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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The Muses Triumphant over Venus.
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 | Eidyllia |  |
40
The Muses Triumphant over Venus.
Or, The Poetical Vision seen one Summer-evening beside the River at Elgin.
A TALE.
What means this strange commotion? pleasing pain!
What this impatience fluttering in my breast?
This boiling blood, as it wou'd burst the veins?
These shiverings thick as those successive waves?
This leaping heart? These glowings? Bathing sweats?
Forehead uprising? Bristled hairs erect?
Eyes swollen, gushing into sudden tears?
Sight how confus'd! How lost! Or how transform'd!
Matter refining into thought. Thus you,
Blind Thamyris! and blind Mæonides!
And justly equal to 'em in renown
Thou, modest Milton! Virtue's sweetest Bard!
Pure air who always, now how purer draw'st!
Ranging as here on Fancy's wing, th'Immense
Of various Beauty, there on thought intuitive,
Cou'd I to thee be ------!
Ye venerable Names! forgive my tongue
Thus uncontroul'd, for what can thought controul?
As well you know; forgive my trembling tongue's
Presumption: did not you too, thus intranc'd
In heavenly, lose your mortal sight. These Forms
How beauteous! springing from material things,
As out of chaos rose that solar sphere.
In thick procession fly these Images
Ideal, yet substantial, fair, divine,
Each faculty distending with excess
Of rapturous joy. What may this phrenzy mean!
Is it love, ye Muses! or poetic fire?
What this impatience fluttering in my breast?
This boiling blood, as it wou'd burst the veins?
These shiverings thick as those successive waves?
This leaping heart? These glowings? Bathing sweats?
Forehead uprising? Bristled hairs erect?
Eyes swollen, gushing into sudden tears?
Sight how confus'd! How lost! Or how transform'd!
Matter refining into thought. Thus you,
Blind Thamyris! and blind Mæonides!
And justly equal to 'em in renown
Thou, modest Milton! Virtue's sweetest Bard!
Pure air who always, now how purer draw'st!
Ranging as here on Fancy's wing, th'Immense
Of various Beauty, there on thought intuitive,
Cou'd I to thee be ------!
Ye venerable Names! forgive my tongue
Thus uncontroul'd, for what can thought controul?
As well you know; forgive my trembling tongue's
Presumption: did not you too, thus intranc'd
In heavenly, lose your mortal sight. These Forms
41
As out of chaos rose that solar sphere.
In thick procession fly these Images
Ideal, yet substantial, fair, divine,
Each faculty distending with excess
Of rapturous joy. What may this phrenzy mean!
Is it love, ye Muses! or poetic fire?
The Nine descending heard; and with a smile,
Fear not, dear Boy! it is poetic fire.
Fear not, dear Boy! it is poetic fire.
Then towards me lower still the Heavenly Choir,
Sweeping from south to north a round career,
All over glowing fann'd me as they flew.
Not to the parch'd and fainting traveller,
Alone, despairing, if his eye dismay'd
Wandering along the vast Arabian sands,
Lights on some pool: to him not cooling draught
Is so reviving as that sacred breeze,
Your wings, ye heavenly Muses! o'er me spread.
Then up the ether sprung. My eye pursu'd
Your rapid, ah! too rapid flight away:
My listening ear your wondrous harmony.
Fix'd were my eye and ear: soon fix'd in vain.
Ear first, then eye, as to the earth confin'd,
My infirmity upbraided. Pensive sat
I long: and your departure, Muses! mourn'd.
Ah! Pleasing transport! Glorious vision that!
Ah! Why so transient? Why like lightning-flash,
Why did ye, Muses! shine and disappear?
I thought myself in your sweet influence blest.
Why so indulg'd? Does Heaven then tantalize?
Sweeping from south to north a round career,
All over glowing fann'd me as they flew.
Not to the parch'd and fainting traveller,
Alone, despairing, if his eye dismay'd
Wandering along the vast Arabian sands,
Lights on some pool: to him not cooling draught
Is so reviving as that sacred breeze,
Your wings, ye heavenly Muses! o'er me spread.
Then up the ether sprung. My eye pursu'd
Your rapid, ah! too rapid flight away:
My listening ear your wondrous harmony.
