Eidyllia or, miscellaneous poems; On losing Milton: an Ode. To Isabella: an Ode. The Fair Matron: an Ode. Virtue's Expostulation: an Ode. To Adversity: an Ode. Philocles: a Monody. The Muses triumphant over Venus: a Tale. With a hint to the British Poets. By the Author of Animadversions upon the Reverend Doctor Brown's three essays on the Characteristicks; and of a Criticism on the late Reverend Mr Holland's Sermons [by Robert Colvill] |
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| PHILOCLES:
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 | Eidyllia |  |
28
PHILOCLES:
A Monody.
Well. Now my conscious heart is lighter grown
For Plato read, as Philocles advis'd:
With whom, as closely may I Virtue's Mount,
As from our cloyster'd study oft I climb'd
This Constitution-Hill, to ope our breasts;
To brace our nerves, and strengthen inward powers;
To drink like nectar mid-day's wholesome air;
To enjoy, all-blessing Sun! thy chearful rays
In center of the blue expanse, or feel
Thy influence, tho' in flying clouds conceal'd.
Winter retiring, but by slow degrees,
As loth its power and horrors to resign:
Such was the season, when, as now alone,
I with him often hither came, and us'd
This way to walk these whistling firs among.
Here was our path, just here, tho' now o'ergrown;
Since that, O Friendship! by thy foot untrod.
For Plato read, as Philocles advis'd:
With whom, as closely may I Virtue's Mount,
As from our cloyster'd study oft I climb'd
This Constitution-Hill, to ope our breasts;
To brace our nerves, and strengthen inward powers;
To drink like nectar mid-day's wholesome air;
To enjoy, all-blessing Sun! thy chearful rays
In center of the blue expanse, or feel
Thy influence, tho' in flying clouds conceal'd.
Winter retiring, but by slow degrees,
As loth its power and horrors to resign:
Such was the season, when, as now alone,
I with him often hither came, and us'd
This way to walk these whistling firs among.
Here was our path, just here, tho' now o'ergrown;
Since that, O Friendship! by thy foot untrod.
29
Since last we here together stood retir'd,
Seven years, seven happy years flew o'er our heads;
And five years more have I my loss deplor'd,
In learning's maze unguided by his clue.
Ah! Little did I then, what now I feel,
Expect. Ah! Little thought this solitude,
To me so grateful then, cou'd e'er become
The cause of heaviness and sighs renew'd.
Why do I foolish hither come so oft,
To stir up by each trivial circumstance,
The sad remembrance, sad yet ever dear,
Of my Instructor and my faithful Friend?
Seven years, seven happy years flew o'er our heads;
And five years more have I my loss deplor'd,
In learning's maze unguided by his clue.
Ah! Little did I then, what now I feel,
Expect. Ah! Little thought this solitude,
To me so grateful then, cou'd e'er become
The cause of heaviness and sighs renew'd.
Why do I foolish hither come so oft,
To stir up by each trivial circumstance,
The sad remembrance, sad yet ever dear,
Of my Instructor and my faithful Friend?
I recollect
Much of his moralizing on this spot:
None that to forlorn friendship gives relief.
Our eye once that way turn'd, says he, Behold
That Gothic building, emblem, undesign'd
I deem yet just, of Hierarchal Pride:
Which on yon clouded summit looking sat,
Down on the layman's soul as on a worm;
Who gaping strains his neck, and staring eye,
And trembles at the spire, which to high heaven
Seems reaching, as the Priestly Pow'r rever'd.
Or else with that stupendous weight compar'd
His little cottage, and himself contemns.
Still more the paintings when his eye revolves,
Or awful vestments of deem'd sanctity;
Or organ's solemn sound his sense o'erpow'rs;
And other decorations of the arts
Amusing, then alone to men indulg'd:
All better science and free thought unknown;
Which late, but, God be thank'd! at last arose,
And with them fure attendant Gospel-Light
Unclouded, as now shine thy smiling beams,
O sun! Thus he fair Liberty wou'd sing
Religious, Civil. And for principles,
So blest! wou'd oft his generous Father thank,
And for his Father thank his gracious God.
Much of his moralizing on this spot:
None that to forlorn friendship gives relief.
