Infantine effusions By Ernest Charles Jones, written by him, between the eighth and tenth years of his age |
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| THE HENRIADE.
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 | Infantine effusions |  |
32
THE HENRIADE.
Canto first.
ARGUMENT.
Henry 3d united with Henry of Bourbon—King of Navarre, against the League, having already began the blockade of Paris—sends secretly Henry of Bourbon to request succour of Elizabeth—Queen of England.
The Hero is overtaken by a Tempest—He seeks refuge in an Island—meets with a venerable Old Man— (a Catholic—) who predicts his change of religion—and accession to the Throne.
Description of England—and its Government.
CANTO FIRST.
The Hero brave—who reign'd o'er France—I sing;
By right of conquest,—and by birth—a King,
Who, in misfortune's school, was taught to reign—
To calm all factions—vengeance to restrain;
Defeated Mayénne—the League—and proud Iberia—
Conquers his subjects—yet-becomes their Father.
Celestial truth! descend from Heaven's height!—
Shed, o'er my song—thy ne'er extinguished light!
Ah! would each Monarch's ear but list to thee—
'Tis thine their faithful Monitor to be;—
That thou—to ev'ry nation may'st display—
The ills of schism—and of anarchy;—
How discord, troubled provinces—relate—
The faults of Princes—and mishaps of state.
Approach!—and speak!—O! if the tale be true,
That fables shadows—e'er embellish'd you—
That her dark shades—have but more shewn thy light,
Whose brilliant lustre—ne'er hath sunk in night;
Thy steps-with me-permit her to attend—
Her varied wreath—around thy mirror blend.
By right of conquest,—and by birth—a King,
Who, in misfortune's school, was taught to reign—
To calm all factions—vengeance to restrain;
Defeated Mayénne—the League—and proud Iberia—
Conquers his subjects—yet-becomes their Father.
33
Shed, o'er my song—thy ne'er extinguished light!
Ah! would each Monarch's ear but list to thee—
'Tis thine their faithful Monitor to be;—
That thou—to ev'ry nation may'st display—
The ills of schism—and of anarchy;—
How discord, troubled provinces—relate—
The faults of Princes—and mishaps of state.
Approach!—and speak!—O! if the tale be true,
That fables shadows—e'er embellish'd you—
That her dark shades—have but more shewn thy light,
Whose brilliant lustre—ne'er hath sunk in night;
Thy steps-with me-permit her to attend—
Her varied wreath—around thy mirror blend.
Valois, still reign'd, but his unsteady hand,
Unclasp'd the regal reins, of France's land
Rights are confounded—laws exist no more;
'T was but the name of Monarch—that he bore;
For other tyrants, held th'imperial sway—
Beneath whose laws-the Country struggling lay;
No more that Prince was he—by conquest taught
(Those laurels blighted—he so dearly bought;)
Whose progress, trembling, Europe had observ'd,—
Who for his Country's glory—seem'd reserv'd;
And northern Nations by bis virtues won,
Laid at his feet their homage—and their Crown.
Those—who oft shine—in an inferior state,
Are lost,—when rais'd—by fortune, or by fate.
Lull'd in the lap of luxury, on the throne
His weakness bent, beneath his weighty crown;
From a bold warrior,—a weak King became—
And on the throne, he lost all former fame.
Quélus—St. Maigrin—d'Épernon—and Joyeuse—
Reign'd in his name—his weakness to abuse;
Base corrupters, of an effeminate Master, all,—
Alluring him to vice—beguiling to his fall.
Unclasp'd the regal reins, of France's land
Rights are confounded—laws exist no more;
'T was but the name of Monarch—that he bore;
For other tyrants, held th'imperial sway—
Beneath whose laws-the Country struggling lay;
34
(Those laurels blighted—he so dearly bought;)
Whose progress, trembling, Europe had observ'd,—
Who for his Country's glory—seem'd reserv'd;
And northern Nations by bis virtues won,
Laid at his feet their homage—and their Crown.
Those—who oft shine—in an inferior state,
Are lost,—when rais'd—by fortune, or by fate.
Lull'd in the lap of luxury, on the throne
His weakness bent, beneath his weighty crown;
From a bold warrior,—a weak King became—
And on the throne, he lost all former fame.
Quélus—St. Maigrin—d'Épernon—and Joyeuse—
Reign'd in his name—his weakness to abuse;
Base corrupters, of an effeminate Master, all,—
Alluring him to vice—beguiling to his fall.
