movement play. + + 2 How gladly, 'mid the dews of dawn, + My weary lungs thy healing gale, + The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale! + How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove + Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn, + Awaked I stop, and look to find + What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind, + Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove! + + 3 Now, ere the morning walk is done, + The distant voice of Health I hear, + Welcome as beauty's to the lover's ear. + 'Droop not, nor doubt of my return,' she cries; + 'Here will I, 'mid the radiant calm of noon, + Meet thee beneath yon chestnut bower, + And lenient on thy bosom pour + That indolence divine which lulls the earth and skies.' + + 4 The goddess promised not in vain. + I found her at my favourite time. + Nor wish'd to breathe in any softer clime, + While (half-reclined, half-slumbering as I lay) + She hover'd o'er me. Then, among her train + Of Nymphs and Zephyrs, to my view + Thy gracious form appear'd anew, + Then first, O heavenly Muse, unseen for many a day. + + 5 In that soft pomp the tuneful maid + Shone like the golden star of love. + I saw her hand in careless measures move; + I heard sweet preludes dancing on her lyre, + While my whole frame the sacred sound obey'd. + New sunshine o'er my fancy springs, + New colours clothe external things, + And the last glooms of pain and sickly plaint retire. + + 6 O Goulder's Hill, by thee restored + Once more to this enliven'd hand, + My harp, which late resounded o'er the land + The voice of glory, solemn and severe, + My Dorian harp shall now with mild accord + To thee her joyful tribute pay, + And send a less ambitious lay + Of friendship and of love to greet thy master's ear. + + 7 For when within thy shady seat + First from the sultry town he chose, + And the tired senate's cares, his wish'd repose, + Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home + For social leisure: where my welcome feet, + Estranged from all the entangling ways + In which the restless vulgar strays, + Through Nature's simple paths with ancient Faith might roam. + + 8 And while around his sylvan scene + My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours, + Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers + Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk + The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: + And oft did Tully's reverend shade, + Though much for liberty afraid, + With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk. + + 9 But other guests were on their way, + And reach'd ere long this favour'd grove; + Even the celestial progeny of Jove, + Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son, + Whose golden shaft most willingly obey + The best and wisest. As they came, + Glad Hymen waved his genial flame, + And sang their happy gifts, and praised their spotless throne. + + 10 I saw when through yon festive gate + He led along his chosen maid, + And to my friend with smiles presenting said:-- + 'Receive that fairest wealth which Heaven assign'd + To human fortune. Did thy lonely state + One wish, one utmost hope, confess? + Behold, she comes, to adorn and bless: + Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind.' + + + + + +ODE XIII. + + TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE OF BRANDENBURG. 1751. + + + 1 The men renown'd as chiefs of human race, + And born to lead in counsels or in arms, + Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chase + To dwell with books, or court the Muse's charms. + Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought + Some genuine transcript of their calmer thought, + There still we own the wise, the great, or good; + And Cæsar there and Xenophon are seen, + As clear in spirit and sublime of mien, + As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood. + + 2 Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? + Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage, + Except for this, except that future Fame + Might read thy genius in the faithful page? + That if hereafter Envy shall presume + With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb, + And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling, + That hence posterity may try thy reign, + Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain, + And view in native lights the hero and the king. + + 3 O evil foresight and pernicious care! + Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal? + Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare + With private honour or with public zeal? + Whence, then, at things divine those darts of scorn? + Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne + For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given? + What fiend, what foe of Nature urged thy arm + The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm, + To push this earth adrift and leave it loose from Heaven? + + 4 Ye godlike shades of legislators old, + Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise, + Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd, + Say, did not horror in your bosoms rise, + When thus, by impious vanity impell'd, + A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld + Affronting civil order's holiest bands, + Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve, + Those hopes and fears of justice from above, + Which tamed the savage world to your divine commands? + + + + +ODE XIV. + +THE COMPLAINT. + + + 1 Away! away! + Tempt me no more, insidious love: + Thy soothing sway + Long did my youthful bosom prove: + At length thy treason is discern'd, + At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: + Away! nor hope my riper age to move. + + 2 I know, I see + Her merit. Needs it now be shown, + Alas, to me? + How often, to myself unknown, + The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid + Have I admired! How often said, + What joy to call a heart like hers one's own! + + 3 But, flattering god, + O squanderer of content and ease, + In thy abode + Will care's rude lesson learn to please? + O say, deceiver, hast thou won + Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, + Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? + + + + + +ODE XV. + +ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. + + (UNFINISHED.) + + + 1 Meek Honour, female shame, + Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, + From Albion dost thou fly, + Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? + O beauty's only friend, + Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; + Who selfish, bold desire + Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; + Alas, of thee forlorn + What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend? + + 2 Behold, our youths in vain + Concerning nuptial happiness inquire: + Our maids no more aspire + The arts of bashful Hymen to attain; + But with triumphant eyes + And cheeks impassive, as they move along, + Ask homage of the throng. + The lover swears that in a harlot's arms + Are found the self-same charms, + And worthless and deserted lives and dies. + + 3 Behold, unbless'd at home, + The father of the cheerless household mourns: + The night in vain returns, + For Love and glad Content at distance roam; + While she, in whom his mind + Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares, + To meet him she prepares, + Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, + A listless, harass'd heart, + Where not one tender thought can welcome find. + + 4 'Twas thus, along the shore + Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard, + From many a tongue preferr'd, + Of strife and grief the fond invective lore: + At which the queen divine + Indignant, with her adamantine spear + Like thunder sounding near, + Smote the red cross upon her silver shield, + And thus her wrath reveal'd; + (I watch'd her awful words, and made them mine.) + + * * * * * + + + + + +NOTES. + + +BOOK FIRST. + +ODE XVIII, STANZA II.--2. + +Lycurgus the Lacedemonian lawgiver brought into Greece from Asia +Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works. At Plataea was +fought the decisive battle between the Persian army and the united +militia of Greece under Pausanias and Aristides. Cimon the Athenian +erected a trophy in Cyprus for two great victories gained on the +same day over the Persians by sea and land. Diodorus Siculus has +preserved the inscription which the Athenians affixed to the +consecrated spoils, after this great success; in which it is very +remarkable that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner +of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other +ancient inscriptions. It is this:-- + + [Greek: + EX. OU. G. EUROPAeN. ASIAS. DIChA. PONTOS. ENEIME. + KAI. POLEAS. ONAeTON. ThOUROS. ARAeS. EPEChEI. + OUDEN. PO. TOIOUTON. EPIChThONION. GENET. ANDRON. + ERGON. EN. AePEIROI. KAI. KATA. PONOTON. AMA. + OIAE. GAR. EN. KUPROI. MAeDOUS. POLLOUS. OLESANTES. + PhOINIKON. EKATON. NAUS. ELON. EN. PELAGEI. + ANDRON. PLAeThOUSAS. META. D. ESENEN. ASIS. UP. AUTON. + PLAeGEIS. AMPhOTERAIS. ChERSI. KRATEI. POLEMOU.] + + The following translation is almost literal:-- + + Since first the sea from Asia's hostile coast + Divided Europe, and the god of war + Assail'd imperious cities; never yet, + At once among the waves and on the shore, + Hath such a labour been achieved by men + Who earth inhabit. They, whose arms the Medes + In Cyprus felt pernicious, they, the same, + Have won from skilful Tyre an hundred ships + Crowded with warriors. Asia groans, in both + Her hands sore smitten, by the might of war. + + + +STANZA II.--3. + +Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cimon, in whom the glory +of ancient Greece was at its height. When Xerxes invaded Greece, +Pindar was true to the common interest of his country; though his +fellow-citizens, the Thebans, had sold themselves to the Persian king. +In one of his odes he expresses the great distress and anxiety of +his mind, occasioned by the vast preparations of Xerxes against +Greece (_Isthm_. 8). In another he celebrates the victories of +Salamis, Plataea, and Himera (_Pyth_. 1). It will be necessary to +add two or three other particulars of his life, real or fabulous, in +order to explain what follows in the text concerning him. First, then, +he was thought to be so great a favourite of Apollo, that the +priests of that deity allotted him a constant share of their +offerings. It was said of him, as of some other illustrious men, +that at his birth a swarm of bees lighted on his lips, and fed him +with their honey. It was also a tradition concerning him, that Pan +was heard to recite his poetry, and seen dancing to one of his hymns +on the mountains near Thebes. But a real historical fact in his life +is, that the Thebans imposed a large fine upon him on account of the +veneration which he expressed in his poems for that heroic spirit +shown by the people of Athens in defence of the common liberty, +which his own fellow-citizens had shamefully betrayed. And as the +argument of this ode implies, that great poetical talents and high +sentiments of liberty do reciprocally produce and assist each other, +so Pindar is perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connexion which +occurs in history. The Thebans were remarkable, in general, for a +slavish disposition through all the fortunes of their commonwealth; +at the time of its ruin by Philip; and even in its best state, under +the administration of Pelopidas and Epaminondas: and every one knows +they were no less remarkable for great dulness and want of all genius. +That Pindar should have equally distinguished himself from the rest +of his fellow-citizens in both these respects seems somewhat +extraordinary, and is scarce to be accounted for but by the +preceding observation. + + +STANZA III.--3. + +Alluding to his defence of the people of England against Salmasins. +See particularly the manner in which he himself speaks of that +undertaking, in the introduction to his reply to Morus. + + +STANZA IV.--3. + +Edward the Third; from whom descended Henry Hastings, third Earl of +Huntingdon, by the daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother to +Edward the Fourth. + + +STANZA V.--3. + +At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale in Derbyshire, +the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the Lord Delamere, privately +concerted the plan of the Revolution. The house in which they met is +at present a farmhouse, and the country people distinguish the room +where they sat by the name of _the plotting parlour_. + + * * * * * + + + +BOOK SECOND. + +ODE VII. STANZA II.--1. + +Mr. Locke died in 1704, when Mr. Hoadly was beginning to distinguish +himself in the cause of civil and religious liberty: Lord Godolphin +in 1712, when the doctrines of the Jacobite faction were chiefly +favoured by those in power: Lord Somers in 1716, amid the practices +of the nonjoining clergy against the Protestant establishment; and +Lord Stanhope in 1721, during the controversy with the lower house +of convocation. + + +ODE X. STANZA V. + +During Mr. Pope's war with Theobald, Concanen, and the rest of their +tribe, Mr. Warburton, the present Lord Bishop of Gloucester, did +with great zeal cultivate their friendship, having been introduced, +forsooth, at the meetings of that respectable confederacy--a favour +which he afterwards spoke of in very high terms of complacency and +thankfulness. At the same time, in his intercourse with them, he +treated Mr. Pope in a most contemptuous manner, and as a writer +without genius. Of the truth of these assertions his lordship can +have no doubt, if he recollects his own correspondence with Concanen, +a part of which is still in being, and will probably be remembered +as long as any of this prelate's writings. + + +ODE XIII. + +In the year 1751 appeared a very splendid edition, in quarto, of +'Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire de la Maison de Brandebourg, +à Berlin et à la Haye,' with a privilege, signed Frederic, the same +being engraved in imitation of handwriting. In this edition, among +other extraordinary passages, are the two following, to which the +third stanza of this ode more particularly refers:-- + +'Il se fit une migration' (the author is speaking of what happened +at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes), 'dont on n'avoit guère vu +d'exemples dans l'histoire: un peuple entier sortit du royaume par +l'esprit de parti en haine du pape, et pour reçevoir sous un autre +ciel la communion sous les deux espèces: quatre cens mille âmes +s'expatrierent ainsi et abandonnerent tous leur biens pour détonner +dans d'autres temples les vieux pseaumes de Clément Marot.'