Our eye once that way turn'd, says he, Behold
That Gothic building, emblem, undesign'd
I deem yet just, of Hierarchal Pride:
Which on yon clouded summit looking sat,
Down on the layman's soul as on a worm;
Who gaping strains his neck, and staring eye,
And trembles at the spire, which to high heaven
Seems reaching, as the Priestly Pow'r rever'd.
Or else with that stupendous weight compar'd
His little cottage, and himself contemns.
30
Or awful vestments of deem'd sanctity;
Or organ's solemn sound his sense o'erpow'rs;
And other decorations of the arts
Amusing, then alone to men indulg'd:
All better science and free thought unknown;
Which late, but, God be thank'd! at last arose,
And with them fure attendant Gospel-Light
Unclouded, as now shine thy smiling beams,
O sun! Thus he fair Liberty wou'd sing
Religious, Civil. And for principles,
So blest! wou'd oft his generous Father thank,
And for his Father thank his gracious God.
He left me musing, musing with delight,
On his not noisy forward party-strains
Of specious liberty misunderstood:
But modest, gentle, friendly, and sincere,
Benevolent to all. He soon return'd.
I had been scribbling. Pray, Sir! lend your ear,
He understood not for my faultering tongue,
And quivering lips; then took it, Let me read.
My chilling fears at his approving smile,
Blush'd into conscious worth, till then unknown.
For ne'er wou'd he the embrio-genius crush;
He'd, as with parent-bill, pick th'opening shell.
He'd never snarle, my wildness ne'er deride;
But overlook, or soften as he read:
My fervour check, but, as he check'd, inflame:
My feeble judgment teach to apprehend,
Truth in simplicity how best adorn'd,
Fair Nature loveliest faithfully describ'd.
On his not noisy forward party-strains
Of specious liberty misunderstood:
But modest, gentle, friendly, and sincere,
Benevolent to all. He soon return'd.
I had been scribbling. Pray, Sir! lend your ear,
He understood not for my faultering tongue,
And quivering lips; then took it, Let me read.
My chilling fears at his approving smile,
Blush'd into conscious worth, till then unknown.
For ne'er wou'd he the embrio-genius crush;
He'd, as with parent-bill, pick th'opening shell.
31
But overlook, or soften as he read:
My fervour check, but, as he check'd, inflame:
My feeble judgment teach to apprehend,
Truth in simplicity how best adorn'd,
Fair Nature loveliest faithfully describ'd.
Rules, how reverse! now my officious Friends
With kindness surfeiting cram down my throat;
Which, like a vomit work, 'till quite disgorg'd:
Vaunted Authority: or varying Taste,
Elaborate, fine, so delicately smooth,
It ne'er the judgment nor the heart disturbs:
Sly Caution whispering, Sir! it may offend.
Best be advis'd. Then take the consequence,
Unknowing of the world, to me ingrate:
Or Slavish Imitation tho' of Greeks;
Whose Names so sacred on thy wide-spread wings.
Thou, Memory! bear'st thro' immortality,
And, fluttering o'er this Island pleas'd, salut'st
Us happy, but for liberty abus'd.
Free as thy person, be thy genius free,
Earth's Envy, my Britannia, Heaven's Delight!
The world is boundless. Nor has all its scenes,
Nor ever will the human pencil draw.
Bold Freedom's mighty Spirit uncontroul'd,
In bards of heav'n or earth, prolific works,
Sure as the Genial Sun, the same effects
For ever. Beauty's fresh perpetual streams
Still flow as from an inexhausted source,
To bathe the glowing fancy in new delight.
See! These my Sons! I mean not to o'erawe.
Mark well their steps. Be reverent. Yet pursue.
Than copy servile, rather emulate.
Fear not by your ambition to offend.
For Fathers love to see their Sons excel.
With kindness surfeiting cram down my throat;
Which, like a vomit work, 'till quite disgorg'd:
Vaunted Authority: or varying Taste,
Elaborate, fine, so delicately smooth,
It ne'er the judgment nor the heart disturbs:
Sly Caution whispering, Sir! it may offend.
Best be advis'd. Then take the consequence,
Unknowing of the world, to me ingrate:
Or Slavish Imitation tho' of Greeks;
Whose Names so sacred on thy wide-spread wings.
Thou, Memory! bear'st thro' immortality,
And, fluttering o'er this Island pleas'd, salut'st
Us happy, but for liberty abus'd.
Free as thy person, be thy genius free,
Earth's Envy, my Britannia, Heaven's Delight!
The world is boundless. Nor has all its scenes,
Nor ever will the human pencil draw.
Bold Freedom's mighty Spirit uncontroul'd,
32
Sure as the Genial Sun, the same effects
For ever. Beauty's fresh perpetual streams
Still flow as from an inexhausted source,
To bathe the glowing fancy in new delight.
See! These my Sons! I mean not to o'erawe.
Mark well their steps. Be reverent. Yet pursue.
Than copy servile, rather emulate.
Fear not by your ambition to offend.
For Fathers love to see their Sons excel.
Ah! Now,
My faithful Friend! I feel my fatal loss.
What death denies, wou'd fancy cou'd supply;
Thy presence with me as when real, to catch
Thy modesty, thy firmness, gentle fire:
As when we rising here together stood
To take, as I do now, my last farewel.
Thou did'st invoke this solitary grove,
Yon sacred place, where to reside you love,
Long may you love, ye Muses ever blest!
Farewel, this peaceful happy scene, farewel!
Not forward inclination me at least
Into the world, but filial duty calls;
Or duty's inclination sweetly draws.
What we have learn'd, oh! may we ne'er forget!
May we be ever learning, tho' employ'd
In busy scenes to study less benign!
For Science, like the Soul, is ever free,
Not bound by charters, nor to place confin'd.
Nor do ye, Muses! on yon top alone
Up that steep brow above our ken abide:
(Or we in never-ending sighs despair:)
But sweetly deck the flowery plain below
At your Parnassus' Foot; nor there alone.
Of rural seats and fountains not asham'd,
You visit, wheresoe'er pure heart invokes.
Nor as we hope e'en palaces decline,
But bless the world with men, yourselves inspire.
From hence, but not from you, wou'd we depart.
Desert not us, nor fly our wish'd embrace.
Oh! May some spark of your celestial fire
With love of virtue our young hearts inflame;
And howsoever distant still unite.
Some Genius too we wou'd. How else admire
Your beauties shou'd we, or your pleasures taste?
Whatever portion, more or less, you deign,
As you command shall ever be improv'd:
And if Sincerity might swear, we'd swear.
Increase our portion then: since not our hearts
For wealth or pleasure pant, or wide renown.
Other attachments dear that wish extort.
Much to my Father I, to Mothers both,
To Brothers and to Sisters much we owe.
Shall senseless earth be grateful to his toil?
Shall his paternal orchards, or fair trees
Of his own planting, bear him fruit? I none?
Might he but ever say, I thank thee, Son;
Their anxious pains our Mothers ne'er repent;
Nor none, who love us, ever be asham'd;
This, for more happiness we cannot crave.
My faithful Friend! I feel my fatal loss.
What death denies, wou'd fancy cou'd supply;
Thy presence with me as when real, to catch
Thy modesty, thy firmness, gentle fire:
As when we rising here together stood
To take, as I do now, my last farewel.
Thou did'st invoke this solitary grove,
Yon sacred place, where to reside you love,
Long may you love, ye Muses ever blest!
Farewel, this peaceful happy scene, farewel!
Not forward inclination me at least
Into the world, but filial duty calls;
Or duty's inclination sweetly draws.
What we have learn'd, oh! may we ne'er forget!
33
In busy scenes to study less benign!
For Science, like the Soul, is ever free,
Not bound by charters, nor to place confin'd.
Nor do ye, Muses! on yon top alone
Up that steep brow above our ken abide:
(Or we in never-ending sighs despair:)
But sweetly deck the flowery plain below
At your Parnassus' Foot; nor there alone.
Of rural seats and fountains not asham'd,
You visit, wheresoe'er pure heart invokes.
Nor as we hope e'en palaces decline,
But bless the world with men, yourselves inspire.
From hence, but not from you, wou'd we depart.
Desert not us, nor fly our wish'd embrace.
Oh! May some spark of your celestial fire
With love of virtue our young hearts inflame;
And howsoever distant still unite.
Some Genius too we wou'd. How else admire
Your beauties shou'd we, or your pleasures taste?
Whatever portion, more or less, you deign,
As you command shall ever be improv'd:
And if Sincerity might swear, we'd swear.
Increase our portion then: since not our hearts
For wealth or pleasure pant, or wide renown.
Other attachments dear that wish extort.
34
To Brothers and to Sisters much we owe.
Shall senseless earth be grateful to his toil?
Shall his paternal orchards, or fair trees
Of his own planting, bear him fruit? I none?
Might he but ever say, I thank thee, Son;
Their anxious pains our Mothers ne'er repent;
Nor none, who love us, ever be asham'd;
This, for more happiness we cannot crave.
Such pious strains I heard, with what delight!
Yet did not thank him; cou'd not. Pulse alone
High-beating everlasting friendship swore.
Yes, everlasting: nor did I reflect,
That he was mortal. Else nor then my joy,
Nor grief at Leedyate else, had been extreme.
Me, there on friendship's happiness intent,
Delightful theme! in hope of my reward
His generous ear to please, the news surpriz'd.
Down drop'd my trembling pen: nor since resum'd.
Scarce, what I'd written, cou'd I more believe.
Now I may stay at home. My summer-jaunts,
Said I, for health, instruction now are o'er.
Past joys or griefs, how painful to review!
Yet did not thank him; cou'd not. Pulse alone
High-beating everlasting friendship swore.
Yes, everlasting: nor did I reflect,
That he was mortal. Else nor then my joy,
Nor grief at Leedyate else, had been extreme.
Me, there on friendship's happiness intent,
Delightful theme! in hope of my reward
His generous ear to please, the news surpriz'd.
Down drop'd my trembling pen: nor since resum'd.
Scarce, what I'd written, cou'd I more believe.
Now I may stay at home. My summer-jaunts,
Said I, for health, instruction now are o'er.
Past joys or griefs, how painful to review!
As some to Bath, I to my Friend retir'd,
An annual visit paid: found other smiles,
Than they I deem, more constant, more sincere.
We chatted, walk'd, or wou'd together read;
With critical severity chastise,
Truth undisguis'd, and freedom unreserv'd.
Sometimes he'd say, This, Sir! I had from you.
'Twas by reflection then all from yourself.
United so in heart and sentiment,
All property was lost. Nor was the praise,
Of what one wrote, to th'other e'er denied.
An annual visit paid: found other smiles,
35
We chatted, walk'd, or wou'd together read;
With critical severity chastise,
Truth undisguis'd, and freedom unreserv'd.
Sometimes he'd say, This, Sir! I had from you.
'Twas by reflection then all from yourself.
United so in heart and sentiment,
All property was lost. Nor was the praise,
Of what one wrote, to th'other e'er denied.
'Twas long the mournful visit I defer'd,
In hope to find Parental Grief allay'd.
Not salutation's smile I then receiv'd,
As wont, but friendly welcome and compos'd,
Chearfully grave. Few were our words, and low;
Clock's pendulum too often heard: And, ah!
How slower now, than once, the heavy time
It measures out, in moments all perceiv'd!
In hope to find Parental Grief allay'd.
Not salutation's smile I then receiv'd,
As wont, but friendly welcome and compos'd,
Chearfully grave. Few were our words, and low;
Clock's pendulum too often heard: And, ah!
How slower now, than once, the heavy time
It measures out, in moments all perceiv'd!
Next morn desir'd to play, I'd brought no lute.
But play I must on one, by chance I'd left.
Than sinless Infant's smile, than Beauty's bloom,
Youth's gaiety, or Man's meridian strength,
I, modest aged chearful Piety
For due respect too thankful, more admire.
And loth to play, yet to oblige inclin'd,
As Easy Friendship easily o'ercome.
I'd stole a grace. She turning drop'd a tear:
Then smil'd complacence, Sir! so sung my Son.
But play I must on one, by chance I'd left.
Than sinless Infant's smile, than Beauty's bloom,
Youth's gaiety, or Man's meridian strength,
I, modest aged chearful Piety
For due respect too thankful, more admire.
And loth to play, yet to oblige inclin'd,
36
I'd stole a grace. She turning drop'd a tear:
Then smil'd complacence, Sir! so sung my Son.
Damætas from his morning-care return'd:
We took a walk. In silence sad, or sounds
Of chitchat forc'd scarce inwardly perceiv'd,
Well as we cou'd suppressing we conceal'd
His anguish he, and I my grief, reviv'd
By every little circumstance around.
We took a walk. In silence sad, or sounds
Of chitchat forc'd scarce inwardly perceiv'd,
Well as we cou'd suppressing we conceal'd
His anguish he, and I my grief, reviv'd
By every little circumstance around.
Full-loaden then the pear-tree; where reclin'd
Us'd Philocles and I together read.
When first he brought me to his favourite tree,
For so he call'd it, Taste this pear, how sweet,
Not over luscious; nor on palate leaves
A sickly relish. Such should pleasure be.
This moral on it smiling he ingrafts.
Us'd Philocles and I together read.
When first he brought me to his favourite tree,
For so he call'd it, Taste this pear, how sweet,
Not over luscious; nor on palate leaves
A sickly relish. Such should pleasure be.
This moral on it smiling he ingrafts.
Here as we pass'd. He calmly look'd around;
Now on our wonted seat; then on the tree:
Then upward turn'd his eye. I blush'd at sight
Of so much piety. He sigh'd: and seem'd,
As he wou'd speak. Now shall my longing ear,
Said I, his consolations blest partake:
With hanging head long listen'd; nothing heard:
Then stole a glance: and knew not whether more
To pity or congratulate. He sigh'd;
But sigh'd, as Saints for immortality:
Nor spoke; save what the scene, a Father's look,
Silence, in deep solemnity combin'd,
Grief-healing strains to me like these address'd.
Now on our wonted seat; then on the tree:
Then upward turn'd his eye. I blush'd at sight
Of so much piety. He sigh'd: and seem'd,
As he wou'd speak. Now shall my longing ear,
Said I, his consolations blest partake:
With hanging head long listen'd; nothing heard:
37
To pity or congratulate. He sigh'd;
But sigh'd, as Saints for immortality:
Nor spoke; save what the scene, a Father's look,
Silence, in deep solemnity combin'd,
Grief-healing strains to me like these address'd.
See this, of all that in my orchard grow,
The fairest, my own planting, fragrant shade
Wide-spreading once o'er its young Lord my Son.
It stands. It flourishes. From waxen bole,
It shoots thick branches upwards and around:
And earlier fruit than common bore, still bears.
Beneath its cumbrous bounty, how it bends!
Where's He then, we with sweet solicitude
And still-increasing satisfaction nurs'd?
Who, with whatever joy can bless parental hearts,
All our fond labours dutiful o'erpaid.
In him I strength and prudence felt renew'd.
Nor fear'd I age, nor life's infirmities.
But he is gone. And Age! How fast it comes!
With its infirmities, how hideous grown!
Ah! such a Son! And is he then destroy'd?
Blasted my Son by angry lightning-flash?
Up by the root from God's creation tore?
Nor is transplanted to some kindlier soil?
And Virtue then a shadow? Heaven a dream?
His life and mine in a delusion spent?
To this whole world the future give the lie?
Here Goodness smile? Confusion there destroy?
Flat contradiction! impious disbelief!
Thy cordial drops into a Father's heart,
Thy powerful drops, sweet Hope divine! instill.
O God!
In all thy ways alike thy Goodness shines
Clear in my faith; tho' dark to mortal eye.
The fairest, my own planting, fragrant shade
Wide-spreading once o'er its young Lord my Son.
It stands. It flourishes. From waxen bole,
It shoots thick branches upwards and around:
And earlier fruit than common bore, still bears.
Beneath its cumbrous bounty, how it bends!
Where's He then, we with sweet solicitude
And still-increasing satisfaction nurs'd?
Who, with whatever joy can bless parental hearts,
All our fond labours dutiful o'erpaid.
In him I strength and prudence felt renew'd.
Nor fear'd I age, nor life's infirmities.
But he is gone. And Age! How fast it comes!
With its infirmities, how hideous grown!
Ah! such a Son! And is he then destroy'd?
Blasted my Son by angry lightning-flash?
Up by the root from God's creation tore?
Nor is transplanted to some kindlier soil?
And Virtue then a shadow? Heaven a dream?
38
To this whole world the future give the lie?
Here Goodness smile? Confusion there destroy?
Flat contradiction! impious disbelief!
Thy cordial drops into a Father's heart,
Thy powerful drops, sweet Hope divine! instill.
O God!
In all thy ways alike thy Goodness shines
Clear in my faith; tho' dark to mortal eye.
In pious equanimity serene
Such arguments a Father found. I none?
Oft have I heard, oft from my Mother heard,
That friendship is immortal. So my heart,
My beating heart and upward eyes persuade.
But friendship mutual is, or not at all.
Therefore both parties live. Then lives my Friend.
Who was his Father's Glory, Mother's joy:
Of his Relations, Friends the dear delight:
To me a faithful guide. Was, did I say?
Art still thy Father's glory, Mother's joy:
Of thy Relations, Friends the dear delight:
My guide thou art: still shalt be, Faithful Guide!
Ah! Cruel Air! Of life and death alike
The cause, if thro' thee fevers are convey'd.
Where wast thou Wholesome Air? For purer breast
Thou coud'st not fill; nor play about a heart,
With sentiments more generous e'er inflam'd.
Where wast thou then? Sure not at thy command,
Veil'd Modesty! Or didst thou thy fair Charge
Neglect? Thou never didst thy Charge neglect.
Did then the Nine, or some Angelic Choir,
Join in request to the Almighty Lord?
Obtain? And thee dispatch to rob the earth?
E'en this poor earth? In Angels' bosom then
Dwells envy? Or is Heaven itself too, poor?
Or did ye mean to punish us mankind;
As if he was not here enough esteem'd?
Ah! Ye mistook. We were not so ingrate.
Him all who knew, or lov'd him, or rever'd:
I, as a Father and a Friend, lament:
In learning's school my Partner, Spur and Guide.
If ye my words, nor these my sighs, believe;
Ask that Transparent Form, who on me smiles,
And may'st thou ever smile, Sincerity!
Into my tongue then, Modesty! inspire
Some tender, not despairing epitaph.
Such arguments a Father found. I none?
Oft have I heard, oft from my Mother heard,
That friendship is immortal. So my heart,
My beating heart and upward eyes persuade.
But friendship mutual is, or not at all.
Therefore both parties live. Then lives my Friend.
Who was his Father's Glory, Mother's joy:
Of his Relations, Friends the dear delight:
To me a faithful guide. Was, did I say?
Art still thy Father's glory, Mother's joy:
Of thy Relations, Friends the dear delight:
My guide thou art: still shalt be, Faithful Guide!
Ah! Cruel Air! Of life and death alike
The cause, if thro' thee fevers are convey'd.
Where wast thou Wholesome Air? For purer breast
Thou coud'st not fill; nor play about a heart,
39
Where wast thou then? Sure not at thy command,
Veil'd Modesty! Or didst thou thy fair Charge
Neglect? Thou never didst thy Charge neglect.
Did then the Nine, or some Angelic Choir,
Join in request to the Almighty Lord?
Obtain? And thee dispatch to rob the earth?
E'en this poor earth? In Angels' bosom then
Dwells envy? Or is Heaven itself too, poor?
Or did ye mean to punish us mankind;
As if he was not here enough esteem'd?
Ah! Ye mistook. We were not so ingrate.
Him all who knew, or lov'd him, or rever'd:
I, as a Father and a Friend, lament:
In learning's school my Partner, Spur and Guide.
If ye my words, nor these my sighs, believe;
Ask that Transparent Form, who on me smiles,
And may'st thou ever smile, Sincerity!
Into my tongue then, Modesty! inspire
Some tender, not despairing epitaph.
Philoclis cineres infra Præconis Iesu.
Scripta legas: illum si vere agnoscere velles.
Præclara illa quidem! Sed quam præclarior ipse!
Quem Deus innocuum juvenem summisque benignus
Florentem studiis loca transtulit in meliora.
Scripta legas: illum si vere agnoscere velles.
Præclara illa quidem! Sed quam præclarior ipse!
Quem Deus innocuum juvenem summisque benignus
Florentem studiis loca transtulit in meliora.
| Eidyllia | |