The poetical works of Sir William Jones With the life of the author ... in two volumes |
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THE MUSE RECALLED;
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 | The poetical works of Sir William Jones |  |
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THE MUSE RECALLED;
AN ODE ON THE NUPTIALS OF LORD VISCOUNT ALTHORP, AND MISS LAVINIA BINGHAM, ELDEST DAUGHTER OF CHARLES, LORD LUCAN, MARCH 6, 1781.
Return, celestial Muse!
By whose bright fingers o'er my infant head,
Lull'd with immortal symphony, were spread
Fresh bays and flow'rets of a thousand hues;
Return! thy golden lyre,
Chorded with sunny rays of temper'd fire,
Which in Astræa's fane I fondly hung,
Bold I reclaim: but ah! sweet maid,
Bereft of thy propitious aid,
My voice is tuneless, and my harp unstrung.
In vain I call—What charm, what potent spell
Shall kindle into life the long unwaken'd shell?
Haste! the well-wrought
basket bring,
Which two sister Graces wove,
When the third, whose praise I sing,
Blushing sought the bridal grove,
Where the slow-descending sun
Gilt the bow'rs of Wimbledon.
In the vase mysterious fling
Pinks and roses gemm'd with dew,
Flow'rs of ev'ry varied hue,
Daughters fair of early spring,
Laughing sweet with sapphire eyes,
Or with Iris' mingled dyes:
Then around the basket go,
Tripping light with silent pace,
While, with solemn voice and slow,
Thrice pronouncing thrice I trace
On the silken texture bright,
Character'd in beamy light,
Names of more than mortal pow'r,
Sweetest influence to diffuse;
Names, that from her shadiest bow'r
Draw the soft reluctant Muse.
By whose bright fingers o'er my infant head,
Lull'd with immortal symphony, were spread
Fresh bays and flow'rets of a thousand hues;
Return! thy golden lyre,
Chorded with sunny rays of temper'd fire,
Which in Astræa's fane I fondly hung,
Bold I reclaim: but ah! sweet maid,
Bereft of thy propitious aid,
My voice is tuneless, and my harp unstrung.
In vain I call—What charm, what potent spell
Shall kindle into life the long unwaken'd shell?
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Which two sister Graces wove,
When the third, whose praise I sing,
Blushing sought the bridal grove,
Where the slow-descending sun
Gilt the bow'rs of Wimbledon.
In the vase mysterious fling
Pinks and roses gemm'd with dew,
Flow'rs of ev'ry varied hue,
Daughters fair of early spring,
Laughing sweet with sapphire eyes,
Or with Iris' mingled dyes:
Then around the basket go,
Tripping light with silent pace,
While, with solemn voice and slow,
Thrice pronouncing thrice I trace
On the silken texture bright,
Character'd in beamy light,
Names of more than mortal pow'r,
Sweetest influence to diffuse;
Names, that from her shadiest bow'r
Draw the soft reluctant Muse.
First, I with living gems enchase
The name of her, whom for this festive day
With Zone and Mantle elegantly gay
The Graces have adorn'd, herself a Grace,
Molesworth—hark! a swelling note
Seems on Zephyr's wing to float,
Or has vain hope my flatter'd sense beguil'd?
Next her who braided many a flow'r
To deck her sister's nuptial bow'r,
Bingham, with gentle heart and aspect mild:
The charm prevails—I hear, I hear
Strains nearer yet, and yet more near.
Still ye nymphs and youths advance,
Sprinkle still the balmy show'r,
Mingle still the mazy dance,
Two names of unresisted pow'r,
Behold, in radiant characters I write:
O rise! O leave thy secret shrine,
For they, who all thy nymphal train outshine,
Duncannon , heavenly muse, and Devonshire invite.
The name of her, whom for this festive day
With Zone and Mantle elegantly gay
The Graces have adorn'd, herself a Grace,
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Seems on Zephyr's wing to float,
Or has vain hope my flatter'd sense beguil'd?
Next her who braided many a flow'r
To deck her sister's nuptial bow'r,
Bingham, with gentle heart and aspect mild:
The charm prevails—I hear, I hear
Strains nearer yet, and yet more near.