--Page 163. + +'La crainte donna le jour à la crédulité, et l'amour propre +interessa bientôt le ciel au destin des hommes.'--Page 242. + + + + +HYMN TO THE NAIADS. 1746. + + +ARGUMENT. + +The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at +daybreak, in honour of their several functions, and of the relations +which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin +is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature, +according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning +the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then +successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting +summer breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; +as contributing to the fulness of navigable rivers, and consequently +to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means to the maritime +part of military power. Next is represented their favourable +influence upon health when assisted by rural exercise, which +introduces their connexion with the art of physic, and the happy +effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated +for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true +inspiration which temperance only can receive, in opposition to the +enthusiasm of the more licentious poets. + + + O'er yonder eastern bill the twilight pale + Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day, + With bright Astraea seated by his side, + Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, + Ye Nymphs, ye blue-eyed progeny of Thames, + Who now the mazes of this rugged heath + Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long + Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air, + Your lonely murmurs, tarry, and receive + My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, 10 + I leave the gates of sleep; nor shall my lyre + Too far into the splendid hours of morn + Engage your audience; my observant hand + Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam + Approach you. To your subterranean haunts + Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care + The humid sands; to loosen from the soil + The bubbling sources; to direct the rills + To meet in wider channels; or beneath + Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon 20 + To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven. + + Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs, or end? + Wide is your praise and copious--first of things, + First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, + Were Love and Chaos. Love,[A] the sire of Fate; [B] + Elder than Chaos. [C] Born of Fate was Time, [D] + Who many sons and many comely births + Devour'd, [E] relentless father; till the child + Of Rhea [F] drove him from the upper sky, [G] + And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd 30 + The kindred powers, [H] Tethys, and reverend Ops, + And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway + Remain'd the Cloud-Compeller. From the couch + Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, [I] + Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, + Send tribute to their parent; and from them + Are ye, O Naiads: [J] Arethusa fair, + And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name, + Bandusia; that soft family which dwelt + With Syrian Daphne; [K] and the honour'd tribes 40 + Beloved of Pæon. [L] Listen to my strain, + Daughters of Tethys: listen to your praise. + + You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, [M] which of old + Aurora to divine Astræus bore, + Owns, and your aid beseecheth. When the might + Of Hyperíon, [N] from his noontide throne, + Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you + They ask; Pavonius and the mild South-west + Prom you relief implore. Your sallying streams [O] + Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart. 50 + Again they fly, disporting; from the mead + Half-ripen'd and the tender blades of corn, + To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel + Contagious steams, which oft the parched earth + Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to eve. + Along the river and the pavèd brook, + Ascend the cheerful breezes: hail'd of bards + Who, fast by learned Cam, the Æolian lyre + Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth + Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclined 60 + O'er rushing Arno, with a pious hand + The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes, + Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp + Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans + The ruins, with a silent tear revolves + The fame and fortune of imperious Rome. + + You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid + The rural powers confess, and still prepare + For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, + Oft as the Delian king [P] with Sirius holds 70 + The central heavens, the father of the grove + Commands his Dryads over your abodes + To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god + Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied + Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. + + Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, + Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path + With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts + The laughing Chloris, [Q] with profusest hand, + Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you 80 + Pomona seeks to dwell; and o'er the lawns, + And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames + Ye love to wander, Amalthea [R] pours, + Well-pleased, the wealth of that Ammonian horn, + Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles + Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou + (Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock + The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, + O Bromius, O Lenæan), nor canst thou + Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, 90 + With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me, + Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, + Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, + Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. [S] + + For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, + As down the verdant slope your duteous rills + Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, + Delighted; and your piety applauds; + And bids his copious tide roll on secure, + For faithful are his daughters; and with words 100 + Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now + His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings + Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts + Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn, + When Hermes, [T] from Olympus bent o'er earth + To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill + Stoops lightly sailing; oft intent your springs + He views: and waving o'er some new-born stream + His bless'd pacific wand, 'And yet,' he cries, + 'Yet,' cries the son of Maia, 'though recluse 110 + And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs, + Flows wealth and kind society to men. + By you my function and my honour'd name + Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic rale, + Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms + By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct + The English merchant; with the buxom fleece + Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe + Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods + Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, 120 + Dispense the mineral treasure [U] which of old + Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land + Was yet unconscious of those generous arts, + Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime + Transplanted to a more indulgent heaven.' + + Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, + O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits + Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: + And those who, sedulous in prudent works, + Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays 130 + With noble wealth, and his own seat on earth, + Pit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might + Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns + Not vainly to the hospitable arts + Of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, + Hath he not won [V] the unconquerable queen + Of arms to court your friendship You she owns + The fair associates who extend her sway + Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things + Of you she littereth, oft as from the shore 140 + Of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks + Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads + To Calpe's [W] foaming channel, or the rough + Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine + Imparting to the senate and the prince + Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, + The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings + Was ever scorn'd by Pallas; and of old + Rejoiced the virgin, from the brazen prow + Of Athens o'er Ægina's gloomy surge, [X] 150 + To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all + The Persian's promised glory, when the realms + Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime, + When Libya's torrid champaign and the rocks + Of cold Imaüs join'd their servile bands, + To sweep the sons of Liberty from earth. + In vain; Minerva on the bounding prow + Of Athens stood, and with the thunder's voice + Denounced her terrors on their impious heads, + And shook her burning ægis. Xerxes saw; [Y] 160 + From Heracléum, on the mountain's height + Throned in his golden car, he knew the sign + Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake + His faltering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. + + Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power; + Who arm the hand of Liberty for war, + And give to the renown'd Britannic name + To awe contending monarchs: yet benign, + Yet mild of nature, to the works of peace + More prone, and lenient of the many ills 170 + Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid + Hygeia well can witness; she who saves, + From poisonous dates and cups of pleasing bane, + The wretch, devoted to the entangling snares + Of Bacchus and of Comus. Him she leads + To Cynthia's lonely haunts. To spread the toils, + To beat the coverts, with the jovial horn + At dawn of day to summon the loud hounds, + She calls the lingering sluggard from his dreams, + And where his breast may drink the mountain breeze, 180 + And where the fervour of the sunny vale + May beat upon his brow, through devious paths + Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, + Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd + His eager bosom, does the queen of health + Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board + She guards, presiding, and the frugal powers + With joy sedate leads in; and while the brown + Ennæan dame with Pan presents her stores, + While changing still, and comely in the change, 190 + Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread + The garden's banquet, you to crown his feast, + To crown his feast, O Naiads, you the fair + Hygeia calls; and from your shelving seats, + And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring, + To slake his veins, till soon a purer tide + Flows down those loaded channels, washeth off + The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds + Of crude disease, and through the abodes of life + Sends vigour, sends repose. Hail, Naiads, hail! 200 + Who give to labour, health; to stooping age, + The joys which youth had squander'd. Oft your urns + Will I invoke; and frequent in your praise, + Abash the frantic thyrsus [Z] with my song. + + For not estranged from your benignant arts + Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine + My youth was sacred, and my votive cares + Belong, the learned Pæon. Oft when all + His cordial treasures he hath search'd in vain; + When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm 210 + Rich with the genial influence of the sun + (To rouse dark fancy from her plaintive dreams, + To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win + Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast + Which pines with silent passion), he in vain + Hath proved; to your deep mansions he descends. + Your gates of humid rock, your dim arcades, + He entereth; where empurpled veins of ore + Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine + Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god 220 + From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl + Wafts to his pale-eyed suppliants; wafts the seeds + Metallic and the elemental salts + Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink, and soon + Flies pain; flies inauspicious care; and soon + The social haunt or unfrequented shade + Hears Io, Io Pæan, [AA] as of old, + When Python fell. And, O propitious Nymphs, + Oft as for hapless mortals I implore + Your sultry springs, through every urn, 230 + Oh, shed your healing treasures! With the first + And finest breath, which from the genial strife + Of mineral fermentation springs, like light + O'er the fresh morning's vapours, lustrate then + The fountain, and inform the rising wave. + + My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye + That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand + Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes + Not unregarded of celestial powers, + I frame their language; and the Muses deign 240 + To guide the pious tenor of my lay. + The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine) + In early days did to my wondering sense + Their secrets oft reveal; oft my raised ear + In slumber felt their music; oft at noon, + Or hour of sunset, by some lonely stream, + In field or shady grove, they taught me words + Of power from death and envy to preserve + The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful mind, + And offerings unprofaned by ruder eye, 250 + My vows I send, my homage, to the seats + Of rocky Cirrha, [BB] where with you they dwell, + Where you their chaste companions they admit, + Through all the hallow'd scene; where oft intent, + And leaning o'er Castalia's mossy verge, + They mark the cadence of your confluent urns, + How tuneful, yielding gratefullest repose + To their consorted measure, till again, + With emulation all the sounding choir, + And bright Apollo, leader of the song, 260 + Their voices through the liquid air exalt, + And sweep their lofty strings; those powerful strings + That charm the mind of gods, [CC] that fill the courts + Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet + Of evils, with immortal rest from cares, + Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove, + And quench the formidable thunderbolt + Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, + While now the solemn concert breathes around, + Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord 270 + Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number'd notes, + Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone, + Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, + His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels + That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, + Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, + Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men + In that great moment of divine delight, + Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er + He loves not, o'er the peopled earth and o'er 280 + The interminated ocean, he beholds + Cursed with abhorrence by his doom severe, + And troubled at the sound. Ye, Naiads, ye + With ravish'd ears the melody attend + Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves + Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive + To drown the heavenly strains, of highest Jove + Irreverent, and by mad presumption fired + Their own discordant raptures to advance + With hostile emulation. Down they rush 290 + From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames + Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, + With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd + Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild + Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air + The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch + Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's [DD] + Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd + With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods + From every unpolluted ear avert 300 + Their orgies! If within the seats of men, + Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds [EE] + The guardian key, if haply there be found + Who loves to mingle with the revel-band + And hearken to their accents, who aspires + From such instructors to inform his breast + With verse, let him, fit votarist, implore + Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts + Of young Lyæus, and the dread exploits, + May sing in aptest numbers; he the fate 310 + Of sober Pentheus, [FF] he the Paphian rites, + And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, + And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, + May celebrate, applauded. But with you, + O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, + Must dwell the man whoe'er to praisèd themes + Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse + To your calm habitations, to the cave + Corycian[GG] or the Delphic mount, [HH] will guide + His footsteps, and with your unsullied streams 320 + His lips will bathe; whether the eternal lore + Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove, + To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre + The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils, + In those unfading islands of the bless'd, + Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nymphs; + Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaïc shell, [II] + Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs + Be present ye with favourable feet, + And all profaner audience far remove. 330 + + + + +NOTES. + + * * * * * + + +[Footnote A: '_Love,.... Elder than Chaos_.'--L. 25. +Hesiod in his Theogony gives a different account, and makes Chaos the +eldest of beings, though he assigns to Love neither father nor +superior; which circumstance is particularly mentioned by Phædrus, +in Plato's Banquet, as being observable not only in Hesiod, but in +all other writers both of verse and prose; and on the same occasion +he cites a line from Parmenides, in which Love is expressly styled +the eldest of all the gods. Yet Aristophanes, in 'The Birds,' affirms, +that 'Chaos, and Night, and Erebus, and Tartarus were first; and +that Love was produced from an egg, which the sable-winged Night +deposited in the immense bosom of Erebus.' But it must be observed, +that the Love designed by this comic poet was always distinguished +from the other, from that original and self-existent being the TO ON +[Greek] or AGAThON [Greek] of Plato, and meant only the +DAeMIOURGOS [Greek] or second person of the old Grecian Trinity; to +whom is inscribed a hymn among those which pass under the name of +Orpheus, where he is called Protogonos, or the first-begotten, is +said to have been born of an egg, and is represented as the +principal or origin of all these external appearances of nature. In +the fragments of Orpheus, collected by Henry Stephens, he is named +Phanes, the discoverer or discloser, who unfolded the ideas of the +supreme intelligence, and exposed them to the perception of inferior +beings in this visible frame of the world; as Macrobius, and Proclus, +and Athenagoras, all agree to interpret the several passages of +Orpheus which they have preserved. + +But the Love designed in our text is the one self-existent and +infinite mind; whom if the generality of ancient mythologists have +not introduced or truly described in accounting for the production +of the world and its appearances, yet, to a modern poet, it can be +no objection that he hath ventured to differ from them in this +particular, though in other respects he professeth to imitate their +manner and conform to their opinions; for, in these great points of +natural theology, they differ no less remarkably among themselves, +and are perpetually confounding the philosophical relations of +things with the traditionary circumstances of mythic history; upon +which very account Callimachus, in his hymn to Jupiter, declareth +his dissent from them concerning even an article of the national +creed, adding, that the ancient bards were by no means to be +depended on. And yet in the exordium of the old Argonautic poem, +ascribed to Orpheus, it is said, that 'Love, whom mortals in later +times call Phanes, was the father of the eternally-begotten Night;' +who is generally represented by these mythological poets as being +herself the parent of all things; and who, in the 'Indigitamenta,' +or Orphic Hymns, is said to be the same with Cypris, or Love itself. +Moreover, in the body of this Argonautic poem, where the personated +Orpheus introduceth himself singing to his lyre in reply to Chiron, +he celebrateth 'the obscure memory of Chaos, and the natures which +it contained within itself in a state of perpetual vicissitude; how +the heaven had its boundary determined, the generation of the earth, +the depth of the ocean, and also the sapient Love, the most ancient, +the self-sufficient, with all the beings which he produced when he +separated one thing from another.' Which noble passage is more +directly to Aristotle's purpose in the first book of his metaphysics +than any of those which he has there quoted, to show that the +ancient poets and mythologists agreed with Empedocles, Anaxagoras, +and the other more sober philosophers, in that natural anticipation +and common notion of mankind concerning the necessity of mind and +reason to account for the connexion, motion, and good order of the +world. For though neither this poem, nor the hymns which pass under +the same name, are, it should seem, the work of the real Orpheus, +yet beyond all question they are very ancient. The hymns, more +particularly, are allowed to be older than the invasion of Greece by +Xerxes, and were probably a set of public and solemn forms of +devotion, as appears by a passage in one of them which Demosthenes +hath almost literally cited in his first oration against Aristogiton, +as the saying of Orpheus, the founder of their most holy mysteries. +On this account, they are of higher authority than any other +mythological work now extant, the Theogony of Hesiod himself not +excepted. The poetry of them is often extremely noble; and the +mysterious air which prevails in them, together with its delightful +impression upon the mind, cannot be better expressed than in that +remarkable description with which they inspired the German editor, +Eschenbach, when he accidentally met with them at Leipsic: +--'Thesaurum me reperisse credidi,' says he, 'et profecto thesaurum +reperi. Incredibile dictu quo me sacro horrore afflaverint +indigitamenta ista deorum: nam et tempus ad illorum lectionem +eligere cogebar, quod vel solum horrorem incutere animo potest, +nocturnum; cum enim totam diem consumserim in contemplando urbis +splendore, et in adeundis, quibus scatet urbs illa, viris doctis; +sola nox restabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. In abyesum quendam +mysteriorum venerandæ antiquitatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque +silente mundo, solis vigilantibus astris et luna, [Greek: +melanaephutous] istos hymnos ad manus sumsi.'] + +[Footnote B: '_Love, the sire of Fate_.'--L. 25. Fate is the +universal system of natural causes; the work of the Omnipotent Mind, +or of Love: so Minucius Felix:--'Quid enim aliud est fatum, quam +quod de unoquoque nostrum deus fatus est.' So also Cicero, in the +First Book on Divination:--'Fatum autem id appello, quod Graeci +EIMAPMENIIN: id est, ordinem seriemque causarum, cum causa causæ nexa +rem ex se gignat--ex quo intelligitur, ut fatum sit non id quod +superstitiose, sed id quod physice dicitur causa asterna rerum.' To +the same purpose is the doctrine of Hierocles, in that excellent +fragment concerning Providence and Destiny. As to the three Fates, +or Destinies of the poets, they represented that part of the general +system of natural causes which relates to man, and to other mortal +beings: for so we are told in the hymn addressed to them among the +Orphic Indigitamenta, where they are called the daughters of Night +(or Love), and, contrary to the vulgar notion, are distinguished by +the epithets of gentle and tender-hearted. According to Hesiod, Theog. +ver. 904, they were the daughters of Jupiter and Themis: but in the +Orphic hymn to Venus, or Love, that goddess is directly styled the +mother of Necessity, and is represented, immediately after, as +governing the three Destinies, and conducting the whole system of +natural causes.] + +[Footnote C: '_Chaos_.'--L. 26. The unformed, undigested mass of +Moses and Plato; which Milton calls 'The womb of nature.'] + +[Footnote D: '_Born of Fate was Time_.'--L. 26. Chronos, Saturn, or +Time, was, according to Apollodorus, the son of Cælum and Tellus. +But the author of the hymns gives it quite undisguised by +mythological language, and calls him plainly the offspring of the +earth and the starry heaven; that is, of Fate, as explained in the +preceding note.] + +[Footnote E: '_Who many sons ... devour'd_.'--L. 27. The known fable +of Saturn devouring his children was certainly meant to imply the +dissolution of natural bodies, which are produced and destroyed by +Time.] + +[Footnote F: '_The Child of Rhea_.'-L. 29. Jupiter, so called by +Pindar.] + +[Footnote G: '_Drove him from the upper sky_.'--L. 29. That Jupiter +dethroned his father Saturn is recorded by all the mythologists. +Phurnutus, or Cornutus, the author of a little Greek treatise on the +nature of the gods, informs us that by Jupiter was meant the +vegetable soul of the world, which restrained and prevented those +uncertain alterations which Saturn, or Time, used formerly to cause +in the mundane system.] + +[Footnote H: '_Then social reign'd The kindred powers_.'--L. 31. +Our mythology here supposeth, that before the establishment of the +vital, vegetative, plastic nature (represented by Jupiter), the four +elements were in a variable and unsettled condition, but afterwards +well-disposed, and at peace among themselves. Tethys was the wife +of the Ocean; Ops, or Rhea, the Earth; Vesta, the eldest daughter +of Saturn, Fire; and the Cloud-Compeller, or [Greek: Zeus +nephelaegeretaes], the Air, though he also represented the plastic +principle of nature, as may be seen in the Orphic hymn inscribed to +him.] + + +NOTE I. + + '_The sedgy-crowned race_.'--L. 34. + +The river-gods, who, according to Hesiod's Theogony, were the sons of +Oceanus and Tethys. + + +NOTE J. + + '_From them are ye, O Naiads_.'--L. 37. + +The descent of the Naiads is less certain than most points of the +Greek mythology. Homer, Odyss. xiii. [Greek: kourai Dios]. Virgil, +in the eighth book of the Æneid, speaks as if the Nymphs, or Naiads, +were the parents of the rivers: but in this he contradicts the +testimony of Hesiod, and evidently departs from the orthodox system, +which represented several nymphs as retaining to every single river. +On the other hand, Callimachus, who was very learned in all the +school-divinity of those times, in his hymn to Delos, maketh Peneus, +the great Thessalian river-god, the father of his nymphs: and Ovid, +in the fourteenth book of his Metamorphoses, mentions the Naiads of +Latium as the immediate daughters of the neighbouring river-gods. +Accordingly, the Naiads of particular rivers are occasionally, both +by Ovid and Statius, called by patronymic, from the name of the +river to which they belong. + + +NOTE K. + + '_Syrian Daphne_.'--L. 40. + +The grove of Daphne in Syria, near Antioch, was famous for its +delightful fountains. + + +NOTE L. + + '_The tribes beloved by Pæon_.'--L. 40. + +Mineral and medicinal springs. Pæon was the physician of the gods. + + +NOTE M. + + '_The winged offspring_.'--L. 43. + +The winds; who, according to Hesiod and Apollodorus, were the sons of +Astræus and Aurora. + + +NOTE N. + + '_Hyperíon_.'--L. 46. + +A son of Cælum and Tellus, and father of the Sun, who is thence +called, by Pindar, Hyperionides. But Hyperion is put by Homer in the +same manner as here, for the Sun himself. + + +NOTE O. + + '_Your sallying streams_.'--L. 49. + +The state of the atmosphere with respect to rest and motion is, in +several ways, affected by rivers and running streams; and that more +especially in hot seasons: first, they destroy its equilibrium, by +cooling those parts of it with which they are in contact; and +secondly, they communicate their own motion: and the air which is +thus moved by them, being left heated, is of consequence more +elastic than other parts of the atmosphere, and therefore fitter to +preserve and to propagate that motion. + +NOTE P. + + '_Delian king_.'--L. 70. + +One of the epithets of Apollo, or the Sun, in the Orphic hymn +inscribed to him. + +NOTE Q. + + '_Chloris_.'--L. 79. + +The ancient Greek name for Flora. + +NOTE R. + + '_Amalthea_.'--L. 83. + +The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was +written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic +character, by Thymoetes, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with +Orpheus. Thymoetes had travelled over Libya to the country which +borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and +learned from the inhabitants, that 'Ammon, King of Libya, was +married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: +that he afterwards fell in love with a beautiful virgin whose name +was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a +neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape +nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian +horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that fearing the jealousy +of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus in the island of Nysa;' the +beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of +style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, +and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of +Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to +except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic +story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and +solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he +prefers it even to-- + + 'That Nysean isle + Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham + (Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove) + Hid Amalthea and her florid son, + Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.' + + +NOTE S. + + '_Edonian band_.'--L. 94. + +The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus: so called from Edonus, +a mountain of Thrace, where his rites were celebrated. + +NOTE T. + + '_When Hermes_.'--L. 105. + +Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent +character he is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta in +these beautiful lines:-- + +[Greek: + _Ermaeuen panton, kerdempore, lusimerimue, + O? cheiresthiu echei? oplun aremphe_?] + + +NOTE U. + + _'Dispense the mineral treasure'_.--L. 121. + +The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of +Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin. + +NOTE V. + + _'Hath he not won'_?--L. 136. + +Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the +good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the +friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war: for military power, at +least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the +establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, +that 'from bounty issueth power.' + +NOTE W. + + _'C'alpe ... Cantabrian surge'_--L. 143. + +Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay. + +NOTE X. + + _'Ægina's gloomy surge'_--L. 150. + +Near this island, the Athenians obtained the victory of Salamis, +over the Persian navy. + +NOTE Y. + + _'Xerxes saw'_--L. 160. + +This circumstance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most +splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, +in his Life of Themistocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium +and Salamis. + +NOTE Z. + + _'Thyrsus'_--L. 204. + +A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the +bacchanalian mysteries. + +NOTE AA. + + _'Io Pæan.'_--L. 227. + +An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's +encounter with Python. + +NOTE BB. + + _'Rocky Cirrha'_--L. 252. + +One of the summits of Parnassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were +several fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses. Nysa, the +other eminence of the same mountain, was dedicated to Bacchus. + +NOTE CC. + + _'Charm the mind of gods'_--L. 263. + +This whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred music among the +gods, is taken from Pindar's first Pythian ode. + +NOTE DD. + + '_Phrygian pipe_.'--L. 297. + +The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite +disorderly passions. + + +NOTE EE. + + '_The gates where Pallas holds + The guardian key_.'--L. 302. + +It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; +whence she was named IIOAIAS and HOAIOYXOS, and had her statues +placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that +account styled KAHAOYXOS. + + +NOTE FF. + + 'Fate of sober Pentheus.'--L. 311. + +Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanalian priests and women, +for despising their mysteries. + + +NOTE GG. + + 'The cave Corycian:--L. 318. + +Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following +description:--'Between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus is a +road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph +Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One +may walk a great way into it without a torch. 'Tis of a considerable +height, and hath several springs within it; and yet a much greater +quantity of water distils from the shell and roof, so as to be +continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold +it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan.' + + +NOTE HH. + + 'Delphic mount.'--L. 319. + +Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky +situation, on the skirts of Parnassus. + + +NOTE II. + + 'Cyrenaïc shell.'--L. 327. + +Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the +most remarkable example of that mythological passion which is +assumed in the preceding poem, and have always afforded particular +pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity +with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to +attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the +manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as +the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, +could have been but little interesting to a modern reader, it was +therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the +history of nature, and to employ these ancient divinities as it is +probable they were first employed; to wit, in personifying natural +causes, and in representing the mutual agreement or opposition of +the corporeal and moral powers of the world: which hath been +accounted the very highest office of poetry. + + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS. + + + +I. + +FOR A GROTTO. + + To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call + Actæa, daughter of the neighbouring stream, + This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, + Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, + Were placed by Glycou. He with cowslips pale, + Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green + Before my threshold, and my shelving walls + With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, + Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, + I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend; + Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, + Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds + Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in, + O stranger, undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad + Here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts + Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread + My quiet mansion; chiefly, if thy name + Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own. + + +II. + +FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK. + + Such was old Chaucer; such the placid mien + Of him who first with harmony inform'd + The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt + For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls + Have often heard him, while his legends blithe + He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles + Of homely life; through each estate and age, + The fashions and the follies of the world + With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance + From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come + Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain + Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold + To him, this other hero; who, in times + Dark and untaught, began with charming verse + To tame the rudeness of his native land. + + + +III. + + Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies + Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove + Of branching oaks a rural palace old + Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord + Of all the harvest round. And onward thence + A low plain chapel fronts the morning light + Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk, + O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground; + And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest + Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand + Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew + Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest, + The learned shepherd; for each rural art + Famed, and for songs harmonious, and the woes + Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride + Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave + In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven, + With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care, + Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold + And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith + From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, + Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside + The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate + The mournful story. Haply some fair maid + May hold it in remembrance, and be taught + That riches cannot pay for truth or love. + + +IV. + + O youths and virgins: O declining eld: + O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell + Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait + In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: + O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch + That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds + Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand + Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam + In exile; ye who through the embattled field + Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms + Contend, the leaders of a public cause; + Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not + The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue + Told you the fashion of your own estate, + The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round + His monument with reverence while ye stand, + Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; + Who walk'd in every path of human life, + Felt every passion; and to all mankind + Doth now, will ever, that experience yield + Which his own genius only could acquire.' + + +V. + + GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE + AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; + CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS + ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE + NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE + DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, + GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS + P.G. A.M. A. + + +VI. + +FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE. + + Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, + While Thames among his willows from thy view + Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene + Around contemplate well. This is the place + Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms + And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king + (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure + The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on + Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid + Those thanks which God appointed the reward + Of public virtue. And if chance thy home + Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, + Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt + They owe their ancestors; and make them swear + To pay it, by transmitting down entire + Those sacred rights to which themselves were born. + + + + + +VII. + + +THE WOOD NYMPH. + + Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale + Which I, the Dryad of this hoary oak, + Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age + Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose + On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale + Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards + The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, + Obeys me. Many changes have I seen + In human things, and many awful deeds + Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove + Against the tyrants of the land, against + The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, + Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length + Expert in laws divine, I know the paths + Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end + Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait + Each evening till a noble youth, who loves + My shade, a while released from public cares, + Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down + Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind + I prompt, unseen; and place before his view + Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart + With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme + Of gods and men, with freedom's generous deeds, + The lofty voice of glory and the faith + Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told + My function. If within thy bosom dwell + Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave + Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear + A sparing benediction from thy tongue. + + +VIII. + + Ye powers unseen, to whom, the bards of Greece + Erected altars; ye who to the mind + More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart + With more divine emotions; if erewhile + Not quite uupleasing have my votive rites + Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat + To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe + Here with your instant energy to crown + My happy solitude. It is the hour + When most I love to invoke you, and have felt + Most frequent your glad ministry divine. + The air is calm: the sun's unveiled orb + Shines in the middle heaven. The harvest round + Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves + The reapers lie reclined. The neighbouring groves + Are mute, nor even a linnet's random strain + Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel + Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in heaven, + Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds + Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades + Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below + Do you converse retired? From what loved haunt + Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel + Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers: + And I will guard it well; nor shall a thought + Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move + Across my bosom unobserved, unstored + By faithful memory. And then at some + More active moment, will I call them forth + Anew; and join them in majestic forms, + And give them utterance in harmonious strains; + That all mankind shall wonder at your sway. + + +IX. + + Me though in life's sequester'd vale + The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, + Remote from glory's toilsome ways, + And the great scenes of public praise; + Yet let me still with grateful pride + Remember how my infant frame + He temper'd with prophetic flame, + And early music to my tongue supplied. + 'Twas then my future fate he weigh'd, + And, this be thy concern, he said, + At once with Passion's keen alarms, + And Beauty's pleasurable charms, + And sacred Truth's eternal light, + To move the various mind of Man; + Till, under one unblemish'd plan, + His Reason, Fancy, and his Heart unite. + + + + +AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. [1] + + Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, + And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, + Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, + In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; + Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, + And proud to mix my memory with thine. + But now the cause that waked my song before, + With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. + If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, + Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 + Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, + And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; + If every tongue its large applauses owed, + And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; + If public Justice urged the high reward, + And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; + Say then, to him whose levity or lust + Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; + Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, + And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 + Does not each tongue its execrations owe? + Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, + And public Justice sanctify th' award, + And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard? + + Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, + Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, + Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, + And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise. + But since thy guilt still more entire appears, + Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 + Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, + And the first rage of party-hate is past; + Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come + To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: + So may my trust from all reproach be free; + And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree. + + There are who say they view'd without amaze + The sad reverse of all thy former praise: + That through the pageants of a patriot's name, + They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40 + Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw + The public thunder on a private foe. + But I, whose soul consented to thy cause, + Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause, + Who saw the spirits of each glorious age + Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage; + I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds, + The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds. + Spite of the learned in the ways of vice, + And all who prove that each man has his price, 50 + I still believed thy end was just and free; + And yet, even yet, believe it--spite of thee. + Even though thy mouth impure has dared disclaim, + Urged by the wretched impotence of shame, + Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid + To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd; + Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show; + Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe; + Has boasted in thy country's awful ear, + Her gross delusion when she held thee dear; 60 + How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous call, + And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-- + Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old + For laws subverted, and for cities sold! + Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt, + The oaths you perjured, and the blood you spilt; + Yet must you one untempted vileness own, + One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; + With studied arts his country's praise to spurn, + To beg the infamy he did not earn, 70 + To challenge hate when honour was his due, + And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew. + Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose + From each fair feeling human nature knows? + Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear + To all that reason, all that sense would hear? + Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, + In such unthankful baseness to be lost? + Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, + And yield thy glories at an idiot's price? 80 + + When they who, loud for liberty and laws, + In doubtful times had fought their country's cause, + When now of conquest and dominion sure, + They sought alone to hold their fruits secure; + When taught by these, Oppression hid the face, + To leave Corruption stronger in her place, + By silent spells to work the public fate, + And taint the vitals of the passive state, + Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, + And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd shore: 90 + Then, like some guardian god that flies to save + The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, + Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake + Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake; + Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, + To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, + Against Corruption Liberty to arm, + And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm. + + Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, + And with thy country's hopes thy honours grew. 100 + Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; + Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd; + Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds; + The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns; + Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires, + To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires; + The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had read + Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, + With new amazement hears a living name + Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; 110 + And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways, + Left the tame track of these dejected days, + The life of nobler ages to renew + In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, + Roused by thy labours from the bless'd retreat, + Where social ease and public passions meet, + Again ascending treads the civil scene, + To act and be a man, as thou hadst been. + + Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, + And the great end appear'd at last in view: 120 + We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, + We saw the senate bending to thy voice; + The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching reign + Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain; + While venal Faction, struck with new dismay, + Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay. + Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, + Abash'd and keener from his long repose; + Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear + Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear; 130 + The city felt his call: from man to man, + From street to street, the glorious horror ran; + Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, + And, murmuring, challenged the deciding hour. + + Lo! the deciding hour at last appears; + The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears! + Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name, + O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame! + Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, + And guide each movement steady to the goal. 140 + Ye spirits by whose providential art + Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, + Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, + And watch his fancy, and his passions bind! + Ye shades immortal, who by Freedom led, + Or in the field or on the scaffold bled, + Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, + And view the crown of all your labours nigh. + See Freedom mounting her eternal throne! + The sword submitted, and the laws her own: 150 + See! public Power chastised beneath her stands, + With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands! + See private Life by wisest arts reclaim'd! + See ardent youth to noblest manners framed! + See us acquire whate'er was sought by you, + If Curio, only Curio will be true. + + 'Twas then--o shame! O trust how ill repaid! + O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!-- + 'Twas then--What frenzy on thy reason stole? + What spells unsinewed thy determined soul?-- 160 + Is this the man in Freedom's cause approved, + The man so great, so honour'd, so beloved, + This patient slave by tinsel chains allured, + This wretched suitor for a boon abjured, + This Curio, hated and despised by all, + Who fell himself to work his country's fall? + O lost, alike to action and repose! + Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes! + With all that conscious, undissembled pride, + Sold to the insults of a foe defied! 170 + With all that habit of familiar fame, + Doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame! + The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art + To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, + Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, + Display thy virtue, though without a dower, + Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, + And shut thy eyes that others may be blind.-- + Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, + When shameless mouths your majesty defile, 180 + Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, + And cast their own impieties on you. + For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power + My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, + How have I stood exulting, to survey + My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! + How with the sons of every foreign shore + The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the more! + O race erect! whose native strength of soul, + Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, 190 + Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, + And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; + Intent the laws of life to comprehend, + And fix dominion's limits by its end. + Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, + By conscious reason judging every state, + The man forget not, though in rags he lies, + And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: + Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view + Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, 200 + Or, all awake at pity's soft command, + Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand: + Thence large of heart, from envy far removed, + When public toils to virtue stand approved, + Not the young lover fonder to admire, + Not more indulgent the delighted sire; + Yet high and jealous of their free-born name, + Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, + Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway, + Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. 210 + But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, + My country must with him renounce her cause, + Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, + Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod; + Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail, + Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail: + Else, ere he change the style, bear me away + To where the Gracchi [2], where the Bruti stay! + + O long revered, and late resign'd to shame! + If this uncourtly page thy notice claim 220 + When the loud cares of business are withdrawn, + Nor well-dress'd beggars round thy footsteps fawn; + In that still, thoughtful, solitary hour, + When Truth exerts her unresisted power, + Breaks the false optics tinged with fortune's glare, + Unlocks the breast, and lays the passions bare; + Then turn thy eyes on that important scene, + And ask thyself--if all be well within. + Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of soul, + Which labour could not stop, nor fear control? 230 + Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe, + Which, half-abash'd, the proud and venal saw? + Where the calm triumphs of an honest cause? + Where the delightful taste of just applause? + Where the strong reason, the commanding tongue, + On which the senate fired or trembling hung? + All vanish'd, all are sold--and in their room, + Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, distracted gloom, + See the pale form of barbarous Grandeur dwell, + Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell! 210 + To her in chains thy dignity was led; + At her polluted shrine thy honour bled; + With blasted weeds thy awful brow she crown'd, + Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound, + That baffled Reason straight indignant flew, + And fair Persuasion from her seat withdrew: + For now no longer Truth supports thy cause; + No longer Glory prompts thee to applause; + No longer Virtue breathing in thy breast, + With all her conscious majesty confess'd, 250 + Still bright and brighter wakes the almighty flame, + To rouse the feeble, and the wilful tame, + And where she sees the catching glimpses roll, + Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the soul; + But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill, + And formal passions mock thy struggling will; + Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain, + And reach impatient at a nobler strain, + Soon the sad bodings of contemptuous mirth + Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous birth, 260 + Till, blind with smart, from truth to frenzy toss'd, + And all the tenor of thy reason lost, + Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear; + While some with pity, some with laughter hear.-- + Can art, alas! or genius, guide the head, + Where truth and freedom from the heart are fled? + Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke, + When the prime function of the soul is broke? + + But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend; + Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend; 270 + Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine, + Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; + For see the hand of Destiny display'd + To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd! + See the dire fane of Infamy arise! + Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; + Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, + The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. + Eternal barriers guard the pathless road + To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode; 280 + But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, + The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. + There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, + And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates; + And still he asks them of their unknown aims, + Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; + And still his hands despoil them on the road + Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, + Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, + And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. 290 + + At last the gates his potent voice obey; + Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey; + Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, + The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, + O'er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, + The great, the sage, the happy, and august [3]. + No gleam of hope their baleful mansion cheers, + No sound of honour hails their unbless'd ears; + But dire reproaches from the friend betray'd, + The childless sire and violated maid; 300 + But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, + From towns enslaved, and continents laid waste; + But long posterity's united groan, + And the sad charge of horrors not their own, + For ever through the trembling space resound, + And sink each impious forehead to the ground. + + Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, + Give way, do homage to a mightier guest! + Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, + See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface!-- 310 + Awed at the name, fierce Appius [4] rising bends, + And hardy Cinna from his throne attends: + 'He comes,' they cry, 'to whom the fates assign'd + With surer arts to work what we design'd, + From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, + Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage obey; + Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their power, + He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; + Then, tired and yielding, led them to the chain, + And quench'd the spirit we provoked in vain.' 320 + + But thou, Supreme, by whose eternal hands + Fair Liberty's heroic empire stands; + Whose thunders the rebellious deep control, + And quell the triumphs of the traitor's soul, + Oh! turn this dreadful omen far away: + On Freedom's foes their own attempts repay: + Relume her sacred fire so near suppress'd, + And fix her shrine in every Roman breast: + Though bold Corruption boast around the land, + 'Let virtue, if she can, my baits withstand!' 330 + Though bolder now she urge the accursed claim, + Gay with her trophies raised on Curio's shame; + Yet some there are who scorn her impious mirth, + Who know what conscience and a heart are worth.-- + O friend and father of the human mind, + Whose art for noblest ends our frame design'd! + If I, though fated to the studious shade + Which party-strife, nor anxious power invade, + If I aspire in public virtue's cause, + To guide the Muses by sublimer laws, 340 + Do thou her own authority impart, + And give my numbers entrance to the heart. + Perhaps the verse might rouse her smother'd flame, + And snatch the fainting patriot back to fame; + Perhaps by worthy thoughts of human kind, + To worthy deeds exalt the conscious mind; + Or dash Corruption in her proud career, + And teach her slaves that Vice was born to fear. + + +[Footnote 1: Curio was a young Roman senator, of distinguished +birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had +been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, +he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want +of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of +Csesar against the liberties of his country, although he had before +been a professed enemy to him. Cicero exerted himself with great +energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of +the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published +in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at +last successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted +the cause of his country, and became the foremost in support and +defence of the same measures he had so steadily and for such a +length of time contended against.] + +[Fotnote 2: The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus, lost +their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that +could give stability and good order to the Roman republic. L. Junius +Brutus founded the commonwealth, and died in its defence.] + +[Footnote 3: Titles which have been generally ascribed to the most +pernicious of men.] + +[Footnote 4: Appius Claudius the Decemvir, and L. Cornelius Cinna +both attempted to establish a tyrannical dominion in Rome, and both +perished by the treason.] + + + + +THE VIRTUOSO. + + IN IMITATION OP SPENSER'S STYLE AND STANZA. + + + 'Videmus + Nugari solitos.'--PERSIUS. + + + + 1 Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream, + In London town there dwelt a subtile wight; + A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame, + Book-learn'd and quaint; a Virtuoso hight. + Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight; + From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten ease, + Nor ceasen he from study, day or night; + Until (advancing onward by degrees) + He knew whatever breeds on earth, or air, or seas. + + 2 He many a creature did anatomise, + Almost unpeopling water, air, and land; + Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies, + Were laid full low by his relentless hand, + That oft with gory crimson was distain'd: + He many a dog destroy'd, and many a cat; + Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drain'd, + Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat, + And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a gnat. + + 3 He knew the various modes of ancient times, + Their arts and fashions of each different guise, + Their weddings, funerals, punishments for crimes, + Their strength, their learning eke, and rarities; + Of old habiliments, each sort and size, + Male, female, high and low, to him were known; + Each gladiator-dress, and stage disguise; + With learned, clerkly phrase he could have shown + How the Greek tunic differ'd from the Roman gown. + + 4 A curious medalist, I wot, he was, + And boasted many a course of ancient coin; + Well as his wife's he knewen every face, + From Julius Caesar down to Constantine: + For some rare sculptor he would oft ypine + (As green-sick damosels for husbands do); + And when obtained, with enraptured eyne, + He'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, + And look, and look again, as he would look it through. + + 5 His rich museum, of dimensions fair, + With goods that spoke the owner's mind was fraught: + Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare, + From sea and land, from Greece and Rome were brought, + Which he with mighty sums of gold had bought: + On these all tides with joyous eyes he pored; + And, sooth to say, himself he greater thought, + When he beheld his cabinets thus stored, + Than if he'd been of Albion's wealthy cities lord. + + 6 Here in a corner stood a rich scrutoire, + With many a curiosity replete; + In seemly order furnish'd every drawer, + Products of art or nature as was meet; + Air-pumps and prisms were placed beneath his feet, + A Memphian mummy-king hung o'er his head; + Here phials with live insects small and great, + There stood a tripod of the Pythian maid; + Above, a crocodile diffused a grateful shade. + + 7 Fast by the window did a table stand, + Where modern and antique rarities, + From Egypt, Greece, and Rome, from sea and land, + Were thick-besprent, of every sort and size: + Here a Bahaman-spider's carcass lies, + There a dire serpent's golden skin doth shine; + Here Indian feathers, fruits, and glittering flies; + There gums and amber found beneath the line, + The beak of Ibis here, and there an Antonine. + + 8 Close at his back, or whispering in his ear, + There stood a sprite ycleped Phantasy; + Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near: + Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; + Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye; + Her glistering robes were of more various hue + Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky, + Or all the spangled drops of morning dew; + Their colour changing still at every different view. + + 9 Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay, + Various as the chameleon that she bore; + Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay, + Now mendicant in silks and golden ore: + A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar, + Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed; + A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore; + Now scribbling dunce, in sacred laurel clad, + Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd. + + 10 The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill, + On whom she doth with constant care attend, + Will for a dreadful giant take a mill, + Or a grand palace in a hog-sty find: + (From her dire influence me may heaven defend!) + All things with vitiated sight he spies; + Neglects his family, forgets his friend, + Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, + And eagerly pursues imaginary joys. + + + + + +AMBITION AND CONTENT. + + A FABLE. + + 'Optat quietem.'-HOR. + + While yet the world was young, and men were few, + Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew, + In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd, + Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: + No sumptuous fabrics yet were seen to rise, + Nor gushing fountains taught to invade the skies; + With nature, art had not begun the strife, + Nor swelling marble rose to mimic life; + No pencil yet had learn'd to express the fair; + The bounteous earth was all their homely care. 10 + + Then did Content exert her genial sway, + And taught the peaceful world her power to obey-- + Content, a female of celestial race, + Bright and complete in each celestial grace. + Serenely fair she was, as rising day, + And brighter than the sun's meridian ray; + Joy of all hearts, delight of every eye, + Nor grief nor pain appear'd when she was by; + Her presence from the wretched banish'd care, + Dispersed the swelling sigh, and stopp'd the falling tear. 20 + + Long did the nymph her regal state maintain, + As long mankind were bless'd beneath her reign; + Till dire Ambition, hellish fiend, arose + To plague the world, and banish man's repose, + A monster sprung from that rebellious crew + Which mighty Jove's Phlegraean thunder slew. + Resolved to dispossess the royal fair, + On all her friends he threaten'd open war; + Fond of the novelty, vain, fickle man + In crowds to his infernal standard ran; 30 + And the weak maid, defenceless left alone, + To avoid his rage, was forced to quit the throne. + + It chanced, as wandering through the fields she stray'd, + Forsook of all, and destitute of aid, + Upon a rising mountain's flowery side, + A pleasant cottage, roof'd with turf, she spied: + Fast by a gloomy, venerable wood + Of shady planes and ancient oaks it stood. + Around, a various prospect charm'd the sight; + Here waving harvests clad the field with white, 40 + Here a rough shaggy rock the clouds did pierce, + From which a torrent rush'd with rapid force; + Here mountain-woods diffused a dusky shade; + Here flocks and herds in flowery valleys play'd, + While o'er the matted grass the liquid crystal stray'd. + In this sweet place there dwelt a cheerful pair, + Though bent beneath the weight of many a year; + Who, wisely flying public noise and strife, + In this obscure retreat had pass'd their life; + The husband Industry was call'd, Frugality the wife. 50 + With tenderest friendship mutually bless'd, + No household jars had e'er disturbed their rest. + A numerous offspring graced their homely board, + That still with nature's simple gifts was stored. + + The father rural business only knew; + The sons the same delightful art pursue. + An only daughter, as a goddess fair, + Above the rest was the fond mother's care, + Plenty; the brightest nymph of all the plain, + Each heart's delight, adored by every swain. 60 + Soon as Content this charming scene espied, + Joyful within herself the goddess cried:-- + 'This happy sight my drooping heart doth raise; + The gods, I hope, will grant me gentler days. + When with prosperity my life was bless'd, + In yonder house I've been a welcome guest: + There now, perhaps, I may protection find; + For royalty is banish'd from my mind; + I'll thither haste: how happy should I be, + If such a refuge were reserved for me!' 70 + + Thus spoke the fair; and straight she bent her way + To the tall mountain, where the cottage lay: + Arrived, she makes her changed condition known; + Tells how the rebels drove her from the throne; + What painful, dreary wilds she'd wander'd o'er; + And shelter from the tyrant doth implore. + + The faithful, aged pair at once were seized + With joy and grief, at once were pain'd and pleased; + Grief for their banish'd queen their hearts' possess'd, + And joy succeeded for their future guest: 80 + 'And if you'll deign, bright goddess, here to dwell, + And with your presence grace our humble cell, + Whate'er the gods have given with bounteous hand, + Our harvest, fields, and flocks, our all command.' + + Meantime, Ambition, on his rival's flight, + Sole lord of man, attain'd his wish's height; + Of all dependence on his subjects eased, + He raged without a curb, and did whate'er he pleased; + As some wild flame, driven on by furious winds, + Wide spreads destruction, nor resistance finds; 90 + So rush'd the fiend destructive o'er the plain, + Defaced the labours of th' industrious swain; + Polluted every stream with human gore, + And scatter'd plagues and death from shore to shore. + + Great Jove beheld it from the Olympian towers, + Where sate assembled all the heavenly powers; + Then with a nod that shook the empyrean throne, + Thus the Saturnian thunderer begun:-- + 'You see, immortal inmates of the skies, + How this vile wretch almighty power defies; 100 + His daring crimes, the blood which he has spilt, + Demand a torment equal to his guilt. + Then, Cyprian goddess, let thy mighty boy + Swift to the tyrant's guilty palace fly; + There let him choose his sharpest, hottest dart, + And with his former rival wound his heart. + And thou, my son (the god to Hermes said), + Snatch up thy wand, and plume thy heels and head; + Dart through the yielding air with all thy force, + And down to Pluto's realms direct thy course; 110 + There rouse Oblivion from her sable cave, + Where dull she sits by Lethe's sluggish wave; + Command her to secure the sacred bound. + Where lives Content retired, and all around + Diffuse the deepest glooms of Stygian night, + And screen the virgin from the tyrant's sight; + That the vain purpose of his life may try + Still to explore, what still eludes his eye.' + He spoke; loud praises shake the bright abode, + And all applaud the justice of the god. 120 + + + + +THE POET. A RHAPSODY. + + Of all the various lots around the ball, + Which fate to man distributes, absolute, + Avert, ye gods! that of the Muse's son, + Cursed with dire poverty! poor hungry wretch! + What shall he do for life? He cannot work + With manual labour; shall those sacred hands, + That brought the counsels of the gods to light; + Shall that inspirèd tongue, which every Muse + Has touch'd divine, to charm the sons of men; + These hallow'd organs! these! be prostitute 10 + To the vile service of some fool in power, + All his behests submissive to perform, + Howe'er to him ungrateful? Oh! he scorns + The ignoble thought; with generous disdain, + More eligible deeming it to starve, + Like his famed ancestors renown'd in verse, + Than poorly bend to be another's slave,-- + Than feed and fatten in obscurity.-- + These are his firm resolves, which fate, nor time, + Nor poverty can shake. Exalted high 20 + In garret vile he lives; with remnants hung + Of tapestry. But oh! precarious state + Of this vain transient world! all-powerful Time, + What dost thou not subdue? See what a chasm + Gapes wide, tremendous! see where Saul, enraged, + High on his throne, encompass'd by his guards, + With levell'd spear, and arm extended, sits, + Ready to pierce old Jesse's valiant son, + Spoil'd of his nose!--around in tottering ranks, + On shelves pulverulent, majestic stands 30 + His library; in ragged plight, and old; + Replete with many a load of criticism, + Elaborate products of the midnight toil + Of Belgian brains; snatch'd from the deadly hands + Of murderous grocer, or the careful wight, + Who vends the plant, that clads the happy shore + Of Indian Patomac; which citizens + In balmy fumes exhale, when, o'er a pot + Of sage-inspiring coffee, they dispose + Of kings and crowns, and settle Europe's fate. 40 + + Elsewhere the dome is fill'd with various heaps + Of old domestic lumber; that huge chair + Has seen six monarchs fill the British throne: + Here a broad massy table stands, o'erspread + With ink and pens, and scrolls replete with rhyme: + Chests, stools, old razors, fractured jars, half-full + Of muddy Zythum, sour and spiritless: + Fragments of verse, hose, sandals, utensils + Of various fashion, and of various use, + With friendly influence hide the sable floor. 50 + + This is the bard's museum, this the fane + To Phoebus sacred, and the Aonian maids: + But, oh! it stabs his heart, that niggard fate + To him in such small measure should dispense + Her better gifts: to him! whose generous soul + Could relish, with as fine an elegance, + The golden joys of grandeur, and of wealth; + He who could tyrannise o'er menial slaves, + Or swell beneath a coronet of state, + Or grace a gilded chariot with a mien, 60 + Grand as the haughtiest Timon of them all. + + But 'tis in vain to rave at destiny: + Here he must rest and brook the best he can, + To live remote from grandeur, learning, wit; + Immured amongst th' ignoble, vulgar herd, + Of lowest intellect; whose stupid souls + But half inform their bodies; brains of lead + And tongues of thunder; whose insensate breasts + Ne'er felt the rapturous, soul-entrancing fire + Of the celestial Muse; whose savage ears 70 + Ne'er heard the sacred rules, nor even the names + Of the Venusian bard, or critic sage + Full-famed of Stagyra: whose clamorous tongues + Stun the tormented ear with colloquy, + Vociferate, trivial, or impertinent; + Replete with boorish scandal; yet, alas! + This, this! he must endure, or muse alone, + Pensive and moping o'er the stubborn rhyme, + Or line imperfect--No! the door is free, + And calls him to evade their deafening clang, 80 + By private ambulation;--'tis resolved: + Off from his waist he throws the tatter'd gown, + Beheld with indignation; and unloads + His pericranium of the weighty cap, + With sweat and grease discolour'd: then explores + The spacious chest, and from its hollow womb + Draws his best robe, yet not from tincture free + Of age's reverend russet, scant and bare; + Then down his meagre visage waving flows + The shadowy peruke; crown'd with gummy hat 90 + Clean brush'd; a cane supports him. Thus equipp'd + He sallies forth; swift traverses the streets, + And seeks the lonely walk.--'Hail, sylvan scenes, + Ye groves, ye valleys, ye meandering brooks, + Admit me to your joys!' in rapturous phrase, + Loud he exclaims; while with the inspiring Muse + His bosom labours; and all other thoughts, + Pleasure and wealth, and poverty itself, + Before her influence vanish. Rapt in thought, + Fancy presents before his ravish'd eyes 100 + Distant posterity, upon his page + With transport dwelling; while bright learning's sons + That ages hence must tread this earthly ball, + Indignant, seem to curse the thankless age, + That starved such merit. Meantime swallow'd up, + In meditation deep, he wanders on, + Unweeting of his way.--But, ah! he starts + With sudden fright! his glaring eyeballs roll, + Pale turn his cheeks, and shake his loosen'd joints; + His cogitations vanish into air, 110 + Like painted bubbles, or a morning dream. + Behold the cause! see! through the opening glade, + With rosy visage, and abdomen grand, + A cit, a dun!--As in Apulia's wilds, + Or where the Thracian Hebrus rolls his wave, + A heedless kid, disportive, roves around, + Unheeding, till upon the hideous cave + On the dire wolf she treads; half-dead she views + His bloodshot eyeballs, and his dreadful fangs, + And swift as Eurus from the monster flies. 120 + So fares the trembling bard; amazed he turns, + Scarce by his legs upborne; yet fear supplies + The place of strength; straight home he bends his course, + Nor looks behind him till he safe regain + His faithful citadel; there, spent, fatigued, + He lays him down to ease his heaving lungs, + Quaking, and of his safety scarce convinced. + Soon as the panic leaves his panting breast, + Down to the Muse's sacred rites he sits, + Volumes piled round him; see! upon his brow 130 + Perplex'd anxiety, and struggling thought, + Painful as female throes: whether the bard + Display the deeds of heroes; or the fall + Of vice, in lay dramatic; or expand + The lyric wing; or in elegiac strains + Lament the fair; or lash the stubborn age, + With laughing satire; or in rural scenes + With shepherds sport; or rack his hard-bound brains + For the unexpected turn. Arachne so, + In dusty kitchen corner, from her bowels 140 + Spins the fine web, but spins with better fate, + Than the poor bard: she! caitiff! spreads her snares, + And with their aid enjoys luxurious life, + Bloated with fat of insects, flesh'd in blood: + He! hard, hard lot! for all his toil and care, + And painful watchings, scarce protracts a while + His meagre, hungry days! ungrateful world! + If with his drama he adorn the stage, + No worth-discerning concourse pays the charge. + Or of the orchestra, or the enlightening torch. 150 + He who supports the luxury and pride + Of craving Lais; he! whose carnage fills + Dogs, eagles, lions; has not yet enough, + Wherewith to satisfy the greedier maw + Of that most ravenous, that devouring beast, + Ycleped a poet. What new Halifax, + What Somers, or what Dorset canst thou find, + Thou hungry mortal? Break, wretch, break thy quill, + Blot out the studied image; to the flames + + Commit the Stagyrite; leave this thankless trade; 160 + Erect some pedling stall, with trinkets stock'd, + There earn thy daily halfpence, nor again + Trust the false Muse; so shall the cleanly meal + Repel intruding hunger.--Oh! 'tis vain, + The friendly admonition's all in vain; + The scribbling itch has seized him, he is lost + To all advice, and starves for starving's sake. + + Thus sung the sportful Muse, in mirthful mood, + Indulging gay the frolic vein of youth; + But, oh! ye gods, avert th' impending stroke 170 + This luckless omen threatens! Hark! methinks + I hear my better angel cry, 'Retreat, + Rash youth! in time retreat; let those poor bards, + Who slighted all, all! for the flattering Muse, + Yet cursed with pining want, as landmarks stand, + To warn thee from the service of the ingrate.' + + + + + +A BRITISH PHILIPPIC. + + OCCASIONED BY THE INSULTS OF THE SPANIARDS, + AND THE PRESENT PREPARATIONS + FOR WAR. 1738. + + Whence this unwonted transport in my breast? + Why glow my thoughts, and whither would the Muse + Aspire with rapid wing? Her country's cause + Demands her efforts: at that sacred call + She summons all her ardour, throws aside + The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump + She means to thunder in each British ear; + And if one spark of honour or of fame, + Disdain of insult, dread of infamy, + One thought of public virtue yet survive, 10 + She means to wake it, rouse the generous flame, + With patriot zeal inspirit every breast, + And fire each British heart with British wrongs. + + Alas, the vain attempt! what influence now + Can the Muse boast! or what attention now + Is paid to fame or virtue? Where is now + The British spirit, generous, warm, and brave, + So frequent wont from tyranny and woe + To free the suppliant nations? Where, indeed! + If that protection, once to strangers given, 20 + Be now withheld from sons? Each nobler thought, + That warrn'd our sires, is lost and buried now + In luxury and avarice. Baneful vice! + How it unmans a nation! yet I'll try, + I'll aim to shake this vile degenerate sloth; + I'll dare to rouse Britannia's dreaming sons + To fame, to virtue, and impart around + A generous feeling of compatriot woes. + + Come, then, the various powers of forceful speech, + All that can move, awaken, fire, transport! 30 + Come the bold ardour of the Theban bard! + The arousing thunder of the patriot Greek! + The soft persuasion of the Roman sage! + Come all! and raise me to an equal height, + A rapture worthy of my glorious cause! + Lest my best efforts, failing, should debase + The sacred theme; for with no common wing + The Muse attempts to soar. Yet what need these? + My country's fame, my free-born British heart, + Shall be my best inspirers, raise my flight 40 + High as the Theban's pinion, and with more + Than Greek or Roman flame exalt my soul. + Oh! could I give the vast ideas birth + Expressive of the thoughts that flame within, + No more should lazy Luxury detain + Our ardent youth; no more should Britain's sons + Sit tamely passive by, and careless hear + The prayers, sighs, groans, (immortal infamy!) + Of fellow Britons, with oppression sunk, + In bitterness of soul demanding aid, 50 + Calling on Britain, their dear native land, + The land of Liberty; so greatly famed + For just redress; the land so often dyed + With her best blood, for that arousing cause, + The freedom of her sons; those sons that now + Far from the manly blessings of her sway, + Drag the vile fetters of a Spanish lord. + And dare they, dare the vanquish'd sons of Spain + Enslave a Briton? Have they then forgot, + So soon forgot, the great, the immortal day, 60 + When rescued Sicily with joy beheld + The swift-wing'd thunder of the British arm + Disperse their navies? when their coward bands + Fled, like the raven from the bird of Jove, + From swift impending vengeance fled in vain? + Are these our lords? And can Britannia see + Her foes oft vanquish'd, thus defy her power, + Insult her standard, and enslave her sons, + And not arise to justice? Did our sires, + Unawed by chains, by exile, or by death, 70 + Preserve inviolate her guardian rights, + To Britons ever sacred, that her sons + Might give them up to Spaniards?--Turn your eyes, + Turn, ye degenerate, who with haughty boast + Call yourselves Britons, to that dismal gloom, + That dungeon dark and deep, where never thought + Of joy or peace can enter; see the gates + Harsh-creaking open; what a hideous void, + Dark as the yawning grave, while still as death + A frightful silence reigns! There on the ground 80 + Behold your brethren chain'd like beasts of prey: + There mark your numerous glories, there behold + The look that speaks unutterable woe; + The mangled limb, the faint, the deathful eye, + With famine sunk, the deep heart-bursting groan, + Suppress'd in silence; view the loathsome food, + Refused by dogs, and oh! the stinging thought! + View the dark Spaniard glorying in their wrongs, + The deadly priest triumphant in their woes, + And thundering worse damnation on their souls: 90 + While that pale form, in all the pangs of death, + Too faint to speak, yet eloquent of all, + His native British spirit yet untamed, + Raises his head; and with indignant frown + Of great defiance, and superior scorn, + Looks up and dies.--Oh! I am all on fire! + But let me spare the theme, lest future times + Should blush to hear that either conquer'd Spain + Durst offer Britain such outrageous wrong, + Or Britain tamely bore it-- 100 + Descend, ye guardian heroes of the land! + Scourges of Spain, descend! Behold your sons; + See! how they run the same heroic race, + How prompt, how ardent in their country's cause, + How greatly proud to assert their British blood, + And in their deeds reflect their fathers' fame! + Ah! would to heaven ye did not rather see + How dead to virtue in the public cause, + How cold, how careless, how to glory deaf, + They shame your laurels, and belie their birth! 