Fix'd were my eye and ear: soon fix'd in vain.
Ear first, then eye, as to the earth confin'd,
My infirmity upbraided. Pensive sat
42
Ah! Pleasing transport! Glorious vision that!
Ah! Why so transient? Why like lightning-flash,
Why did ye, Muses! shine and disappear?
I thought myself in your sweet influence blest.
Why so indulg'd? Does Heaven then tantalize?
Long mourn'd my fainting powers, and sunk asleep.
But from sleep's troubled chaos soon awak'd.
When, lo! descending Queen Urania alights,
Towards me advancing moves with grace divine,
Yet with an air, that still'd my blushing fears:
Then, sweetest mildness softening her sublime,
Nor letting my frail organs overpower;
The Holy Nine do never those forsake,
Who with a pure affection us pursue,
With thee, O Virtue! our best gift inspir'd.
Their strains, their sighs, from such ambitious zeal
As all good spirits and ourselves approve,
On circling waves float each way thro' the air,
E'en into Pluto's realm spread silence, awe,
Self-hate, and wheresoe'er we are above,
Reach our not undelighted ears, from earth
Tho' come. Sometimes our music we suspend,
Listening with ravishment. Or Chorus-like
We catch, and swell your feebler notes aloft
Into full melody thro' Heaven's concave,
Which rings, and makes immortal spirits blest:
Blest with the symphony, yet more the hope,
Their numbers to increase, tho' infinite,
Soon from your earth. For yon your mansions are,
Prepar'd. This cordial take. I drank. She flew:
And airy-sandal'd Mercury dispatch'd
All that had pass'd to Cupid to relate.
Cupid enrag'd strait to the Cyprian Queen
Faster than e'er flew arrow from his bow:
Lights whining on her lap, Mama! They've robb'd
Me. Who has? and of what? my Dear! And stroaks
His feathers flat bedew'd with sweating rage.
Urania, he said, or Clio, or 'em all,
Were in the plot. What plot? To rob my game,
Which long ago, dead as a sparrow dead,
I kill'd, and had it in possession fair.
You know, 'twas so. Be more particular.
Him that I talk'd of yesterday. You laugh'd;
Yet not, as usual, thank'd this faithful bow.
But time was, thro' his heart this dazzling point,
Bright beams reflecting from your beauty, Ma'am!
I shot with all my might. Nor is it small;
As men and Gods, e'en Jove himself well knows,
And shall know too. Say Muses, what they will;
With whom we share the world, and better half
Will have, Mama! It split his heart in two.
The halves together hung, but by a thread,
Weak single thread. Too strong it prov'd, my Dear!
Mama too my misfortunes then deride?
And to Urania's join her cruel jeer?
Smile at my wrongs, mock at her Cupid's tears?
Patience, my Dear! Cease, cease that piteous squall.
It tears my bowels. Know, the Gods, and We,
To Fate Inexplicable all submit.
And Cupid is a God. Yes, so I am.
And up he springs, and hugs her yielding breasts.
With head reclin'd she flatters in his ear,
Then to High Fate must Cupid too submit.
Too long, my Dear! hast thou the knave mistook.
No more on bed of floth he lies supine,
In hopeless love's soul-melting dreams dissolv'd,
Beneath night's sable curtain, or the rays
Of Sol, who smiles around, but cannot chear
Without our gracious leave. Such once our power.
For other flame his heart has long possess'd.
And other wings, than thine, have bore aloft.
Come. The mysterious cause I'll now unfold,
Of thy diversion, and my vengeance due.
Why ne'er before? Lie down. He fell supine.
With nectar'd linen soft his eyes, ears, face,
She wip'd, and look'd, and kiss'd his dimpled cheek.
Not thee, sweet Child! more than myself they wrong'd.
My vengeance thou unknowing execut'st
As oft, so then. For prithee what offence
Against thy honour did he e'er commit?
Me, impious from his childhood, he despis'd.
Yet lisping did the little urchin sing,
Above me raising Sophia forsooth,
Nay smile, fair Archetype!
Whence Jove his Venus form'd.
Such an affront to Majesty divine
Unpunish'd never fell from human tongue:
Nor ever shall. Severe is my revenge:
And love, a torture, with My Smile unblest.
