 | The poetical works of Sir William Jones |  |
I. VOL. I.
HIS were the stores of letter'd Time,—compress'd,
The mind of ages in a single breast;
The glance to catch, the patience to inquire,
The sage's temper, and the poet's fire.
WRANGHAM.
The mind of ages in a single breast;
The glance to catch, the patience to inquire,
The sage's temper, and the poet's fire.
WRANGHAM.
Accomplish'd JONES! whose hand to ev'ry art
Could unknown charms and nameless grace impart;
—The song to Virtue as the Muses dear;
Tho' glowing, chaste; and lovely, though severe.
What gorgeous trophies crown his youthful bloom,
The spoils august of Athens and of Rome!
And, lo! untouch'd by British brows before,
Yet nobler trophies wait on Asia's shore;
There at his magic voice, what wonders rise!
Th'astonish'd East unfolds her mysteries;
Round her dark shrines, a sudden blaze he showers,
And, all unveil'd, the proud Pantheon towers.
GRANT.
Could unknown charms and nameless grace impart;
—The song to Virtue as the Muses dear;
Tho' glowing, chaste; and lovely, though severe.
What gorgeous trophies crown his youthful bloom,
The spoils august of Athens and of Rome!
And, lo! untouch'd by British brows before,
Yet nobler trophies wait on Asia's shore;
There at his magic voice, what wonders rise!
Th'astonish'd East unfolds her mysteries;
Round her dark shrines, a sudden blaze he showers,
And, all unveil'd, the proud Pantheon towers.
GRANT.
205
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
IMITATION OF HORACE, Ode XIV. Lib. II.
WRITTEN AT FOURTEEN YEARS OF AGE.
How quickly fades the vital flow'r!
Alas, my friend! each silent hour
Steals unperceiv'd away:
The early joys of blooming youth,
Sweet innocence and dove-ey'd truth,
Are destin'd to decay.
Alas, my friend! each silent hour
Steals unperceiv'd away:
The early joys of blooming youth,
Sweet innocence and dove-ey'd truth,
Are destin'd to decay.
Can zeal, drear Pluto's wrath restrain?
No; tho' an hourly victim stain
His hallow'd shrine with blood,
Fate will recall her doom for none;
The sceptred king must leave his throne,
To pass the Stygian flood.
No; tho' an hourly victim stain
His hallow'd shrine with blood,
Fate will recall her doom for none;
The sceptred king must leave his throne,
To pass the Stygian flood.
206
In vain, my Parnell, wrapt in ease,
We shun the merchant-marring seas;
In vain, we fly from wars;
In vain we shun th'autumnal blast;
(The slow Cocytus must be pass'd;)
How needless are our cares!
We shun the merchant-marring seas;
In vain, we fly from wars;
In vain we shun th'autumnal blast;
(The slow Cocytus must be pass'd;)
How needless are our cares!
Our house, our land, our shadowy grove,
The very mistress of our love,
Ah me, we soon must leave!
Of all our trees, the hated boughs
Of Cypress shall alone diffuse
Their fragrance o'er our grave.
The very mistress of our love,
Ah me, we soon must leave!
Of all our trees, the hated boughs
Of Cypress shall alone diffuse
Their fragrance o'er our grave.
To others shall we then resign
The num'rous casks of sparkling wine,
Which, frugal, now we store;
With them a more deserving heir,
(Is this our labour, this our care?)
Shall stain the stucco floor.
The num'rous casks of sparkling wine,
Which, frugal, now we store;
With them a more deserving heir,
(Is this our labour, this our care?)
Shall stain the stucco floor.
1760.
207
ARCADIA,
A PASTORAL POEM.
208
In those fair plains, where glitt'ring Ladon roll'd
His wanton labyrinth o'er sands of gold,
Menalcas reign'd: from Pan his lineage came;
Rich were his vales, and deathless was his fame.
When youth impell'd him, and when love inspir'd,
The list'ning nymphs his Doric lays admir'd:
To hear his notes the swains with rapture flew;
A softer pipe no shepherd ever blew.
But, now, oppress'd beneath the load of age,
Belov'd, respected, venerable, sage,—
Of heroes, demigods, and gods he sung;
His reed neglected on a poplar hung:
Yet all the rules, that young Arcadians keep,
He kept; and watch'd each morn, his bleating sheep.
Two lovely daughters were his dearest care;
Both mild as May, and both as April fair:
Love, where they mov'd, each youthful breast inflam'd;
And Daphne this, and Hyla that was nam'd.
The first was bashful as a blooming bride,
And all her mien display'd a decent pride;
Her tresses, braided in a curious knot,
Were close confin'd, and not a hair forgot,—
Where many a flower, in mystic order plac'd,
With myrtle twin'd, her silken fillet grac'd;
Nor with less neatness was her robe dispos'd,
And every fold a pleasing art disclos'd;
Her sandals of the brightest silk were made,
And, as she walk'd, gave lustre to the shade;
A graceful ease in every step was seen,
She mov'd a shepherdess, yet look'd a queen.
Her sister scorn'd to dwell in arching bowers,
Or deck her locks with wreaths of fading flowers;
O'er her bare shoulder flow'd her auburn hair,
And, fann'd by Zephyrs, floated on the air;
Green were her buskins, green the vest she wore,
And in her hand a knotty crook she bore.
The voice of Daphne might all pains disarm:
Yet, heard too long, its sweetness ceas'd to charm:
But none were tir'd when artless Hyla sung,
Though something rustic warbled from her tongue.
His wanton labyrinth o'er sands of gold,
Menalcas reign'd: from Pan his lineage came;
Rich were his vales, and deathless was his fame.
When youth impell'd him, and when love inspir'd,
The list'ning nymphs his Doric lays admir'd:
To hear his notes the swains with rapture flew;
A softer pipe no shepherd ever blew.
But, now, oppress'd beneath the load of age,
Belov'd, respected, venerable, sage,—
Of heroes, demigods, and gods he sung;
His reed neglected on a poplar hung:
Yet all the rules, that young Arcadians keep,
He kept; and watch'd each morn, his bleating sheep.
209
Both mild as May, and both as April fair:
Love, where they mov'd, each youthful breast inflam'd;
And Daphne this, and Hyla that was nam'd.
The first was bashful as a blooming bride,
And all her mien display'd a decent pride;
Her tresses, braided in a curious knot,
Were close confin'd, and not a hair forgot,—
Where many a flower, in mystic order plac'd,
With myrtle twin'd, her silken fillet grac'd;
Nor with less neatness was her robe dispos'd,
And every fold a pleasing art disclos'd;
Her sandals of the brightest silk were made,
And, as she walk'd, gave lustre to the shade;
A graceful ease in every step was seen,
She mov'd a shepherdess, yet look'd a queen.
Her sister scorn'd to dwell in arching bowers,
Or deck her locks with wreaths of fading flowers;
O'er her bare shoulder flow'd her auburn hair,
And, fann'd by Zephyrs, floated on the air;
Green were her buskins, green the vest she wore,
And in her hand a knotty crook she bore.
210
Yet, heard too long, its sweetness ceas'd to charm:
But none were tir'd when artless Hyla sung,
Though something rustic warbled from her tongue.
Thus, both in beauty grew, and both in fame,
Their manners different, yet their charms the same.
The young Arcadians, tuneful from their birth,
To love devoted, and to rural mirth,
Beheld, and fondly lov'd the royal maids,
And sung their praise in valleys, lawns, and glades;—
From morn to latest eve they wept, and sigh'd;
And some for Daphne, some for Hyla, died:
Each day new presents to the nymphs they bore,
And in gay order spread the shining store;
Some beechen bowls and polish'd sheephooks brought,
With ebon knots, and studs of silver wrought;
Some led in flowery bands the playful fawn,
Or bounding roe, that spurn'd the grassy lawn;
The rest on nature's blooming gifts relied,
And rais'd their slender hopes on beauty's pride:
—But the coy maids, regardless of their pain,
Their vows derided, and their plaintive strain.
Hence some, whom love with lighter flames had fir'd,
Broke their soft flutes, and in despair retir'd;
To milder damsels told their amorous tale,
And found a kinder Daphne in the vale.
Their manners different, yet their charms the same.
The young Arcadians, tuneful from their birth,
To love devoted, and to rural mirth,
Beheld, and fondly lov'd the royal maids,
And sung their praise in valleys, lawns, and glades;—
From morn to latest eve they wept, and sigh'd;
And some for Daphne, some for Hyla, died:
Each day new presents to the nymphs they bore,
And in gay order spread the shining store;
Some beechen bowls and polish'd sheephooks brought,
With ebon knots, and studs of silver wrought;
211
Or bounding roe, that spurn'd the grassy lawn;
The rest on nature's blooming gifts relied,
And rais'd their slender hopes on beauty's pride:
—But the coy maids, regardless of their pain,
Their vows derided, and their plaintive strain.
Hence some, whom love with lighter flames had fir'd,
Broke their soft flutes, and in despair retir'd;
To milder damsels told their amorous tale,
And found a kinder Daphne in the vale.
It happen'd, on a cheerful morn of May,
When every meadow smil'd in fresh array,
The shepherds, rising at an early hour,
In crowds assembled round the regal bower,
There hail'd in sprightly notes the peerless maids;
And tender accents trembled through the glades.
Menalcas, whom the larks with many a lay
Had call'd from slumber at the dawn of day,
By chance was roving through a bordering dale,
And heard the swains their youthful woes bewail.
He knew the cause; for long his prudent mind
To sooth their cares indulgently design'd;
Slow he approach'd; then wav'd his awful hand,
And, leaning on his crook, address'd the list'ning band:—
When every meadow smil'd in fresh array,
The shepherds, rising at an early hour,
In crowds assembled round the regal bower,
There hail'd in sprightly notes the peerless maids;
And tender accents trembled through the glades.
Menalcas, whom the larks with many a lay
Had call'd from slumber at the dawn of day,
By chance was roving through a bordering dale,
And heard the swains their youthful woes bewail.
He knew the cause; for long his prudent mind
To sooth their cares indulgently design'd;
Slow he approach'd; then wav'd his awful hand,
And, leaning on his crook, address'd the list'ning band:—
‘Arcadian shepherds! to my words attend;
‘In silence, hear your monarch, and your friend.
‘Your fruitless pains, which none can disapprove,
‘Excite my pity, not my anger move.
‘Two gentle maids, the solace of my age,
‘Fill all my soul, and all my care engage;
‘When death shall join me to the pale-ey'd throng,
‘To them my sylvan empire will belong;
‘But, lest with them the royal line should fail,
‘And civil discord fill this happy vale,
‘Two chosen youths the beauteous nymphs must wed,
‘To share their power, and grace the genial bed;
‘So may the swains our ancient laws obey,
‘And all Arcadia own their potent sway.
‘But what sage counsel can their choice direct?
‘Whom can the nymphs prefer, or whom reject?
‘So like your passion, and so like your strain,
‘That all deserve, yet cannot all obtain.
‘Hear then my tale: as late, by fancy led
‘To steep Cyllene's ever-vocal head,
‘With winding steps I wander'd through the wood,
‘And pour'd wild notes; a Faun before me stood;
‘A flute he held, which as he softly blew,
‘The feather'd warblers to the sound he drew;
‘Then to my hand the precious gift consign'd,
‘And said, “Menalcas, ease thy wond'ring mind:
“This pipe, on which the god of shepherds play'd,
“When love inflam'd him, and the viewless maid,
“Receive: ev'n Pan thy tuneful skill confess'd,
“And after Pan thy lips will grace it best.
“Thy daughter's beauty every breast inspires,
“And all thy kingdom glows with equal fires:
“But let those favor'd youths alone succeed,
“Who blow with matchless art this heavenly reed.”
‘This said, he disappear'd. Then hear my will;
‘Be bold, ye lovers, and exert your skill;
‘Be they my sons, who sing the softest strains,
‘And tune to sweetest notes their pleasing pains:
‘But mark! whoe'er shall, by too harsh a lay,
‘Offend our ears, and from our manners stray,
‘He, for our favor, and our throne unfit,
‘To some disgraceful penance must submit.’
‘In silence, hear your monarch, and your friend.
212
‘Excite my pity, not my anger move.
‘Two gentle maids, the solace of my age,
‘Fill all my soul, and all my care engage;
‘When death shall join me to the pale-ey'd throng,
‘To them my sylvan empire will belong;
‘But, lest with them the royal line should fail,
‘And civil discord fill this happy vale,
‘Two chosen youths the beauteous nymphs must wed,
‘To share their power, and grace the genial bed;
‘So may the swains our ancient laws obey,
‘And all Arcadia own their potent sway.
‘But what sage counsel can their choice direct?
‘Whom can the nymphs prefer, or whom reject?
‘So like your passion, and so like your strain,
‘That all deserve, yet cannot all obtain.
‘Hear then my tale: as late, by fancy led
‘To steep Cyllene's ever-vocal head,
213
‘And pour'd wild notes; a Faun before me stood;
‘A flute he held, which as he softly blew,
‘The feather'd warblers to the sound he drew;
‘Then to my hand the precious gift consign'd,
‘And said, “Menalcas, ease thy wond'ring mind:
“This pipe, on which the god of shepherds play'd,
“When love inflam'd him, and the viewless maid,
“Receive: ev'n Pan thy tuneful skill confess'd,
“And after Pan thy lips will grace it best.
“Thy daughter's beauty every breast inspires,
“And all thy kingdom glows with equal fires:
“But let those favor'd youths alone succeed,
“Who blow with matchless art this heavenly reed.”
‘This said, he disappear'd. Then hear my will;
‘Be bold, ye lovers, and exert your skill;
214
‘And tune to sweetest notes their pleasing pains:
‘But mark! whoe'er shall, by too harsh a lay,
‘Offend our ears, and from our manners stray,
‘He, for our favor, and our throne unfit,
‘To some disgraceful penance must submit.’
He ends: the shepherds at his words rejoice,
And praise their sovereign with a grateful voice.
Each swain believes the lovely prize his own,
And sits triumphant on th'ideal throne;
Kind Vanity their want of art supplies,
And gives indulgent what the Muse denies;
Gay vests and flowery garlands each prepares,
And each the dress, that suits his fancy, wears.
And praise their sovereign with a grateful voice.
Each swain believes the lovely prize his own,
And sits triumphant on th'ideal throne;
Kind Vanity their want of art supplies,
And gives indulgent what the Muse denies;
Gay vests and flowery garlands each prepares,
And each the dress, that suits his fancy, wears.
215
Now deeper blushes ting'd the glowing sky,
And evening rais'd her silver lamp on high;
When in a bower, by Ladon's lucid stream,
Where not a star could dart his piercing beam,
So thick the curling eglantines display'd,
With woodbines join'd, an aromatic shade,—
The father of the blooming nymphs reclin'd,
His hoary locks with sacred laurel twin'd:
The royal damsels, seated by his side,
Shone like two flow'rs in summer's fairest pride:
The swains before them crowded in a ring,
Prepar'd to blow the flute, or sweetly sing.
And evening rais'd her silver lamp on high;
When in a bower, by Ladon's lucid stream,
Where not a star could dart his piercing beam,
So thick the curling eglantines display'd,
With woodbines join'd, an aromatic shade,—
The father of the blooming nymphs reclin'd,
His hoary locks with sacred laurel twin'd:
The royal damsels, seated by his side,
Shone like two flow'rs in summer's fairest pride:
The swains before them crowded in a ring,
Prepar'd to blow the flute, or sweetly sing.
First, in the midst a graceful youth arose,
Born in those fields where crystal Mele flows:
His air was courtly, his complexion fair;
And rich perfumes shed sweetness from his hair,
That o'er his shoulder wav'd in flowing curls,
With roses braided, and inwreath'd with pearls:
A wand of cedar for his crook he bore;
His slender foot th'Arcadian sandal wore,
Yet that so rich, it seem'd to fear the ground,
With beaming gems and silken ribands bound;
The plumage of an ostrich grac'd his head,
And with embroider'd flow'rs his mantle was o'erspread.
He sung the darling of th'Idalian queen,
Fall'n in his prime on sad Cythera's green;
When weeping graces left the faded plains,
And tun'd their strings to elegiac strains;
While mourning Loves the tender burden bore,
‘Adonis, fair Adonis, charms no more.’
The theme displeas'd the nymph, whose ruder ear
The tales of simple shepherds lov'd to hear.
The maids and youths, who saw the swain advance,
And take the fatal pipe, prepar'd to dance:
So wildly, so affectedly, he play'd,
His tune so various and uncouth he made,
That not a dancer could in cadence move,
And not a nymph the quaver'd notes approve:
They broke their ranks, and join'd the circling train,
While bursts of laughter sounded o'er the plain.
Menalcas rais'd his hand, and bade retire
The silken courtier from th'Arcadian choir:
Two eager shepherds, at the king's command,
Rent his gay plume, and snapp'd his polish'd wand;
They tore his vest, and o'er his bosom threw
A weed of homely grain and russet hue;
Then fill'd with wither'd herbs his scented locks,
And scornful drove him to the low-brow'd rocks;
There doom'd to rove, deserted and forlorn,
Till thrice the moon had arch'd her silver-horn.
Born in those fields where crystal Mele flows:
216
And rich perfumes shed sweetness from his hair,
That o'er his shoulder wav'd in flowing curls,
With roses braided, and inwreath'd with pearls:
A wand of cedar for his crook he bore;
His slender foot th'Arcadian sandal wore,
Yet that so rich, it seem'd to fear the ground,
With beaming gems and silken ribands bound;
The plumage of an ostrich grac'd his head,
And with embroider'd flow'rs his mantle was o'erspread.
He sung the darling of th'Idalian queen,
Fall'n in his prime on sad Cythera's green;
When weeping graces left the faded plains,
And tun'd their strings to elegiac strains;
While mourning Loves the tender burden bore,
‘Adonis, fair Adonis, charms no more.’
The theme displeas'd the nymph, whose ruder ear
The tales of simple shepherds lov'd to hear.
217
And take the fatal pipe, prepar'd to dance:
So wildly, so affectedly, he play'd,
His tune so various and uncouth he made,
That not a dancer could in cadence move,
And not a nymph the quaver'd notes approve:
They broke their ranks, and join'd the circling train,
While bursts of laughter sounded o'er the plain.
Menalcas rais'd his hand, and bade retire
The silken courtier from th'Arcadian choir:
Two eager shepherds, at the king's command,
Rent his gay plume, and snapp'd his polish'd wand;
They tore his vest, and o'er his bosom threw
A weed of homely grain and russet hue;
Then fill'd with wither'd herbs his scented locks,
And scornful drove him to the low-brow'd rocks;
There doom'd to rove, deserted and forlorn,
Till thrice the moon had arch'd her silver-horn.
The next that rose, and took the mystic reed,
Was wrapp'd, ungraceful, in a sordid weed;
A shaggy hide was o'er his shoulder spread;
And wreaths of noxious darnel bound his head;
Unshorn his beard, and tangled was his hair;
He rudely walk'd, and thus address'd the fair:
‘My kids I fondle, and my lambs I kiss;
‘Ah! grant, sweet maid, a more delightful bliss.’
The damsels blush with anger and disdain,
And turn indignant from the shameless swain;
To Pan in silence, and to Love, they pray,
To make his music hateful as his lay.
The gods assent: the flute he roughly takes,
And scarce, with pain, a grating murmur makes:
But when, in jarring notes, he forc'd his song,
Just indignation fir'd the rural throng:
Shame of Arcadia's bowers! the youths exclaim,
Whose tuneless lays disgrace a shepherd's name,
The watchful heralds, at Menalcas' nod,
Pursued the rustick with a vengeful rod;
Condemn'd three summers on the rocky shore
To feed his goats, and touch a pipe no more.
Was wrapp'd, ungraceful, in a sordid weed;
218
And wreaths of noxious darnel bound his head;
Unshorn his beard, and tangled was his hair;
He rudely walk'd, and thus address'd the fair:
‘My kids I fondle, and my lambs I kiss;
‘Ah! grant, sweet maid, a more delightful bliss.’
The damsels blush with anger and disdain,
And turn indignant from the shameless swain;
To Pan in silence, and to Love, they pray,
To make his music hateful as his lay.
The gods assent: the flute he roughly takes,
And scarce, with pain, a grating murmur makes:
But when, in jarring notes, he forc'd his song,
Just indignation fir'd the rural throng:
Shame of Arcadia's bowers! the youths exclaim,
Whose tuneless lays disgrace a shepherd's name,
The watchful heralds, at Menalcas' nod,
Pursued the rustick with a vengeful rod;
219
To feed his goats, and touch a pipe no more.
Now to the ring a portly swain advanc'd,
Who neither wholly walk'd nor wholly danc'd;
Yet mov'd in pain, so close his crimson vest
Was clasp'd uneasy o'er his straining breast:
‘Fair nymph!’ said he, ‘the roses, which you wear,
‘Your charms improve not, but their own impair.’
The maids, unus'd to flowers of eloquence,
Smil'd at the words, but could not guess their sense.
When in his hand the sacred reed he took,
Long time he view'd it with a pensive look;
Then gave it breath, and rais'd a shriller note
Than when the bird of morning swells his throat;
Through every interval, now low, now high,
Swift o'er the stops his fingers seem'd to fly:
The youths, who heard such music with surprise,
Gaz'd on the tuneful bard with wond'ring eyes:
He saw with secret pride their deep amaze,
Then said, ‘Arcadia shall resound my praise,
‘And every clime my powerful art shall own;
‘This, this, ye swains, is melody alone:
‘To me Amphion taught the heavenly strains,
‘Amphion, born on rich Hesperian plains.’
To whom Menalcas: ‘Stranger! we admire
‘Thy notes melodious, and thy rapturous fire;
‘But ere to these fair valleys thou return,
‘Adopt our manners, and our language learn:
‘Some aged shepherd shall thy air improve,
‘And teach thee how to speak, and how to move.’
Who neither wholly walk'd nor wholly danc'd;
Yet mov'd in pain, so close his crimson vest
Was clasp'd uneasy o'er his straining breast:
‘Fair nymph!’ said he, ‘the roses, which you wear,
‘Your charms improve not, but their own impair.’
The maids, unus'd to flowers of eloquence,
Smil'd at the words, but could not guess their sense.
When in his hand the sacred reed he took,
Long time he view'd it with a pensive look;
Then gave it breath, and rais'd a shriller note
Than when the bird of morning swells his throat;
220
Swift o'er the stops his fingers seem'd to fly:
The youths, who heard such music with surprise,
Gaz'd on the tuneful bard with wond'ring eyes:
He saw with secret pride their deep amaze,
Then said, ‘Arcadia shall resound my praise,
‘And every clime my powerful art shall own;
‘This, this, ye swains, is melody alone:
‘To me Amphion taught the heavenly strains,
‘Amphion, born on rich Hesperian plains.’
To whom Menalcas: ‘Stranger! we admire
‘Thy notes melodious, and thy rapturous fire;
‘But ere to these fair valleys thou return,
‘Adopt our manners, and our language learn:
‘Some aged shepherd shall thy air improve,
‘And teach thee how to speak, and how to move.’
Soon to the bow'r a modest stripling came,
Fairest of swains; and Tityrus his name:
Mild was his look: an easy grace he show'd;
And o'er his beauteous limbs a decent mantle flow'd:
As through the crowd he press'd, the sylvan choir
His mien applauded, and his neat attire;
And Daphne, yet untaught in amorous lore,
Felt strange desires, and pains unknown before.
He now begins: the dancing hills attend,
And knotty oaks from mountain-tops descend:—
He sings of swains beneath the beechen shade,
When lovely Amaryllis fill'd the glade;
Next, in a sympathizing lay, complains
Of love unpitied, and the lover's pains:
But when with art the hallow'd pipe he blew,
What deep attention hush'd the rival crew!
He play'd so sweetly, and so sweetly sung,
That on each note th'enraptur'd audience hung;
Ev'n blue-hair'd nymphs, from Ladon's limpid stream,
Rais'd their bright heads, and listen'd to the theme;
Then, through the yielding waves, in transport glanc'd;
Whilst on the banks the joyful shepherds danc'd:
‘We oft,’ said they, ‘at close of evening flow'rs,
‘Have heard such music in the vocal bow'rs:
‘We wonder'd: for we thought some amorous god,
‘That on a silver moonbeam swiftly rode,
‘Had fann'd with starry plumes, the floating air,
‘And touch'd his harp, to charm some mortal fair.’
Fairest of swains; and Tityrus his name:
221
And o'er his beauteous limbs a decent mantle flow'd:
As through the crowd he press'd, the sylvan choir
His mien applauded, and his neat attire;
And Daphne, yet untaught in amorous lore,
Felt strange desires, and pains unknown before.
He now begins: the dancing hills attend,
And knotty oaks from mountain-tops descend:—
He sings of swains beneath the beechen shade,
When lovely Amaryllis fill'd the glade;
Next, in a sympathizing lay, complains
Of love unpitied, and the lover's pains:
But when with art the hallow'd pipe he blew,
What deep attention hush'd the rival crew!
He play'd so sweetly, and so sweetly sung,
That on each note th'enraptur'd audience hung;
Ev'n blue-hair'd nymphs, from Ladon's limpid stream,
Rais'd their bright heads, and listen'd to the theme;
222
Whilst on the banks the joyful shepherds danc'd:
‘We oft,’ said they, ‘at close of evening flow'rs,
‘Have heard such music in the vocal bow'rs:
‘We wonder'd: for we thought some amorous god,
‘That on a silver moonbeam swiftly rode,
‘Had fann'd with starry plumes, the floating air,
‘And touch'd his harp, to charm some mortal fair.’
He ended; and, as rolling billows loud,
His praise resounded from the circling crowd.
The clamorous tumult softly to compose,
High in the midst, the plaintive Colin rose,
Born on the lilied banks of royal Thame,
Which oft had rung with Rosalinda's name;
Fair, yet neglected; neat, yet unadorn'd;
The pride of dress, and flowers of art, he scorn'd:
And, like the nymph who fir'd his youthful breast,
Green were his buskins, green his simple vest:
With careless ease his rustic lays he sung,
And melody flow'd smoothly from his tongue:
Of June's gay fruits and August's corn he told,
The bloom of April, and December's cold;
The loves of shepherds, and their harmless cheer
In every month that decks the varied year.
Now on the flute with equal grace he play'd,
And his soft numbers died along the shade;
The skilful dancers to his accents mov'd,
And every voice his easy tune approv'd:
Ev'n Hyla, blooming maid, admir'd the strain,
While through her bosom shot a pleasing pain.
His praise resounded from the circling crowd.
The clamorous tumult softly to compose,
High in the midst, the plaintive Colin rose,
Born on the lilied banks of royal Thame,
Which oft had rung with Rosalinda's name;
Fair, yet neglected; neat, yet unadorn'd;
The pride of dress, and flowers of art, he scorn'd:
223
Green were his buskins, green his simple vest:
With careless ease his rustic lays he sung,
And melody flow'd smoothly from his tongue:
Of June's gay fruits and August's corn he told,
The bloom of April, and December's cold;
The loves of shepherds, and their harmless cheer
In every month that decks the varied year.
Now on the flute with equal grace he play'd,
And his soft numbers died along the shade;
The skilful dancers to his accents mov'd,
And every voice his easy tune approv'd:
Ev'n Hyla, blooming maid, admir'd the strain,
While through her bosom shot a pleasing pain.
Now all were hush'd: no rival durst arise;
Pale were their cheeks, and full of tears their eyes.
Menalcas, rising from his flowery seat,
Thus, with a voice majestically sweet,
Address'd th'attentive throng: ‘Arcadians hear!
‘The sky grows dark, and beamy stars appear:
‘Haste to the vale: the bridal bowers prepare:
‘And hail with joy Menalcas' tuneful heir.
‘Thou, Tityrus, of swains the pride and grace,
‘Shalt clasp soft Daphne in thy fond embrace:
‘And thou, young Colin, in thy willing arms
‘Shalt fold my Hyla, fair in native charms.
‘O'er these sweet plains divided empire hold,
‘And to your latest race transmit an age of gold.
‘What splendid visions rise before my sight,
‘And fill my aged bosom with delight!
‘ Henceforth of wars and conquests shall you sing,
‘Arms and the Man in every clime shall ring:
‘Thy muse, bold Maro, Tityrus no more,
‘Shall tell of chiefs that left the Phrygian shore,
‘Sad Dido's love, and Venus' wandering son,
‘The Latians vanquish'd, and Lavinia won.
‘And thou, O Colin! heaven-defended youth,
‘Shalt hide in fiction's veil the charms of truth;
‘Thy notes the sting of sorrow shall beguile,
‘And smooth the brow of anguish till it smile;
‘Notes, that a sweet Elysian dream can raise,
‘And lead th'enchanted soul through fancy's maze;
‘Thy verse shall shine with Gloriana's name,
‘And fill the world with Britain's endless fame.’
Pale were their cheeks, and full of tears their eyes.
Menalcas, rising from his flowery seat,
Thus, with a voice majestically sweet,
Address'd th'attentive throng: ‘Arcadians hear!
‘The sky grows dark, and beamy stars appear:
‘Haste to the vale: the bridal bowers prepare:
‘And hail with joy Menalcas' tuneful heir.
‘Thou, Tityrus, of swains the pride and grace,
‘Shalt clasp soft Daphne in thy fond embrace:
‘And thou, young Colin, in thy willing arms
‘Shalt fold my Hyla, fair in native charms.
224
‘And to your latest race transmit an age of gold.
‘What splendid visions rise before my sight,
‘And fill my aged bosom with delight!
‘ Henceforth of wars and conquests shall you sing,
‘Arms and the Man in every clime shall ring:
‘Thy muse, bold Maro, Tityrus no more,
‘Shall tell of chiefs that left the Phrygian shore,
‘Sad Dido's love, and Venus' wandering son,
‘The Latians vanquish'd, and Lavinia won.
‘And thou, O Colin! heaven-defended youth,
‘Shalt hide in fiction's veil the charms of truth;
‘Thy notes the sting of sorrow shall beguile,
‘And smooth the brow of anguish till it smile;
‘Notes, that a sweet Elysian dream can raise,
‘And lead th'enchanted soul through fancy's maze;
‘Thy verse shall shine with Gloriana's name,
‘And fill the world with Britain's endless fame.’
To Tityrus, then, he gave the sacred flute,
And bade his sons their blushing brides salute;
Whilst all the train a lay of triumph sung,
Till mountains echo'd, and till valleys rung.
And bade his sons their blushing brides salute;
225
Till mountains echo'd, and till valleys rung.
While thus, with mirth, they tun'd the nuptial strain,
A youth, too late, was hastening o'er the plain,
Clad in a flowing vest of azure hue;
Blue were his sandals, and his girdle blue:
A slave, ill-dress'd and mean, behind him bore
An osier-basket, fill'd with fishy store,—
The lobster with his sable armour bold;
The tasteful mullet, deck'd with scales of gold;
Bright perch, the tyrants of the finny breed;
And greylings sweet, that crop the fragrant weed:
Among them shells of many a tint appear;
The heart of Venus, and her pearly ear;
The nautilus, on curling billows born;
And scallops, by the wandering pilgrim worn;
Some dropp'd with silver, some with purple dye;
With all the race that seas or streams supply:—
A net and angle o'er his shoulder hung:
Thus was the stranger clad:—and thus he sung:
‘Ah! lovely damsel, leave thy simple sheep;
‘'Tis sweeter in the sea-worn rock to sleep;
‘There, shall thy line the scaly shoals betray,
‘And sports, unknown before, beguile the day:
‘To guide o'er rolling waves the dancing skiff,
‘Or pluck the samphire from th'impending cliff:
‘My rapturous notes the blue-ey'd Nereids praise,
‘And silver-footed Naiads hear my lays.’
‘To them,’ Menalcas said, ‘thy numbers pour;
‘Insult our flocks and blissful vales no more.’
He spoke: the heralds knew their sovereign's will,
And hurl'd the fisher down the sloping hill:
Headlong he plung'd beneath the liquid plain;
(But not a nymph receiv'd the falling swain;)
Then, dropping, rose; and, like the rushing wind,
Impetuous fled, nor cast a look behind;
He sought the poplar'd banks of winding Po,
But shunn'd the meads where Ladon's waters flow.
A youth, too late, was hastening o'er the plain,
Clad in a flowing vest of azure hue;
Blue were his sandals, and his girdle blue:
A slave, ill-dress'd and mean, behind him bore
An osier-basket, fill'd with fishy store,—
The lobster with his sable armour bold;
The tasteful mullet, deck'd with scales of gold;
Bright perch, the tyrants of the finny breed;
And greylings sweet, that crop the fragrant weed:
Among them shells of many a tint appear;
The heart of Venus, and her pearly ear;
226
And scallops, by the wandering pilgrim worn;
Some dropp'd with silver, some with purple dye;
With all the race that seas or streams supply:—
A net and angle o'er his shoulder hung:
Thus was the stranger clad:—and thus he sung:
‘Ah! lovely damsel, leave thy simple sheep;
‘'Tis sweeter in the sea-worn rock to sleep;
‘There, shall thy line the scaly shoals betray,
‘And sports, unknown before, beguile the day:
‘To guide o'er rolling waves the dancing skiff,
‘Or pluck the samphire from th'impending cliff:
‘My rapturous notes the blue-ey'd Nereids praise,
‘And silver-footed Naiads hear my lays.’
‘To them,’ Menalcas said, ‘thy numbers pour;
‘Insult our flocks and blissful vales no more.’
He spoke: the heralds knew their sovereign's will,
And hurl'd the fisher down the sloping hill:
227
(But not a nymph receiv'd the falling swain;)
Then, dropping, rose; and, like the rushing wind,
Impetuous fled, nor cast a look behind;
He sought the poplar'd banks of winding Po,
But shunn'd the meads where Ladon's waters flow.
Ere through nine radiant signs the flaming sun
His course resplendent in the Zodiac run,
The royal damsels, bashful now no more,
Two lovely boys on one glad morning bore;
From blooming Daphne fair Alexis sprung,
And Colinet on Hyla's bosom hung;
Both o'er the vales of sweet Arcadia reign'd,
And both the manners of their sires retain'd:
Alexis, fairer than a morn of May,
In glades and forests tun'd his rural lay,
More soft than rills that through the valley flow,
Or vernal gales that o'er the violets blow;
He sung the tender woes of artless swains,
Their tuneful contests, and their amorous pains;
When early spring has wak'd the breathing flow'rs,
Or winter hangs with frost the silv'ry bow'rs:—
But Colinet in ruder numbers tells
The loves of rustics, and fair-boding spells:
Sings how they simply pass the livelong day,
And softly mourn, or innocently play.
His course resplendent in the Zodiac run,
The royal damsels, bashful now no more,
Two lovely boys on one glad morning bore;
From blooming Daphne fair Alexis sprung,
And Colinet on Hyla's bosom hung;
Both o'er the vales of sweet Arcadia reign'd,
And both the manners of their sires retain'd:
Alexis, fairer than a morn of May,
In glades and forests tun'd his rural lay,
228
Or vernal gales that o'er the violets blow;
He sung the tender woes of artless swains,
Their tuneful contests, and their amorous pains;
When early spring has wak'd the breathing flow'rs,
Or winter hangs with frost the silv'ry bow'rs:—
But Colinet in ruder numbers tells
The loves of rustics, and fair-boding spells:
Sings how they simply pass the livelong day,
And softly mourn, or innocently play.
Since them no shepherd rules th'Arcadian mead,
But silent hangs Menalcas' fatal reed.
But silent hangs Menalcas' fatal reed.
This couplet alludes to the higher Idyllia of Theocritus; as the Εγκωμιον εις Πτολεμαιον, the Διοσκουροι, and others which are of the heroic kind.
See Tasso, Guarini, Fontinelle, Camoens, Garcilasso, and Lope de la Vega; and other writers of pastorals in Italian, French, Portuguese, and Spansih.
Colin is the name that Spenser takes in his Pastorals; and Rosalinda is that, under which he celebrates his mistress.
230
CAISSA:
OR, THE GAME OF CHESS.
A POEM, Written in 1763.
Of armies on the chequer'd field array'd,
And guiltless war in pleasing form display'd;
When two bold kings contend with vain alarms,
In ivory this, and that in ebon arms;
Sing, sportive maids, that haunt the sacred hill
Of Pindus, and the fam'd Pierian rill.