Guise's faction (meantime) with rapid progress,
Upon Valois' weakness—increased their success;
At Paris, that dire, and fatal league they made—
Which France undid;—and Valois rights betrayed.
The people broke loose—vile slaves of the great,—
Persecuted their Prince—and ruin'd the state.
His friends corrupted—deserted soon their lord—
Chased from the Louvre—by that ungovern'd hord.
Paris is blockaded—no more she strives—
She sinks subdued—the great Bourbon arrives!
All-virtuous Bourbon!—invincible in fight,—
Came as his saviour—heavenly ray of light!
Redeems his Prince—fast sinking into night.
To his lost valour now, new birth he gives,
Awakes him from his trance—anew he lives;
For glory now, once more, his bosom sighs
He quits th'enfeebling joys in which he lies
From sports and slothfulness—to conquest—flies.
Upon Valois' weakness—increased their success;
At Paris, that dire, and fatal league they made—
Which France undid;—and Valois rights betrayed.
35
Persecuted their Prince—and ruin'd the state.
His friends corrupted—deserted soon their lord—
Chased from the Louvre—by that ungovern'd hord.
Paris is blockaded—no more she strives—
She sinks subdued—the great Bourbon arrives!
All-virtuous Bourbon!—invincible in fight,—
Came as his saviour—heavenly ray of light!
Redeems his Prince—fast sinking into night.
To his lost valour now, new birth he gives,
Awakes him from his trance—anew he lives;
For glory now, once more, his bosom sighs
He quits th'enfeebling joys in which he lies
From sports and slothfulness—to conquest—flies.
On Paris walls the hostile chiefs appeared,
Italia was alarmed—Iberia feared.
Surprised, all Europe beheld the strange reverse—
Anxious of these events, to watch the course.
Italia was alarmed—Iberia feared.
Surprised, all Europe beheld the strange reverse—
Anxious of these events, to watch the course.
Now discord, in Paris, held her fatal reign,
Exciting to combat—the league—and Mayénne
The Priests, and People—from each lofty tower,
And Spanish Army, pray'd some foreign power.
To the miseries of Mankind her designs are restrain'd;
With the blood of her subjects—her hand's often stain'd,
As despot—tyrannizes, o'er the hearts which she fires—
And punishes herself—the crimes she inspires.
Exciting to combat—the league—and Mayénne
36
And Spanish Army, pray'd some foreign power.
To the miseries of Mankind her designs are restrain'd;
With the blood of her subjects—her hand's often stain'd,
As despot—tyrannizes, o'er the hearts which she fires—
And punishes herself—the crimes she inspires.
Upon the zephyr fanning west, along the plain—
Where flying Paris—flows the stately seine—
Now—retreat enchanting—rich, in native charm,
Where arts, triumphant reign—with peace and calm—
Theatre, then of wars—most direful—dread,
Valois on its banks, his Soldiers led.
Heroes, proud supporters of France's state
Divided by sects—forgetting their hate—
Join'd now in one band—revenge to satiate
To wise Bourbon's care, their fate Valois—submits;—
By gaining all hearts—all parties, he unites;
One, would have thought—that but one chief they own—
'Twas but one law,—and one religion known.
Where flying Paris—flows the stately seine—
Now—retreat enchanting—rich, in native charm,
Where arts, triumphant reign—with peace and calm—
Theatre, then of wars—most direful—dread,
Valois on its banks, his Soldiers led.
Heroes, proud supporters of France's state
Divided by sects—forgetting their hate—
Join'd now in one band—revenge to satiate
To wise Bourbon's care, their fate Valois—submits;—
By gaining all hearts—all parties, he unites;
One, would have thought—that but one chief they own—
'Twas but one law,—and one religion known.
Louis—from the bosom of joy's eternal—
Regards the lov'd Hero—with looks paternal—
In him the splendour of his race, forebode—
Sigh'd at his faults—and at his triumphs-glowed.
One day, with the regal crown, he'd honor him—
And his bright star—make every other dim.
But Henry advanced unto his highest might,—
By unknown channels—hid from mortal sight.
Louis from heaven lent to him his aid—
But hid the arm—his crown's foundation laid;
Fearing that were this Hero too sure of his success—
Incurring less—danger—his glory had been less.
37
In him the splendour of his race, forebode—
Sigh'd at his faults—and at his triumphs-glowed.
One day, with the regal crown, he'd honor him—
And his bright star—make every other dim.
But Henry advanced unto his highest might,—
By unknown channels—hid from mortal sight.
Louis from heaven lent to him his aid—
But hid the arm—his crown's foundation laid;
Fearing that were this Hero too sure of his success—
Incurring less—danger—his glory had been less.
Already at the walls both warriors advance
Consult on the battle—and weigh well its chance.
O'er desolated feilds, th'dire fiend of Carnage—
To the sea's limits—extends her fury—her rage.
When Valois to Bourbon held this sad discourse;
While sighs—and tears—oft interrupt its course.
Behold, to what state by fortune I'm reduced;
My wrongs are yours;—the league basely seduced—
Their power increasing—my bitterest foe—
Conspire against their King—more furious grow,
And in their mad rage—confounding you, with me,
Pursue both alike,—with mad audacity.—
Paris disowns us—the crown in my possession—
Refuse to respect—and your right of succession.
They know the statutes—your merit—and your worth
At my death, give you claims—equal with your birth
To the throne—on which I tremble;—and all unite,
Fearing your Power—to rob you of your right;
And of religion—terrible in its rage,—
Its dreadful anathema, against you wage.
Rome, without arms—sends war into all climes,
To th'hands of the Spaniards—her thunder resigns.
Subjects, friends, and relations—faith now renounce—
Conspiring against me—their Monarch denounce;
In crouds the greedy Spaniard—exulting in my pain—
Rush in quest of lucre—o'er the desolated plain.
After the affronts, that now, my glory stain,—
O! let us Albion's fair Legislatress gain!—
I know too well, that an immortal hate—
Is fix'd 'tween Albion—and France—by fate.
I have no subjects—no country—no friend—
I hate these people—all connexion—rend;—
Those who'll assist to punish—t'assert my right—
They're my friends—Country—Frenchmen in my sight.
I care not then, what nation it may be;—
Ah! will't thou go—upon this agency?
'Tis thee that I implore—'tis only thee!
Go unto Albion—and that your boundless fame—
May raise a host!—and speak in Valois' name;—
With you, against my foes, I will contend—
'Tis from your virtues—I expect a friend.
He said—and the Hero—ever jealous of glory—
Regretting to divide the laurels of victory,—
Felt, in hearing him—a just, but dire smart,
Sighed o'er those times—so dear unto his heart.
When strong in virtue—without aid or intrigue—
Alone with great Condé—they conquer'd th'league.—
But, he must fulfill his Lord's command—
He suspends the blow—descending from his hand.—
And leaving those laurels, he'd gather'd on that shore—
Reluctance conquer'd;—his way to Albion bore.
The astonish'd Soldier's—ignorant of his intent,
Await his return—anxious for th'event.
He goes—yet nothwithstanding the guilty Town
Expect each moment,—his dread thunder's frown—
And e'en his name's the crown's most potent aid;
Who fought for him—his throne's foundation laid.
Consult on the battle—and weigh well its chance.
O'er desolated feilds, th'dire fiend of Carnage—
To the sea's limits—extends her fury—her rage.
When Valois to Bourbon held this sad discourse;
While sighs—and tears—oft interrupt its course.
Behold, to what state by fortune I'm reduced;
My wrongs are yours;—the league basely seduced—
Their power increasing—my bitterest foe—
38
And in their mad rage—confounding you, with me,
Pursue both alike,—with mad audacity.—
Paris disowns us—the crown in my possession—
Refuse to respect—and your right of succession.
They know the statutes—your merit—and your worth
At my death, give you claims—equal with your birth
To the throne—on which I tremble;—and all unite,
Fearing your Power—to rob you of your right;
And of religion—terrible in its rage,—
Its dreadful anathema, against you wage.
Rome, without arms—sends war into all climes,
To th'hands of the Spaniards—her thunder resigns.
Subjects, friends, and relations—faith now renounce—
Conspiring against me—their Monarch denounce;
In crouds the greedy Spaniard—exulting in my pain—
Rush in quest of lucre—o'er the desolated plain.
After the affronts, that now, my glory stain,—
O! let us Albion's fair Legislatress gain!—
I know too well, that an immortal hate—
39
I have no subjects—no country—no friend—
I hate these people—all connexion—rend;—
Those who'll assist to punish—t'assert my right—
They're my friends—Country—Frenchmen in my sight.