Still ye nymphs and youths advance,
Sprinkle still the balmy show'r,
Mingle still the mazy dance,
Two names of unresisted pow'r,
Behold, in radiant characters I write:
O rise! O leave thy secret shrine,
For they, who all thy nymphal train outshine,
Duncannon , heavenly muse, and Devonshire invite.
Saw ye not yon myrtle wave?
Heard ye not a warbled strain?
Yes! the harp which Clio gave,
Shall his ancient sound regain.
One dearer name remains. Prepare, prepare!
She comes—how swift th'impatient air
Drinks the rising accent sweet!
Soon the charm shall be complete.
Return and wake the silent string;
Return, sweet Muse, for Althorp bids me sing.
'Tis she—and, as she smiles, the breathing lyre
Leaps from his silken bands, and darts ethereal fire.
Heard ye not a warbled strain?
Yes! the harp which Clio gave,
Shall his ancient sound regain.
One dearer name remains. Prepare, prepare!
She comes—how swift th'impatient air
Drinks the rising accent sweet!
Soon the charm shall be complete.
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Return, sweet Muse, for Althorp bids me sing.
'Tis she—and, as she smiles, the breathing lyre
Leaps from his silken bands, and darts ethereal fire.
Bright son of ev'ning, lucid star,
Auspicious rise thy soften'd beam,
Admir'd ere Cynthia's pearly car
O'er heav'n's pure azure spreads her gleam:
Thou saw'st the blooming pair,
Like thee serenely fair,
By love united and the nuptial vow,
Thou see'st the mirthful train
Dance to th'unlabor'd strain,
See'st bound with myrtle ev'ry youthful brow.
Shine forth, ye silver eyes of night,
And gaze on virtues crown'd with treasures of delight.
Auspicious rise thy soften'd beam,
Admir'd ere Cynthia's pearly car
O'er heav'n's pure azure spreads her gleam:
Thou saw'st the blooming pair,
Like thee serenely fair,
By love united and the nuptial vow,
Thou see'st the mirthful train
Dance to th'unlabor'd strain,
See'st bound with myrtle ev'ry youthful brow.
Shine forth, ye silver eyes of night,
And gaze on virtues crown'd with treasures of delight.
And thou, the golden-tressed child of morn,
Whene'er thy all-inspiring heat
Bids bursting rose-buds hill and mead adorn,
See them with every gift that Jove bestows,
With ev'ry joy replete,
Save, when they melt at sight of human woes.
Flow smoothly, circling hours,
And o'er their heads unblended pleasure pour;
Nor let your fleeting round
Their mortal transports bound,
But fill their cup of bliss, eternal pow'rs,
Till Time himself shall cease, and suns shall blaze no more.
Each morn, reclin'd on many a rose,
Lavinia's pencil shall disclose
New forms of dignity and grace,
Th'expressive air, th'impassion'd face,
The curled smile, the bubbling tear,
The bloom of hope, the snow of fear,
To some poetic tale fresh beauty give,
And bid the starting tablet rise and live;
Or with swift fingers shall she touch the strings.
And in the magic loom of harmony
Notes of such wondrous texture weave,
As lift the soul on seraph wings,
Which, as they soar above the jasper sky,
Below them suns unknown and worlds unnumber'd leave.
Whene'er thy all-inspiring heat
Bids bursting rose-buds hill and mead adorn,
See them with every gift that Jove bestows,
With ev'ry joy replete,
Save, when they melt at sight of human woes.
Flow smoothly, circling hours,
And o'er their heads unblended pleasure pour;
Nor let your fleeting round
Their mortal transports bound,
But fill their cup of bliss, eternal pow'rs,
Till Time himself shall cease, and suns shall blaze no more.
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Lavinia's pencil shall disclose
New forms of dignity and grace,
Th'expressive air, th'impassion'd face,
The curled smile, the bubbling tear,
The bloom of hope, the snow of fear,
To some poetic tale fresh beauty give,
And bid the starting tablet rise and live;
Or with swift fingers shall she touch the strings.
And in the magic loom of harmony
Notes of such wondrous texture weave,
As lift the soul on seraph wings,
Which, as they soar above the jasper sky,
Below them suns unknown and worlds unnumber'd leave.
While thou by list'ning crowds approv'd,
Lov'd by the Muse and by the poet lov'd,
Althorp, shouldst emulate the fame
Of Roman Patriots and th'Athenian name;
Shouldst charm with full persuasive eloquence,
With all thy mother's grace, and all thy father's sense,
Th'applauding senate; whilst, above thy head,
Exulting Liberty should smile,
Then, bidding dragon-born contention cease,
Should knit the dance with meek-eyed peace,
And by thy voice impell'd should spread
An universal joy around her cherish'd isle.
But ah! thy public virtues, youth! are vain
In this voluptuous, this abandon'd age,
When Albion's sons with frantic rage,
In crimes alone and recreant baseness bold,
Freedom and Concord, with their weeping train,
Repudiate; slaves of vice, and slaves of gold!
They, on starry pinions sailing
Through the crystal fields of air,
Mourn their efforts unavailing,
Lost persuasions, fruitless care:
Truth, Justice, Reason, Valour, with them fly
To seek a purer soil, a more congenial sky.
Lov'd by the Muse and by the poet lov'd,
Althorp, shouldst emulate the fame
Of Roman Patriots and th'Athenian name;
Shouldst charm with full persuasive eloquence,
With all thy mother's grace, and all thy father's sense,
Th'applauding senate; whilst, above thy head,
Exulting Liberty should smile,
Then, bidding dragon-born contention cease,
Should knit the dance with meek-eyed peace,
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An universal joy around her cherish'd isle.
But ah! thy public virtues, youth! are vain
In this voluptuous, this abandon'd age,
When Albion's sons with frantic rage,
In crimes alone and recreant baseness bold,
Freedom and Concord, with their weeping train,
Repudiate; slaves of vice, and slaves of gold!
They, on starry pinions sailing
Through the crystal fields of air,
Mourn their efforts unavailing,
Lost persuasions, fruitless care:
Truth, Justice, Reason, Valour, with them fly
To seek a purer soil, a more congenial sky.
Beyond the vast Atlantic deep
A dome by viewless Genii shall be raised,
The walls of adamant compact and steep,
The portals with sky-tinctur'd gems emblaz'd:
There on a lofty throne shall virtue stand;
To her the youth of Delaware shall kneel;
And, when her smiles rain plenty o'er the land,
Bow, tyrants, bow beneath th'avenging steel!
Commerce with fleets shall mock the waves,
And arts, that flourish not with slaves,
Dancing with every Grace and ev'ry Muse,
Shall bid the vallies laugh and heav'nly beams diffuse.
She ceases; and a strange delight
Still vibrates on my ravish'd ear:
What floods of glory drown my sight!
What scenes I view! what sounds I hear!
A dome by viewless Genii shall be raised,
The walls of adamant compact and steep,
The portals with sky-tinctur'd gems emblaz'd:
There on a lofty throne shall virtue stand;
To her the youth of Delaware shall kneel;
And, when her smiles rain plenty o'er the land,
Bow, tyrants, bow beneath th'avenging steel!
Commerce with fleets shall mock the waves,
And arts, that flourish not with slaves,
Dancing with every Grace and ev'ry Muse,
Shall bid the vallies laugh and heav'nly beams diffuse.
She ceases; and a strange delight
Still vibrates on my ravish'd ear:
What floods of glory drown my sight!
What scenes I view! what sounds I hear!
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This for my friend—but, gentle nymphs, no more
Dare I with spells divine the Muse recall:
Then, fatal harp, thy transient rapture o'er,
Calm I replace thee on the sacred wall.
Ah! see how lifeless hangs the lyre,
Not lightning now, but glitt'ring wire!
Me to the brawling bar and wrangles high
Bright-hair'd Sabrina calls and rosy-bosom'd Wye.
Dare I with spells divine the Muse recall:
Then, fatal harp, thy transient rapture o'er,
Calm I replace thee on the sacred wall.
Ah! see how lifeless hangs the lyre,
Not lightning now, but glitt'ring wire!
Me to the brawling bar and wrangles high
Bright-hair'd Sabrina calls and rosy-bosom'd Wye.
Miss Louisa Bingham, and Miss Frances Molesworth, her cousin, decked a basket with ribands and flowers to hold the nuptial presents.
Lady Henrietta Spencer, second daughter of John Earl Spencer, and wife of the Lord Viscount Duncannon, eldest son of the Earl of Besborough.
Lady Georgiana, eldest daughter of Earl Spencer, and wife of William Cavendish, fifth Duke of Devonshire.
| The poetical works of Sir William Jones | |