The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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The Excursion of FANCY: A Pindaric Ode.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
The Excursion of FANCY: A Pindaric Ode.
I.
And why, ye empty names of things, unsound!Ye almost shadows, e'en, of sound!
Fame! Glory! Fortune! Fate! and all the fairy fancy'd round:
Or rather wou'd ye, but vouchsafe to tell
The cause of ills, ye know too well;
Say? ye proud tracers of disdainful state;
Who buy distinction at the world's low rate!
Ye mean aspirers to be great:
By aims, which earth-born hopes, not heavenly truths, create!
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Be us'd to rince the dusty robes of pride,
With blood, and purple, doubly dy'd?
Why foully trampled in, by wealth's bold feet?
Why, there, must lep'rous vices meet?
And, why must poverty, however sweet,
And naked innocence, unstain'd, and neat,
Be, rudely, driv'n away: or, terribly, withstood,
By giant forms! chimeras, stain'd with blood!
Who, dreadful, stalk about, within,—and raise th' uncleanly mud?
II.
Say, coward learning! long, too long, misled!If, yet, thou dar'st erect thy dizzy head!
And art not, yet, heart-conquer'd quite,
By power and custom join'd; too, too unequal fight!
If, yet, once more, thou dar'st assert thy eyes,
Once more, undazled, view Truth's beamy skies;
And can'st, with strong, unstagg'ring sight,
Firm-fix'd, in steddy gaze, take in the o'erwhelming light!
Say, nor fear th' oppressive hate,
Which truth, told plainly, must create!
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Lifted boldly, want, in weight!
Say, to what sad cause, we owe,
That naked virtue must, regardless go!
Or, shiv'ring stand, in fortune's snow:
Till chance does some gay mantle, o'er her, throw,
And notice does not, from her worth, but her adornments, flow?
Immortal heav'n! if man may dare
Climb thither, to refresh his care!
What means our God! when he requires,
That man, in virtue's rugged paths, shou'd tread,
If, to blessings, he aspires?
And yet, strange paradox! permits, to virtue's foes,
The mounts of power, from whence to aim their blows:
And hurl red ruin down, in surer throws,
With levell'd malice, nicely pois'd, to hit the climbing head,
While they sit safe, and laugh, above, to see th' aspirer dead!
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III.
Why?—If reasons may be giv'nTo earth, for laws, which pass in heav'n!
Why am I doom'd to toil, with vain desire?
Be ever climbing, and yet, never, higher?
Why am I curs'd, with scenes of helpless woe,
Which, since to cure, I must not reach the pow'r,
Why am I not permitted—not to know?
Why feels not yon proud lord his share,
Of my heart-piercing care,
For suff'rings, I can neither help, nor which my bus'ness are?
Why sleep princes, void of pain,
For those sad thousands, who complain;
And wash, with tears, their deep-dy'd grief, in vain?
These men could lend compassion, hands, to reach
The sinking mis'ries, which their help beseech!
I, who my own misfortunes cannot cure,
With barren sorrow, other men's endure!
While they, whose smiles might heal, and voice might chear,
Have eyes, and cannot see!—have ears, and will not hear?
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IV.
'Tis wond'rous strange, all this!—But, man should never gaze,With search, too curious, on the mystic ways,
Which form the soul-bewild'ring maze!
It is enough for us, that there must be
Ends in this, we cannot see!
And, since 'tis vain, to tug at fate,
With unavailing, human weight,
Let us throw down this load of doubt, with which no race is won:
And, swift, to easier conquests, lighter, run,
The way, which reason is not bid to shun!
Let us, with never-yielding courage, strive,
In spite of villany, to thrive!
And, from our resolution's spring, long streams of bliss derive!
Like the gay ball, struck down, still higher, let us rise,
And, obstinate, dispute th' unwilling prize!
Rebound, with ten-fold-vigour, at each blow!
And, that to wounds, we may a victory owe,
Antæus like, spring fresh, from ev'ry throw:
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At once, permits us, to enjoy, both her, and innocence.
V.
Well, then! resolve we!—Be it so:Further thought we shall not need:
That we set forward, stands decreed!
But, hold! what journey shall we chuse to go?
I will embark me, on yon boundless sea!
The sea of Knowledge! proud! imperious store!
Of heaven-assaulting waves, which gnaw the shore,
On ev'ry side, with hungry roar!
Yet, always, gaping, always, swallowing more,
Still flows, forever, and will flow—voracious, as before!
Well! I am sail'd!—I plow the foamy deep,
And, now, my climbing vessel mounts, on high,
And, now, I sweep the starry sky!
And, now! stand firm, my brain! rush down the wat'ry steep!
Ah, me! half-founder'd now, in vain, all arts I try!
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Currents, encount'ring currents, strive!
The fruitless rudder, ill-obey'd, in vain,
Struggles, oppress'd, against the madding main,
Eddies cross eddies whirl!—and whelm it back, again!
VI.
Hold! I am sick! I'll sail, no more:Pilot, give thy labours o'er!
Put in, and seek repose, on yonder peaceful shore.
Where am I, now?—'Tis wond'rous dark, all round!
What means this shadow-cover'd ground!
This is the land of Ignorance, wild, and rude;
Bleak, comfortless and bare:
A dreary soil! an empty air!
By shadowy nothings, I am, here, pursued;
And gape, and yawn, and tire, in sleepy solitude!
Let me turn, which way I will,
Sight has narrow quarters still!
Scarce, can I see, above a fathom round;
I tread, on soft, and sandy ground!
At ev'ry step, I take, my feet sink in;
Already I, to fear I know not what, begin!
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Ghosts, and gobblings, this way tread!
Astonish'd eyes! what scenes about me draw!
Now, stagg'ring reason! where's thy law?
My soul grows weak, with childish awe:
Fancy has courage captive led;
Empty somethings, still, I dread!
Ha! see!—at once, what objects rise!—How horribly they spread!
I trod, too loud, and with the noise, have wak'd the silent dead.
VII.
Fly—fly, night-wand'ring feet! explore lost day,If this the land of ignorance be,
I'll drive, again, on learning's sea!
Here, I dare no longer stay!
And, yet, I see not, how to get away!
What's this?—methinks, I see the rushy brink
Of some deep current, in my way!
Help, help me, fortune! or, I sink!
Now I am in! whelm'd o'er amidst the flood!
Ha? tho' the chance was bad, th' effect, is good!
It is not water this, but fluid mud.
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And, now, I see the land, again; and, now,
The liquid field I, up, before me, plow:
Wade out, and climb the bank, by slow degrees!
I've 'scap'd the lake, thank heav'n! but all this while,
I wander, guideless, in the same dark isle!
What's this, which wou'd be thought a wind?
Which heaves, by sluggish fits, the drowsy air!
Which creeps, in broken murmurs, far behind,
And, idly, seems to slumber, in its care!
Now, swells, in sudden gusts,—now does, at once, asswage?
Like drunken men, who strive to talk, but sleep amidst their rage.
Curse on this soul-condensing solitude!
This land of ignorance appears as rude,
And far more dangerous, these unactive ills,
Than all the busy-frightfulness, which fills
Yon sea, where storms my devious bark pursued!
Tell me, then, directive star!
Thou, that guid'st me, from a-far!
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And Ign'rance, dreadful shore! I, now, forsake,
What more inviting land, my next look-out shall make?
VIII.
I see, methinks, far off, a sudden glare!Ha! look—a mountain rises to the sea!
From which, ten thousand flames, shot thro' the air
Spread circling brightness wide, to such degree,
That a kind trail of light darts, outward, ev'n, to Me!
Bless'd with this glorious, unexpected, guide,
I look about me, now, with pride!
And, lo! a narrow Causeway thither leads!
Narrow, indeed, it is, and seems to show,
That few shou'd, hence, to yon gay mountain go!
Care, and diligence, there needs;
For ev'ry tott'ring step, I stumble so,
That, scarce, I 'scape the waves, which foam, and break, below!
Wou'd I had never landed, on this shore;
This Causeway is a dangerous passage o'er,
And I was nearer, to the mount, before,
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Courage, my soul! I shall, anon, be there!
I know the country, now, as I draw near:
It is the far-fam'd realm of war!
How red the skies, about it, are!
Oh! let me climb the cliffy steep, and strike yon topmost star!
IX.
Thank heaven! my aking foot has reach'd the strand:What's this? the earth is iron; and sulphur all the sand.
Instead of air, here's smoke;—but flame does light supply!
And, from within, where, strongly fed, they lie,
Torrents of fiery day break up, and streak the sooty sky!
Hark! as up the hill I go,
From the wide top, huge, full-mouth'd thunders roar,
While far, within, and more below,
Hoarse, infant noises, faintly, blow;
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Grumble, in horrid notes, their new-taught lessons o'er!
Some, the shrill trumpet imitate, and some
Buffet unskill'd, the sullen drum!