Thou, joy of all below, and all above,
Mild Venus, queen of laughter, queen of love;
Leave thy bright island, where on many a rose
And many a pink thy blooming train repose:
Assist me, goddess! since a lovely pair
Command my song, like thee divinely fair.
And guiltless war in pleasing form display'd;
When two bold kings contend with vain alarms,
In ivory this, and that in ebon arms;
Sing, sportive maids, that haunt the sacred hill
Of Pindus, and the fam'd Pierian rill.
Thou, joy of all below, and all above,
Mild Venus, queen of laughter, queen of love;
231
And many a pink thy blooming train repose:
Assist me, goddess! since a lovely pair
Command my song, like thee divinely fair.
Near yon cool stream, whose living waters play,
And rise translucent, in the solar ray;
Beneath the covert of a fragrant bow'r,
Where spring's soft influence purpled every flow'r;
Two smiling nymphs reclin'd in calm retreat,
And envying blossoms crowded round their seat;
Here, Delia was enthron'd; and, by her side,
The sweet Sirena; both, in beauty's pride:
Thus shine two roses, fresh with early bloom,
That from their native stalk dispense perfume;
Their leaves unfolding to the dawning day,
Gems of the glowing mead, and eyes of May.
A band of youths and damsels sat around,
Their flowing locks with braided myrtle bound;
Agatis, in the graceful dance admir'd,
And gentle Thyrsis, by the muse inspir'd;
With Sylvia, fairest of the mirthful train;
And Daphnis, doom'd to love, yet love in vain.
Now, whilst a purer blush o'erspreads her cheeks,
With soothing accents thus Sirena speaks:
And rise translucent, in the solar ray;
Beneath the covert of a fragrant bow'r,
Where spring's soft influence purpled every flow'r;
Two smiling nymphs reclin'd in calm retreat,
And envying blossoms crowded round their seat;
Here, Delia was enthron'd; and, by her side,
The sweet Sirena; both, in beauty's pride:
Thus shine two roses, fresh with early bloom,
That from their native stalk dispense perfume;
Their leaves unfolding to the dawning day,
Gems of the glowing mead, and eyes of May.
A band of youths and damsels sat around,
Their flowing locks with braided myrtle bound;
Agatis, in the graceful dance admir'd,
And gentle Thyrsis, by the muse inspir'd;
With Sylvia, fairest of the mirthful train;
And Daphnis, doom'd to love, yet love in vain.
Now, whilst a purer blush o'erspreads her cheeks,
With soothing accents thus Sirena speaks:
‘The meads and lawns are ting'd with beamy light,
‘And wakeful larks begin their vocal flight;
‘Whilst on each bank the dew-drops sweetly smile;
‘What sport, my Delia, shall the hours beguile?
‘Shall heavenly notes, prolong'd with various art,
‘Charm the fond ear, and warm the rapturous heart?
‘At distance shall we view the sylvan chase;
‘Or catch with silken lines the finny race?’
‘And wakeful larks begin their vocal flight;
‘Whilst on each bank the dew-drops sweetly smile;
‘What sport, my Delia, shall the hours beguile?
232
‘Charm the fond ear, and warm the rapturous heart?
‘At distance shall we view the sylvan chase;
‘Or catch with silken lines the finny race?’
Then Delia thus: ‘Or, rather since we meet
‘By chance assembled in this cool retreat,
‘In artful contest let our warlike train
‘Move, well-directed, o'er the color'd plain;
‘Daphnis, who taught us first, the play shall guide;
‘Explain its laws, and o'er the field preside:
‘No prize we need, our ardor to inflame;
‘We fight with pleasure, if we fight for fame.’
‘By chance assembled in this cool retreat,
‘In artful contest let our warlike train
‘Move, well-directed, o'er the color'd plain;
‘Daphnis, who taught us first, the play shall guide;
‘Explain its laws, and o'er the field preside:
‘No prize we need, our ardor to inflame;
‘We fight with pleasure, if we fight for fame.’
The nymph consents: the maids and youths prepare
To view the combat, and the sport to share;
But Daphnis most approv'd the bold design,
Whom Love instructed, and the tuneful Nine.
He rose; and on the cedar table plac'd
A polish'd board, with diff'ring colors grac'd;
Squares eight times eight in equal order lie;
These bright as snow, those dark with sable dye;
Like the broad target by the tortoise born,
Or like the hide by spotted panthers worn.
Then from a chest, with harmless heroes stor'd,
O'er the smooth plain two well-wrought hosts he pour'd;
The champions burn'd, their rivals to assail,
Twice eight in black, twice eight in milkwhite mail;
In shape and station different, as in name,
Their motions various, nor their pow'r the same.
Say, muse! (for Jove has nought from thee conceal'd)
Who form'd the legions on the level field?
To view the combat, and the sport to share;
But Daphnis most approv'd the bold design,
Whom Love instructed, and the tuneful Nine.
He rose; and on the cedar table plac'd
A polish'd board, with diff'ring colors grac'd;
Squares eight times eight in equal order lie;
These bright as snow, those dark with sable dye;
233
Or like the hide by spotted panthers worn.
Then from a chest, with harmless heroes stor'd,
O'er the smooth plain two well-wrought hosts he pour'd;
The champions burn'd, their rivals to assail,
Twice eight in black, twice eight in milkwhite mail;
In shape and station different, as in name,
Their motions various, nor their pow'r the same.
Say, muse! (for Jove has nought from thee conceal'd)
Who form'd the legions on the level field?
High in the midst, the reverend kings appear,
And o'er the rest their pearly sceptres rear:
One solemn step, majestically slow,
They gravely move, and shun the dangerous foe;
If e'er they call, the watchful subjects spring,
And die with rapture if they save their king;
On him the glory of the day depends,
He once imprison'd, all the conflict ends.
And o'er the rest their pearly sceptres rear:
One solemn step, majestically slow,
They gravely move, and shun the dangerous foe;
234
And die with rapture if they save their king;
On him the glory of the day depends,
He once imprison'd, all the conflict ends.
The queens exulting near their consorts stand;
Each bears a deadly falchion in her hand;
Now here, now there, they bound with furious pride,
And thin the trembling ranks from side to side;
Swift as Camilla flying o'er the main,
Or lightly skimming o'er the dewy plain:
Fierce as they seem, some bold Plebeian spear
May pierce their shield, or stop their full career.
Each bears a deadly falchion in her hand;
Now here, now there, they bound with furious pride,
And thin the trembling ranks from side to side;
Swift as Camilla flying o'er the main,
Or lightly skimming o'er the dewy plain:
Fierce as they seem, some bold Plebeian spear
May pierce their shield, or stop their full career.
The valiant guards, their minds on havoc bent,
Fill the next squares, and watch the royal tent;
Though weak their spears, though dwarfish be their height,
Compact they move, the bulwark of the fight.
Fill the next squares, and watch the royal tent;
Though weak their spears, though dwarfish be their height,
Compact they move, the bulwark of the fight.
To right and left the martial wings display
Their shining arms, and stand in close array.
Behold! four archers, eager to advance,
Send the light reed, and rush with sidelong glance;
Through angles, ever, they assault the foes,
True to the color, which at first they chose.
Then four bold knights, for courage fam'd and speed,
Each knight exalted on a prancing steed:
Their arching course no vulgar limit knows,
Transverse they leap, and aim insidious blows:
Nor friends, nor foes, their rapid force restrain,
By one quick bound two changing squares they gain;
From varying hues renew the fierce attack,
And rush from black to white, from white to black.
Four solemn elephants the sides defend;
Beneath the load of pond'rous towers they bend:
In one unalter'd line they tempt the fight;
Now crush the left, and now o'erwhelm the right.
Bright in the front the dauntless soldiers raise
Their polish'd spears; their steely helmets blaze:
Prepar'd they stand the daring foe to strike,
Direct their progress, but their wounds oblique.
Now swell the embattled troops with hostile rage,
And clang their shields, impatient to engage;
When Daphnis thus: “A varied plain behold,
Where fairy kings their mimic tents unfold,
As Oberon, and Mab, his wayward queen,
Lead forth their armies on the daisied green.
No mortal had the wondrous sport contriv'd,
By gods invented, and from gods deriv'd;
From them the British nymphs receiv'd the game,
And play each morn beneath the crystal Thame;
Hear then the tale, which they to Colin sung,
As idling o'er the lucid wave he hung:
Their shining arms, and stand in close array.
Behold! four archers, eager to advance,
Send the light reed, and rush with sidelong glance;
235
True to the color, which at first they chose.
Then four bold knights, for courage fam'd and speed,
Each knight exalted on a prancing steed:
Their arching course no vulgar limit knows,
Transverse they leap, and aim insidious blows:
Nor friends, nor foes, their rapid force restrain,
By one quick bound two changing squares they gain;
From varying hues renew the fierce attack,
And rush from black to white, from white to black.
Four solemn elephants the sides defend;
Beneath the load of pond'rous towers they bend:
In one unalter'd line they tempt the fight;
Now crush the left, and now o'erwhelm the right.
Bright in the front the dauntless soldiers raise
Their polish'd spears; their steely helmets blaze:
Prepar'd they stand the daring foe to strike,
Direct their progress, but their wounds oblique.
236
And clang their shields, impatient to engage;
When Daphnis thus: “A varied plain behold,
Where fairy kings their mimic tents unfold,
As Oberon, and Mab, his wayward queen,
Lead forth their armies on the daisied green.
No mortal had the wondrous sport contriv'd,
By gods invented, and from gods deriv'd;
From them the British nymphs receiv'd the game,
And play each morn beneath the crystal Thame;
Hear then the tale, which they to Colin sung,
As idling o'er the lucid wave he hung:
A lovely Dryad rang'd the Thracian wild,
Her air enchanting and her aspect mild;
To chase the bounding hart was all her joy,
Averse from Hymen, and the Cyprian boy;
O'er hills and valleys was her beauty fam'd,
And fair Caïssa was the damsel nam'd.
Mars saw the maid; with deep surprise he gaz'd,
Admir'd her shape, and every gesture prais'd:
His golden bow the child of Venus bent,
And through his breast a piercing arrow sent:
The reed was Hope; the feathers, keen Desire;
The point, her eyes; the barbs, ethereal fire.
Soon to the nymph he pour'd his tender strain;
The haughty Dryad scorn'd his amorous pain:
He told his woes, where'er the maid he found,
And still he press'd, yet still Caïssa frown'd;
But ev'n her frowns (ah, what might smiles have done!)
Fir'd all his soul, and all his senses won.
He left his car, by raging tygers drawn,
And lonely wander'd o'er the dusky lawn;
Then lay desponding near a murmuring stream,
And fair Caïssa was his plaintive theme.
A Naiad heard him from her mossy bed,
And through the crystal rais'd her placid head;
Then mildly spake: ‘O thou, whom love inspires,
‘Thy tears will nourish, not allay thy fires.
‘The smiling blossoms drink the pearly dew;
‘And ripening fruit the feather'd race pursue;
‘The scaly shoals devour the silken weeds;
‘Love on our sighs, and on our sorrow feeds.
‘Then weep no more; but, ere thou canst obtain
‘Balm to thy wounds, and solace to thy pain,
‘With gentle art thy martial look beguile;
‘Be mild, and teach thy rugged brow to smile.
‘Canst thou no play, no soothing game devise,
‘To make thee lovely in the damsel's eyes?
‘So may thy prayers assuage the scornful dame,
‘And ev'n Caïssa own a mutual flame.’
‘Kind nymph,’ said Mars, ‘thy counsel I approve;
‘Art, only art, her ruthless breast can move.
‘But when? or how? Thy dark discourse explain:
‘So may thy stream ne'er swell with gushing rain;
‘So may thy waves in one pure current flow,
‘And flowers eternal on thy border blow!’
Her air enchanting and her aspect mild;
To chase the bounding hart was all her joy,
Averse from Hymen, and the Cyprian boy;
O'er hills and valleys was her beauty fam'd,
And fair Caïssa was the damsel nam'd.
Mars saw the maid; with deep surprise he gaz'd,
Admir'd her shape, and every gesture prais'd:
His golden bow the child of Venus bent,
And through his breast a piercing arrow sent:
237
The point, her eyes; the barbs, ethereal fire.
Soon to the nymph he pour'd his tender strain;
The haughty Dryad scorn'd his amorous pain:
He told his woes, where'er the maid he found,
And still he press'd, yet still Caïssa frown'd;
But ev'n her frowns (ah, what might smiles have done!)
Fir'd all his soul, and all his senses won.
He left his car, by raging tygers drawn,
And lonely wander'd o'er the dusky lawn;
Then lay desponding near a murmuring stream,
And fair Caïssa was his plaintive theme.
A Naiad heard him from her mossy bed,
And through the crystal rais'd her placid head;
Then mildly spake: ‘O thou, whom love inspires,
‘Thy tears will nourish, not allay thy fires.
‘The smiling blossoms drink the pearly dew;
‘And ripening fruit the feather'd race pursue;
‘The scaly shoals devour the silken weeds;
‘Love on our sighs, and on our sorrow feeds.
‘Then weep no more; but, ere thou canst obtain
‘Balm to thy wounds, and solace to thy pain,
‘With gentle art thy martial look beguile;
‘Be mild, and teach thy rugged brow to smile.
‘Canst thou no play, no soothing game devise,
‘To make thee lovely in the damsel's eyes?
‘So may thy prayers assuage the scornful dame,
‘And ev'n Caïssa own a mutual flame.’
‘Kind nymph,’ said Mars, ‘thy counsel I approve;
‘Art, only art, her ruthless breast can move.
238
‘So may thy stream ne'er swell with gushing rain;
‘So may thy waves in one pure current flow,
‘And flowers eternal on thy border blow!’
To whom the maid replied with smiling mien:
‘Above the palace of the Paphian queen
‘Love's brother dwells, a boy of graceful port,
‘By gods nam'd Euphron, and by mortals Sport:
‘Seek him; to faithful ears unfold thy grief,
‘And hope, ere morn return, a sweet relief.
‘His temple hangs below the azure skies;
‘See'st thou yon argent cloud? 'Tis there it lies.’
This said, she sunk beneath the liquid plain,
And sought the mansion of her blue-hair'd train.
‘Above the palace of the Paphian queen
‘Love's brother dwells, a boy of graceful port,
‘By gods nam'd Euphron, and by mortals Sport:
‘Seek him; to faithful ears unfold thy grief,
‘And hope, ere morn return, a sweet relief.
‘His temple hangs below the azure skies;
‘See'st thou yon argent cloud? 'Tis there it lies.’
This said, she sunk beneath the liquid plain,
And sought the mansion of her blue-hair'd train.
Meantime the god, elate with heart-felt joy,
Had reach'd the temple of the sportful boy;
He told Caïssa's charms, his kindled fire,
The Naiad's counsel, and his warm desire.
‘Be swift,’ he added, ‘give my passion aid;
‘A god requests.’—He spake, and Sport obey'd.
He fram'd a tablet of celestial mould,
Inlay'd with squares of silver and of gold;
Then of two metals form'd the warlike band,
That here, compact, in show of battle stand;
He taught the rules that guide the pensive game,
And call'd it Cassa from the Dryad's name:
(Whence Albion's sons, who most its praise confess,
Approv'd the play, and nam'd it thoughtful Chess.)
The god delighted, thank'd indulgent Sport;
Then grasp'd the board, and left his airy court.
With radiant feet he pierc'd the clouds; nor stay'd,
Till in the woods he saw the beauteous maid:
Tir'd with the chase the damsel sat reclin'd,
Her girdle loose, her bosom unconfin'd.
He took the figure of a wanton Faun,
And stood before her on the flowery lawn;
Then show'd his tablet: pleas'd, the nymph survey'd
The lifeless troops, in glittering ranks display'd;
She ask'd the wily sylvan to explain
The various motions of the splendid train:
With eager heart she caught the winning lore,
And thought ev'n Mars less hateful than before:
‘What spell,’ said she, ‘deceiv'd my careless mind?
‘The god was fair, and I was most unkind.’
She spoke, and saw the changing Faun assume
A milder aspect, and a fairer bloom;
His wreathing horns, that from his temples grew,
Flow'd down in curls of bright celestial hue;
The dappled hairs, that veil'd his loveless face,
Blaz'd into beams, and show'd a heavenly grace;
The shaggy hide, that mantled o'er his breast,
Was soften'd to a smooth transparent vest,
That through its folds his vigorous bosom show'd,
And nervous limbs, where youthful ardor glow'd:
(Had Venus view'd him in those blooming charms,
Not Vulcan's net had forc'd her from his arms.)
With goat-like feet no more he mark'd the ground,
But braided flowers his silken sandals bound.
The Dryad blush'd; and as he press'd her, smil'd,
Whilst all his cares one tender glance beguil'd.”
Had reach'd the temple of the sportful boy;
He told Caïssa's charms, his kindled fire,
The Naiad's counsel, and his warm desire.
‘Be swift,’ he added, ‘give my passion aid;
‘A god requests.’—He spake, and Sport obey'd.
He fram'd a tablet of celestial mould,
Inlay'd with squares of silver and of gold;
239
That here, compact, in show of battle stand;
He taught the rules that guide the pensive game,
And call'd it Cassa from the Dryad's name:
(Whence Albion's sons, who most its praise confess,
Approv'd the play, and nam'd it thoughtful Chess.)
The god delighted, thank'd indulgent Sport;
Then grasp'd the board, and left his airy court.
With radiant feet he pierc'd the clouds; nor stay'd,
Till in the woods he saw the beauteous maid:
Tir'd with the chase the damsel sat reclin'd,
Her girdle loose, her bosom unconfin'd.
He took the figure of a wanton Faun,
And stood before her on the flowery lawn;
Then show'd his tablet: pleas'd, the nymph survey'd
The lifeless troops, in glittering ranks display'd;
She ask'd the wily sylvan to explain
The various motions of the splendid train:
With eager heart she caught the winning lore,
And thought ev'n Mars less hateful than before:
‘What spell,’ said she, ‘deceiv'd my careless mind?
‘The god was fair, and I was most unkind.’
She spoke, and saw the changing Faun assume
A milder aspect, and a fairer bloom;
His wreathing horns, that from his temples grew,
Flow'd down in curls of bright celestial hue;
The dappled hairs, that veil'd his loveless face,
Blaz'd into beams, and show'd a heavenly grace;
The shaggy hide, that mantled o'er his breast,
Was soften'd to a smooth transparent vest,
240
And nervous limbs, where youthful ardor glow'd:
(Had Venus view'd him in those blooming charms,
Not Vulcan's net had forc'd her from his arms.)