I care not then, what nation it may be;—
Ah! will't thou go—upon this agency?
'Tis thee that I implore—'tis only thee!
Go unto Albion—and that your boundless fame—
May raise a host!—and speak in Valois' name;—
With you, against my foes, I will contend—
'Tis from your virtues—I expect a friend.
He said—and the Hero—ever jealous of glory—
Regretting to divide the laurels of victory,—
Felt, in hearing him—a just, but dire smart,
Sighed o'er those times—so dear unto his heart.
When strong in virtue—without aid or intrigue—
Alone with great Condé—they conquer'd th'league.—
But, he must fulfill his Lord's command—
He suspends the blow—descending from his hand.—
40
Reluctance conquer'd;—his way to Albion bore.
The astonish'd Soldier's—ignorant of his intent,
Await his return—anxious for th'event.
He goes—yet nothwithstanding the guilty Town
Expect each moment,—his dread thunder's frown—
And e'en his name's the crown's most potent aid;
Who fought for him—his throne's foundation laid.
He departs—of Neustria—soon loses sight,
The favor'd Mornay's partner of his flight
Mornay his Confident—never—flatterer—
Laments in one he loves—religious error;
Ever signalized for zeal and prudence—
Served equally his church—and divided France.—
Censor of the courtisans—but belov'd of all the Court—
Proud enemy of Rome—but by Rome adored.
The favor'd Mornay's partner of his flight
Mornay his Confident—never—flatterer—
Laments in one he loves—religious error;
Ever signalized for zeal and prudence—
Served equally his church—and divided France.—
Censor of the courtisans—but belov'd of all the Court—
Proud enemy of Rome—but by Rome adored.
Between two rocks, where the thundering wave—
Broke in white froth,—and maddening did rave—
Diêppe presents itself to our Heroe's eye,
The eager Sailors to the shores now hie.
The Ship 'neath their hands—proud sov'reigns of the main—
Cuts murmuring—the vast and liquid plain;
Impetuous Boreas—chain'd in th'azure sky,
Abandon'd Ocean's wide—to zephyrs sigh.
The anchor's raised—they part—from Diêppe fly;
Already Albion's chalky cliffs descry.
Day's brilliant Sun, is instantly obscured,—
Air murmur'd—Heaven thunder'd—Ocean roar'd,
Boreas is unchain'd, o'er Ocean shroud,
And the big thunder groans within the cloud.
Th'abyss of Ocean—and the Light'nings flash—
All hope of aid—all hope of rescue—dash.
The Hero menaced, by the angry main—
Still thinks of nothing—but his Country's gain;
Turns his eyes to her, and seems t'accuse the wind—
That keeps his hoped success, so long behind.
Such—but less generous—on the Coast of Epire—
When of the frail world—he disputed the Empire—
Confiding to the waves—and Boreas' breath—
The destiny of Rome—the destiny of earth;
At once defying Pompey—braving Neptune—
Caesar to the waves—opposed his fortune.
Broke in white froth,—and maddening did rave—
Diêppe presents itself to our Heroe's eye,
The eager Sailors to the shores now hie.
41
Cuts murmuring—the vast and liquid plain;
Impetuous Boreas—chain'd in th'azure sky,
Abandon'd Ocean's wide—to zephyrs sigh.
The anchor's raised—they part—from Diêppe fly;
Already Albion's chalky cliffs descry.
Day's brilliant Sun, is instantly obscured,—
Air murmur'd—Heaven thunder'd—Ocean roar'd,
Boreas is unchain'd, o'er Ocean shroud,
And the big thunder groans within the cloud.
Th'abyss of Ocean—and the Light'nings flash—
All hope of aid—all hope of rescue—dash.
The Hero menaced, by the angry main—
Still thinks of nothing—but his Country's gain;
Turns his eyes to her, and seems t'accuse the wind—
That keeps his hoped success, so long behind.
Such—but less generous—on the Coast of Epire—
When of the frail world—he disputed the Empire—
Confiding to the waves—and Boreas' breath—
The destiny of Rome—the destiny of earth;
42
Caesar to the waves—opposed his fortune.
In that moment—the God of all that be—
Who flies upon the wind—and governs the wide sea—
That God—whose wisdom—ineffable—profound—
Makes—raises—and scatters Empires around;
From his mighty throne—that shines on high—
Looks on France's Hero—with a favoring eye.—
Commanding tempests—he great Bourbon bore;
And wafted swift his bark—on Jersey's shore.