Implacable yet none but Pluto's rage
Of all the Gods; and therefore I relent:
Since Fate will have it so. Let Cupid learn,
When his Mama forgives, he must forgive.
But from sleep's troubled chaos soon awak'd.
When, lo! descending Queen Urania alights,
Towards me advancing moves with grace divine,
Yet with an air, that still'd my blushing fears:
Then, sweetest mildness softening her sublime,
Nor letting my frail organs overpower;
The Holy Nine do never those forsake,
Who with a pure affection us pursue,
With thee, O Virtue! our best gift inspir'd.
Their strains, their sighs, from such ambitious zeal
As all good spirits and ourselves approve,
On circling waves float each way thro' the air,
E'en into Pluto's realm spread silence, awe,
Self-hate, and wheresoe'er we are above,
Reach our not undelighted ears, from earth
Tho' come. Sometimes our music we suspend,
Listening with ravishment. Or Chorus-like
We catch, and swell your feebler notes aloft
43
Which rings, and makes immortal spirits blest:
Blest with the symphony, yet more the hope,
Their numbers to increase, tho' infinite,
Soon from your earth. For yon your mansions are,
Prepar'd. This cordial take. I drank. She flew:
And airy-sandal'd Mercury dispatch'd
All that had pass'd to Cupid to relate.
Cupid enrag'd strait to the Cyprian Queen
Faster than e'er flew arrow from his bow:
Lights whining on her lap, Mama! They've robb'd
Me. Who has? and of what? my Dear! And stroaks
His feathers flat bedew'd with sweating rage.
Urania, he said, or Clio, or 'em all,
Were in the plot. What plot? To rob my game,
Which long ago, dead as a sparrow dead,
I kill'd, and had it in possession fair.
You know, 'twas so. Be more particular.
Him that I talk'd of yesterday. You laugh'd;
Yet not, as usual, thank'd this faithful bow.
But time was, thro' his heart this dazzling point,
Bright beams reflecting from your beauty, Ma'am!
I shot with all my might. Nor is it small;
As men and Gods, e'en Jove himself well knows,
And shall know too. Say Muses, what they will;
With whom we share the world, and better half
44
The halves together hung, but by a thread,
Weak single thread. Too strong it prov'd, my Dear!
Mama too my misfortunes then deride?
And to Urania's join her cruel jeer?
Smile at my wrongs, mock at her Cupid's tears?
Patience, my Dear! Cease, cease that piteous squall.
It tears my bowels. Know, the Gods, and We,
To Fate Inexplicable all submit.
And Cupid is a God. Yes, so I am.
And up he springs, and hugs her yielding breasts.
With head reclin'd she flatters in his ear,
Then to High Fate must Cupid too submit.
Too long, my Dear! hast thou the knave mistook.
No more on bed of floth he lies supine,
In hopeless love's soul-melting dreams dissolv'd,
Beneath night's sable curtain, or the rays
Of Sol, who smiles around, but cannot chear
Without our gracious leave. Such once our power.
For other flame his heart has long possess'd.
And other wings, than thine, have bore aloft.
Come. The mysterious cause I'll now unfold,
Of thy diversion, and my vengeance due.
Why ne'er before? Lie down. He fell supine.
With nectar'd linen soft his eyes, ears, face,
She wip'd, and look'd, and kiss'd his dimpled cheek.
45
My vengeance thou unknowing execut'st
As oft, so then. For prithee what offence
Against thy honour did he e'er commit?
Me, impious from his childhood, he despis'd.
Yet lisping did the little urchin sing,
Above me raising Sophia forsooth,
Nay smile, fair Archetype!
Whence Jove his Venus form'd.
Such an affront to Majesty divine
Unpunish'd never fell from human tongue:
Nor ever shall. Severe is my revenge:
And love, a torture, with My Smile unblest.
Implacable yet none but Pluto's rage
Of all the Gods; and therefore I relent:
Since Fate will have it so. Let Cupid learn,
When his Mama forgives, he must forgive.
Tale ended, Mother preach'd. He drop'd asleep:
Nor, that I know, has ever since awak'd.
Nor, that I know, has ever since awak'd.
| Eidyllia | |