Minor Poems, including Napoleon :: :: University of Virginia Library

Bowring! it was an honourable task
From the bleak regions of the north to bear
A wreath, whose beauty well deserv'd to bask
In brighter sunshine, and in balmier air.

II

And well hast thou perform'd it. Thanks to thee,
Poets, whose names had grated on my ear,
Till thou hadst made them musical to me,
Are now fireside companions, priz'd, and dear.

III

Derzhavin's noble numbers, soaring high,
Replete with inspiration's genuine force,
And Batiushkov's milder melody,
Warm from domestic pleasure's sweetest source:

IV

These, and with them names dissonant and dire
To English ears, are now delightful things;
Awakening thoughts congenial to the lyre,
And, better still, hope's warm imaginings.

V

Yes, hope for the extension of that good
Which cultivated taste and thought dispense;
For these, if rightly train'd, and understood,
Must nourish virtue and benevolence.

VI

Therefore do I rejoice: believing this,
That poesy's enchanting art was given
To be, on earth, the source of blameless bliss,
And cherish thoughts which lift the soul to heaven.

VII

Nor am I lonely in this cheerful creed,
For thou art one who know'st the purer power
Of lofty song, and I have heard thee plead,
With eloquence, the Muses' noblest dower.

VIII

Not for its literary worth alone,
Hast thou, with generous emulation, brought
This flow'ry wreath from Russia's frigid zone;
To thee with deeper charms its bloom was fraught.

IX

A heart like thine delightedly must dwell
Upon those liberal feelings, tranquil joys,
Which, in the peasant's cottage, student's cell,
May bless the mind that thus its power employs.

X

Thou couldst not but rejoice to find in haunts,
“Where Winter sits upon his throne of snow,”
Those thoughts and feelings Nature kindly plants
In hearts that stifle not her genial glow.

XI

To thee it was refreshing to behold,
In realms where slav'ry mars man's better powers,
Those germs of mind, thus vent'ring to unfold,
Which may hereafter burst in beauteous flowers;

XII

Flowers of delightful fragrance; fit to twine
Around the capitals in Freedom's fane;
When Freedom there shall find an honour'd shrine,
And knowledge break the links of slav'ry's chain.

XIII

Russia may yet be free! Nor frigid clime,
Nor autocrat's decrees, can e'er impede
Of mental energy the march sublime;
Its glorious records he who runs may read.

XIV

In rising states, if pure each hidden source
Of knowledge, and of freedom, every hour
Aids their resistless, animating course;
Strong, in the weakness of opposing power.

XV

Triumphant, not through force of arms, but by
The power of truth, the silent lapse of time;
Bloodless and glorious is their victory,
The fame their votaries win — indeed sublime.

XVI

And well may thy benignant bosom feel
That such achievements richly merit more
Than to be hail'd by trumpet's loudest peal,
Or echoing artillery's thundering roar.

XVII

They should hand down the deathless names of those
Who may accomplish them, to distant years;
Adorn'd with brightness truth alone bestows;
Renown unpurchased but by grateful tears.

XVIII

Russia some future Alfred yet may boast,
Whose deeds may truly dignify her throne;
She yet may own of honour'd names an host,
And shine, the glory of a frigid zone.

XIX

Meanwhile be thine the praise of having borne
Some of her early flowers of poesy
To blossom in a region less forlorn,
“Beneath our Albion's more benignant sky.”