The poetical wanderer containing, dissertations On the early poetry of Greece, On tragic poetry, and on the power Of noble actions on the mind. To which are added, several poems |
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Hope:
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 | The poetical wanderer |  |
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Hope:
An irregular Ode.
1. PART I.
Deck'd in blooming amaranthine wreaths,
Sweet hope at distance smiles,
Her genial spirit joy and rapture breathes,
And cunningly beguiles.
The tinge of health glows blushing on her cheek,
Her hair waves on the wind,
Her eyes bewitching, eloquently speak,
Her accents steal the mind.
Sweet hope at distance smiles,
Her genial spirit joy and rapture breathes,
And cunningly beguiles.
The tinge of health glows blushing on her cheek,
Her hair waves on the wind,
Her eyes bewitching, eloquently speak,
Her accents steal the mind.
Along the laughing plain,
The graces in her train;
Fair, young and gay she swiftly glides,
Scarce the thin robe her heaving bosom hides.
The graces in her train;
Fair, young and gay she swiftly glides,
Scarce the thin robe her heaving bosom hides.
On all she bends her mild and placid look,
All feel her soft alarms,
The humble shepherd leans upon his crook,
And ponders on her charms.
All feel her soft alarms,
The humble shepherd leans upon his crook,
And ponders on her charms.
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From the sad lover's drooping languish
She steals away the sigh,
She rears his thoughtful head from anguish,
And darts a lustre in his melting eye;
Where Philomela pours her pensive song,
And peace and quiet lull the rural shade
Musing he roves with folded arms along,
While hope in whispers calls the haughty maid;
She breathes her spirit thro' the lonely grove,
She bids the breeze waft slumbers to his breast,
The happy youth believes Perdita's love,
And gives his sorrow to the arms of rest;
No more he calls on terror and despair,
Nor fury with her haggard eye, her stiff and clotted hair.
She steals away the sigh,
She rears his thoughtful head from anguish,
And darts a lustre in his melting eye;
Where Philomela pours her pensive song,
And peace and quiet lull the rural shade
Musing he roves with folded arms along,
While hope in whispers calls the haughty maid;
She breathes her spirit thro' the lonely grove,
She bids the breeze waft slumbers to his breast,
The happy youth believes Perdita's love,
And gives his sorrow to the arms of rest;
No more he calls on terror and despair,
Nor fury with her haggard eye, her stiff and clotted hair.
Upon the face where discontentments dwell,
She lights the animating glow;
She cheers the author in his wretched cell,
Bids magic scenes before his raptur'd vision flow,
Soft he hears the tinkling fountains
Flowing down the sacred mountains,
Around his brows the laurels bloom,
Honors hail him with caressings
Peace and plenty add their blessings,
The bard looks pleas'd and smiles away his gloom.
She lights the animating glow;
She cheers the author in his wretched cell,
Bids magic scenes before his raptur'd vision flow,
Soft he hears the tinkling fountains
Flowing down the sacred mountains,
Around his brows the laurels bloom,
Honors hail him with caressings
Peace and plenty add their blessings,
The bard looks pleas'd and smiles away his gloom.
She cheers the hero's soul
When the fierce charge the awful trumpets sound,
When death's hoarse thunders roll;
When human blood with crimson slows the ground
And groans of horror rise upon the passing blast.
When the fierce charge the awful trumpets sound,
When death's hoarse thunders roll;
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And groans of horror rise upon the passing blast.
2. PART II.
The cheering glimmering of a distant light
Revives the courage of the travelling boor,
While lone and fearful soothe darksome night
He seeks some hospitable stranger's door;
Revives the courage of the travelling boor,
While lone and fearful soothe darksome night
He seeks some hospitable stranger's door;
But when with weary trembling step he gains
The spot where shone the luminary bright;
Far distant still the flattering ray remains
And twinkles on the mountain's dusky height.
The spot where shone the luminary bright;
Far distant still the flattering ray remains
And twinkles on the mountain's dusky height.
The gathering storm roars sullenly around
The unhappy man still onward holds his way.
Sudden he plunges in the gulph profound
The night owl shrieks—no genius bids his spirit stay.
The unhappy man still onward holds his way.
Sudden he plunges in the gulph profound
The night owl shrieks—no genius bids his spirit stay.
So faithless hope invites
Like her own sex too often false and fair
She spreads with smiling guile the tempting snare,
And lulls her votary with her feign'd delights.
Like her own sex too often false and fair
She spreads with smiling guile the tempting snare,
And lulls her votary with her feign'd delights.
High from Leucadia's brow
Her tresses sorrowfully flowing
Love on her languid aspect glowing,
Sapho look'd down upon the stream below;
The winds were hush'd—no murmur left the shade
Sweet breath'd the accents of the love-sick maid.
Her tresses sorrowfully flowing
Love on her languid aspect glowing,
Sapho look'd down upon the stream below;
The winds were hush'd—no murmur left the shade
Sweet breath'd the accents of the love-sick maid.
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To the blue sky
She rais'd her hand, and mild poetic eye
Bright with a falling tear;
She murmur'd Phaon's name, and from the steep
Plung'd in the bosom of the passing deep.
She rais'd her hand, and mild poetic eye
Bright with a falling tear;
She murmur'd Phaon's name, and from the steep
Plung'd in the bosom of the passing deep.
Keen disappointment, poverty's cold gloom
Were all the trophies that poor Rowley won,
Hope hung her mantle o'er his grassy tomb
And mourn'd too late the sufferings of her son.
Genius had rais'd this feeling child,
Fancy unroll'd her visions to his view
Spenser survey'd his daring son and smil'd;
Fate shook his sable plumes—his poison'd arrow threw.
Were all the trophies that poor Rowley won,
Hope hung her mantle o'er his grassy tomb
And mourn'd too late the sufferings of her son.
Genius had rais'd this feeling child,
Fancy unroll'd her visions to his view
Spenser survey'd his daring son and smil'd;
Fate shook his sable plumes—his poison'd arrow threw.
Sweet be thy slumbers in the sod below
Thou muses darling and thou sport of woe!
Thou muses darling and thou sport of woe!
A gentleman well known in the literary world hearing of the wonderful performances of Chatterton, who published many poems under the name of Rowley, sought the place of his residence with the design of assisting him in his impoverished state, but arrived too late—the unfortunate youth had become his own executioner, and gone beyond the reach of human charity and oppression.
| The poetical wanderer | |