With goat-like feet no more he mark'd the ground,
But braided flowers his silken sandals bound.
The Dryad blush'd; and as he press'd her, smil'd,
Whilst all his cares one tender glance beguil'd.”
He ends; To arms! the maids and striplings cry;
To arms! the groves and sounding vales reply.
Sirena led to war the swarthy crew,
And Delia those that bore the lily's hue.
Who first, O muse! began the bold attack;
The white refulgent, or the mournful black?
Fair Delia first, as favoring lots ordain,
Moves her pale legions tow'rd the sable train:
From thought to thought her lively fancy flies,
Whilst o'er the board she darts her sparkling eyes.
To arms! the groves and sounding vales reply.
Sirena led to war the swarthy crew,
And Delia those that bore the lily's hue.
Who first, O muse! began the bold attack;
The white refulgent, or the mournful black?
Fair Delia first, as favoring lots ordain,
Moves her pale legions tow'rd the sable train:
From thought to thought her lively fancy flies,
Whilst o'er the board she darts her sparkling eyes.
At length the warrior moves with haughty strides;
Who from the plain the snowy king divides:
With equal haste his swarthy rival bounds;
His quiver rattles, and his buckler sounds:
Ah! hapless youths, with fatal warmth you burn;
Laws, ever fix'd, forbid you to return.
Then from the wing a short-liv'd spearman flies,
Unsafely bold, and see! he dies, he dies:
The dark-brow'd hero, with one vengeful blow,
Of life and place deprives his ivory foe.
Now rush both armies o'er the burnish'd field,
Hurl the swift dart, and rend the bursting shield.
Here furious knights on fiery coursers prance,
Here archers spring, and lofty towers advance.
But see! the white-rob'd Amazon beholds
Where the dark host its opening van unfolds:
Soon as her eye discerns the hostile maid,
By ebon shield, and ebon helm betray'd;
Seven squares she passes with majestic mien,
And stands triumphant o'er the falling queen.
Perplex'd, and sorrowing at his consort's fate,
The monarch burn'd with rage, despair, and hate:
Swift from his zone th'avenging blade he drew,
And, mad with ire, the proud virago slew.
Meanwhile sweet-smiling Delia's wary king
Retir'd from fight behind his circling wing.
Who from the plain the snowy king divides:
With equal haste his swarthy rival bounds;
His quiver rattles, and his buckler sounds:
Ah! hapless youths, with fatal warmth you burn;
Laws, ever fix'd, forbid you to return.
Then from the wing a short-liv'd spearman flies,
Unsafely bold, and see! he dies, he dies:
The dark-brow'd hero, with one vengeful blow,
Of life and place deprives his ivory foe.
241
Hurl the swift dart, and rend the bursting shield.
Here furious knights on fiery coursers prance,
Here archers spring, and lofty towers advance.
But see! the white-rob'd Amazon beholds
Where the dark host its opening van unfolds:
Soon as her eye discerns the hostile maid,
By ebon shield, and ebon helm betray'd;
Seven squares she passes with majestic mien,
And stands triumphant o'er the falling queen.
Perplex'd, and sorrowing at his consort's fate,
The monarch burn'd with rage, despair, and hate:
Swift from his zone th'avenging blade he drew,
And, mad with ire, the proud virago slew.
Meanwhile sweet-smiling Delia's wary king
Retir'd from fight behind his circling wing.
Long time the war in equal balance hung;
Till, unforeseen, an ivory courser sprung,
And, wildly prancing in an evil hour,
Attack'd at once the monarch and the tower:
Sirena blush'd; for, as the rules requir'd,
Her injur'd sovereign to his tent retir'd;
Whilst her lost castle leaves his threat'ning height,
And adds new glory to th'exulting knight.
Till, unforeseen, an ivory courser sprung,
And, wildly prancing in an evil hour,
Attack'd at once the monarch and the tower:
Sirena blush'd; for, as the rules requir'd,
Her injur'd sovereign to his tent retir'd;
Whilst her lost castle leaves his threat'ning height,
And adds new glory to th'exulting knight.
At this, pale fear oppress'd the drooping maid,
And on her cheek the rose began to fade:
A crystal tear, that stood prepar'd to fall,
She wip'd in silence, and conceal'd from all;
From all but Daphnis: He remark'd her pain,
And saw the weakness of her ebon train;
Then gently spoke: ‘Let me your loss supply,
‘And either nobly win, or nobly die;
‘Me oft has fortune crown'd with fair success,
‘And led to triumph in the fields of Chess.’
He said: the willing nymph her place resign'd,
And sat at distance on the bank reclin'd.
Thus, when Minerva call'd her chief to arms,
And Troy's high turret shook with dire alarms,
The Cyprian goddess, wounded, left the plain,
And Mars engag'd a mightier force in vain.
And on her cheek the rose began to fade:
A crystal tear, that stood prepar'd to fall,
She wip'd in silence, and conceal'd from all;
242
And saw the weakness of her ebon train;
Then gently spoke: ‘Let me your loss supply,
‘And either nobly win, or nobly die;
‘Me oft has fortune crown'd with fair success,
‘And led to triumph in the fields of Chess.’
He said: the willing nymph her place resign'd,
And sat at distance on the bank reclin'd.
Thus, when Minerva call'd her chief to arms,
And Troy's high turret shook with dire alarms,
The Cyprian goddess, wounded, left the plain,
And Mars engag'd a mightier force in vain.
Strait Daphnis leads his squadron to the field;
(To Delia's arms 'tis ev'n a joy to yield.)
Each guileful snare, and subtle art he tries,
But finds his art less powerful than her eyes:
Wisdom and strength superior charms obey:
And beauty, beauty, wins the long-fought day.
By this,—a hoary chief, on slaughter bent,
Approach'd the gloomy king's unguarded tent;
Where, late, his consort spread dismay around,
Now her dark corse lies bleeding on the ground.
Hail, happy youth! thy glories not unsung
Shall live eternal on the poet's tongue;
For thou shalt soon receive a splendid change,
And o'er the plain with nobler fury range.
The swarthy leaders saw the storm impend,
And strove in vain their sovereign to defend:
Th'invader wav'd his silver lance in air,
And flew like lightning to the fatal square;
His limbs, dilated, in a moment grew
To stately height, and widen'd to the view;
More fierce his look, more lion-like his mien,
Sublime he mov'd, and seem'd a warrior queen.
As when the sage on some unfolding plant
Has caught a wand'ring fly, or frugal ant,
His hand the microscopic frame applies,
And, lo! a bright-hair'd monster meets his eyes;
He sees new plumes in slender cases roll'd;
Here stain'd with azure, there bedropp'd with gold;
Thus, on the alter'd chief both armies gaze,
And both the kings are fix'd with deep amaze.
The sword, which arm'd the snow-white maid before,
He now assumes, and hurls the spear no more;
Then springs indignant on the dark-rob'd band,
And knights and archers feel his deadly hand.
Now flies the monarch of the sable shield,
His legions vanquish'd, o'er the lonely field;
So when the morn, by rosy coursers drawn,
With pearls and rubies sows the verdant lawn,
Whilst each pale star from heaven's blue vault retires,
Still Venus gleams, and last of all expires.
He hears, where'er he moves, the dreadful sound;
Check the deep vales, and Check the woods rebound:—
No place remains: he sees the certain fate,
And yields his throne to ruin, and Checkmate.
(To Delia's arms 'tis ev'n a joy to yield.)
Each guileful snare, and subtle art he tries,
But finds his art less powerful than her eyes:
Wisdom and strength superior charms obey:
And beauty, beauty, wins the long-fought day.
By this,—a hoary chief, on slaughter bent,
Approach'd the gloomy king's unguarded tent;
Where, late, his consort spread dismay around,
Now her dark corse lies bleeding on the ground.
Hail, happy youth! thy glories not unsung
Shall live eternal on the poet's tongue;
For thou shalt soon receive a splendid change,
And o'er the plain with nobler fury range.
The swarthy leaders saw the storm impend,
And strove in vain their sovereign to defend:
243
And flew like lightning to the fatal square;
His limbs, dilated, in a moment grew
To stately height, and widen'd to the view;
More fierce his look, more lion-like his mien,
Sublime he mov'd, and seem'd a warrior queen.
As when the sage on some unfolding plant
Has caught a wand'ring fly, or frugal ant,
His hand the microscopic frame applies,
And, lo! a bright-hair'd monster meets his eyes;
He sees new plumes in slender cases roll'd;
Here stain'd with azure, there bedropp'd with gold;
Thus, on the alter'd chief both armies gaze,
And both the kings are fix'd with deep amaze.
The sword, which arm'd the snow-white maid before,
He now assumes, and hurls the spear no more;
Then springs indignant on the dark-rob'd band,
And knights and archers feel his deadly hand.
Now flies the monarch of the sable shield,
His legions vanquish'd, o'er the lonely field;
So when the morn, by rosy coursers drawn,
With pearls and rubies sows the verdant lawn,
244
Still Venus gleams, and last of all expires.
He hears, where'er he moves, the dreadful sound;
Check the deep vales, and Check the woods rebound:—
No place remains: he sees the certain fate,
And yields his throne to ruin, and Checkmate.
A brighter blush o'erspreads the damsel's cheeks,
And mildly thus the conquer'd stripling speaks:
‘A double triumph, Delia, hast thou won,
‘By Mars protected, and by Venus' son;
‘The first with conquest crowns thy matchless art,
‘The second points those eyes at Daphnis' heart.’
She smil'd; the nymphs and amorous youths arise,
And own, that beauty gain'd the nobler prize.
And mildly thus the conquer'd stripling speaks:
‘A double triumph, Delia, hast thou won,
‘By Mars protected, and by Venus' son;
‘The first with conquest crowns thy matchless art,
‘The second points those eyes at Daphnis' heart.’
She smil'd; the nymphs and amorous youths arise,
And own, that beauty gain'd the nobler prize.
Low in their chest the mimic troops were lay'd,
And peaceful slept the sable hero's shade.
And peaceful slept the sable hero's shade.
The chief art in the Tactics of Chess consists, in the nice conduct of the royal pawns; in supporting them against every attack; and, if they are taken, in supplying their places with others equally supported: a principle, on which the success of the game in great measure depends, though it seems to be omitted by the very accurate Vida.
A parody of the last line in Pope's translation of the Iliad, ‘And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.’
245
THE SEVEN FOUNTAINS;
AN EASTERN ALLEGORY: WRITTEN IN 1767.
Deck'd with fresh garlands like a rural bride,
And with the crimson streamer's waving pride,
A wanton bark was floating o'er the main;
And seem'd with scorn, to view the azure plain:
Smooth were the waves; and scarce a whispering gale
Fann'd with his gentle plumes the silken sail.
High, on the burnish'd deck, a gilded throne
With orient pearls and beaming diamonds shone;
On which reclin'd a youth of graceful mien,
His sandals purple, and his mantle green;
His locks, in ringlets, o'er his shoulders roll'd,
And on his cheek appear'd the downy gold.
Around him stood a train of smiling boys,
Sporting with idle cheer and mirthful toys;
Ten comely striplings, girt with spangled wings,
Blew piercing flutes, or touch'd the quiv'ring strings;
Ten more, in cadence to the sprightly strain,
Wak'd with their golden oars the slumb'ring main:
The waters yielded to their guiltless blows,
And the green billows sparkled as they rose.
And with the crimson streamer's waving pride,
A wanton bark was floating o'er the main;
And seem'd with scorn, to view the azure plain:
Smooth were the waves; and scarce a whispering gale
Fann'd with his gentle plumes the silken sail.
High, on the burnish'd deck, a gilded throne
With orient pearls and beaming diamonds shone;
On which reclin'd a youth of graceful mien,
His sandals purple, and his mantle green;
His locks, in ringlets, o'er his shoulders roll'd,
And on his cheek appear'd the downy gold.
Around him stood a train of smiling boys,
Sporting with idle cheer and mirthful toys;
Ten comely striplings, girt with spangled wings,
Blew piercing flutes, or touch'd the quiv'ring strings;
Ten more, in cadence to the sprightly strain,
Wak'd with their golden oars the slumb'ring main:
246
And the green billows sparkled as they rose.
Long time the barge had danc'd along the deep,
And on its glassy bosom seem'd to sleep;
But, now, a glittering isle arose in view,
Bounded with hillocks of a verdant hue:
Fresh groves and roseate bowers appear'd above;
(Fit haunts, be sure, of pleasure and of love;)
And, higher still, a thousand blazing spires
Seem'd with gilt tops to threat the heavenly fires.
Now, each fair stripling plied his laboring oar,
And strait the pinnace struck the sandy shore.
The youth arose, and, leaping on the strand,
Took his lone way along the silver sand;
While the light bark, and all the airy crew,
Sunk like a mist beneath the briny dew.
And on its glassy bosom seem'd to sleep;
But, now, a glittering isle arose in view,
Bounded with hillocks of a verdant hue:
Fresh groves and roseate bowers appear'd above;
(Fit haunts, be sure, of pleasure and of love;)
And, higher still, a thousand blazing spires
Seem'd with gilt tops to threat the heavenly fires.
Now, each fair stripling plied his laboring oar,
And strait the pinnace struck the sandy shore.
The youth arose, and, leaping on the strand,
Took his lone way along the silver sand;
While the light bark, and all the airy crew,
Sunk like a mist beneath the briny dew.
With eager steps, the young adventurer stray'd
Through many a grove, and many a winding glade:
At length, he heard the chime of tuneful strings,
That sweetly floated on the Zephyr's wings;
And, soon, a band of damsels blithe and fair,
With flowing mantles and dishevel'd hair,
Rush'd, with quick pace, along the solemn wood,
Where rapt in wonder and delight he stood:
In loose transparent robes they were array'd,
Which half their beauties hid, and half display'd.
Through many a grove, and many a winding glade:
At length, he heard the chime of tuneful strings,
That sweetly floated on the Zephyr's wings;
And, soon, a band of damsels blithe and fair,
With flowing mantles and dishevel'd hair,
Rush'd, with quick pace, along the solemn wood,
Where rapt in wonder and delight he stood:
In loose transparent robes they were array'd,
Which half their beauties hid, and half display'd.
247
A lovely nymph approach'd him with a smile,
And said, ‘O, welcome to this blissful isle;
‘For thou art he, whom ancient bards foretold,
‘Doom'd in our clime to bring an age of gold:
‘Hail, sacred king! and from thy subject's hand,
‘Accept the robes and sceptre of the land.’
And said, ‘O, welcome to this blissful isle;
‘For thou art he, whom ancient bards foretold,
‘Doom'd in our clime to bring an age of gold:
‘Hail, sacred king! and from thy subject's hand,
‘Accept the robes and sceptre of the land.’
‘Sweet maid,’ said he, ‘fair learning's heavenly beam
O'er my young mind ne'er shed her favoring gleam;
‘Nor has my arm e'er hurl'd the fatal lance,
‘While desperate legions o'er the plain advance.
‘How should a simple youth, unfit to bear
‘The steely mail, that splendid mantle wear!’
‘Ah!’ said the damsel, ‘from this happy shore,
‘We banish wisdom, and her idle lore;
‘No clarions here the strains of battle sing,—
‘With notes of mirth our joyful valleys ring.
‘Peace to the brave:—o'er us, the beauteous reign,
‘And ever-charming pleasures form our train.’
O'er my young mind ne'er shed her favoring gleam;
‘Nor has my arm e'er hurl'd the fatal lance,
‘While desperate legions o'er the plain advance.
‘How should a simple youth, unfit to bear
‘The steely mail, that splendid mantle wear!’
‘Ah!’ said the damsel, ‘from this happy shore,
‘We banish wisdom, and her idle lore;
‘No clarions here the strains of battle sing,—
‘With notes of mirth our joyful valleys ring.
‘Peace to the brave:—o'er us, the beauteous reign,
‘And ever-charming pleasures form our train.’
This said, a diadem, inlay'd with pearls,
She plac'd respectful on his golden curls;
Another, o'er his graceful shoulder, threw
A silken mantle of the rose's hue,
Which, clasp'd with studs of gold, behind him flow'd,
And through the folds his glowing bosom show'd.
Then in a car, by snow-white coursers drawn,
They led him o'er the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Through groves of joy and arbors of delight,
With all that could allure his ravish'd sight;
Green hillocks, meads, and rosy grots he view'd,
And verdurous plains with winding streams bedew'd.
On every bank, and under every shade,
A thousand youths, a thousand damsels play'd;
Some wantonly were tripping in a ring
On the soft border of a gushing spring;
While some, reclining in the shady vales,
Told to their smiling loves their amorous tales:
But when the sportful train beheld from far
The nymphs returning with the stately car,
O'er the smooth plain with hasty steps they came,
And hail'd their youthful king with loud acclaim;
With flow'rs of every tint the paths they strow'd,
And cast their chaplets on the hallow'd road.
She plac'd respectful on his golden curls;
Another, o'er his graceful shoulder, threw
A silken mantle of the rose's hue,
Which, clasp'd with studs of gold, behind him flow'd,
And through the folds his glowing bosom show'd.
Then in a car, by snow-white coursers drawn,
They led him o'er the dew-besprinkled lawn,
248
With all that could allure his ravish'd sight;
Green hillocks, meads, and rosy grots he view'd,
And verdurous plains with winding streams bedew'd.
On every bank, and under every shade,
A thousand youths, a thousand damsels play'd;
Some wantonly were tripping in a ring
On the soft border of a gushing spring;
While some, reclining in the shady vales,
Told to their smiling loves their amorous tales:
But when the sportful train beheld from far
The nymphs returning with the stately car,
O'er the smooth plain with hasty steps they came,
And hail'd their youthful king with loud acclaim;
With flow'rs of every tint the paths they strow'd,
And cast their chaplets on the hallow'd road.
At last, they reach'd the bosom of a wood,
Where, on a hill, a radiant palace stood;
A sumptuous dome, by hands immortal made,
Which, on its walls and on its gates, display'd
The gems that in the rocks of Tibet glow,
The pearls that in the shells of Ormus grow.
And now a numerous train advance to meet
The youth, descending from his regal seat;
Whom to a rich and spacious hall they led,
With silken carpets delicately spread:
There on a throne with gems unnumber'd grac'd,
Their lovely king six blooming damsels plac'd ,
And, meekly kneeling, to his modest hand
They gave the glitt'ring sceptre of command;
Then on six smaller thrones they sat reclin'd,
And watch'd the rising transports of his mind:
When thus the youth a blushing nymph address'd,
And, as he spoke, her hand with rapture press'd:
Where, on a hill, a radiant palace stood;
A sumptuous dome, by hands immortal made,
Which, on its walls and on its gates, display'd
The gems that in the rocks of Tibet glow,
The pearls that in the shells of Ormus grow.
And now a numerous train advance to meet
The youth, descending from his regal seat;
Whom to a rich and spacious hall they led,
With silken carpets delicately spread:
There on a throne with gems unnumber'd grac'd,
Their lovely king six blooming damsels plac'd ,
249
They gave the glitt'ring sceptre of command;
Then on six smaller thrones they sat reclin'd,
And watch'd the rising transports of his mind:
When thus the youth a blushing nymph address'd,
And, as he spoke, her hand with rapture press'd:
‘Say, gentle damsel, may I ask unblam'd
‘How this gay isle, and splendid seats, are nam'd?
‘And you, fair queens of beauty and of grace,
‘Are you of earthly or celestial race?
‘To me the world's bright treasures were unknown,
‘Where late I wander'd, pensive and alone;
‘And, slowly winding on my native shore,
‘Saw the vast ocean roll, but saw no more;
‘Till from the waves with many a charming song,
‘A barge arose, and gayly mov'd along;
‘The jolly rowers reach'd the yielding sands,
‘Allur'd my steps, and wav'd their shining hands:
‘I went, saluted by the vocal train,
‘And the swift pinnace cleav'd the waves again;
‘When on this island struck the gilded prow,
‘I landed full of joy: the rest you know.
‘Short is the story of my tender years:
‘Now speak, sweet nymph, and charm my listening ears.’
‘How this gay isle, and splendid seats, are nam'd?
‘And you, fair queens of beauty and of grace,
‘Are you of earthly or celestial race?
‘To me the world's bright treasures were unknown,
‘Where late I wander'd, pensive and alone;
‘And, slowly winding on my native shore,
‘Saw the vast ocean roll, but saw no more;
‘Till from the waves with many a charming song,
‘A barge arose, and gayly mov'd along;
‘The jolly rowers reach'd the yielding sands,
‘Allur'd my steps, and wav'd their shining hands:
‘I went, saluted by the vocal train,
‘And the swift pinnace cleav'd the waves again;
‘When on this island struck the gilded prow,
‘I landed full of joy: the rest you know.
‘Short is the story of my tender years:
‘Now speak, sweet nymph, and charm my listening ears.’
‘These are the groves, for ever deck'd with flowers,’—
The maid replied, ‘and these the fragrant bowers,—
‘Where Love and Pleasure hold their airy court,
‘The seat of bliss, of sprightliness, and sport;
‘And we, dear youth! are nymphs of heavenly line;
‘Our souls immortal, as our forms divine:
‘For Maia, fill'd with Zephyr's warm embrace,
‘In caves and forests cover'd her disgrace;
‘At last she rested on this peaceful shore,
‘Where, in yon grot, a lovely boy she bore,
‘Whom, fresh and wild and frolique from his birth,
‘She nurs'd in myrtle bowers, and call'd him Mirth.
‘He on a summer's morning chanc'd to rove
‘Through the green labyrinth of some shady grove,
‘Where, by a dimpled rivulet's verdant side,
‘A rising bank, with woodbine edg'd, he spied:
‘There, veil'd with flowerets of a thousand hues,
‘A nymph lay bath'd in slumber's balmy dews;
‘(This maid by some, for some our race defame,
‘Was Folly call'd, but Pleasure was her name:)
‘Her mantle, like the sky in April, blue,
‘Hung on a blossom'd branch that near her grew;
‘For, long disporting in the silver stream,
‘She shunn'd the blazing day-star's sultry beam;
‘And, ere she could conceal her naked charms,
‘Sleep caught her trembling in his downy arms:
‘Born in the wings of Love, he flew and press'd
‘Her breathing bosom to his eager breast.
‘At his wild theft the rosy morning blush'd,
‘The rivulet smil'd, and all the woods were hush'd.
‘Of these fair parents, on this blissful coast,
‘(Parents like Mirth and Pleasure who can boast!)
‘I with five sisters, on one happy morn,
‘All fair alike, behold us now! were born.
‘When they to brighter regions took their way,
‘By Love invited to the realms of day,
‘To us they gave this large, this gay domain,
‘And said, departing, Here let Beauty reign.
‘Then reign, fair prince! in thee all beauties shine,
‘And, ah! we know thee of no mortal line.’
The maid replied, ‘and these the fragrant bowers,—
250
‘The seat of bliss, of sprightliness, and sport;
‘And we, dear youth! are nymphs of heavenly line;
‘Our souls immortal, as our forms divine:
‘For Maia, fill'd with Zephyr's warm embrace,
‘In caves and forests cover'd her disgrace;
‘At last she rested on this peaceful shore,
‘Where, in yon grot, a lovely boy she bore,
‘Whom, fresh and wild and frolique from his birth,
‘She nurs'd in myrtle bowers, and call'd him Mirth.
‘He on a summer's morning chanc'd to rove
‘Through the green labyrinth of some shady grove,
‘Where, by a dimpled rivulet's verdant side,
‘A rising bank, with woodbine edg'd, he spied:
‘There, veil'd with flowerets of a thousand hues,
‘A nymph lay bath'd in slumber's balmy dews;
‘(This maid by some, for some our race defame,
‘Was Folly call'd, but Pleasure was her name:)
‘Her mantle, like the sky in April, blue,
‘Hung on a blossom'd branch that near her grew;
‘For, long disporting in the silver stream,
‘She shunn'd the blazing day-star's sultry beam;
‘And, ere she could conceal her naked charms,
‘Sleep caught her trembling in his downy arms:
‘Born in the wings of Love, he flew and press'd
‘Her breathing bosom to his eager breast.
‘At his wild theft the rosy morning blush'd,
‘The rivulet smil'd, and all the woods were hush'd.
251
‘(Parents like Mirth and Pleasure who can boast!)
‘I with five sisters, on one happy morn,
‘All fair alike, behold us now! were born.
‘When they to brighter regions took their way,
‘By Love invited to the realms of day,
‘To us they gave this large, this gay domain,
‘And said, departing, Here let Beauty reign.
‘Then reign, fair prince! in thee all beauties shine,
‘And, ah! we know thee of no mortal line.’
She said: the king with rapid ardor glow'd,
And the swift poison through his bosom flow'd:
But, while she spoke, he cast his eyes around
To view the dazzling roof, and spangled ground;
Then, turning with amaze from side to side,
Seven golden doors, that richly shone, he spied,
And said, ‘Fair nymph, (but let me not be bold,)
‘What mean those doors that blaze with burnish'd gold?’
‘To six gay bowers,’ the maid replied, ‘they lead,
‘Where Spring eternal crowns the glowing mead;
‘Six fountains there, that glitter as they play,
‘Rise to the sun with many a color'd ray.’
‘But the seventh door,’ said he, ‘what beauties grace?’
“O, 'tis a cave; a dark and joyless place,
“A scene of nameless deeds, and magic spells,
“Where day ne'er shines, and pleasure never dwells:
“Think not of that. But come, my royal friend,
“And see what joys thy favor'd steps attend.”
She spoke; and pointed to the nearest door:
Swift he descends; the damsel flies before;
She turns the lock; it opens at command;
The maid and stripling enter hand in hand.
And the swift poison through his bosom flow'd:
But, while she spoke, he cast his eyes around
To view the dazzling roof, and spangled ground;
Then, turning with amaze from side to side,
Seven golden doors, that richly shone, he spied,
And said, ‘Fair nymph, (but let me not be bold,)
‘What mean those doors that blaze with burnish'd gold?’
‘To six gay bowers,’ the maid replied, ‘they lead,
‘Where Spring eternal crowns the glowing mead;
‘Six fountains there, that glitter as they play,
‘Rise to the sun with many a color'd ray.’
‘But the seventh door,’ said he, ‘what beauties grace?’
“O, 'tis a cave; a dark and joyless place,
“A scene of nameless deeds, and magic spells,
“Where day ne'er shines, and pleasure never dwells:
“Think not of that. But come, my royal friend,
“And see what joys thy favor'd steps attend.”
252
Swift he descends; the damsel flies before;
She turns the lock; it opens at command;
The maid and stripling enter hand in hand.
The wondering youth beheld an opening glade,
Where in the midst a crystal fountain play'd ;
The silver sands, that on its bottom grew,
Were strown with pearls and gems of varied hue;
The diamonds sparkled like the star of day,
And the soft topaz shed a golden ray;
Clear amethysts combin'd their purple gleam
With the mild emerald's sight-refreshing beam;
The sapphire smil'd like yon blue plain above,
And rubies spread the blushing tint of love.
‘These are the waters of eternal light,’
The damsel said, ‘the stream of heavenly sight;
‘See, in this cup,’ (she spoke, and stoop'd to fill
A vase of jasper with the sacred rill,)
‘See, how the living waters bound and shine,
‘Which this well-polish'd gem can scarce confine!’
From her soft hand, the lucid urn he took,
And quaff'd the nectar with a tender look:
Strait from his eyes a cloud of darkness flew,
And all the scene was open'd to his view;
Not all the groves, where ancient bards have told,
Of vegetable gems, and blooming gold;
Not all the bowers which, oft, in flowery lays
And solemn tales Arabian poets praise—
Though streams of honey flow'd through every mead,
Though balm and amber dropp'd from every reed;
Held half the sweets that Nature's ample hand
Had pour'd luxuriant o'er this wondrous land
All flowerets here their mingled rays diffuse,
The rainbow's tints to these were vulgar hues;
All birds that in the stream their pinion dip,
Or from the brink the liquid crystal sip,
Or show their beauties to the sunny skies,
Here wav'd their plumes that shone with varying dyes;
But chiefly he, that o'er the verdant plain
Spreads the gay eyes which grace his spangled train;
And he, who, proudly sailing, loves to show
His mantling wings and neck of downy snow;
Nor absent he, who learns the human sound,
With wavy gold and moving emeralds crown'd:
Whose head and breast with polish'd sapphires glow,
And on whose wing the gems of Indus grow.
The monarch view'd their beauties o'er and o'er,
He was all eye, and look'd from every pore.
But now the damsel calls him from his trance;
And o'er the lawn, delighted, they advance:
They pass the hall adorn'd with royal state,
And enter now with joy, the second gate .
Where in the midst a crystal fountain play'd ;
The silver sands, that on its bottom grew,
Were strown with pearls and gems of varied hue;
The diamonds sparkled like the star of day,
And the soft topaz shed a golden ray;
Clear amethysts combin'd their purple gleam
With the mild emerald's sight-refreshing beam;
The sapphire smil'd like yon blue plain above,
And rubies spread the blushing tint of love.
‘These are the waters of eternal light,’
The damsel said, ‘the stream of heavenly sight;
‘See, in this cup,’ (she spoke, and stoop'd to fill
A vase of jasper with the sacred rill,)
‘See, how the living waters bound and shine,
‘Which this well-polish'd gem can scarce confine!’
From her soft hand, the lucid urn he took,
And quaff'd the nectar with a tender look:
Strait from his eyes a cloud of darkness flew,
And all the scene was open'd to his view;
Not all the groves, where ancient bards have told,
Of vegetable gems, and blooming gold;
Not all the bowers which, oft, in flowery lays
And solemn tales Arabian poets praise—
253
Though balm and amber dropp'd from every reed;
Held half the sweets that Nature's ample hand
Had pour'd luxuriant o'er this wondrous land
All flowerets here their mingled rays diffuse,
The rainbow's tints to these were vulgar hues;
All birds that in the stream their pinion dip,
Or from the brink the liquid crystal sip,
Or show their beauties to the sunny skies,
Here wav'd their plumes that shone with varying dyes;
But chiefly he, that o'er the verdant plain
Spreads the gay eyes which grace his spangled train;
And he, who, proudly sailing, loves to show
His mantling wings and neck of downy snow;
Nor absent he, who learns the human sound,
With wavy gold and moving emeralds crown'd:
Whose head and breast with polish'd sapphires glow,
And on whose wing the gems of Indus grow.
The monarch view'd their beauties o'er and o'er,
He was all eye, and look'd from every pore.
But now the damsel calls him from his trance;
And o'er the lawn, delighted, they advance:
They pass the hall adorn'd with royal state,
And enter now with joy, the second gate .
A soothing sound he heard, (but tasted first
The gushing stream that from the valley burst,)
And in the shade beheld a youthful quire
That touch'd with flying hands the trembling lyre:
Melodious notes, drawn out with magic art,
Caught with sweet ecstacy his ravish'd heart;
An hundred nymphs their charming descants play'd,
And melting voices died along the glade;
The tuneful stream that murmur'd as it rose,
The birds that on the trees bewail'd their woes,
The boughs, made vocal by the whispering gale,
Join'd their soft strain, and warbled through the vale.
The concert ends: and now the stripling hears
A tender voice that strikes his wondering ears;
A beauteous bird, in our rude climes unknown,
That on a leafy arbor sits alone,
Strains his sweet throat, and waves his purple wings,
And thus in human accents softly sings:
The gushing stream that from the valley burst,)
254
That touch'd with flying hands the trembling lyre:
Melodious notes, drawn out with magic art,
Caught with sweet ecstacy his ravish'd heart;
An hundred nymphs their charming descants play'd,
And melting voices died along the glade;
The tuneful stream that murmur'd as it rose,
The birds that on the trees bewail'd their woes,
The boughs, made vocal by the whispering gale,
Join'd their soft strain, and warbled through the vale.
The concert ends: and now the stripling hears
A tender voice that strikes his wondering ears;
A beauteous bird, in our rude climes unknown,
That on a leafy arbor sits alone,
Strains his sweet throat, and waves his purple wings,
And thus in human accents softly sings:
‘Rise, lovely pair, a sweeter bower invites
‘Your eager steps, a bower of new delights;
‘Ah! crop the flowers of pleasure while they blow,
‘Ere winter hides them in a veil of snow.
‘Youth, like a thin anemone, displays
‘His silken leaf, and in a morn decays.
‘See, gentle youth! a lily-bosom'd bride;
‘See, nymph! a blooming stripling by thy side.
‘Then haste, and bathe your souls in soft delights,
‘A sweeter bow'r your wandering steps invites.’
‘Your eager steps, a bower of new delights;
‘Ah! crop the flowers of pleasure while they blow,
‘Ere winter hides them in a veil of snow.
‘Youth, like a thin anemone, displays
‘His silken leaf, and in a morn decays.
‘See, gentle youth! a lily-bosom'd bride;
‘See, nymph! a blooming stripling by thy side.
‘Then haste, and bathe your souls in soft delights,
‘A sweeter bow'r your wandering steps invites.’
He ceas'd; the slender branch, from which he flew,
Bent its fair head, and sprinkled pearly dew.
The damsel smil'd; the blushing youth was pleas'd,
And by her willing hand his charmer seiz'd:
The lovely nymph, who sigh'd for sweeter joy,
To the third gate conducts the amorous boy;
She turns the key; her cheeks like roses bloom,
And on the lock her fingers drop perfume.
Bent its fair head, and sprinkled pearly dew.
255
And by her willing hand his charmer seiz'd:
The lovely nymph, who sigh'd for sweeter joy,
To the third gate conducts the amorous boy;
She turns the key; her cheeks like roses bloom,
And on the lock her fingers drop perfume.
His ravish'd sense a scene of pleasure meets,
A maze of joy, a paradise of sweets;
But first his lips had touch'd th'alluring stream,
That through the grove display'd a silver gleam.
Through jasmine bowers, and violet-scented vales,
On silken pinions flew the wanton gales,—
Arabian odors on the plants they left,
And whisper'd to the woods their spicy theft:
Beneath the shrubs, that spread a trembling shade,
The musky roes, and fragrant civets play'd.
As when, at eve, an Eastern merchant roves
From Hadramut to Aden's spikenard groves,
Where some rich caravan, not long before,
Has pass'd, with cassia fraught, and balmy store,—
Charm'd with the scent that hills and vales diffuse,
His grateful journey gayly he pursues;
Thus pleas'd, the monarch fed his eager soul,
And from each breeze a cloud of fragrance stole:
Soon the fourth door he pass'd with eager haste,
And the fourth stream was nectar to his taste.
Before his eyes, on agate columns rear'd,
On high a purple canopy appear'd;
And under it, in stately form, was plac'd
A table with a thousand vases grac'd;
Laden with all the dainties that are found
In air, in seas, or on the fruitful ground.
Here the fair youth reclin'd with decent pride,
His wanton nymph was seated by his side:
All that could please the taste the happy pair
Cull'd from the loaded board with curious care;
O'er their enchanted heads, a mantling vine
His curling tendrils wove with amorous twine;
From the green stalks the glowing clusters hung,
Like rubies on a thread of emeralds strung;
With these were other fruits of every hue,
The pale, the red, the golden, and the blue.
An hundred smiling pages stood around,
Their shining brows with wreaths of myrtle bound:
They, in transparent cups of agate, bore
Of sweetly-sparkling wines a precious store;
The stripling sipp'd and revel'd, till the sun
Down heaven's blue vault his daily course had run;
Then rose, and, follow'd by the gentle maid,
Op'd the fifth door : a stream before them play'd.
A maze of joy, a paradise of sweets;
But first his lips had touch'd th'alluring stream,
That through the grove display'd a silver gleam.
Through jasmine bowers, and violet-scented vales,
On silken pinions flew the wanton gales,—
Arabian odors on the plants they left,
And whisper'd to the woods their spicy theft:
Beneath the shrubs, that spread a trembling shade,
The musky roes, and fragrant civets play'd.
As when, at eve, an Eastern merchant roves
From Hadramut to Aden's spikenard groves,
Where some rich caravan, not long before,
Has pass'd, with cassia fraught, and balmy store,—
Charm'd with the scent that hills and vales diffuse,
His grateful journey gayly he pursues;
Thus pleas'd, the monarch fed his eager soul,
And from each breeze a cloud of fragrance stole:
Soon the fourth door he pass'd with eager haste,
And the fourth stream was nectar to his taste.
256
On high a purple canopy appear'd;
And under it, in stately form, was plac'd
A table with a thousand vases grac'd;
Laden with all the dainties that are found
In air, in seas, or on the fruitful ground.
Here the fair youth reclin'd with decent pride,
His wanton nymph was seated by his side:
All that could please the taste the happy pair
Cull'd from the loaded board with curious care;
O'er their enchanted heads, a mantling vine
His curling tendrils wove with amorous twine;
From the green stalks the glowing clusters hung,
Like rubies on a thread of emeralds strung;
With these were other fruits of every hue,
The pale, the red, the golden, and the blue.
An hundred smiling pages stood around,
Their shining brows with wreaths of myrtle bound:
They, in transparent cups of agate, bore
Of sweetly-sparkling wines a precious store;
The stripling sipp'd and revel'd, till the sun
Down heaven's blue vault his daily course had run;
Then rose, and, follow'd by the gentle maid,
Op'd the fifth door : a stream before them play'd.
The king, impatient for the cooling draught,
In a full cup the mystic nectar quaff'd;
Then with a smile, (he knew no higher bliss,)
From her sweet lip he stole a balmy kiss:
On the smooth bank of violets they reclin'd;
And, whilst a chaplet for his brow she twin'd,
With his soft cheek her softer cheek he press'd;
His pliant arms were folded round her breast.
She smil'd; soft lightning darted from her eyes,
And from his fragrant seat she bade him rise;
Then, while a brighter blush her face o'erspread,
To the sixth gate her willing guest she led.
In a full cup the mystic nectar quaff'd;
Then with a smile, (he knew no higher bliss,)
From her sweet lip he stole a balmy kiss:
257
And, whilst a chaplet for his brow she twin'd,
With his soft cheek her softer cheek he press'd;
His pliant arms were folded round her breast.
She smil'd; soft lightning darted from her eyes,
And from his fragrant seat she bade him rise;
Then, while a brighter blush her face o'erspread,
To the sixth gate her willing guest she led.
The golden lock she softly turn'd around;
The moving hinges gave a pleasing sound:
The boy delighted ran with eager haste,
And to his lips the living fountain plac'd;
The magic water pierc'd his kindled brain,
And a strange venom shot from vein to vein.
Whatever charms he saw in other bowers,
Were here combin'd, fruits, music, odors, flowers;
A couch besides, with softest silk o'erlaid;
And, sweeter still, a lovely yielding maid,—
Who now more charming seem'd, and not so coy,
And in her arms infolds the blushing boy:
They sport and wanton, till, with sleep oppress'd,
Like two fresh rose-buds on one stalk, they rest.
The moving hinges gave a pleasing sound:
The boy delighted ran with eager haste,
And to his lips the living fountain plac'd;
The magic water pierc'd his kindled brain,
And a strange venom shot from vein to vein.
Whatever charms he saw in other bowers,
Were here combin'd, fruits, music, odors, flowers;
A couch besides, with softest silk o'erlaid;
And, sweeter still, a lovely yielding maid,—
Who now more charming seem'd, and not so coy,
And in her arms infolds the blushing boy:
They sport and wanton, till, with sleep oppress'd,
Like two fresh rose-buds on one stalk, they rest.
When morning spread around her purple flame,
To the sweet couch the five fair sisters came;
They hail'd the bridegroom with a cheerful voice,
And bade him make, with speed, a second choice.
Hard task to choose, when all alike were fair!
Now this, now that, engag'd his anxious care:
Then to the first who spoke, his hand he lent;
The rest retir'd, and whisper'd as they went.
The prince enamour'd view'd his second bride;
They left the bower, and wander'd side by side;
With her he charm'd his ears, with her his sight;
With her he pass'd the day, with her the night.
Thus, all by turns the sprightly stranger led,
And all by turns partook his nuptial bed;
Hours, days, and months, in pleasure flow'd away;
All laugh'd, all sweetly sung, and all were gay.
To the sweet couch the five fair sisters came;
They hail'd the bridegroom with a cheerful voice,
And bade him make, with speed, a second choice.
258
Now this, now that, engag'd his anxious care:
Then to the first who spoke, his hand he lent;
The rest retir'd, and whisper'd as they went.
The prince enamour'd view'd his second bride;
They left the bower, and wander'd side by side;
With her he charm'd his ears, with her his sight;
With her he pass'd the day, with her the night.
Thus, all by turns the sprightly stranger led,
And all by turns partook his nuptial bed;
Hours, days, and months, in pleasure flow'd away;
All laugh'd, all sweetly sung, and all were gay.
So had he wanton'd threescore days and seven,
More blest, he thought, than any son of heaven:
Till on a morn, with sighs and streaming tears,
The train of nymphs before his bed appears;
And thus the youngest of the sisters speaks,
Whilst a sad shower runs trickling down her cheeks:
More blest, he thought, than any son of heaven:
Till on a morn, with sighs and streaming tears,
The train of nymphs before his bed appears;
And thus the youngest of the sisters speaks,
Whilst a sad shower runs trickling down her cheeks:
‘A custom which we cannot, dare not fail,
‘(Such are the laws that in our isle prevail,)
‘Compels us, prince! to leave thee here alone,
‘Till thrice the sun his rising front has shown:
‘Our parents, whom, alas! we must obey,
‘Expect us at a splendid feast to-day;
‘What joy to us can all their splendor give?
‘With thee, with only thee, we wish to live.
‘Yet may we hope, these gardens will afford
‘Some pleasing solace to our absent lord!
Six golden keys, that ope yon blissful gates,
‘Where joy, eternal joy, thy steps awaits,
‘Accept: the seventh (but that you heard before)
‘Leads to a cave, where ravening monsters roar;
‘A sullen, dire, inhospitable cell,
‘Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell.
‘Farewel, dear youth!—how will our bosoms burn
‘For the sweet moment of our blest return!’
‘(Such are the laws that in our isle prevail,)
‘Compels us, prince! to leave thee here alone,
‘Till thrice the sun his rising front has shown:
‘Our parents, whom, alas! we must obey,
‘Expect us at a splendid feast to-day;
‘What joy to us can all their splendor give?
‘With thee, with only thee, we wish to live.
‘Yet may we hope, these gardens will afford
‘Some pleasing solace to our absent lord!
259
‘Where joy, eternal joy, thy steps awaits,
‘Accept: the seventh (but that you heard before)
‘Leads to a cave, where ravening monsters roar;
‘A sullen, dire, inhospitable cell,
‘Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell.
‘Farewel, dear youth!—how will our bosoms burn
‘For the sweet moment of our blest return!’
The king, who wept, yet knew his tears were vain,
Took the seven keys, and kiss'd the parting train.
A glittering car, which bounding coursers drew,
They mounted strait, and through the forest flew.
Took the seven keys, and kiss'd the parting train.
A glittering car, which bounding coursers drew,
They mounted strait, and through the forest flew.
The youth, unknowing how to pass the day,
Review'd the bowers, and heard the fountains play;
By hands unseen whate'er he wish'd was brought;
And pleasures rose obedient to his thought.
Yet all the sweets, that ravish'd him before,
Were tedious, now, and charm'd his soul no more:
Less lovely still, and still less gay they grew;
He sigh'd, he wish'd, and long'd for something new:
Back to the hall he turn'd his weary feet,
And sat repining on his royal seat.
Now, on the seventh bright gate he casts his eyes;
And in his bosom rose a bold surmise;
‘The nymph,’ said he, ‘was sure dispos'd to jest,
‘Who talk'd of dungeons in a place so blest:
‘What harm to open, if it be a cell
‘Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell?
‘If dark or foul, I need not pass the door;
‘If new or strange,—my soul desires no more.’
He said, and rose; then took the golden keys,
And op'd the door: the hinges mov'd with ease.
Review'd the bowers, and heard the fountains play;
By hands unseen whate'er he wish'd was brought;
And pleasures rose obedient to his thought.
Yet all the sweets, that ravish'd him before,
Were tedious, now, and charm'd his soul no more:
Less lovely still, and still less gay they grew;
He sigh'd, he wish'd, and long'd for something new:
Back to the hall he turn'd his weary feet,
And sat repining on his royal seat.
Now, on the seventh bright gate he casts his eyes;
And in his bosom rose a bold surmise;
‘The nymph,’ said he, ‘was sure dispos'd to jest,
‘Who talk'd of dungeons in a place so blest:
‘What harm to open, if it be a cell
‘Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell?
260
‘If new or strange,—my soul desires no more.’
He said, and rose; then took the golden keys,
And op'd the door: the hinges mov'd with ease.
Before his eyes, appear'd a sullen gloom,
Thick, hideous, wild; a cavern, or a tomb.
Yet, as he longer gaz'd, he saw afar
A light that sparkled like a shooting star.
He paus'd:—at last, by some kind angel led,
He enter'd; and advanc'd, with cautious tread.
Still, as he walk'd, the light appear'd more clear;
Hope sooth'd him, then, and scarcely left a fear.
At length an aged sire surprised he saw,
Who fill'd his bosom with a sacred awe :
A book he held, which, as reclin'd he lay,
He read, assisted by a taper's ray;
His beard, more white than snow on winter's breast,
Hung to the zone that bound his sable vest;
A pleasing calmness on his brow was seen,
Mild was his look, majestic was his mien.
Soon as the youth approach'd the reverend sage,
He raised his head, and clos'd the serious page;
Then spoke: ‘O son! what chance has turn'd thy feet
‘To this dull solitude, and lone retreat?’
To whom the youth: ‘First, holy father! tell,
‘What force detains thee in this gloomy cell?
‘This isle, this palace, and those balmy bowers,
‘Where six sweet fountains fall on living flowers,
‘Are mine; a train of damsels chose me king,
‘And through my kingdom smiles perpetual spring.
‘For some important cause, to me unknown,
‘This day they left me joyless and alone;
‘But, ere three morns with roses strow the skies,
‘My lovely brides will charm my longing eyes.’
Thick, hideous, wild; a cavern, or a tomb.
Yet, as he longer gaz'd, he saw afar
A light that sparkled like a shooting star.
He paus'd:—at last, by some kind angel led,
He enter'd; and advanc'd, with cautious tread.
Still, as he walk'd, the light appear'd more clear;
Hope sooth'd him, then, and scarcely left a fear.
At length an aged sire surprised he saw,
Who fill'd his bosom with a sacred awe :
A book he held, which, as reclin'd he lay,
He read, assisted by a taper's ray;
His beard, more white than snow on winter's breast,
Hung to the zone that bound his sable vest;
A pleasing calmness on his brow was seen,
Mild was his look, majestic was his mien.
Soon as the youth approach'd the reverend sage,
He raised his head, and clos'd the serious page;
Then spoke: ‘O son! what chance has turn'd thy feet
‘To this dull solitude, and lone retreat?’
To whom the youth: ‘First, holy father! tell,
‘What force detains thee in this gloomy cell?
‘This isle, this palace, and those balmy bowers,
‘Where six sweet fountains fall on living flowers,
261
‘And through my kingdom smiles perpetual spring.
‘For some important cause, to me unknown,
‘This day they left me joyless and alone;
‘But, ere three morns with roses strow the skies,
‘My lovely brides will charm my longing eyes.’
‘Youth,’ said the sire, ‘on this auspicious day
‘Some angel hither led thy erring way:
‘Hear a strange tale, and tremble at the snare,
‘Which for thy steps thy pleasing foes prepare.
‘Know, in this isle prevails a bloody law;
‘List, stripling, list! (the youth stood fix'd with awe:)
‘ But seventy days the hapless monarchs reign,
‘Then close their lives in exile and in pain;
‘Doom'd in a deep and frightful cave to rove,
‘Where darkness hovers o'er the iron grove.
‘Yet know, thy prudence and thy timely care
‘May save thee, son! from this destructive snare.
‘ Not far from this, a lovelier island lies,
‘Too rich, too splendid, for unhallow'd eyes:
‘On that blest shore, a sweeter fountain flows
‘Than this vain clime, or this gay palace knows,
‘Which if thou taste, whate'er was sweet before
‘Will bitter seem, and steal thy soul no more.
‘But ere these happy waters thou canst reach,
‘Thy weary steps must pass yon rugged beach,
‘
Where the dark sea with angry billows raves,
‘And, fraught with monsters, curls his howling waves,
‘If to my words, obedient, thou attend,
‘Behold in me thy pilot and thy friend:
‘A bark I keep, supplied with plenteous store,
‘That now lies anchor'd on the rocky shore;
‘And, when of all thy regal toys bereft,
‘In the rude cave an exile thou art left,
‘Myself will find thee on the gloomy lea,
‘And waft thee safely o'er the dangerous sea.’
‘Some angel hither led thy erring way:
‘Hear a strange tale, and tremble at the snare,
‘Which for thy steps thy pleasing foes prepare.
‘Know, in this isle prevails a bloody law;
‘List, stripling, list! (the youth stood fix'd with awe:)
‘ But seventy days the hapless monarchs reign,
‘Then close their lives in exile and in pain;
‘Doom'd in a deep and frightful cave to rove,
‘Where darkness hovers o'er the iron grove.
‘Yet know, thy prudence and thy timely care
‘May save thee, son! from this destructive snare.
‘ Not far from this, a lovelier island lies,
‘Too rich, too splendid, for unhallow'd eyes:
‘On that blest shore, a sweeter fountain flows
‘Than this vain clime, or this gay palace knows,
‘Which if thou taste, whate'er was sweet before
‘Will bitter seem, and steal thy soul no more.
‘But ere these happy waters thou canst reach,
‘Thy weary steps must pass yon rugged beach,
262
‘And, fraught with monsters, curls his howling waves,
‘If to my words, obedient, thou attend,
‘Behold in me thy pilot and thy friend:
‘A bark I keep, supplied with plenteous store,
‘That now lies anchor'd on the rocky shore;
‘And, when of all thy regal toys bereft,
‘In the rude cave an exile thou art left,
‘Myself will find thee on the gloomy lea,
‘And waft thee safely o'er the dangerous sea.’
The boy was fill'd with wonder as he spake,
And from a dream of folly seem'd to wake:
All day the sage his tainted thoughts refin'd;
His reason brighten'd and reform'd his mind:
Through the dim cavern hand in hand they walk'd,
And much of truth, and much of heaven, they talk'd.
At night the stripling to the hall return'd;
With other fires his alter'd bosom burn'd.
O! to his wiser soul how low, how mean,
Seem'd all he e'er had heard, had felt, had seen!
He view'd the stars; he view'd the crystal skies;
And bless'd the Power All-good, All-great, All-wise.
How lowly now appear'd the purple robe,
The rubied sceptre, and the ivory globe!
How dim the rays that gild the brittle earth!
How vile the brood of Folly, and of Mirth!
When the third morning, clad in mantle grey,
Brought in her rosy car her seventieth day,
A band of slaves, who rush'd with furious sound,
In chains of steel the willing captive bound;
From his young head the diadem they tore,
And cast his pearly bracelets on the floor;
They rent his robe that bore the rose's hue,
And o'er his breast a hairy mantle threw;
Then dragg'd him to the damp and dreary cave,
Drench'd by the gloomy sea's resounding wave.
Meanwhile, the voices of a numerous crowd
Pierc'd the dun air, as thunder breaks a cloud:
The nymphs another hapless youth had found,
And then were leading o'er the guilty ground:
They hail'd him king, (alas! how short his reign!)
And with fresh chaplets strow'd the fatal plain.
And from a dream of folly seem'd to wake:
All day the sage his tainted thoughts refin'd;
His reason brighten'd and reform'd his mind:
Through the dim cavern hand in hand they walk'd,
And much of truth, and much of heaven, they talk'd.
At night the stripling to the hall return'd;
With other fires his alter'd bosom burn'd.
O! to his wiser soul how low, how mean,
Seem'd all he e'er had heard, had felt, had seen!
He view'd the stars; he view'd the crystal skies;
And bless'd the Power All-good, All-great, All-wise.
How lowly now appear'd the purple robe,
The rubied sceptre, and the ivory globe!
How dim the rays that gild the brittle earth!
How vile the brood of Folly, and of Mirth!
263
Brought in her rosy car her seventieth day,
A band of slaves, who rush'd with furious sound,
In chains of steel the willing captive bound;
From his young head the diadem they tore,
And cast his pearly bracelets on the floor;
They rent his robe that bore the rose's hue,
And o'er his breast a hairy mantle threw;
Then dragg'd him to the damp and dreary cave,
Drench'd by the gloomy sea's resounding wave.
Meanwhile, the voices of a numerous crowd
Pierc'd the dun air, as thunder breaks a cloud:
The nymphs another hapless youth had found,
And then were leading o'er the guilty ground:
They hail'd him king, (alas! how short his reign!)
And with fresh chaplets strow'd the fatal plain.
The happy exile, monarch now no more,
Was roving slowly o'er the lonely shore;
At last the sire's expected voice he knew,
And tow'rd the sound with hasty rapture flew.
The promis'd pinnace just afloat he found,
And the glad sage his fetter'd hands unbound;
But when he saw the foaming billows rave,
And dragons rolling o'er the fiery wave,
He stopp'd: his guardian caught his lingering hand,
And gently led him o'er the rocky strand;
Soon as he touch'd the bark, the ocean smil'd,
The dragons vanish'd, and the waves were mild.
For many an hour with vigorous arms they row'd,
While not a star one friendly sparkle show'd;
At length a glimmering brightness they behold,
Like a thin cloud which morning dyes with gold:
To that they steer: and now, rejoic'd, they view
A shore begirt with cliffs of radiant hue.
They land: a train, in shining mantles clad,
Hail their approach, and bid the youth be glad;
They led him o'er the lea with easy pace,
And floated, as they went, with heavenly grace.
A golden fountain soon appear'd in sight,
That o'er the border cast a sunny light.
Was roving slowly o'er the lonely shore;
At last the sire's expected voice he knew,
And tow'rd the sound with hasty rapture flew.
The promis'd pinnace just afloat he found,
And the glad sage his fetter'd hands unbound;
But when he saw the foaming billows rave,
And dragons rolling o'er the fiery wave,
He stopp'd: his guardian caught his lingering hand,
And gently led him o'er the rocky strand;
Soon as he touch'd the bark, the ocean smil'd,
The dragons vanish'd, and the waves were mild.
264
While not a star one friendly sparkle show'd;
At length a glimmering brightness they behold,
Like a thin cloud which morning dyes with gold:
To that they steer: and now, rejoic'd, they view
A shore begirt with cliffs of radiant hue.
They land: a train, in shining mantles clad,
Hail their approach, and bid the youth be glad;
They led him o'er the lea with easy pace,
And floated, as they went, with heavenly grace.
A golden fountain soon appear'd in sight,
That o'er the border cast a sunny light.
The sage, impatient, scoop'd the lucid wave
In a rich vase, which to the youth he gave:
He drank; and straight a bright celestial beam
Before his eyes display'd a dazzling gleam;
Myriads of airy shapes around him gaz'd;
Some prais'd his wisdom, some his courage prais'd;
Then o'er his limbs a starry robe they spread,
And plac'd a crown of diamonds on his head.
In a rich vase, which to the youth he gave:
He drank; and straight a bright celestial beam
Before his eyes display'd a dazzling gleam;
Myriads of airy shapes around him gaz'd;
Some prais'd his wisdom, some his courage prais'd;
Then o'er his limbs a starry robe they spread,
And plac'd a crown of diamonds on his head.
His aged guide was gone, and in his place
Stood a fair cherub flush'd with rosy grace;
Who, smiling, spake: ‘Here ever wilt thou rest,
‘Admir'd, belov'd, our brother and our guest;
‘So all shall end, whom vice can charm no more
‘With the gay follies of that perilous shore.
‘See yon immortal towers their gates unfold,
‘With rubies flaming, and no earthly gold!
‘There joys, before unknown, thy steps invite:
‘Bliss without care, and morn without a night.
‘But now farewel! my duty calls me hence;
‘Some injur'd mortal asks my just defence.
‘To yon pernicious island I repair,
‘Swift as a star.’ He speaks, and melts in air.
Stood a fair cherub flush'd with rosy grace;
Who, smiling, spake: ‘Here ever wilt thou rest,
‘Admir'd, belov'd, our brother and our guest;
‘So all shall end, whom vice can charm no more
‘With the gay follies of that perilous shore.
‘See yon immortal towers their gates unfold,
‘With rubies flaming, and no earthly gold!
265
‘Bliss without care, and morn without a night.
‘But now farewel! my duty calls me hence;
‘Some injur'd mortal asks my just defence.
‘To yon pernicious island I repair,
‘Swift as a star.’ He speaks, and melts in air.
The youth o'er walks of jasper takes his flight;
And bounds and blazes in eternal light.
And bounds and blazes in eternal light.
266
SOLIMA,
AN ARABIAN ECLOGUE: WRITTEN IN 1768.
Ye maids of Aden! hear a loftier tale
Than e'er was sung in meadow, bow'r, or dale.
—The smiles of Abelah, and Maia's eyes,
Where beauty plays, and love in slumber lies;
The fragrant hyacinths of Azza's hair,
That wanton with the laughing summer air;
Love-tinctur'd cheeks, whence roses seek their bloom,
And lips, from which the Zephyr steals perfume;
Invite no more the wild unpolish'd lay,
But fly like dreams before the morning ray.
Then farewel, love! and farewel, youthful fires!
A nobler warmth my kindled breast inspires.
Far bolder notes the list'ning wood shall fill:
Flow smooth, ye rivulets; and, ye gales, be still.
Than e'er was sung in meadow, bow'r, or dale.
—The smiles of Abelah, and Maia's eyes,
Where beauty plays, and love in slumber lies;
The fragrant hyacinths of Azza's hair,
That wanton with the laughing summer air;
Love-tinctur'd cheeks, whence roses seek their bloom,
And lips, from which the Zephyr steals perfume;
Invite no more the wild unpolish'd lay,
But fly like dreams before the morning ray.
Then farewel, love! and farewel, youthful fires!
A nobler warmth my kindled breast inspires.
Far bolder notes the list'ning wood shall fill:
Flow smooth, ye rivulets; and, ye gales, be still.
See yon fair groves that o'er Amana rise,
And with their spicy breath embalm the skies;
Where every breeze sheds incense o'er the vales,
And every shrub the scent of musk exhales!
See through yon opening glade a glittering scene,
Lawns ever gay, and meadows ever green!
Then ask the groves, and ask the vocal bow'rs,
Who deck'd their spiry tops with blooming flow'rs,
Taught the blue stream o'er sandy vales to flow,
And the brown wild with liveliest hues to glow?
Fair Solima! the hills and dales will sing;
Fair Solima! the distant echoes ring.
But not with idle shows of vain delight,
To charm the soul, or to beguile the sight;
At noon on banks of pleasure to repose,
Where bloom entwin'd the lily, pink, and rose;
Not in proud piles to heap the nightly feast,
Till morn with pearls has deck'd the glowing east;—
Ah! not for this she taught those bowers to rise,
And bade all Eden spring before our eyes:
Far other thoughts her heavenly mind employ,
(Hence, empty pride! and hence, delusive joy!)
To cheer with sweet repast the fainting guest;
To lull the weary on the couch of rest;
To warm the traveller numb'd with winter's cold;
The young to cherish, to support the old;
The sad to comfort, and the weak protect;
The poor to shelter, and the lost direct:—
These are her cares, and this her glorious task;
Can heaven a nobler give, or mortals ask?
Come to these groves, and these life-breathing glades,
Ye friendless orphans, and ye dowerless maids!
With eager haste your mournful mansions leave,
Ye weak, that tremble; and, ye sick, that grieve;
Here shall soft tents, o'er flowery lawns display'd,
At night defend you, and at noon o'ershade;
Here rosy health the sweets of life will shower,
And new delights beguile each varied hour.
Mourns there a widow, bath'd in streaming tears?
Stoops there a sire beneath the weight of years?
Weeps there a maid, in pining sadness left,
Of tender parents, and of hope, bereft?
To Solima their sorrows they bewail;
To Solima they pour their plaintive tale.
She hears; and, radiant as the star of day,
Through the thick forest gains her easy way:
She asks what cares the joyless train oppress,
What sickness wastes them, or what wants distress;
And, as they mourn, she steals a tender sigh,
Whilst all her soul sits melting in her eye:
Then with a smile the healing balm bestows,
And sheds a tear of pity o'er their woes,
Which, as it drops, some soft-eyed angel bears
Transform'd to pearl, and in his bosom wears.
And with their spicy breath embalm the skies;
Where every breeze sheds incense o'er the vales,
And every shrub the scent of musk exhales!
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Lawns ever gay, and meadows ever green!
Then ask the groves, and ask the vocal bow'rs,
Who deck'd their spiry tops with blooming flow'rs,
Taught the blue stream o'er sandy vales to flow,
And the brown wild with liveliest hues to glow?
Fair Solima! the hills and dales will sing;
Fair Solima! the distant echoes ring.
But not with idle shows of vain delight,
To charm the soul, or to beguile the sight;
At noon on banks of pleasure to repose,
Where bloom entwin'd the lily, pink, and rose;
Not in proud piles to heap the nightly feast,
Till morn with pearls has deck'd the glowing east;—
Ah! not for this she taught those bowers to rise,
And bade all Eden spring before our eyes:
Far other thoughts her heavenly mind employ,
(Hence, empty pride! and hence, delusive joy!)
To cheer with sweet repast the fainting guest;
To lull the weary on the couch of rest;
To warm the traveller numb'd with winter's cold;
The young to cherish, to support the old;
The sad to comfort, and the weak protect;
The poor to shelter, and the lost direct:—
These are her cares, and this her glorious task;
Can heaven a nobler give, or mortals ask?
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Ye friendless orphans, and ye dowerless maids!
With eager haste your mournful mansions leave,
Ye weak, that tremble; and, ye sick, that grieve;
Here shall soft tents, o'er flowery lawns display'd,
At night defend you, and at noon o'ershade;
Here rosy health the sweets of life will shower,
And new delights beguile each varied hour.
Mourns there a widow, bath'd in streaming tears?
Stoops there a sire beneath the weight of years?
Weeps there a maid, in pining sadness left,
Of tender parents, and of hope, bereft?
To Solima their sorrows they bewail;
To Solima they pour their plaintive tale.
She hears; and, radiant as the star of day,
Through the thick forest gains her easy way:
She asks what cares the joyless train oppress,
What sickness wastes them, or what wants distress;
And, as they mourn, she steals a tender sigh,
Whilst all her soul sits melting in her eye:
Then with a smile the healing balm bestows,
And sheds a tear of pity o'er their woes,
Which, as it drops, some soft-eyed angel bears
Transform'd to pearl, and in his bosom wears.
When, chill'd with fear, the trembling pilgrim roves
Through pathless deserts, and through tangled groves,
Where mantling darkness spreads her dragon wing,
And birds of death their fatal dirges sing,
While vapours pale a dreadful glimmering cast,
And thrilling horror howls in every blast;
She cheers his gloom with streams of bursting light,
By day a sun, a beaming moon by night;
Darts through the quivering shades her heavenly ray,
And spreads with rising flowers his solitary way.
Through pathless deserts, and through tangled groves,
269
And birds of death their fatal dirges sing,
While vapours pale a dreadful glimmering cast,
And thrilling horror howls in every blast;
She cheers his gloom with streams of bursting light,
By day a sun, a beaming moon by night;
Darts through the quivering shades her heavenly ray,
And spreads with rising flowers his solitary way.
Ye heavens, for this in showers of sweetness shed
Your mildest influence o'er her favor'd head!
Long may her name, which distant climes shall praise,
Live in our notes, and blossom in our lays!
And, like an odorous plant, whose blushing flow'r
Paints every dale, and sweetens every bow'r,
Borne to the skies in clouds of soft perfume,
For ever flourish, and for ever bloom!
These grateful songs, ye maids and youths, renew,
While fresh-blown violets drink the pearly dew;
O'er Azib's banks while love-lorn damsels rove,
And gales of fragrance breathe from Hagar's grove.
Your mildest influence o'er her favor'd head!
Long may her name, which distant climes shall praise,
Live in our notes, and blossom in our lays!
And, like an odorous plant, whose blushing flow'r
Paints every dale, and sweetens every bow'r,
Borne to the skies in clouds of soft perfume,
For ever flourish, and for ever bloom!
These grateful songs, ye maids and youths, renew,
While fresh-blown violets drink the pearly dew;
O'er Azib's banks while love-lorn damsels rove,
And gales of fragrance breathe from Hagar's grove.
So sung the youth, whose sweetly-warbled strains
Fair Mena heard, and Saba's spicy plains.
Sooth'd with his lay, the ravish'd air was calm,
The winds scarce whisper'd o'er the waving palm;
The camels bounded o'er the flowery lawn,
Like the swift ostrich, or the sportful fawn;
Their silken bands the listening rose-buds rent,
And twin'd their blossoms round his vocal tent:
He sung, till on the bank the moonlight slept,
And closing flowers beneath the night-dew wept;
Then ceas'd, and slumber'd in the lap of rest
Till the shrill lark had left his low-built nest.
Now hastes the swain to tune his rapturous tales
In other meadows, and in other vales.
Fair Mena heard, and Saba's spicy plains.
Sooth'd with his lay, the ravish'd air was calm,
The winds scarce whisper'd o'er the waving palm;
The camels bounded o'er the flowery lawn,
Like the swift ostrich, or the sportful fawn;
270
And twin'd their blossoms round his vocal tent:
He sung, till on the bank the moonlight slept,
And closing flowers beneath the night-dew wept;
Then ceas'd, and slumber'd in the lap of rest
Till the shrill lark had left his low-built nest.
Now hastes the swain to tune his rapturous tales
In other meadows, and in other vales.
It was not easy in this part of the translation to avoid a turn similar to that of Pope in the known description of the Man of Ross.
271
LAURA,
AN ELEGY FROM PETRARCH.
In this fair season, when the whispering gales
Drop show'rs of fragrance o'er the bloomy vales,—
From bow'r to bow'r the vernal warblers play;
The skies are cloudless, and the meads are gay;
The nightingale in many a melting strain
Sings to the groves, ‘Here Mirth and Beauty reign.’
But me, for ever bath'd in gushing tears,
No mirth enlivens, and no beauty cheers:
The birds that warble, and the flowers that bloom,
Relieve no more this solitary gloom.
I see where late the verdant meadow smil'd,
A joyless desert, and a dreary wild:—
For those dear eyes, that pierc'd my heart before,
Are clos'd in death, and charm the world no more:
Lost are those tresses, that outshone the morn,
And pale those cheeks, that might the skies adorn.
Ah, death! thy hand has cropp'd the fairest flower,
That shed its smiling rays in beauty's bower;
Thy dart has lay'd on yonder sable bier
All my soul lov'd, and all the world held dear;
Celestial sweetness, love-inspiring youth,
Soft-ey'd benevolence, and white-rob'd truth.
Drop show'rs of fragrance o'er the bloomy vales,—
From bow'r to bow'r the vernal warblers play;
The skies are cloudless, and the meads are gay;
The nightingale in many a melting strain
Sings to the groves, ‘Here Mirth and Beauty reign.’
But me, for ever bath'd in gushing tears,
No mirth enlivens, and no beauty cheers:
272
Relieve no more this solitary gloom.
I see where late the verdant meadow smil'd,
A joyless desert, and a dreary wild:—
For those dear eyes, that pierc'd my heart before,
Are clos'd in death, and charm the world no more:
Lost are those tresses, that outshone the morn,
And pale those cheeks, that might the skies adorn.
Ah, death! thy hand has cropp'd the fairest flower,
That shed its smiling rays in beauty's bower;
Thy dart has lay'd on yonder sable bier
All my soul lov'd, and all the world held dear;
Celestial sweetness, love-inspiring youth,
Soft-ey'd benevolence, and white-rob'd truth.
Hard fate of man, on whom the heaven's bestow
A drop of pleasure for a sea of woe!
Ah, life of care, in fears or hopes consum'd,
Vain hopes, that wither ere they well have bloom'd!
How oft, emerging from the shades of night,
Laughs the gay morn, and spreads a purple light:
But soon the gathering clouds o'ershade the skies,
Red lightnings play, and thundering storms arise!
How oft a day, that fair and mild appears,
Grows dark with fate, and mars the toil of years!
A drop of pleasure for a sea of woe!
273
Vain hopes, that wither ere they well have bloom'd!
How oft, emerging from the shades of night,
Laughs the gay morn, and spreads a purple light:
But soon the gathering clouds o'ershade the skies,
Red lightnings play, and thundering storms arise!
How oft a day, that fair and mild appears,
Grows dark with fate, and mars the toil of years!
Not far remov'd, yet hid from distant eyes,
Low in her secret grot, a Naiad lies.
Steep arching rocks, with verdant moss o'ergrown,
Form her rude diadem, and native throne:
There, in a gloomy cave her waters sleep,
Clear as a brook, but as an ocean deep.
Yet, when the waking flowers of April blow,
And warmer sun-beams melt the gather'd snow;
Rich with the tribute of the vernal rains,
The nymph, exulting, bursts her silver chains;
Her living waves in sparkling columns rise,
And shine like rainbows to the sunny skies;
From cliff to cliff the falling waters roar;
Then die in murmurs, and are heard no more.
Hence, softly flowing in a dimpled stream,
The crystal Sorga spreads a lively gleam;—
From which a thousand rills in mazes glide,
And deck the banks with summer's gayest pride;
Brighten the verdure of the smiling plains;
And crown the labor of the joyful swains.
Low in her secret grot, a Naiad lies.
Steep arching rocks, with verdant moss o'ergrown,
Form her rude diadem, and native throne:
There, in a gloomy cave her waters sleep,
Clear as a brook, but as an ocean deep.
274
And warmer sun-beams melt the gather'd snow;
Rich with the tribute of the vernal rains,
The nymph, exulting, bursts her silver chains;
Her living waves in sparkling columns rise,
And shine like rainbows to the sunny skies;
From cliff to cliff the falling waters roar;
Then die in murmurs, and are heard no more.
Hence, softly flowing in a dimpled stream,
The crystal Sorga spreads a lively gleam;—
From which a thousand rills in mazes glide,
And deck the banks with summer's gayest pride;
Brighten the verdure of the smiling plains;
And crown the labor of the joyful swains.
First, on these banks, (ah, dream of short delight!)
The charms of Laura struck my dazzled sight;
Charms, that the bliss of Eden might restore,
That heaven might envy, and mankind adore.
I saw—and O! what heart could long rebel?
I saw, I lov'd, and bade the world farewel.
Where'er she mov'd, the meads were fresh and gay,
And every bower exhal'd the sweets of May;
Smooth flow'd the streams, and softly blew the gale;
The rising flowers impurpled every dale;
Calm was the Ocean, and the sky serene;
An universal smile o'erspread the shining scene:
But when in death's cold arms entranc'd she lay,
( Ah, ever dear, yet ever fatal day!)
O'er all the air a direful gloom was spread;
Pale were the meads, and all their blossoms dead;
The clouds of April shed a baleful dew;
All nature wore a veil of deadly hue.
The charms of Laura struck my dazzled sight;
Charms, that the bliss of Eden might restore,
That heaven might envy, and mankind adore.
I saw—and O! what heart could long rebel?
I saw, I lov'd, and bade the world farewel.
Where'er she mov'd, the meads were fresh and gay,
And every bower exhal'd the sweets of May;
Smooth flow'd the streams, and softly blew the gale;
The rising flowers impurpled every dale;
Calm was the Ocean, and the sky serene;
An universal smile o'erspread the shining scene:
But when in death's cold arms entranc'd she lay,
( Ah, ever dear, yet ever fatal day!)
275
Pale were the meads, and all their blossoms dead;
The clouds of April shed a baleful dew;
All nature wore a veil of deadly hue.
Go, plaintive breeze! to Laura's flowery bier,
Heave the warm sigh, and shed the tender tear.
There to the awful shade due homage pay,
And softly thus address the sacred clay:
‘Say, envied earth! that dost those charms infold,
‘Where are those cheeks, and where those locks of gold?
‘Where are those eyes, which oft the Muse has sung?
‘Where those sweet lips, and that enchanting tongue?
‘Ye radiant tresses! and thou nectar'd smile!
‘Ye looks that might the melting skies beguile!
‘You robb'd my soul of rest, my eyes of sleep;
‘You taught me how to love, and how to weep.’
No shrub o'erhangs the dew-bespangled vale,
No blossom trembles to the dying gale,
No floweret blushes in the morning rays,
No stream along the winding valley plays,
But knows what anguish thrills my tortur'd breast,
What pains consume me, and what cares infest.
At blush of dawn, and in the gloom of night,
Her pale-eyed phantom swims before my sight,
Sits on the border of each purling rill,
Crowns every bower, and glides o'er every hill.
Flows the loud rivulet down the mountain's brow?
Or pants the Zephyr on the waving bough?
Or sips the labouring bee her balmy dews,
And with soft strains her fragrant toil pursues?
Or warbles from yon silver-blossom'd thorn
The wakeful bird, that hails the rising morn?
—My Laura's voice, in many a soothing note,
Floats through the yielding air, or seems to float:
Heave the warm sigh, and shed the tender tear.
There to the awful shade due homage pay,
And softly thus address the sacred clay:
‘Say, envied earth! that dost those charms infold,
‘Where are those cheeks, and where those locks of gold?
‘Where are those eyes, which oft the Muse has sung?
‘Where those sweet lips, and that enchanting tongue?
‘Ye radiant tresses! and thou nectar'd smile!
‘Ye looks that might the melting skies beguile!
‘You robb'd my soul of rest, my eyes of sleep;
‘You taught me how to love, and how to weep.’
276
No blossom trembles to the dying gale,
No floweret blushes in the morning rays,
No stream along the winding valley plays,
But knows what anguish thrills my tortur'd breast,
What pains consume me, and what cares infest.
At blush of dawn, and in the gloom of night,
Her pale-eyed phantom swims before my sight,
Sits on the border of each purling rill,
Crowns every bower, and glides o'er every hill.
277
Or pants the Zephyr on the waving bough?
Or sips the labouring bee her balmy dews,
And with soft strains her fragrant toil pursues?
Or warbles from yon silver-blossom'd thorn
The wakeful bird, that hails the rising morn?
—My Laura's voice, in many a soothing note,
Floats through the yielding air, or seems to float:
‘Why fill thy sighs,’ she says, ‘this lonely bower?
‘Why down thy bosom flows this endless shower?
‘Complain no more: but hope ere long to meet
‘Thy much-lov'd Laura in a happier seat.
‘Here, fairer scenes detain my parted shade;
‘Suns that ne'er set, and flowers that never fade:
‘Through crystal skies I wing my joyous flight,
‘And revel in eternal blaze of light;
‘See all thy wanderings in that vale of tears,
‘And smile at all thy hopes, at all thy fears:
‘Death wak'd my soul, that slept in life before,
‘And op'd these brighten'd eyes, to sleep no more.’
‘Why down thy bosom flows this endless shower?
‘Complain no more: but hope ere long to meet
‘Thy much-lov'd Laura in a happier seat.
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‘Suns that ne'er set, and flowers that never fade:
‘Through crystal skies I wing my joyous flight,
‘And revel in eternal blaze of light;
‘See all thy wanderings in that vale of tears,
‘And smile at all thy hopes, at all thy fears:
‘Death wak'd my soul, that slept in life before,
‘And op'd these brighten'd eyes, to sleep no more.’
She ends: the Fates, that will no more reveal,
Fix on her closing lips their sacred seal.
‘Return, sweet shade!’ I wake, and fondly say,
‘O, cheer my gloom with one far-beaming ray!
‘Return: thy charms my sorrow will dispel,
‘And snatch my spirit from her mortal cell;
‘Then, mix'd with thine, exulting she shall fly,
‘And bound enraptur'd through her native sky.’
She comes no more: my pangs more fierce return;
Tears gush in streams, and sighs my bosom burn.
Ye banks, that oft my weary limbs have borne,
Ye murmuring brooks, that learnt of me to mourn;
Ye birds, that tune with me your plaintive lay;
Ye groves, where Love once taught my steps to stray;
You, ever sweet and ever fair, renew
Your strains melodious, and your blooming hue:
But not in my sad heart can bliss remain,
My heart, the haunt of never-ceasing pain!
Fix on her closing lips their sacred seal.
‘Return, sweet shade!’ I wake, and fondly say,
‘O, cheer my gloom with one far-beaming ray!
‘Return: thy charms my sorrow will dispel,
‘And snatch my spirit from her mortal cell;
‘Then, mix'd with thine, exulting she shall fly,
‘And bound enraptur'd through her native sky.’
She comes no more: my pangs more fierce return;
Tears gush in streams, and sighs my bosom burn.
Ye banks, that oft my weary limbs have borne,
Ye murmuring brooks, that learnt of me to mourn;
279
Ye groves, where Love once taught my steps to stray;
You, ever sweet and ever fair, renew
Your strains melodious, and your blooming hue:
But not in my sad heart can bliss remain,
My heart, the haunt of never-ceasing pain!
Henceforth,—to sing in smoothly-warbled lays
The smiles of youth, and beauty's heavenly rays;
To see the morn her early charms unfold,
Her cheeks of roses, and her curls of gold;
Led by the sacred Muse, at noon to rove
O'er tufted mountain, vale, or shady grove;
To watch the stars, that gild the lucid pole,
And view yon orbs in mazy order roll;
To hear the tender nightingale complain,
And warble to the woods her amorous strain:—
No more shall these my pensive soul delight,
But each gay vision melts in endless night.
The smiles of youth, and beauty's heavenly rays;
To see the morn her early charms unfold,
Her cheeks of roses, and her curls of gold;
Led by the sacred Muse, at noon to rove
O'er tufted mountain, vale, or shady grove;
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And view yon orbs in mazy order roll;
To hear the tender nightingale complain,
And warble to the woods her amorous strain:—
No more shall these my pensive soul delight,
But each gay vision melts in endless night.
Nymphs! who in glimmering glades by moonlight dance,
And ye, who through the liquid crystal glance,
Who oft have heard my sadly-pleasing moan;
Behold me now a lifeless marble grown.
Ah! lead me to the tomb where Laura lies;
Clouds! fold me round; and, gather'd darkness! rise!
Bear me, ye gales! in death's soft slumber lay'd;
And, ye bright realms, receive my fleeting shade.
And ye, who through the liquid crystal glance,
Who oft have heard my sadly-pleasing moan;
Behold me now a lifeless marble grown.
Ah! lead me to the tomb where Laura lies;
Clouds! fold me round; and, gather'd darkness! rise!
Bear me, ye gales! in death's soft slumber lay'd;
And, ye bright realms, receive my fleeting shade.
Laura was first seen by Petrarch on the sixth of April in the year 1327; and she died on the same day in 1348.
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WRITTEN FOR A FETE CHAMPETRE IN WALES.
Fair Tivy, how sweet are thy waves gently flowing,
Thy wild oaken woods, and green eglantine bow'rs,
Thy banks with the blush-rose and amaranth glowing,
While friendship and mirth claim these labourless hours!
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure which prospects can give;
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
Thy wild oaken woods, and green eglantine bow'rs,
Thy banks with the blush-rose and amaranth glowing,
While friendship and mirth claim these labourless hours!
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure which prospects can give;
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
How sweet is the odour of jasmine and roses,
That Zephyr around us so lavishly flings!
Perhaps for Bleanpant fresh perfume he composes,
Or tidings from Bronwith auspiciously brings;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure which odours can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
That Zephyr around us so lavishly flings!
Perhaps for Bleanpant fresh perfume he composes,
Or tidings from Bronwith auspiciously brings;
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More sweet than the pleasure which odours can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
How sweet was the strain that enliven'd the spirit,
And cheer'd us with numbers so frolic and free;
The poet is absent: be just to his merit;
Ah! may he in love be more happy than we;
For weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure the muses can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
And cheer'd us with numbers so frolic and free;
The poet is absent: be just to his merit;
Ah! may he in love be more happy than we;
For weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure the muses can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
How gay is the circle of friends round a table,
Where stately Kilgarran o'erhangs the brown dale;
Where none are unwilling, and few are unable,
To sing a wild song, or repeat a wild tale!
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that friendship can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
Where stately Kilgarran o'erhangs the brown dale;
Where none are unwilling, and few are unable,
To sing a wild song, or repeat a wild tale!
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that friendship can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
No longer then pore over dark Gothic pages,
To cull a rude gibberish from Neatheam or Brooke;
Leave year-books and parchments to grey-bearded sages;
Be nature and love, and fair woman, our book:
For weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that learning can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
To cull a rude gibberish from Neatheam or Brooke;
Leave year-books and parchments to grey-bearded sages;
Be nature and love, and fair woman, our book:
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More sweet than the pleasure that learning can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
Admit that our labours were crown'd with full measure,
And gold were the fruit of rhetorical flow'rs,
That India supplied us with long-hoarded treasure,
That Dinevor , Slebeck , and Coidsmore were ours;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that riches can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
And gold were the fruit of rhetorical flow'rs,
That India supplied us with long-hoarded treasure,
That Dinevor , Slebeck , and Coidsmore were ours;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that riches can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
Or say, that, preferring fair Thames to fair Tivy,
We gain'd the bright ermine robes, purple and red;
And peep'd thro' long perukes, like owlets thro' ivy,
Or say, that bright coronets blaz'd on our head;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that honours can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
We gain'd the bright ermine robes, purple and red;
And peep'd thro' long perukes, like owlets thro' ivy,
Or say, that bright coronets blaz'd on our head;
Yet weak is our vaunt, while something we want,
More sweet than the pleasure that honours can give:
Come, smile, damsels of Cardigan,
Love can alone make it blissful to live.
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ON SEEING MISS ------ RIDE BY HIM, WITHOUT KNOWING HER.
Written in 1780.
Cardigan, Aug. 4, 1780.
So lightly glanc'd she o'er the lawn,
So lightly through the vale,
That not more swiftly bounds the fawn,
In Sidon's palmy dale.
So lightly through the vale,
That not more swiftly bounds the fawn,
In Sidon's palmy dale.
Full well her bright-hair'd courser knew,
How sweet a charge he bore,
And proudly shook the tassels blue,
That on his neck he wore.
How sweet a charge he bore,
And proudly shook the tassels blue,
That on his neck he wore.
Her vest, with liveliest tincture glow'd,
That Summer-blossoms wear,
And wanton down her shoulders flow'd,
Her hyacinthine hair.
That Summer-blossoms wear,
And wanton down her shoulders flow'd,
Her hyacinthine hair.
Zephyr in play had loos'd the string,
And with it laughing flown,
Diffusing from his dewy wing,
A fragrance not his own.
And with it laughing flown,
Diffusing from his dewy wing,
A fragrance not his own.
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Her shape was like the slender pine,
With vernal buds array'd,
O, heav'n! what rapture would be mine,
To slumber in its shade.
With vernal buds array'd,
O, heav'n! what rapture would be mine,
To slumber in its shade.
Her cheeks—one rose had Strephon seen,
But dazzled with the sight,
At distance view'd her nymph-like mien,
And fainted with delight.
But dazzled with the sight,
At distance view'd her nymph-like mien,
And fainted with delight.
He thought Diana from the chase,
Was hastening to her bow'r;
For more than mortal seem'd a face,
Of such resistless pow'r.
Was hastening to her bow'r;
For more than mortal seem'd a face,
Of such resistless pow'r.
Actæon's fatal change he fear'd,
And trembled at the breeze;
High antlers had his fancy rear'd,
And quiv'ring sunk his knees.
And trembled at the breeze;
High antlers had his fancy rear'd,
And quiv'ring sunk his knees.
He well might err—that morn confess'd,
The queen with silver beam,
Shone forth, and Sylvia thus address'd,
By Tivy's azure stream:
The queen with silver beam,
Shone forth, and Sylvia thus address'd,
By Tivy's azure stream:
‘Let us this day our robes exchange;
‘Bind on my waxing moon;
‘Then through yon woods at pleasure range,
‘And shun the sultry noon.
‘Bind on my waxing moon;
‘Then through yon woods at pleasure range,
‘And shun the sultry noon.
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‘Whilst I at Cardigan prepare
‘Gay stores of silk and lace,
‘Like thine, will seem my flowing hair,
‘Like thine, my heav'nly grace.
‘Gay stores of silk and lace,
‘Like thine, will seem my flowing hair,
‘Like thine, my heav'nly grace.
‘My brother Phœbus lost his heart
‘When first he view'd thy charms,
‘And would this day, with dang'rous art,
‘Allure thee to his arms.
‘When first he view'd thy charms,
‘And would this day, with dang'rous art,
‘Allure thee to his arms.
‘But Cynthia, friend to virgins fair,
‘Thy steps will ever guide,
‘Protect thee from th'enchanting snare,
‘And o'er thy heart preside.
‘Thy steps will ever guide,
‘Protect thee from th'enchanting snare,
‘And o'er thy heart preside.
‘In vain his wiles he shall essay,
‘And touch his golden lyre;
‘Then to the skies shall wing his way,
‘With pale, yet raging fire.
‘And touch his golden lyre;
‘Then to the skies shall wing his way,
‘With pale, yet raging fire.
‘Should he with lies traduce the fair,
‘And boast how oft he kiss'd her,
‘The gods shall laugh while I declare,
‘He flirted with his sister.’
‘And boast how oft he kiss'd her,
‘The gods shall laugh while I declare,
‘He flirted with his sister.’
287
TO LADY JONES:
FROM THE ARABIC. Written in 1783.
While sad suspense and chill delay
Bereave my wounded soul of rest,
New hopes, new fears, from day to day,
By turns assail my lab'ring breast.
Bereave my wounded soul of rest,
New hopes, new fears, from day to day,
By turns assail my lab'ring breast.
My heart, which ardent love consumes,
Throbs with each agonizing thought;
So flutters with entangled plumes,
The lark in wily meshes caught.
Throbs with each agonizing thought;
So flutters with entangled plumes,
The lark in wily meshes caught.
There she, with unavailing strain,
Pours thro' the night her warbled grief:
The gloom retires, but not her pain;
The dawn appears, but not relief.
Pours thro' the night her warbled grief:
The gloom retires, but not her pain;
The dawn appears, but not relief.
Two younglings wait the parent bird,
Their thrilling sorrows to appease:
She comes—ah! no: the sound they heard
Was but a whisper of the breeze.
Their thrilling sorrows to appease:
She comes—ah! no: the sound they heard
Was but a whisper of the breeze.
288
FROM THE PERSIAN POEM OF HATIFI,
IN THE MEASURE OF THE ORIGINAL.
With cheeks where eternal paradise bloom'd,
Sweet Laili the soul of Kais had consum'd.
Transported her heavenly graces he view'd:
Of slumber no more he thought, nor of food.
Love rais'd in their glowing bosoms his throne,
Adopting the chosen pair as his own.
Together on flowery seats they repos'd:
Their lips not one idle moment were clos'd.
To mortals they gave no hint of their smart:
Love only the secret drew from each heart.
Sweet Laili the soul of Kais had consum'd.
Transported her heavenly graces he view'd:
Of slumber no more he thought, nor of food.
Love rais'd in their glowing bosoms his throne,
Adopting the chosen pair as his own.
Together on flowery seats they repos'd:
Their lips not one idle moment were clos'd.
To mortals they gave no hint of their smart:
Love only the secret drew from each heart.
TRANSPOSITION .
With cheeks where paradise eternal bloom'd,Sweet Laili had the soul of Kais consum'd.
Her heav'nly graces he transported view'd:
No more he thought of slumber, nor of food.
Love in their glowing bosoms rais'd his throne,
The chosen pair adopting as his own.
On flowery seats together they repos'd:
Their lips one idle moment were not clos'd.
No hint they gave to mortals of their smart:
Love only drew the secret from each heart.
The reader will perceive in this transposition that the stations of the words are only changed, by which simple means the five couplets are transposed to Iambic measure.
289
EXTEMPORE OPINION ON NATIVE TALENT, IN ANSWER TO LINES FROM A FRIEND.
Ah! but too well, dear friend, I knowMy fancy weak, my reason slow,
My memory by art improv'd,
My mind by baseless trifles mov'd.
Give me (thus high my pride I raise)
The ploughman's or the gard'ner's praise,
With patient and unceasing toil,
To meliorate a stubborn soil.
And say, (no higher meed I ask,)
‘With zeal hast thou perform'd thy task;’
Praise, of which virtuous minds may boast,
They best confer, who merit most.
290
WRITTEN AFTER A PERUSAL OF THE EIGHTH SERMON OF BARROW, 1786.
As meadows parch'd, brown groves, and withering flow'rs,Imbibe the sparkling dew and genial show'rs;
As chill dark air inhales the morning beam,
As thirsty harts enjoy the gelid stream;
Thus to man's grateful soul from heav'n descend,
The mercies of his Father, Lord, and Friend.
THE CONCLUDING SENTENCE OF BERKLEY'S SIRIS, IMITATED.
Before thy mystic altar, heav'nly Truth,I kneel in manhood, as I knelt in youth:
Thus let me kneel, till this dull form decay,
And life's last shade be brighten'd by thy ray:
Then shall my soul, now lost in clouds below,
Soar without bound, without consuming glow .
These lines were written by Sir William Jones in Berkley's Siris; they are, in fact, a beautiful version of the last sentence of the Siris, amplified and adapted to himself; ‘He that would make a real progress in knowledge, must dedicate his age as well as youth, the latter growth as well as the first fruits, at the altar of Truth.’
291
AN EPODE FROM A CHORUS IN THE UNFINISHED TRAGEDY OF SOHRAB.
What pow'r, beyond all pow'rs elate,Sustains this universal frame?
'Tis not nature, 'tis not fate,
'Tis not the dance of atoms blind,
Ethereal space, or subtile flame;
No; 'tis one vast eternal mind,
Too sacred for an earthly name.
He forms, pervades, directs the whole;
Not like the macrocosm's imag'd soul,
But provident of endless good,
By ways nor seen nor understood,
Which e'en His angels vainly might explore.
High, their highest thoughts above,
Truth, wisdom, justice, mercy, love,
Wrought in His heav'nly essence, blaze and soar.
Mortals, who His glory seek,
Rapt in contemplation meek,
Him fear, Him trust, Him venerate, Him adore.
298
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
| The poetical works of Sir William Jones | |