Where Jersey seems to rise—from Ocean's breast—
Heaven conducted him to transient rest.
Who flies upon the wind—and governs the wide sea—
That God—whose wisdom—ineffable—profound—
Makes—raises—and scatters Empires around;
From his mighty throne—that shines on high—
Looks on France's Hero—with a favoring eye.—
Commanding tempests—he great Bourbon bore;
And wafted swift his bark—on Jersey's shore.
Where Jersey seems to rise—from Ocean's breast—
Heaven conducted him to transient rest.
Not far from shore—a wood of deepest green—
Darkening arose—a calm—inviting scene;
A rock defends it, from the Ocean's rage—
And the fierce north-winds, raging blasts assuage.
A cave is near it hew'd—whose simple structure—
Owes all its beauties—to the hands of nature—
A venerable Sage, liv'd there—who far from Court—
Nature, simplicity—and peace had sought.
Unknown to Men—and free from every care—
Studied fair nature—and sought retirement there.
'Twas there—that he regretted each ill spent year—
Lost, in pleasures and love—with a repentant tear.
Darkening arose—a calm—inviting scene;
A rock defends it, from the Ocean's rage—
And the fierce north-winds, raging blasts assuage.
A cave is near it hew'd—whose simple structure—
Owes all its beauties—to the hands of nature—
A venerable Sage, liv'd there—who far from Court—
Nature, simplicity—and peace had sought.
43
Studied fair nature—and sought retirement there.
'Twas there—that he regretted each ill spent year—
Lost, in pleasures and love—with a repentant tear.
On the banks of these streams—by the fountain's flow
He spurn'd the mingled passions—mortals know:
Tranquil he awaited—in this calm abode—
Death to unite him—for ever—with his God;
That God he adored—who protected his age,
Had unveiled to his eyes—wisdom's vast page;
And lavishing on him, his bounteous love—
Taught him t'unravel—what's decreed above.
The Sage, a repast by the chrystal stream prepares
And thither Bourbon leads to rest from cares.
The troubles scatter'd o'er the Christian land—
Formed all their talk—and various schemes were plan'd.
He spurn'd the mingled passions—mortals know:
Tranquil he awaited—in this calm abode—
Death to unite him—for ever—with his God;
That God he adored—who protected his age,
Had unveiled to his eyes—wisdom's vast page;
And lavishing on him, his bounteous love—
Taught him t'unravel—what's decreed above.
The Sage, a repast by the chrystal stream prepares
And thither Bourbon leads to rest from cares.
The troubles scatter'd o'er the Christian land—
Formed all their talk—and various schemes were plan'd.
Mornay, in his belief was still unshaken—
And Calvinism's errors had not yet forsaken.
Henry still doubtful—demands of Heaven high
That a ray of knowledge may illume his eye!—
In every age (he said) truth's sacred light—
Has been obscur'd—by errors dark'ning night;
Must I, in ignorance, still remain—not know—
The path which leads to God?—to whom I owe
All hope of aid!—a God, so good—so great,
In whose allruling hands, rests mortals fate!
Ah! would he but deign to clear our darken'd sight,
Accept our worship!—he would lead us right.
Adore (the Hermit said) Almighty God's designs—
Let us not accuse him—of weak Mortal's crimes.
I have seen Calvinism—in the Gallic land—
A feeble spectre—crawling on the sand;
I've seen her, without support—exiled from our wall
By unseen paths, try to evade her fall;
At last, I saw her proud and potent grown—
Insult the world—and mount the Gallic throne!
Seen her—with scorn—our altars overthrow;
These were the evils, I've been doomed to know.
Far from the court—I've sought obscurity—
And here lament—religion's injury;—
But hope suppresses still, the bitter tear,—
That soon, her glories will begin to sear.
Her power rests in the caprice of Man—
Who soon will see her end—as she began;
The works of men are fragile—like their lives—
God, disposes at his will—of the faction man contrives;
He alone is stable—while war, blind mortals wage—
While sects unnumber'd fight—with boundless rage;—
Truth—reposes at the feet of the Eternal—
But rarely lights—a proud and sinful mortal:
Who seeks from his heart—may find the Deity—
You shall be englighten'd—for you wish to be.
That God has chosen you;—in fight, his hand—
Conducts you to the regal honors of command;
E'en now his awful voice—bids unto Victory—
To guide thee to the paths—that lead to glory:
But if celestial truth light not thy way
Ne'er hope to enter Paris—with imperial sway;—
Above all—avoid that weakness of great minds—
Shun passion's lures—she poisons—while she blinds!
Your soul against love's fatal arrows arm,
Fear to be seduced—by his alluring charm!
When you shall (at length) exert a force divine—
Triumph o'er yourself—the League—then will't be thine
To raise a seige so dread—in hist'ry 't will live!—
And a nation exist from the favors you give;—
Then—will end your Country's grief and woe—
You'll thank your God—and fear no dreaded foe;
Unto your Father's God—you'll raise your eyes—
You'll find that gracious aid;—he ne'er denies
To the being—on his mercy—who relies.
Each word he said, was like a fiery dart,
That pierc'd brave Henry to his inmost heart;
He thought himself, in those fair times of bliss,
When God, convers'd mith men—ah! not like this!
When virtue, in her purity, and truth
Commanded Kings—her oracles sent forth.
And Calvinism's errors had not yet forsaken.
Henry still doubtful—demands of Heaven high
That a ray of knowledge may illume his eye!—
44
Has been obscur'd—by errors dark'ning night;
Must I, in ignorance, still remain—not know—
The path which leads to God?—to whom I owe
All hope of aid!—a God, so good—so great,
In whose allruling hands, rests mortals fate!
Ah! would he but deign to clear our darken'd sight,
Accept our worship!—he would lead us right.
Adore (the Hermit said) Almighty God's designs—
Let us not accuse him—of weak Mortal's crimes.
I have seen Calvinism—in the Gallic land—
A feeble spectre—crawling on the sand;
I've seen her, without support—exiled from our wall
By unseen paths, try to evade her fall;
At last, I saw her proud and potent grown—
Insult the world—and mount the Gallic throne!
Seen her—with scorn—our altars overthrow;
These were the evils, I've been doomed to know.
Far from the court—I've sought obscurity—
And here lament—religion's injury;—
45
That soon, her glories will begin to sear.
Her power rests in the caprice of Man—
Who soon will see her end—as she began;
The works of men are fragile—like their lives—
God, disposes at his will—of the faction man contrives;
He alone is stable—while war, blind mortals wage—
While sects unnumber'd fight—with boundless rage;—
Truth—reposes at the feet of the Eternal—
But rarely lights—a proud and sinful mortal:
Who seeks from his heart—may find the Deity—
You shall be englighten'd—for you wish to be.
That God has chosen you;—in fight, his hand—
Conducts you to the regal honors of command;
E'en now his awful voice—bids unto Victory—
To guide thee to the paths—that lead to glory:
But if celestial truth light not thy way
Ne'er hope to enter Paris—with imperial sway;—
Above all—avoid that weakness of great minds—
Shun passion's lures—she poisons—while she blinds!
46
Fear to be seduced—by his alluring charm!
When you shall (at length) exert a force divine—
Triumph o'er yourself—the League—then will't be thine
To raise a seige so dread—in hist'ry 't will live!—
And a nation exist from the favors you give;—
Then—will end your Country's grief and woe—
You'll thank your God—and fear no dreaded foe;
Unto your Father's God—you'll raise your eyes—
You'll find that gracious aid;—he ne'er denies
To the being—on his mercy—who relies.
Each word he said, was like a fiery dart,
That pierc'd brave Henry to his inmost heart;
He thought himself, in those fair times of bliss,
When God, convers'd mith men—ah! not like this!
When virtue, in her purity, and truth
Commanded Kings—her oracles sent forth.
With deep regret, her left the virtuous Seer,
And as he bade adieu—shed many a tear;—
And from that moment—discern'd that dawn of day
Which, from him yet, witheld its brilliant ray.
Mornay's surprised—his eyes remain fast closed—
God,—master of his gifts—his will, had thus disposed.
Vainly on earth—he had the name of sage—
Religion's errors—closed fair wisdoms page.
While unto the sage—God knowledge did impart,—
Spoke unto the Prince,—conversed unto his heart:
The impetuous winds th'Almighty did restrain—
The Sun appear'd, and even was the main;
Then unto the shore, the Seer, brave Bourbon guides—
To Albion steers—swift o'er the waters glides.
And as he bade adieu—shed many a tear;—
And from that moment—discern'd that dawn of day
47
Mornay's surprised—his eyes remain fast closed—
God,—master of his gifts—his will, had thus disposed.
Vainly on earth—he had the name of sage—
Religion's errors—closed fair wisdoms page.
While unto the sage—God knowledge did impart,—
Spoke unto the Prince,—conversed unto his heart:
The impetuous winds th'Almighty did restrain—
The Sun appear'd, and even was the main;
Then unto the shore, the Seer, brave Bourbon guides—
To Albion steers—swift o'er the waters glides.
On Beholding Albion—in secret, he admires
Th'happy change—of those unconquer'd Empires;
Where th'eternal abuse of so many wise laws—
Had, of woes to Princes—and People—been cause;—
Theatre bloody, of many Heroes gone—
Where hundred Kings descended from the throne!
A Woman at her feet—enchaining fate,—
Surprised the world—at th'splendor of her state.
It was Elisabeth!—her whose far-fam'd prudence—
Made at her will—the fates of Europe balance;—
Made those English submit to her authority,
Who scarce knew to serve—to live—in liberty!
The people forget their ills, beneath her reign;
And herds of Cattle teem along each plain,
Their barns, with corn, and every place behold—
Teeming with riches—accumulated gold.
Their imperious fleet enslaves the sea's great God,—
Commands to fortune—and makes Europe nod.
London, that was barb'rous—now, the fount of arts,—
A magazine of the World—Temple of Mars!—
At the walls of Westminster—now appear—
Three powers, astonish'd—at what calls them there;
Deputies of the people—the King—the great,—
United by the laws of Albion's state;
Of that invincible body—sacred members all—
Dangerous to themselves—their neighbours they appal.
When a nation does its duty—happy still—
Respects, as it ought—the sovereign will;
More happy, when a King—mild, just, and politic
Respects as his duty—the liberty of the public.
Ah! cried Bourbon, when shall the Gallic land—
Unite like you—peace—glory—in one band!—
What an example for you—frail Monarchs of earth.
A Woman—shut the gates of war—of dearth!
And sending to you, both horror and discord—
Blesses a people—by whom she's adored!
Now, to that mighty Capital he came—
Where liberty,—abundance—hold their reign;—
And now the walls of Albion's tower he viewd
Not far from thence—the regal palace stood—
He seeks the Queen—with Mornay by his side,—
Without pageantry—vain pomp—and pride—
Whose charms the idle great, so dearly prize
But Heroes—from their inmost soul despise.
Candour, o'er his speech her charm diffuses—
This is the only eloquence he uses;
In secret, for aid, implores—relates their woes—
With graceful lowliness, which more nobly shews—
The greatness of the soul—from whence it flows.
You serve Valois?—the startled Queen, exclaims,
Valois! sends you to the banks of the Thames?
You become your enemy's protector!
And sue—for your former persecutor?
From the shores o'th'west—to Aurora's gate
Of your ceaseless wars—th'universe speaks yet;
And you prepare that arm in Valois'aid—
By which, he fear'd—his glories oft would fade?
Th'happy change—of those unconquer'd Empires;
Where th'eternal abuse of so many wise laws—
Had, of woes to Princes—and People—been cause;—
Theatre bloody, of many Heroes gone—
Where hundred Kings descended from the throne!
A Woman at her feet—enchaining fate,—
Surprised the world—at th'splendor of her state.
It was Elisabeth!—her whose far-fam'd prudence—
48
Made those English submit to her authority,
Who scarce knew to serve—to live—in liberty!
The people forget their ills, beneath her reign;
And herds of Cattle teem along each plain,
Their barns, with corn, and every place behold—
Teeming with riches—accumulated gold.
Their imperious fleet enslaves the sea's great God,—
Commands to fortune—and makes Europe nod.
London, that was barb'rous—now, the fount of arts,—
A magazine of the World—Temple of Mars!—
At the walls of Westminster—now appear—
Three powers, astonish'd—at what calls them there;
Deputies of the people—the King—the great,—
United by the laws of Albion's state;
Of that invincible body—sacred members all—
Dangerous to themselves—their neighbours they appal.
When a nation does its duty—happy still—
Respects, as it ought—the sovereign will;
More happy, when a King—mild, just, and politic
49
Ah! cried Bourbon, when shall the Gallic land—
Unite like you—peace—glory—in one band!—
What an example for you—frail Monarchs of earth.
A Woman—shut the gates of war—of dearth!
And sending to you, both horror and discord—
Blesses a people—by whom she's adored!
Now, to that mighty Capital he came—
Where liberty,—abundance—hold their reign;—
And now the walls of Albion's tower he viewd
Not far from thence—the regal palace stood—
He seeks the Queen—with Mornay by his side,—
Without pageantry—vain pomp—and pride—
Whose charms the idle great, so dearly prize
But Heroes—from their inmost soul despise.
Candour, o'er his speech her charm diffuses—
This is the only eloquence he uses;
In secret, for aid, implores—relates their woes—
With graceful lowliness, which more nobly shews—
The greatness of the soul—from whence it flows.
50
Valois! sends you to the banks of the Thames?
You become your enemy's protector!
And sue—for your former persecutor?
From the shores o'th'west—to Aurora's gate
Of your ceaseless wars—th'universe speaks yet;
And you prepare that arm in Valois'aid—
By which, he fear'd—his glories oft would fade?
Valois—(he said)—was the tool of vile slaves—
His fetters broken—their power he braves.
In the woes, he has suffer'd—all wrongs I forget;
Most happy, if no other aid he'd sought—
Relying on courage—and my loyalty
No other arts employ'd—trusted to me!
But resorting to mean—base artifice
My foe he became—from weak cowardice.
In this just war you may—illustrious Queen
Signalize your own—raise great Albion's name,—
Crown your great virtues—defending our laws—
Avenge in my person—each Monarch's cause.
What occasion'd in France such direful woes?
Elisabeth, with impatience, entreats he'd disclose!—
What secret springs—what plots?—she wish'd to know
Produced in Paris—such an overthrow?
Already (said she) by all busy fame—
I've heard of these dire woes—and your great name
But in her levity—her indiscreet mouth—
Too often blends fiction—with the light of truth;—
To faithless reports, I never lent an ear.
But you the brave witness—of this wars career—
Alternately the friend—or foe—of Valois
Explain the tie unites you in this hour;
Explain the cause of this most strange reverse—
Only you—are worthy—your deeds to rehearse;
Relate your exploits—do not dissemble—
Remember—to Kings—your virtu's th'example.
Alas! (said Bourbon) must mem'ry retrace
The woeful records of our dire disgrace?
Would to Heav'n!—witness of our grief—our rage
Its records were eras'd from th'historic page!
Why do you require, my lips should relate—
Of Prince's of my blood—the shame—the fate!
My heart, yet shudders, to recal the scene—
But your command obeys,—illustrious Queen!
Another speaking—with more skill and grace—
Might veil their crimes—and half their faults erase:—
But,—my soul disdains, to have recourse to art—
Mine's the plain Soldier's—not the states man's part.
His fetters broken—their power he braves.
In the woes, he has suffer'd—all wrongs I forget;
Most happy, if no other aid he'd sought—
Relying on courage—and my loyalty
No other arts employ'd—trusted to me!
But resorting to mean—base artifice
My foe he became—from weak cowardice.
In this just war you may—illustrious Queen
Signalize your own—raise great Albion's name,—
Crown your great virtues—defending our laws—
Avenge in my person—each Monarch's cause.
51
Elisabeth, with impatience, entreats he'd disclose!—
What secret springs—what plots?—she wish'd to know
Produced in Paris—such an overthrow?
Already (said she) by all busy fame—
I've heard of these dire woes—and your great name
But in her levity—her indiscreet mouth—
Too often blends fiction—with the light of truth;—
To faithless reports, I never lent an ear.
But you the brave witness—of this wars career—
Alternately the friend—or foe—of Valois
Explain the tie unites you in this hour;
Explain the cause of this most strange reverse—
Only you—are worthy—your deeds to rehearse;
Relate your exploits—do not dissemble—
Remember—to Kings—your virtu's th'example.
Alas! (said Bourbon) must mem'ry retrace
The woeful records of our dire disgrace?
Would to Heav'n!—witness of our grief—our rage
Its records were eras'd from th'historic page!
52
Of Prince's of my blood—the shame—the fate!
My heart, yet shudders, to recal the scene—
But your command obeys,—illustrious Queen!
Another speaking—with more skill and grace—
Might veil their crimes—and half their faults erase:—
But,—my soul disdains, to have recourse to art—
Mine's the plain Soldier's—not the states man's part.
(End of Canto the first.)
| Infantine effusions | |