Thro' my astonish'd ear, harsh-mingling pass
The sound of bells, clash'd swords, and clatt'ring brass!
Loud-neighing horses, storms of vollied shot!
Shouts, groans, and words, confounded all, heard, but distinguish'd not,
Well! I am up, at last! and, now I'm, here;
Let me look round, and see, how things appear!
Oh! my glad soul!—what prospects open, there!
My hope-enlivening heart to chear?
Now, I am in my wish'd, my proper, sphere!
What is there, in yon far-ken'd world, which, hence, we may not share?
Oh, heaven! what false appearance dwells, below!
How is man deceiv'd, by show!
Yon Viceroys (as they wou'd be thought) of fate!
Yon poppet-managers of state!
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For bubbles, which, at jewel's price, they rate;
And puff, and swell, with empty pride—and call themselves, the great!
Ye stars!—How humbly they all look this way!
As, who wou'd seem to say;—
Great Sirs! permit us, still, to cheat the fools, with whom we play!
They turn, to us, the cringing side, and strut the other way!
X
Soul, recline! and take thy ease!Look about thee, by degrees;
The prospect's wide enough, to please!
Since the commanding top is, thus, attain'd,
Use, with care, th' advantage gain'd!
What wilt thou do? that, thus, I feel thee swell!
In struggling silence loves design to dwell?
Or, are thy views, too vast, to tell?
Go on, form boldly; swift, resolve,—and execute it, well!
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Nimbly-wing'd, her own best spy:
Every danger, e'er drawn nigh,
Th' air-footed Amazon discerns; and scatters, with her eye!
Fancy! then, proud Goddess rise!
From earth extend thy stretching size!
And push thy active head, thro' the discover'd skies!
Stamp, ambitious, with thy foot,
And bid the threat'ned world look to't!
For thou hast mighty work to do, and power enough to do't.
Grasp yon escaping earthquake, 'twou'd depart;
Blow new vigour, to its heart!
Take it, and give the lazy globe a shake!
And, when scar'd nature's broad awake,
All her coy aid demand, and take!
Break open ev'ry inmost part!
Thro' all the gloomy chasms of matter dart!
Let in light, to find out art!
And smile, to see the blaze-shot nymph, with sudden wonder, start!
Sieze her, quickly, bind her fast!
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A thousand mazy turnings, first, must tediously be past.
XI.
Doubly arm'd, and seated, thus,Who is, now, a match for us?
Begin! begin! the glorious task!
Descend, at once, and strip yon kings, of power's ill-painted mask!
Tell 'em, they the nymph disgrace!
Power should wear a lovely face:
And, hideously, to hide her charms, is horrible, and base!
Bid 'em, in empire's masquerade, elbow no more for place,
But, bravely, dare put on, plain truth, and scorn a borrow'd face.
Are they disturb'd?—Is all the hive, in arms?
See! they buz in hostile swarms!
But, 'tis no matter, let 'em bring
Hoarded malice, in their sting:
They cannot pierce, much less displume, the pinions of thy wing!
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What commission we can show!
Tell me, Fancy! was it so?
Commissions, say, are, sometimes, forms, which men, to custom, owe;
A shape of power, which tyrants steal, and, having stol'n, bestow.
Yet, to please 'em, be they told,
From higher hands, than theirs, we hold!
From justice, truth, and reason, say;
That great triumvirate of power!—which they
Pretend, and but pretend, t'obey!
This our authority! and, if these not suffice,
We can show 'em large supplies
Of vengeance, force, and stubborn will: our sworn auxilaries!
Now, they tremble; now, they mourn!
Now, with helpless rage, they burn!
Well may they rave, indeed, to see their friends against 'em turn.
XII.
Stay! and, e'er we farther go,Let our great meaning be aloud proclaim'd!
Our deeds shall be as just, as fam'd!
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Why we make war; and what we mean to do!
Herald vengeance! swift arise!
Shell, with steel, thy flinty heart!
And since, by nature, blind thou art;
Bury thy lifted hand, in yonder skies,
And pluck two comets, down, to serve for eyes,
Dawb thy dismal face with blood!
And, with extensive stride, crossing the trembling flood!
Of fire-embroider'd smoke, throw on a wind-shook robe,
And shoot thy shadow over half the globe!
In thy right hand, lift quiv'ring light'nings high!
Hardly held, and mad to fly!
From thy rais'd left, let heaven's loud bolt be hurl'd;
And roll th' alarming thunder round the world!
When wak'd attention pricks her frighted ear,
And stalking apprehension pants, with fear!
When all the starting nations, upward, look,
By convulsive horror shook!
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Three times pronounce, O yes! and, thus, address the sons of Men!
XIII.
Hear, ye people! far, and wide!Reason's force will, now, be try'd!
Tremble, ye Tyrants! at the near defence,
Of long-oppress'd and helpless Innocence.
Where is the wretch, who deep-entrench'd, in State,
Impiously, defies his fate!
And dares be wicked, without bounds, because immensely great?
Him, let injur'd Virtue show!
And we proclaim ourselves his foe!
Fortunate usurpers, quake!
Let the forc'd thrones, whose seats, uncall'd, ye take,
Beneath your pond'rous ruin shake!
Or, let 'em swell, to throw you out: or, with your fortunes, break:
Rapine, disguised in law! oppression, arm'd with wealth!
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Hear! and tremble, when ye know,
We, the great healers, bring th' unhappy—health!
And draw the thorn, from virtue's bleeding side.
Ye sap-engrossing weeds, which but for mischief grow!
Pay plunder'd excellence, ye slaves! the vast arrears, you owe,
Or, we pronounce ourselves your mortal foe.
Wisdom, knowledge, justice, art,
Peace, meekness, truth, and sanctity of heart!
Discourag'd industry! unfriended grief!
Charity! gentleness! and, to be brief,
Each weeping Virtue, that deserves, and has not found relief!
March, and join us; we are friends!
What, tho' your numbers are but few?
Our muster's well-weigh'd strength attends!
Where show is wanting, substance makes amends!
We, your allies, can lend you arms—and give you courage, too!
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XIV.
They come! from ev'ry part, they, gathering fly!But, trembling, backward cast a doubtful eye!
Astonish'd, at the hostile swarms, which, round 'em shad'wing, lie!
Safety! from silent caves arise!
Yon crystal pillar, from heaven's palace, break,
And cope it down to our Allies!
'Twill a glitt'ring Causeway make!
So! they are past! encamp 'em, on th' ascent!
Stretch out the bright divisions, line by line!
Unfold our milky ensigns to the wind!
Draw the battalions down, in just extent;
And bid the iron face of battle shine!
What's this! the rash audacious, foe,
Far from fear, and mad with pride,
Scorns to wait a threaten'd blow;
And this way turns invasion's tide!
They will not stay, it seems, to be a second time defy'd!
328
Numbers, following numbers, start!
Their navies hide the sea, thro' which they sweep;
And th' o'er-labour'd wind, grown sick, at heart,
After the flagging canvass seems to creep;
And groans, behind, oppress'd with weight, so strong,
That puffing storms, with cheeks half-burst, scarce push it slow along.
XV.
'Tis worth our wonder, Fancy! since we arePossess'd, at once, of the whole realm of war;
Whence, those prodigious Magazines shou'd spring,
Which nations, ill-ally'd, do, thus, against us, bring!
At times, exported hence, at first, they went,
Like naval stores, from Christendom, to Barbary rovers sent:
And hoarded long, to be, at last, ill spent,
Come, now, against their Mother's bosom bent!
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Our terrors shall new, unknown, habits wear:
And, like our Cause, our weapons, too, shall huge advantage bear!
Nature, our confederate found;
And Proteus' art our captive bound;
What force can earth, against us, bring, which these shall not confound!
Hear! thou tall forest! from thy loos'ning root,
Hither, thy piny offspring shoot!
And thou, proud host of gloom-arresting Oak!
Through whose close ranks, the day's light horse ne'er broke,
With reverend awe, confess the mighty call!
Nod consent,—and, groaning, fall!
Now, swift, together rush again, and, once more closer, join,
With animated, sympathetic, twine:
Embrace, at once, and new in form, with concave beauty shine!
Descend, compleat, and plow the flood, in naval-bodied line!
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Art shall lend self-moving springs!
Your active forms shall never need, attend the humorous wind:
Self-oar'd, with spoky fins, your furrowing keels,
Shall dash the billows back, with living wheels:
And striking, swiftly, every mark, design'd,
Sweep on, thro' winds, and tides, averse, and leave the gales, behind.
XVI.
Mountain! open thy hot breast; thy iron sinews strain!Bleed, at every nit'rous vein!
Yawn horrible! and, with convulsive pains,
Burst thy flame-lab'ring head! and shoot thy mineral brains!
Take 'em, art! and mix 'em well!
Thou can'st the dark proportions tell!
Let death the bitter kernel be, and forge thou thick the shell!
Kindle a fire, like lightning, blue!
And, that its dreadful work, it may, unerring, do,
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And give the deadly compound sight, and force, and swiftness, too!
Take this new, gigantic, mould;
And, by it, form such tubes, as may befit
The mass, which their impregnate wombs must hold!
Ram their greedy throats with it;
And teach new thunders, to out-mouth the old!
Hold! It not suffices, yet!
Not one advantage shall the proud foe boast;
'Tis not enough, that victory we get,
Unless the gain is ours, with nothing lost!
Bid yon aërial substance shed its down;
Spin it thick, and weave it strong!
Draw out the force-repelling texture long!
And, with it, fence each vessel round, like some well bulwark'd town;
Now, we are proof against their gather'd Pride,
Be all their batteries, on us, hourly, try'd!
Breathless, and dead, their fruitless force, shall kiss our soft'ned side.
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XVII.
Embark! ye well-appointed few, embark!Put out, and meet the number-trusting foe!
Their circling fleet has made the day look dark,
And seems, in sable dress'd, to mourn the coming blow!
Rush against 'em—gore 'em through!
Bear 'em down, beneath the sea!
As weeds before the furrowing plow, torn up, and buried be!
If, while, onward, ye pursue,
On either side, they flank ye, too;
At once, clear all your thunder's dreadful throats,
And roar destruction out, in passant notes!
'Tis done! and, gloriously, the banish'd day,
Which, late, their gloomy squadrons chas'd away!
Restor'd, triumphant, shines with tenfold light:
Their curling ruin shines to heaven, and makes the sun more bright!
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The hissing ocean toils, with vain desire,
To quench, with spouting waves, the batt'ling flame;
But scorch'd, with clinging heat, and mad with shame,
Does every way, at once, in blazing tides, retire,
And, flying, frights th' astonish'd world, with floods of liquid fire.
Pride-swol'n oppression, now, hot vengeance feels;
Their falling flags blush deep, in blood!
And hide their shame, within the flood!
Their masts turn downward, and th' uplifted keels
Float, reverse, with wave-wash'd reels!
And all th' extended strength, but now, so proudly gay,
Like snow-top'd fields, o'er-run by fire, melts all, at once, away.
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XVIII.
Whither shall we, now, proceed?Turn your Heads, to yon white shore;
Follow fortune, still, with speed,
Ye, who wou'd engage her more!
It matters nothing, what we, now, have done:
Or, vict'ry must be well pursued, or, she is never won.
Ha! what means yon open'ing scene?
The warlike land is gilded o'er,
With glitt'ring arms, in distant marches, seen,
And graceful troops, that edge the guarded shore!
And, from behind, to close us up, between,
A huge half moon, of naval strength,
Stretch'd, in gay, and pompous length,
Advances on us, slow, and well assur'd:
These cannot of the number be, who, late, such loss endur'd!
Mark the impatient haste of those, behind!
As if o'erjoy'd an Enemy to find;
Their wanton streamers lash the lazy wind!
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See! That glorious something, there!
Which does a form unusual seem to bear;
Moving awful; looking kind:
Now, glides before, to light 'em on; now, chears 'em up, behind.
In shape a Lion, fierce, and strong it seems,
But, like some figure fancy-form'd, that fills mens active dreams;
An Eagle's Talons, and keen bill, it dreadful seems to bear;
An Eagle's broad, and shad'wy wings, direct it thro' the air!
XIX.
Observe! what's he! who solemnly severe,With grave, and awful Sense of majesty,
Hemm'd with reverence does appear!
Whose eye so piercing seems to be!
Whose forehead wears Beneficence, to temper dignity!
Who marches, stately, down yon hill, to see!
But not to see, with fear!
To look, and judge, what we may be!
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I know the hero, now he draws more near!
How came we, blindly, thus to touch a shore,
Thus, hostilely, a land explore,
Where heaven does only blessings store!
Where wailing sorrow shall be heard, no more,
Nor virtue e'er, in vain, the help of power implore!
Away! heave anchor! we've no business, here!
Yet stay! divinely led, I err, th' unmeant good to blame!
Inspir'd, at once, I see, and own, 'twas heaven's unerring aim!
Hail! immortal son of fame!
Take these legions, they are thine!
With, theirs, thy navy shall, resistless join:
And virtue's squadrons, led by thee, o'er earth's whole surface shine
Root out oppression, wheresoe'er she grows,
Let stubborn tyranny fall dead, beneath thy pond'rous blows!
And, over all the wide-watch'd world, leave innocence no foes.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |