The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell |
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton | ||
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ENGLISH METAMORPHOSIS.
BY T. ROWLEIE.
Book I.
I
When Scythians, savage as the wolves they chased,Painted in horrid forms by Nature dight,
Enwrapped in beast-skins, slept upon the waste,
And with the morning roused the wolf to fight,
Swift as descending beams of ruddy light
Plunged to the hidden bed of laving seas,
Rent the black mountain-oaks, in pieces twight,
And ran in thought along the azure mees,
Whose eyes did fiery shine, like blue-haired defs,
That dreary hang upon Dover's enblanched cliffs.
105
II
Soft-bounding over swelling azure reles,The savage natives saw a ship appear,
An unknown tremor to their bosom steals,
Their might is bounden in the frost of fear.
The headed javelin hisseth here and there,
They stand, they run, they look with changeful eyne,
The ship's sail, swelling with the kindly air,
Runneth to harbour from the beating brine:
They drive away aghast, when to the strand
An armèd Trojan leaps, with Morglaien sword in hand.
III
Him followed eftsoons his compeers, whose swordsGlistered like burning stars in frosty nete,
Hailing their capitain in chattering words
King of the land, whereon they set their feet.
The great king Brutus then they did him greet,
Prepared for battle, marshallèd the fight;
They urged the war, the natives fled as fleet
As flying clouds that swim before the sight,
Till tired with battles, for to cease the fray,
They 'nointed Brutus king, and gave the Trojans sway.
106
IV
Twain of twelve years have lighted up their minds,Allayed the savage rudeness of their breast,
Improved in mystic war, and limmed their kinds,
When Brute from Britons sank to endless rest.
Eftsoons the gentle Locrine was possessed
Of sway, and vested in the parament;
O'ercame the bickering Huns, who did infest
His waking kingdom with a foul intent;
As his broad sword o'er Humber's head was hung,
He turned to river wide, and roaring rolled along.
V
He wedded Guendoline of royal seed,Upon whose countenance red health was spread;
Blushing e'en like the scarlet of her weed,
She sank to pleasance on the marriage-bed.
Eftsoons her peaceful joy of mind was fled;
For Elstrid too met with the King Locrine.
Unnumbered beauties were upon her shed,
Much finer, fairer, than was Guendoline;
The morning tinge, the rose, the lily flower,
In ever-running race, on her did paint their power.
VI
The gentle suit of Locrine gained her love,They lived soft moments to a pleasant age,
Oft wandering in the coppice, dell, and grove,
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There did they tell the merry loving fage,
And crop the primrose flowers to deck their head;
The fiery Guendoline, in woman-rage,
Assembled warriors to revenge her bed.
They rose; in battle was great Locrine sleen;
The fair Elstrida fled from the enragèd queen.
VII
A tie of love, a daughter fair she hanne,Whose budding morning shewèd a fair day,
Her father Locrine once a holy man.
With this fair daughter did she haste away,
To where the western mighty piles of clay
Arise unto the clouds, and do them bear;
There did Elstrida and Sabrina stay,
The first trick'd out awhile in warrior's gear;
Vincent was she y-clept, but full soon fate
Sent death to tell the dame she was not in regrate.
VIII
The queen Guendòline sent a giant knight,Whose doughty head swept the emmertleynge skies,
To slay her wheresoe'er she should be pight,
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Swift as the roaring winds the giant flies,
Stayed the loud winds, and shaded realms in night,
Stepped over cities, on meint acres lies,
Meeting the heralds of the morning light;
Till, moving to the West, mischance his gye,
He 'neath the warrior's garb fair Elstrid did espy.
IX
He tore a ragged mountain from the ground,And tossed up nodding forests to the sky,
Then with a fury, might the earth astound,
To middle air he let the mountain fly;
The flying wolflets sent a yelling cry;
On Vincent and Sabrina fell the mount,
To live for ever, did they eftsoons die.
Through sandy soil boiled up the purple fount,
On a broad grassy plain was laid the hill,
Staying the running course of many a glassy rill.
X
The gods, who knew the actions of the wight,To lessen the sad hap of twain so fair,
Hollow did make the mountain by their might;
Forth from Sabrina ran a river clear,
109
From female Vincent shot a ridge of stones,
Each side the river rising heavenwere;
Sabrina's flood was held in Elstrid's bones.
So are they called; the gentle and the hind
Can tell that Severn's stream by Vincent's rock's y-wrynde.
XI
The burly giant, he who did them sle,To tell Guendòline quickly was y-sped;
When, as he strode along the shaking lea,
The ruddy lightning glistered on his head;
Into his heart the azure vapours spread;
He writhed around in dreary cruel pain;
When from his life-blood the red gleams were fed,
He fell an heap of ashes on the plain;
Still do his ashes shoot into the light,
A wondrous mountain high, and Snowdon is it hight.
The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton | ||