 | American poems, selected and original |  |
THE COUNTRY MEETING.
BY T. C. JAMES.
Of war's tremendous deeds, the din of arms,
And acts by Fame renown'd, fain would I sing,
But that ambition ne'er my bosom warms,
Nor would Calliope her succour bring
To bard that soars with too advent'rous wing.
O Shenstone! sweetest child of fancy fair,
Dart one fond ray, and guide the weakest quill,
That ever rashly claim'd thy guardian care,
To point the high path up the slipp'ry hill,
Where thou thy lyre dost touch with still improving skill.
And acts by Fame renown'd, fain would I sing,
But that ambition ne'er my bosom warms,
Nor would Calliope her succour bring
To bard that soars with too advent'rous wing.
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Dart one fond ray, and guide the weakest quill,
That ever rashly claim'd thy guardian care,
To point the high path up the slipp'ry hill,
Where thou thy lyre dost touch with still improving skill.
Themes that have ne'er been polish'd into rhyme,
Would a faint pencil in this verse pourtray,
If in the fond attempt to gain on time,
No taunting critic meet me on my way,
And with these accents rude my heart dismay:
‘Vain youth, forbear, by desp'rate folly mov'd,
‘Of poetasters the mean herd to swell;
‘But mark his strain whom laurell'd Phœbus lov'd,
‘What Horace, tuneful bard, has sung so well,
‘How Dædalus's son, bold artist, headlong fell.’
Would a faint pencil in this verse pourtray,
If in the fond attempt to gain on time,
No taunting critic meet me on my way,
And with these accents rude my heart dismay:
‘Vain youth, forbear, by desp'rate folly mov'd,
‘Of poetasters the mean herd to swell;
‘But mark his strain whom laurell'd Phœbus lov'd,
‘What Horace, tuneful bard, has sung so well,
‘How Dædalus's son, bold artist, headlong fell.’
View yonder ancient dome with trees beset,
From which no lofty spire doth proudly rise,
Nor hence each week, when congregation's met,
Are studied hymns e'er wing'd unto the skies,
Nor doth amen from parish clerk arise.
E'en music's lulling charms beseemeth wrong
To those who did this modest temple rear;
For all, who to those lonely confines throng,
Worship in guise of solemn silent prayer;
Nor can they think that words their sinful deeds repair.
From which no lofty spire doth proudly rise,
Nor hence each week, when congregation's met,
Are studied hymns e'er wing'd unto the skies,
Nor doth amen from parish clerk arise.
E'en music's lulling charms beseemeth wrong
To those who did this modest temple rear;
For all, who to those lonely confines throng,
Worship in guise of solemn silent prayer;
Nor can they think that words their sinful deeds repair.
No pulpit here doth grace the naked wall,
Nor doth the sculptor his gay art express:
For thus they teach: ‘Religion does not call
‘For the vain ornaments of splendid dress,
‘Nor will meek heaven superfluous grandeur bless.’
And wrong they hold it, that the flock should pay
For truths which ought to flow without controul,
Free as the silver dew, or light of day,
To beam mild virtue on the expanding soul,
And spread celestial sparks, free gift, from pole to pole.
Nor doth the sculptor his gay art express:
For thus they teach: ‘Religion does not call
‘For the vain ornaments of splendid dress,
‘Nor will meek heaven superfluous grandeur bless.’
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For truths which ought to flow without controul,
Free as the silver dew, or light of day,
To beam mild virtue on the expanding soul,
And spread celestial sparks, free gift, from pole to pole.
But see, o'er yonder field, the elder train
Of village dames their little infants bring,
Who else might loiter on the grassy plain,
And wet their new clothes in yon bubbling spring,
Which would their parents' minds with sorrow sting.
The sportive urchins oft will skip away,
To chase the partridge from the neighb'ring bush:
And oft, with balls of well-attemper'd clay,
Will from its covert fright the trembling thrush,
Nor mind the matron's careful voice, which would them hush.
Of village dames their little infants bring,
Who else might loiter on the grassy plain,
And wet their new clothes in yon bubbling spring,
Which would their parents' minds with sorrow sting.
The sportive urchins oft will skip away,
To chase the partridge from the neighb'ring bush:
And oft, with balls of well-attemper'd clay,
Will from its covert fright the trembling thrush,
Nor mind the matron's careful voice, which would them hush.
Down the slop'd hill the gayer tribe descend,
On neighing steeds, that champ the steeled bit,
Strait to the fane their pompous way they tend;
There 'midst their peers in goodly order sit,
Young swains for strength renown'd, and maids for wit:
Such strength as at the mill-door oft is seen
When Colin lifts the sack of mighty weight;
Such wit as sports in gambols o'er the green,
And would the ear of nicer townsman grate:
He'd call it shocking stuff, and rude, unseemly prate.
On neighing steeds, that champ the steeled bit,
Strait to the fane their pompous way they tend;
There 'midst their peers in goodly order sit,
Young swains for strength renown'd, and maids for wit:
Such strength as at the mill-door oft is seen
When Colin lifts the sack of mighty weight;
Such wit as sports in gambols o'er the green,
And would the ear of nicer townsman grate:
He'd call it shocking stuff, and rude, unseemly prate.
Yet Humour her abode will deign to fix
Amidst the lively rustics of the place,
And with the village hinds will often mix,
Giving to ev'ry feat a festive grace,
And spreading chearfulness o'er ev'ry face.
Let the polite, the polish'd, blame their joys,
Whom Nature, unconstrain'd, can never charm:
This is the life which ennui never cloys,
Nor e'er can fell Ambition work it harm,
Blowing with hideous blast its poisonous alarm.
Amidst the lively rustics of the place,
And with the village hinds will often mix,
Giving to ev'ry feat a festive grace,
And spreading chearfulness o'er ev'ry face.
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Whom Nature, unconstrain'd, can never charm:
This is the life which ennui never cloys,
Nor e'er can fell Ambition work it harm,
Blowing with hideous blast its poisonous alarm.
See yonder youth on prancing bay steed ride,
While satisfaction on his broad front beams;
And view his gentle charmer by his side,
For whom he wishes, and of whom he dreams;
Of heavenly form and mind to him she seems.
For her each ev'ning anxiously he culls,
Of wild flow'rs fair, a nosegay scented sweet:
For her the chesnut drops its prickly hulls,
And the wood pigeon yields its sav'ry meat,
With thousand tempting gifts which verse cannot repeat.
While satisfaction on his broad front beams;
And view his gentle charmer by his side,
For whom he wishes, and of whom he dreams;
Of heavenly form and mind to him she seems.
For her each ev'ning anxiously he culls,
Of wild flow'rs fair, a nosegay scented sweet:
For her the chesnut drops its prickly hulls,
And the wood pigeon yields its sav'ry meat,
With thousand tempting gifts which verse cannot repeat.
And now thro' folding doors, full wide display'd,
The assembly's grave and pious numbers throng,
While well each noisy buzzing murmur's stay'd,
With the loose prattling of each infant tongue;
For oft confusion has from childhood sprung.
See the wise elder's venerable grace,
Mark with what slow-pac'd dignity he moves;
See ev'ry little eye hangs on his face
And over all his features fondly roves,
For he the junior train affectionately loves.
The assembly's grave and pious numbers throng,
While well each noisy buzzing murmur's stay'd,
With the loose prattling of each infant tongue;
For oft confusion has from childhood sprung.
See the wise elder's venerable grace,
Mark with what slow-pac'd dignity he moves;
See ev'ry little eye hangs on his face
And over all his features fondly roves,
For he the junior train affectionately loves.
The village teacher sits with looks profound,
And marks the ent'ring throng, with eye askance;
If, as he careful views the dome around,
He should on careless pupil's visage chance,
He sends him straight a play-forbidding glance.
Of looks like these he hath a plenteous store,
To fright his students from each frolic mood:
And well they watch to see his aspect lour,
Trying each art to avert the baleful wood,
By sitting wond'rous still, and seeming e'en as good.
And marks the ent'ring throng, with eye askance;
If, as he careful views the dome around,
He should on careless pupil's visage chance,
He sends him straight a play-forbidding glance.
238
To fright his students from each frolic mood:
And well they watch to see his aspect lour,
Trying each art to avert the baleful wood,
By sitting wond'rous still, and seeming e'en as good.
Silence with Sleep his empire now divides,
While some on this, and some on that side nod;
The ploughman still his steers and ploughshare guides,
And breaks in pleasing dreams the fancied sod;
While the school-mistress wields the birchen rod.
Others, more wakeful, plan their future deeds,
While on increase of wealth their wishes stray:
The farmer thus in rapture counts his steeds,
And deals to each his part of winter's hay,
Till spring renews the grass, and gives returning May.
While some on this, and some on that side nod;
The ploughman still his steers and ploughshare guides,
And breaks in pleasing dreams the fancied sod;
While the school-mistress wields the birchen rod.
Others, more wakeful, plan their future deeds,
While on increase of wealth their wishes stray:
The farmer thus in rapture counts his steeds,
And deals to each his part of winter's hay,
Till spring renews the grass, and gives returning May.
Where will not thirst of treach'rous gold approach,
Since here, e'en here, it holds its wide domain!
From the warm cit who rolls in gilded coach,
To the dull carter, whistling o'er the plain,
Does Plutus, god of shining lucre, reign.
Happy, thrice happy are th'instructed few,
On whom fell Want ne'er lays her harpy claws,
But, far retir'd from 'midst the toiling crew,
Live in observance of wise Nature's laws,
And learn from her to trace the great Eternal Cause.
Since here, e'en here, it holds its wide domain!
From the warm cit who rolls in gilded coach,
To the dull carter, whistling o'er the plain,
Does Plutus, god of shining lucre, reign.
Happy, thrice happy are th'instructed few,
On whom fell Want ne'er lays her harpy claws,
But, far retir'd from 'midst the toiling crew,
Live in observance of wise Nature's laws,
And learn from her to trace the great Eternal Cause.
| American poems, selected and original | |