110 + + Come, ye great spirits, Candish, Raleigh, Blake! + And ye of latter name, your country's pride, + Oh! come, disperse these lazy fumes of sloth, + Teach British hearts with British fires to glow! + In wakening whispers rouse our ardent youth, + Blazon the triumphs of your better days, + Paint all the glorious scenes of rightful war + In all its splendours; to their swelling souls + Say how ye bow'd th' insulting Spaniards' pride, + Say how ye thunder'd o'er their prostrate heads, 120 + Say how ye broke their lines and fired their ports, + Say how not death, in all its frightful shapes, + Could damp your souls, or shake the great resolve + For right and Britain: then display the joys + The patriot's soul exalting, while he views + Transported millions hail with loud acclaim + The guardian of their civil, sacred rights. + How greatly welcome to the virtuous man + Is death for others' good! the radiant thoughts + That beam celestial on his passing soul, 130 + The unfading crowns awaiting him above, + The exalting plaudit of the Great Supreme, + Who in his actions with complacence views + His own reflected splendour; then descend, + Though to a lower, yet a nobler scene; + Paint the just honours to his relics paid, + Show grateful millions weeping o'er his grave; + While his fair fame in each progressive age + For ever brightens; and the wise and good + Of every land in universal choir 140 + With richest incense of undying praise + His urn encircle, to the wondering world + His numerous triumphs blazon; while with awe, + With filial reverence, in his steps they tread, + And, copying every virtue, every fame, + Transplant his glories into second life, + And, with unsparing hand, make nations bless'd + By his example. Vast, immense rewards! + For all the turmoils which the virtuous mind + Encounters here. Yet, Britons, are ye cold? 150 + Yet deaf to glory, virtue, and the call + Of your poor injured countrymen? Ah! no: + I see ye are not; every bosom glows + With native greatness, and in all its state + The British spirit rises: glorious change! + Fame, virtue, freedom, welcome! Oh, forgive + The Muse, that, ardent in her sacred cause, + Your glory question'd; she beholds with joy, + She owns, she triumphs in her wish'd mistake. + See! from her sea-beat throne in awful march 160 + Britannia towers: upon her laurel crest + The plumes majestic nod; behold, she heaves + Her guardian shield, and terrible in arms + For battle shakes her adamantine spear: + Loud at her foot the British lion roars, + Frighting the nations; haughty Spain full soon + Shall hear and tremble. Go then, Britons, forth, + Your country's daring champions: tell your foes + Tell them in thunders o'er their prostrate land, + You were not born for slaves: let all your deeds 170 + Show that the sons of those immortal men, + The stars of shining story, are not slow + In virtue's path to emulate their sires, + To assert their country's rights, avenge her sons, + And hurl the bolts of justice on her foes. + + + + + +HYMN TO SCIENCE. + + 'O vitas Philosophia dux! O virtutis indagatrix, expultrixque + vitiorum. Tu urbes peperisti; tu inventrix legum, tu magistra morum + et disciplinae fuisti: ad te confugimus, a te opem petimus.'-- + _Cic. Tusc. Quaest_. + + 1 Science! thou fair effusive ray + From the great source of mental day, + Free, generous, and refined! + Descend with all thy treasures fraught, + Illumine each bewilder'd thought, + And bless my labouring mind. + + 2 But first with thy resistless light, + Disperse those phantoms from my sight, + Those mimic shades of thee: + The scholiast's learning, sophist's cant, + The visionary bigot's rant, + The monk's philosophy. + + 3 Oh! let thy powerful charms impart + The patient head, the candid heart, + Devoted to thy sway; + Which no weak passions e'er mislead, + Which still with dauntless steps proceed + Where reason points the way. + + 4 Give me to learn each secret cause; + Let Number's, Figure's, Motion's laws + Reveal'd before me stand; + These to great Nature's scenes apply, + And round the globe, and through the sky, + Disclose her working hand. + + 5 Next, to thy nobler search resign'd, + The busy, restless, Human Mind + Through every maze pursue; + Detect Perception where it lies, + Catch the Ideas as they rise, + And all their changes view. + + 6 Say from what simple springs began + The vast ambitious thoughts of man, + Which range beyond control, + Which seek eternity to trace, + Dive through the infinity of space, + And strain to grasp the whole. + + 7 Her secret stores let Memory tell, + Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell, + In all her colours dress'd; + While prompt her sallies to control, + Reason, the judge, recalls the soul + To Truth's severest test. + + 8 Then launch through Being's wide extent; + Let the fair scale with just ascent + And cautious steps be trod; + And from the dead, corporeal mass, + Through each progressive order pass + To Instinct, Reason, God. + + 9 There, Science! veil thy daring eye; + Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high, + In that divine abyss; + To Faith content thy beams to lend, + Her hopes to assure, her steps befriend + And light her way to bliss. + + 10 Then downwards take thy flight again, + Mix with the policies of men, + And social Nature's ties; + The plan, the genius of each state, + Its interest and its powers relate, + Its fortunes and its rise. + + 11 Through private life pursue thy course, + Trace every action to its source, + And means and motives weigh: + Put tempers, passions, in the scale; + Mark what degrees in each prevail, + And fix the doubtful sway. + + 12 That last best effort of thy skill, + To form the life, and rule the will, + Propitious power! impart: + Teach me to cool my passion's fires, + Make me the judge of my desires, + The master of my heart. + + 13 Raise me above the Vulgar's breath, + Pursuit of fortune, fear of death, + And all in life that's mean: + Still true to reason be my plan, + Still let my actions speak the man, + Through every various scene. + + 14 Hail! queen of manners, light of truth; + Hail! charm of age, and guide of youth; + Sweet refuge of distress: + In business, thou! exact, polite; + Thou giv'st retirement its delight, + Prosperity its grace. + + 15 Of wealth, power, freedom, thou the cause; + Foundress of order, cities, laws, + Of arts inventress thou! + Without thee, what were human-kind? + How vast their wants, their thoughts how blind! + Their joys how mean, how few! + + 16 Sun of the soul! thy beams unveil: + Let others spread the daring sail + On Fortune's faithless sea: + While, undeluded, happier I + From the rain tumult timely fly, + And sit in peace with thee. + + + + + +LOVE. AN ELEGY. + + Too much my heart of Beauty's power hath known, + Too long to Love hath reason left her throne; + Too long my genius mourn'd his myrtle chain, + And three rich years of youth consumed in vain. + My wishes, lull'd with soft inglorious dreams, + Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes: + Through each Elysian vale and fairy grove, + Through all the enchanted paradise of love, + Misled by sickly Hope's deceitful flame, + Averse to action, and renouncing fame. 10 + + At last the visionary scenes decay, + My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day, + Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road + In which my heedless feet securely trod, + And strip the phantoms of their lying charms + That lured my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms. + + For silver streams and banks bespread with flowers, + For mossy couches and harmonious bowers, + Lo! barren heaths appear, and pathless woods, + And rocks hung dreadful o'er unfathom'd floods: 20 + For openness of heart, for tender smiles, + Looks fraught with love, and wrath-disarming wiles; + Lo! sullen Spite, and perjured Lust of Gain, + And cruel Pride, and crueller Disdain; + Lo! cordial Faith to idiot airs refined, + Now coolly civil, now transporting kind. + For graceful Ease, lo! Affectation walks; + And dull Half-sense, for Wit and Wisdom talks. + New to each hour what low delight succeeds, + What precious furniture of hearts and heads! 30 + By nought their prudence, but by getting, known, + And all their courage in deceiving shown. + + See next what plagues attend the lover's state, + What frightful forms of Terror, Scorn, and Hate! + See burning Fury heaven and earth defy! + See dumb Despair in icy fetters lie! + See black Suspicion bend his gloomy brow, + The hideous image of himself to view! + And fond Belief, with all a lover's flame, + Sink in those arms that point his head with shame! 40 + There wan Dejection, faltering as he goes, + In shades and silence vainly seeks repose; + Musing through pathless wilds, consumes the day, + Then lost in darkness weeps the hours away. + Here the gay crowd of Luxury advance, + Some touch the lyre, and others urge the dance: + On every head the rosy garland glows, + In every hand the golden goblet flows. + The Syren views them with exulting eyes, + And laughs at bashful Virtue as she flies. 50 + But see behind, where Scorn and Want appear, + The grave remonstrance and the witty sneer; + See fell Remorse in action, prompt to dart + Her snaky poison through the conscious heart; + And Sloth to cancel, with oblivious shame, + The fair memorial of recording Fame. + + Are these delights that one would wish to gain? + Is this the Elysium of a sober brain? + To wait for happiness in female smiles, + Bear all her scorn, be caught with all her wiles, 60 + With prayers, with bribes, with lies, her pity crave, + Bless her hard bonds, and boast to be her slave; + To feel, for trifles, a distracting train + Of hopes and terrors equally in vain; + This hour to tremble, and the next to glow; + Can Pride, can Sense, can Reason, stoop so low: + When Virtue, at an easier price, displays + The sacred wreaths of honourable praise; + When Wisdom utters her divine decree, + To laugh at pompous Folly, and be free? 70 + + I bid adieu, then, to these woeful scenes; + I bid adieu to all the sex of queens; + Adieu to every suffering, simple soul, + That lets a woman's will his ease control. + There laugh, ye witty; and rebuke, ye grave! + For me, I scorn to boast that I'm a slave. + I bid the whining brotherhood be gone; + Joy to my heart! my wishes are my own! + Farewell the female heaven, the female hell; + To the great God of Love a glad farewell. 80 + Is this the triumph of thy awful name? + Are these the splendid hopes that urged thy aim, + When first my bosom own'd thy haughty sway? + When thus Minerva heard thee, boasting, say-- + 'Go, martial maid, elsewhere thy arts employ, + Nor hope to shelter that devoted boy. + Go teach the solemn sons of Care and Age, + The pensive statesman, and the midnight sage; + The young with me must other lessons prove, + Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love. 90 + Behold, his heart thy grave advice disdains; + Behold, I bind him in eternal chains.'-- + Alas! great Love, how idle was the boast! + Thy chains are broken, and thy lessons lost; + Thy wilful rage has tired my suffering heart, + And passion, reason, forced thee to depart. + But wherefore dost thou linger on thy way? + Why vainly search for some pretence to stay, + When crowds of vassals court thy pleasing yoke, + And countless victims bow them to the stroke? 100 + Lo! round thy shrine a thousand youths advance, + Warm with the gentle ardours of romance; + Each longs to assert thy cause with feats of arms, + And make the world confess Dulcinea's charms. + Ten thousand girls with flowery chaplets crown'd, + To groves and streams thy tender triumph sound: + Each bids the stream in murmurs speak her flame, + Each calls the grove to sigh her shepherd's name. + But, if thy pride such easy honour scorn, + If nobler trophies must thy toil adorn, 110 + Behold yon flowery antiquated maid + Bright in the bloom of threescore years display'd; + Her shalt thou bind in thy delightful chains, + And thrill with gentle pangs her wither'd veins, + Her frosty cheek with crimson blushes dye, + With dreams of rapture melt her maudlin eye. + + Turn then thy labours to the servile crowd, + Entice the wary, and control the proud; + Make the sad miser his best gains forego, + The solemn statesman sigh to be a beau, 120 + The bold coquette with fondest passion burn, + The Bacchanalian o'er his bottle mourn; + And that chief glory of thy power maintain, + 'To poise ambition in a female brain.' + Be these thy triumphs; but no more presume + That my rebellious heart will yield thee room: + I know thy puny force, thy simple wiles; + I break triumphant through thy flimsy toils; + I see thy dying lamp's last languid glow, + Thy arrows blunted and unbraced thy bow. 130 + I feel diviner fires my breast inflame, + To active science, and ingenuous fame; + Resume the paths my earliest choice began, + And lose, with pride, the lover in the man. + + + + + +TO CORDELIA. + + JULY 1740. + + 1 From pompous life's dull masquerade, + From Pride's pursuits, and Passion's war, + Far, my Cordelia, very far, + To thee and me may Heaven assign + The silent pleasures of the shade, + The joys of peace, unenvied, though divine! + + 2 Safe in the calm embowering grove, + As thy own lovely brow serene; + Behold the world's fantastic scene! + What low pursuits employ the great, + What tinsel things their wishes move, + The forms of Fashion, and the toys of State. + + 3 In vain are all Contentment's charms, + Her placid mien, her cheerful eye, + For look, Cordelia, how they fly! + Allured by Power, Applause, or Gain, + They fly her kind protecting arms; + Ah, blind to pleasure, and in love with pain! + + 4 Turn, and indulge a fairer view, + Smile on the joys which here conspire; + O joys harmonious as my lyre! + O prospect of enchanting things, + As ever slumbering poet knew, + When Love and Fancy wrapt him in their wings! + + 5 Here, no rude storm of Passion blows, + But Sports and Smiles, and Virtues play, + Cheer'd by Affection's purest ray; + The air still breathes Contentment's balm, + And the clear stream of Pleasure flows + For ever active, yet for ever calm. + + + + + +SONG. + + 1 The shape alone let others prize, + The features of the fair; + I look for spirit in her eyes, + And meaning in her air; + + 2 A damask cheek, an ivory arm, + Shall ne'er my wishes win: + Give me an animated form, + That speaks a mind within; + + 3 A face where awful honour shines, + Where sense and sweetness move, + And angel innocence refines + The tenderness of love. + + 4 These are the soul of Beauty's frame; + Without whose vital aid, + Unfinish'd all her features seem, + And all her roses dead. + + 5 But, ah! where both their charms unite, + How perfect is the view, + With every image of delight, + With graces ever new: + + 6 Of power to charm the greatest woe, + The wildest rage control, + Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, + And rapture through the soul. + + 7 Their power but faintly to express, + All language must despair; + But go, behold Arpasia's face, + And read it perfect there. + + + +END OF AKENSIDE'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poetical Works of Akenside, by Mark Akenside + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS OF AKENSIDE *** + +This file should be named 8aken10.txt or 8aken10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8aken11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8aken10a.txt + +Produced by Jonathon Ingram, Robert Prince +and the Online Distribted Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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