The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge Including several pieces never before published: with an account of his life and character, by his son, George Owen Cambridge |
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III. | BOOK III. |
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The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge | ||
BOOK III.
ARGUMENT.
A Priestess of Rumour relates to Scriblerus the history of the Queen of the country. He is struck with the beauties of an elegant temple, which he describes, as also the Queen's magnificent entry and her personal endowments. He makes himself known to her. She professes her regard for his family and for his own merits, to which she is no stranger: after which she invites him to a partnership of her bed and throne. Scriblerus consults with Albertus, and is advised by him to accede to her proposal of marriage: Saturn endeavours to deter him from it by fearful dreams and omens: notwithstanding which the marriage is celebrated, but the consummation prevented by the flight of two owls, which, added to the foregoing portents, intimidate the hero to that degree, that he resolves to fly from his beloved Queen. Her reproaches and entreaties prevail on him to return, but not till her unhappy impatience has impelled her to give herself a desperate wound, upon which Saturn cuts her fatal hair and she dies.
Of vocal cliffs, fantastic Echo dwells.
My way through serpent windings I pursu'd,
Which deep within the hollow'd rocks were hew'd.
End in a narrow groove and join at top.
From side to side reverberate, they bear
The quick vibrations of the trembling air;
Hence weakest sounds the vaulted cavern shake,
And whispers deaf'ning on the senses break.
The cave of Rumour. O'er a spacious vent,
With head reclin'd, her list'ning Priestess bent.
(The Pythian thus imbib'd th' inspiring steam;
Thus gave Trophonius the prophetic dream.)
Swift from her seat, at my approach, she sprung,
And thus she spake with more than mortal tongue.
The work and glory of its Sov'reign's hand.
Our Queen, with kind compassion, all receives,
But the first honours to the stranger gives:
Herself a stranger once, tho' here she reigns:
A distant exile from her native plains.
Her husband held an indisputed throne.
Till restless faction, big with murd'rous strife,
Depriv'd th' unguarded monarch of his life.
Dread and despair the drooping Queen affright:
Grief wastes the day, and ghastly dreams the night.
Before her eyes her husband stood confest;
Rear'd his pale face, and bar'd his bleeding breast.
At length advis'd her flight, but first reveal'd
Where all his choicest treasures lay conceal'd.
A chosen band the sacred stores convey
O'er the rude waves; a woman leads the way.
This isle she chose, her growing empire's seat;
Here she enjoys an undisturb'd retreat:
Here, where no pitchy keels pollute the sea,
Nor restless commerce ploughs the wat'ry way.
The Priestless thus my longing bosom fir'd—
I left the tale unfinish'd and retir'd.
A dome, upheld by stately columns, stood:
Their mingled beams to grace the splendid shrine.
Here glitt'ring ores their native charms unfold;
There yellow mundic shines like burnish'd gold.
Sulphurs and marcasites their beams display,
And lucid crystals rival Titan's ray.
Rang'd as a cornice, various fossils stand,
The mimic sport of nature's wanton hand.
Mitre and turban-forms the work adorn,
Triton's huge trump, and Ammon's boasted horn.
Here fibrous plants with many a branching vein,
And there the curious texture of the brain.
But how, O! how shall fancy's pow'r recall
The forms that breath'd along the pictur'd wall!
The pencil'd canvass or the sculptur'd brass.
Dearest to nature first are seen a race
Who bear the marks of her peculiar grace.
Here griffons, harpies, dragons mix in flight,
Here wild chimera rears her triple height.
In glowing colours mighty Geryon stands,
And bold Briareus wields his hundred hands.
What sudden pangs invade my heedless breast!
When, in blest shells of liveliest hue pourtray'd,
I saw fair Lindamira's form display'd:
I started at the sight: adown my cheek
The swelling tears, in rapid torrents break:
Then thus: What region in the world but knows
My hapless passion and illustrious woes?
Lo! as in life, the dear sad object stands,
And makes my suff'rings known in distant lands—
When sudden, ent'ring at the lofty gate,
The Queen herself approach'd in solemn state.
Whose folds descending, veil'd her beauteous waist,
Then length'ning downwards, form'd a regal train,
And swept, with awful majesty, the plain.
On her fair front a goodly horn she bore:
But nor the crown or gay tiara wore.
Frequent and thick, o'er all her limbs were seen
Th' elongated papillæ of the skin.
Graceful excrescence of resplendent horn,
Like the shagg'd velvet, or the new-reap'd corn.
Never but once beheld I, till that hour,
Such finish'd charms. I gaze and I adore.
She mounts the throne, and hearing ev'ry cause,
Directs her judgment by great Nature's laws.
Duly she weighs, impartial she decides.
To her the vegetable kingdom owes
A sure protection from invading foes,
Who oft the sprouting coral strive to gain,
And earth-born mandrake, from its rightful reign.
And bade my nation and my name make known.
Thus, to the monarch, I my speech addrest:
O! foremost still to succour the distrest,
From northern isles, from a far distant strand,
By adverse winds, I tread this pleasing land.
Behold Scriblerus, no ignoble name;
(Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.)
Now a sad fugitive, and tempest-tost,
Driv'n with confusion, from each neighbour coast,
O! grant the refuge of thy friendly shores:
Supply with bounteous hand our wasted stores:
And death awaits us on the barren sea.
So wills the mindful god, the Queen replies,
Are you the great Scriblerus, dear to fame,
Who, from high Pliny trac'd, your lineage claim?
The same whom learned Barthius' daughter bore
To fam'd Cornelius on the British shore?
I lov'd old Gaspar; greatly lov'd thy sire:
Nor less thy virtues, courteous guest, admire.
Accept that name; and, if thou not disdain,
Friend to my soul and partner of my reign.
Thine humblest slave with all thy bounty's store.
Such godlike blessings from so fair a hand,
Eternal praise and gratitude demand.
And fossils vegetate in beds below,
In coral polypes haunt, in snow the bear,
Whales sport in seas, and eels in vinegar,
While bright volcanos spout eternal flame,
So long shall last the glories of thy name.
The wish'd refection to my dubious friends:
But from their longing arms their chief detains,
And strives to bind with love's resistless chains.
At her desire the series I relate
Of my long wand'ring and disast'rous fate.
Deep sunk my suff'rings in her yielding heart,
Transpierc'd with love's inevitable dart,
And fix'd as some impal'd and helpless fly,
Who bleeds a victim to the optician's eye,
And strives to flutter from the deadly wound:
Firm and unmov'd the speculative sage
Eyes the vain efforts of its insect rage.
Strait to the shore I urg'd my speedy way.
Dissolv'd in tears my anxious friends I found,
The untouch'd cates neglected on the ground.
As when some ass (hir'd haply to repair
The riot-wasted rake or love-sick fair)
From her fond young, the tedious morning strays,
Driv'n thro' some pop'lous city's crouded ways;
Her absence, pent in dismal cots, they mourn:
But wild with rapture, at her blest return,
They leap, they bound, their braying fills the plain,
And the glad hills repeat the harmonious strain.
Th' exulting crew, my fortunes I declare.
The welcome stores they to the bark convey:
Then chearful follow where I lead the way.
To the spread feast and hospitable rites.
Again she asks to hear the moving tale,
Again big tears her melting heart reveal.
His balmy blessings to my anxious eyes.
Long ere the sun had left his eastern goal,
Thus to Alburtus I disclose my soul.
Her rare endowments, her majestic mein?
With ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace is join'd,
And as her form, prodigious is her mind.
What gen'rous proffers has her bounty made,
Of half her throne and half her blissful bed!
Yes, I confess, since Lindamira's love,
No other charms, like these my breast could move:
The same their merits, my desire the same:
I feel rekindling all my former flame.
Were I not bound by ev'ry sacred vow,
Never again at Hymen's shrine to bow,
The weak resolves of my unstable soul.—
Thus on my speech the kind Albertus broke;
Say, will you still a joyless wanderer rove,
And never taste the soft delights of love?
Nor in your offspring glad th' astonish'd earth,
The happy parent of a wond'rous birth?
And sure, no less shall grace your nuptial bed,
For can aught vulgar from the Queen proceed?
Wisely, I grant, you shunn'd the weak alarms
Of common beauty and quotidian charms;
But O! imprudent, should you now disclaim
A pleasing passion and auspicious flame.
With mutual warmth, her proffer'd love receive,
And taste the joys her heavenly beauties give.
While thus his pleasing counsel he addrest,
Alas! too grateful to my love-sick breast!
Sudden aloud the good Albertus sneez'd:
I yield, and follow with the omen pleas'd.
And pleas'd each mystic science to disclose,
Illustrates by what powers huge vessels glide,
Conceal'd beneath the surface of the tide.
How, by her arts, her subjects learn to rise
On silken wings, and cut the liquid skies.
Or, to the winds, in cars of lightest cane,
Spread the broad sail, and swiftly skim the plain.
Thus mutual pleasures fan our growing fire.
To join two self-mov'd Astroites haste;
Our heaving hearts, with fond impatience, move,
And pant for contact, with attractive love.
We, for our spousals, name th' ensuing day.
And terrors of the dreadful night relate?
Oft rose fair Lindamira's frowning shade:
My purpose oft with boding voice forbade.
So Julia menac'd round her Pompey's bed,
Ere Cæsar conquer'd, and Pharsalia bled.
With her, my swarthy rival blasts my sight,
And casts a blacker horror on the night.
Th' assembled lawyers next (tremendous band)
Rose to my view, and all my soul unman'd.
But chief, O! chief! the Queen herself opprest,
And, with dire om'nous action, chill'd my breast.
The horn opprobrious from her forehead took
And fix'd on mine: when, sudden o'er my head,
Portentous growth! luxuriant antlers spread.
Wide and more wide the teeming branches shoot,
And ceaseless suckers issue from the root.
Such ghastly visions waste the dismal night:
I rose, dejected, with the morning light.
The sun I sought: behind a murky cloud,
Shorn of his beams, he dimly frown'd in blood,
And now, already at my gate was seen
An early herald from th' impatient Queen.
Dissembling, I suppress the rising tear,
And strive th' unprosp'rous moments to defer.
In vain: already at the altar stands
Th' officious priest to join our hapless hands.
Oh sad effects of too neglectful haste!
No hymeneal rites our nuptials grac'd.
And the curs'd gall behind the altar threw.
Nor did the slaves the flaming torches bear,
Nor burn the axle of the bridal car;
With flow'rs or woolly fillets deck the door,
Or figs, the type of future plenty, pour;
Nor wild asparagus at once imply'd
The courtship and possession of the bride;
No sportive songsters hail'd the genial time,
Chaunting the fescennine licentious rhime.
Nor did the bride the solemn barley bear,
Nor with the spear divide her flowing hair,
Or yellow veil of mystic purport wear.
No matron's voice her eager steps forbad
The sacred threshold of the porch to tread.
No decent zone secur'd her looser waist,
But ev'ry rite was lost in shameless haste!
Hymen his sacred influence withdraws,
And sees, with anger, his neglected laws.
Sudden, extinguish'd, sunk the hallow'd flame.
Ghosts howling, sadden the long isle's dark gloom,
And sweats of blood distil from ev'ry tomb.
But she o'er-rules my fears with eager love.
Th' obedient priests dispatch with trembling haste,
Thence move, with pomp, to grace the nuptial feast.
The bride, transported, smiles with open soul,
Gay from the feast, and wanton from the bowl;
To her lov'd grot, with fond desire, invites,
There to consummate Hymen's blissful rites.
A cave obscur'd with gloomy laurels stood.
Ivy, within, the verdant roof o'erspread
With pendant foliage, a luxuriant shade!
The ruin'd walls the monarch's hand adorns
With mould'ring stones, rough moss, and broken urns.
O'er these, with studied negligence, she spreads
Strange roots, gay garlands, and fantastic weeds.
Rough unhewn steps lead to the dark retreat,
And a vast mat presents an ample seat.
Sacred to love and conscious of delight.
Unstable state of wretched human kind!
Faithless as seas, and fickle as the wind:
The slightest wave our baseless bliss destroy.
Our fleeting pleasure no duration knows,
But ebbs, ere well we can perceive it flows.
Big with the transports of the genial hour;
When lo! two owls, who, with the like design,
Retir'd, in silence, to the secret shrine;
Rush forth, with loud complainings, from the cave,
And, with sad sighs, their loves unfinish'd leave.
Saturn, to thwart my rising joys intent,
The boding augury, terrific, sent;
He, with foul dreams, my trembling bosom chill'd
And all my soul with deadly horror fill'd.
Hence, at the last portent, with wild affright,
From the fond Queen I wing my speedy flight.
And, urg'd with shame, not knowing how to bear
Her just reproach for my dishonest fear,
Strait to the ready crew I give the word,
And summon all with swiftest speed on board.
When to the shore by fatal fury led,
And thus, with scoffs, my coward flight pursu'd.
Nor sacred gratitude's eternal laws;
Vaunt not thyself from great Scriblerus sprung;
Thy coward soul belies thy boastful tongue.
Thee not the learned Barthius' daughter bore,
Bred 'midst the rocks of Scotia's barren shore,
The lifeless offspring of her blasted trees,
Nurs'd, as brought forth, amidst thy kindred geese.
Still must I censure whom I still must love?
How could'st thou, cruel, from thy consort run,
The sacred rites of Hymen but begun?
Scorn'd and neglected leave the nuptial bed,
And all the mighty debt of love unpaid?
Oh! had you but bestow'd one fond embrace,
Ere yet you fled from this once valued face;
Perhaps I had not then despair'd to see
Some young Scriblerus, heav'nly fair, like thee.
If fate, reluctant to compleat my joy,
Denied the blessing of a sprightly boy,
Some embrio semblance of thy form divine,
At least had floated in the glassy shrine.
Fond flatt'ring hope possession had supply'd,
Nor had you left me so forlorn a bride.
The jarring passions in my bleeding breast.
The friendless vagrant, not content to save,
Rare arts I taught, and choicest presents gave;
Not ev'n ourself with-held, but fondly led
The coward boaster to my bridal bed—
Now signs are seen—now Saturn omens sends—
And visions bode, and augury portends—
Such cares, forsooth, disturb the peaceful fowl,
And to distress poor lovers flies the owl.
To me some omen had thy baseness shown;
Victims had wanted ev'ry nobler part,
And, to denote thee truly, chief the heart.
And to my breast recall affrighted love.
I feel his dictates o'er my fears prevail,
And call to change our course and shift the sail.
But oh! I scarce had giv'n the tardy word,
Ere her rash hand her bleeding bosom gor'd.
Shock'd at the dreadful sight, ply ev'ry oar,
Eager, I cry, and instant make the shore—
Rous'd by my well-known voice, again revive
Her drooping spirits, and she strives to live.
When lo! vindictive Saturn reach'd the strand,
And seiz'd the Plica with relentless hand.
And cropt, for ever cropt, the fatal hair.
A deathful slumber clos'd her beauteous eyes:
And her freed soul regain'd her native skies.
The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge | ||