 | The poems (1969) |  |
521
DRAFTS AND FRAGMENTS
524
21 [Lines on Restoration Drama]
Yet this wild pomp, so much in vain pursued,The courtly Davenant in our Thames renewed.
For who can trace through time's o'erclouded maze
The dawning stage of old Eliza's days?
What critic search its rise, or changes know,
525
Yet all may gain, from many a worthless page,
Some lights of Charles and his luxurious age.
Then, thanks to those who sent him forth to roam,
Or, equal weakness, brought the monarch home,
The taste of France, her manners and her style
(The fool's gay models), deluged all our isle.
Those courtly wits, which spoke the nation's voice,
In Paris learned their judgement and their choice.
Vain were the thoughts which nature's passions speak:
Thy woes, Monimia, impotent and weak!
Vain all the truth of just dramatic tales:
Naught pleased Augustus but what pleased Versailles!
His hand of power, outstretched with princely care,
From his low state upraised the instructive player;
And even in palaces, for never age
Was graced like Richelieu's, placed his regal stage.
To those proud halls, where Burgundy had vied
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The Muse succeeded like some splendid heir
And placed her chiefs and favoured heroes there!
And could that theatre, believe you, trust
To those weak guides, the decent and the just?
Ah, no! Could aught delight that modish pit?
'Twas but the froth and foppery of wit.
True nature ceased; and in her place were seen
That pride of pantomime, the rich machine.
There, when some god, or spirit poised in air,
Surprised the scented beau or masking fair,
Think! with what thunder, in so just a cause,
The mob of coxcombs swelled their loud applause!
These witlings heeded nature less than they
That rule thy taste, the critics of today:
Yet all could talk how Betterton was dressed
And gave that queen their praise who curtsied best.
Thus Folly lasted long at Truth's expense,
Spite of just nature or reluctant sense.
Ask you what broke at last her idle reign?
Wit's easy villain could not laugh in vain.
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22 [Lines of Composite Authorship]
But why, you'll say to me, this [OMITTED] song?Can these proud aims to private life belong?
Fair instances your verse unbidden brings,
The ambitious names of ministers and kings.
Am I that statesman whom a realm obeys?
What ready tributes will my mandate raise?
Or like the pontiff can my word command
Exacted sums from every pliant land,
That all of which the men of leisure read,
This taste and splendour, must from me proceed?
Tell me, if wits reprove or fortune frown,
Where is my hope but in the uncertain town.
Yet ere you urge, weigh well the mighty task:
Behold what sums one poet's dramas ask.
When Shakespeare shifts the place so oft to view,
Must each gay scene be beautiful and new?
Come, you who trade in ornament, appear,
Come, join your aids through all the busy year;
Plan, build and paint through each laborious day,
And let us once produce this finished play.
Yes, the proud cost allows some short suspense:
I grant the terrors of that word ‘expence’.
Did taste at once for full perfection call,
That sole objection might determine all.
But such just elegance not gained at ease,
Scarce wished and seen, may come by slow degrees
Today [OMITTED] may one fair grace restore,
And some kind season add one beauty more.
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The critic's unities, 'tis sure, conspire;
And though no scenes suffice to deck the wild,
[OMITTED] round their works on whom the Muse has smiled,
Some scenes may still the fair design admit,
Chaste scenes which Addison or Philips writ.
Is but our just delight in one increased,
'Tis something gained to decency at least;
And what thy judgement first by nature planned,
May find completion from some future hand. &c.
The pomp [OMITTED]
23 [Lines Addressed to James Harris]
These would I sing: O art for ever dear,
Whose charms so oft have caught my raptured ear,
O teach me thou, if my unpolished lays
Are all too rude to speak thy gentle praise,
O teach me softer sounds of sweeter kind,
Whose charms so oft have caught my raptured ear,
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Are all too rude to speak thy gentle praise,
O teach me softer sounds of sweeter kind,
Then let the Muse and Picture each contend,
This plan her tale and that her colours blend:
With me, though both their kindred charms combine,
No power shall emulate or equal thine!
This plan her tale and that her colours blend:
With me, though both their kindred charms combine,
No power shall emulate or equal thine!
And thou, the gentlest patron, born to grace
And add new brightness even to Ashley's race,
Intent like him in Plato's polished style
To fix fair Science in our careless isle:
Whether through Wilton's pictured halls you stray,
Or o'er some speaking marble waste the day,
Or weigh each sound, its various power to learn,
Come, son of Harmony, O hither turn!
Led by thy hand, Philosophy will deign
To own me, meanest of her votive train.
O, I will listen as thy lips impart
Why all my soul obeys her powerful art;
Why at her bidding, or by strange surprise
Or waked by fond degrees, my passions rise;
How well-formed reeds my sure attention gain
And what the lyre's well-measured strings contain.
The mighty masters too, unpraised so long,
Shall not be lost, if thou assist my song,
They who, with Pindar's in one age bestowed,
Clothed the sweet words which in their numbers flowed;
And Rome's and Adria's sons, if thou but strive
To guard their names, shall in my name survive.
And add new brightness even to Ashley's race,
Intent like him in Plato's polished style
To fix fair Science in our careless isle:
Whether through Wilton's pictured halls you stray,
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Or weigh each sound, its various power to learn,
Come, son of Harmony, O hither turn!
Led by thy hand, Philosophy will deign
To own me, meanest of her votive train.
O, I will listen as thy lips impart
Why all my soul obeys her powerful art;
Why at her bidding, or by strange surprise
Or waked by fond degrees, my passions rise;
How well-formed reeds my sure attention gain
And what the lyre's well-measured strings contain.
The mighty masters too, unpraised so long,
Shall not be lost, if thou assist my song,
They who, with Pindar's in one age bestowed,
Clothed the sweet words which in their numbers flowed;
And Rome's and Adria's sons, if thou but strive
To guard their names, shall in my name survive.
24 [Lines Addressed to Jacob Tonson]
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While you perhaps exclude the wintry gloom
In jovial Jacob's academic room,
There pleased by turns in breathing paint to trace
The wit's gay air or poet's genial face,
Say, happy Tonson, say what great design
(For warmest gratitude must sure be thine),
What due return employs thy musing heart
For all the happiness their works impart;
What taste-directed monument, which they
Might own with smiles and thou with honour pay.
In jovial Jacob's academic room,
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The wit's gay air or poet's genial face,
Say, happy Tonson, say what great design
(For warmest gratitude must sure be thine),
What due return employs thy musing heart
For all the happiness their works impart;
What taste-directed monument, which they
Might own with smiles and thou with honour pay.
Even from the days when courtly Waller sung
And tuned with polished sounds our barbarous tongue,
Ere yet the verse to full perfection brought
With nicer music clothed the poet's thought,
The muse whose song bespoke securest fame
Made fair alliance with thy favoured name.
Dealt from thy press, the maid of elder days
Lisped the soft lines to Sacharissa's praise;
Or the gay youth, for livelier spirits known,
By Cowley's pointed thought improved his own.
Even all the easy sons of song, who gained
A poet's name when Charles and pleasure reigned,
All from thy race a lasting praise derived:
Not by their toil the careless bards survived.
You wisely saved the race who, [OMITTED] gay,
But sought to wear the myrtles of a day.
At soft Barn Elms (let every critic join)
You more than all enjoy each flowing line.
Yours is the price, whate'er their merits claim,
Heir of their verse and guardian of their fame!
[OMITTED] move
[OMITTED] luxury and love!
And tuned with polished sounds our barbarous tongue,
Ere yet the verse to full perfection brought
With nicer music clothed the poet's thought,
The muse whose song bespoke securest fame
Made fair alliance with thy favoured name.
Dealt from thy press, the maid of elder days
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Or the gay youth, for livelier spirits known,
By Cowley's pointed thought improved his own.
Even all the easy sons of song, who gained
A poet's name when Charles and pleasure reigned,
All from thy race a lasting praise derived:
Not by their toil the careless bards survived.
You wisely saved the race who, [OMITTED] gay,
But sought to wear the myrtles of a day.
At soft Barn Elms (let every critic join)
You more than all enjoy each flowing line.
Yours is the price, whate'er their merits claim,
Heir of their verse and guardian of their fame!
[OMITTED] move
[OMITTED] luxury and love!
534
25 [Lines Addressed to a Fastidious Critic]
Yes, 'tis but Angelo's or Shakespeare's name:
The striking beauties are in each the same.
The s[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Were Horace dumb, who knows even Fresnoy's art
Might guide the muse in some [OMITTED] part;
Or searchful Vinci, who his precepts drew
For Tuscan pencils, form the poet too!
The striking beauties are in each the same.
The s[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Were Horace dumb, who knows even Fresnoy's art
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Or searchful Vinci, who his precepts drew
For Tuscan pencils, form the poet too!
From these fair arts, [OMITTED]
Obtain some fair ef[OMITTED]
Nor fear to talk of numbers or of oil,
Though not quite formed like Addison or Boyle.
Defect[s] in each abound and more, you say,
Than sage de Piles instructs us how to weigh;
Defects which, glanced on those who finely feel,
All Thornhill's colours would in vain conceal,
Or all the golden lines, howe'er they flow,
Through each soft drama of unfruitful Rowe.
These too you sometimes praise, to censure loth,
But fix the name of mannerist on both.
And should my friend, who knew not Anna's age,
So nicely judge the canvas or the page?
Still should his thought, on some old model placed,
Reject the Briton with so nice a taste?
From each some forceful character demand,
[OMITTED] but peculiar to his happy hand?
Some sovereign mark of genius all his own,
[OMITTED]
Ah, where on Thames shall gentle Dodsley find
The verse contrived for so correct a mind?
Or how shall Hayman, trembling as you gaze,
Obtain one breath of such unwilling praise?
Go then, in all unsatisfied, complain
Of Time's mistake in Waller's desperate strain,
For ah, ‘untimely cam'st thou forth’, indeed,
With whom originals alone succeed!
Go as thou wilt, require the bliss denied,
To call back art and live ere Carlo died;
But oh, in song the public voice obey,
There let each author [OMITTED] his [OMITTED] day.
Abroad be candid, reason as you will,
And be at home a chaste Athenian still!
For each correct design the critic kind
Look back through age to Homer's godlike mind;
But Blackhall's self might doubt if all of art
Were self-produced in one exhaustless heart.
Obtain some fair ef[OMITTED]
Nor fear to talk of numbers or of oil,
Though not quite formed like Addison or Boyle.
Defect[s] in each abound and more, you say,
Than sage de Piles instructs us how to weigh;
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All Thornhill's colours would in vain conceal,
Or all the golden lines, howe'er they flow,
Through each soft drama of unfruitful Rowe.
These too you sometimes praise, to censure loth,
But fix the name of mannerist on both.
And should my friend, who knew not Anna's age,
So nicely judge the canvas or the page?
Still should his thought, on some old model placed,
Reject the Briton with so nice a taste?
From each some forceful character demand,
[OMITTED] but peculiar to his happy hand?
Some sovereign mark of genius all his own,
[OMITTED]
Ah, where on Thames shall gentle Dodsley find
The verse contrived for so correct a mind?
Or how shall Hayman, trembling as you gaze,
Obtain one breath of such unwilling praise?
Go then, in all unsatisfied, complain
Of Time's mistake in Waller's desperate strain,
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With whom originals alone succeed!
Go as thou wilt, require the bliss denied,
To call back art and live ere Carlo died;
But oh, in song the public voice obey,
There let each author [OMITTED] his [OMITTED] day.
Abroad be candid, reason as you will,
And be at home a chaste Athenian still!
For each correct design the critic kind
Look back through age to Homer's godlike mind;
But Blackhall's self might doubt if all of art
Were self-produced in one exhaustless heart.
26 [Lines Addressed to a Friend about to Visit Italy]
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On each new scene the sons of [OMITTED] vertù
Shall give fresh objects to thy [OMITTED] view,
Bring the graved gem or offer as you pass
The imperial medal and historic brass.
Then o'er its narrow surface may'st thou trace
The genuine spirit of some hero's face;
Or see, minutely touched, the powerful charms
Of some proud fair that set whole realms in arms;
The patriot's story with his look compare
And know the poet by his genial air.
Shall give fresh objects to thy [OMITTED] view,
Bring the graved gem or offer as you pass
The imperial medal and historic brass.
Then o'er its narrow surface may'st thou trace
The genuine spirit of some hero's face;
Or see, minutely touched, the powerful charms
Of some proud fair that set whole realms in arms;
The patriot's story with his look compare
And know the poet by his genial air.
Nor, for they boast no pure Augustan vein,
Reject her poets with a cold disdain.
Oh, think in what sweet lays, how sweetly strong,
Our Fairfax warbles Tasso's forceful song;
How Spenser too, whose lays you oft resume,
Wove their gay [OMITTED] in his fantastic loom;
That Cinthio prompted oft even Shakespeare's flame,
And Milton valued even Marino's name!
Reject her poets with a cold disdain.
Oh, think in what sweet lays, how sweetly strong,
Our Fairfax warbles Tasso's forceful song;
How Spenser too, whose lays you oft resume,
Wove their gay [OMITTED] in his fantastic loom;
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And Milton valued even Marino's name!
27 [Stanzas on a Female Painter]
The moon with dewy lustre bright
Her mild ethereal radiance gave,
On paly cloisters gleamed her light,
Or trembled o'er the unresting wave.
Her mild ethereal radiance gave,
On paly cloisters gleamed her light,
Or trembled o'er the unresting wave.
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'Twas midnight's hour—[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Long o'er the spires and glimmering towers,
The whispering flood and silvery sky,
As one whom musing grief devours,
She glanced by turns her silent eye!
The whispering flood and silvery sky,
As one whom musing grief devours,
She glanced by turns her silent eye!
Like hers, the fair Lavinia's hand
Once mixed the pallet's varied store;
Blest maid, whom once Italia's land
In years of better glory bore!
Once mixed the pallet's varied store;
Blest maid, whom once Italia's land
In years of better glory bore!
[OMITTED]
Like her, O death, O ruthless power,
O grief of heart remembered well,
In lovely youth's untimely hour
Like her soft Tintoretta fell:
O grief of heart remembered well,
In lovely youth's untimely hour
Like her soft Tintoretta fell:
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Even she, whose science Philip sought
To share his throne, an envied bride,
Like thee deplored, ah, fatal thought,
By every art lamented died.
To share his throne, an envied bride,
Like thee deplored, ah, fatal thought,
By every art lamented died.
Thy draft, where Love his hand employed,
Shall only please a short-lived day
And, timeless like thyself destroyed,
In each revolving year decay.
Shall only please a short-lived day
And, timeless like thyself destroyed,
In each revolving year decay.
Yet soft and melting flowed thy line,
As every Grace had lent her aid,
Bid each mild light unglaring shine
And soft imbrowned each melting shade.
As every Grace had lent her aid,
Bid each mild light unglaring shine
And soft imbrowned each melting shade.
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And when thy tints, ah, fruitless care!
With softest skill compounded lay,
The flaunting bowers where spring repairs
Were not more bloomy sweet than they!
With softest skill compounded lay,
The flaunting bowers where spring repairs
Were not more bloomy sweet than they!
The child of them who now adore
Thy tender tints and godlike flame,
Pass some few years on Adria's shore,
Shall only know thy gentle name;
Thy tender tints and godlike flame,
Pass some few years on Adria's shore,
Shall only know thy gentle name;
Or, when his eyes shall strive in vain
Thy fairy pencil's stroke to trace,
The faded draft shall scarce retain
Some lifeless line or mangled grace.
Thy fairy pencil's stroke to trace,
The faded draft shall scarce retain
Some lifeless line or mangled grace.
28 ‘Ye genii who, in secret state’
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Ye genii who, in secret state
Far from the wheaten field,
At some thronged city's antique gate
Your unseen sceptres wield;
Far from the wheaten field,
At some thronged city's antique gate
Your unseen sceptres wield;
Ye powers that such high office share
O'er all the restless earth,
Who see each day descend with care
Or lost in senseless mirth;
O'er all the restless earth,
Who see each day descend with care
Or lost in senseless mirth;
Take them, who know not how to prize
The walks to wisdom dear,
The gradual fruits and varying skies
That paint the gradual year;
The walks to wisdom dear,
The gradual fruits and varying skies
That paint the gradual year;
Take all that to the silent sod
Prefer the sounding street,
And let your echoing squares be trod
By their unresting feet.
Prefer the sounding street,
And let your echoing squares be trod
By their unresting feet.
But me, by [OMITTED] springlets laid
That through the woodland chide,
Let elms and oaks, that lent their shade
To hoary druids, hide.
That through the woodland chide,
Let elms and oaks, that lent their shade
To hoary druids, hide.
Let me, where'er wild nature leads
My sight, enamoured look
And choose my hymning pipe from reeds
That roughen o'er the brook.
My sight, enamoured look
And choose my hymning pipe from reeds
That roughen o'er the brook.
544
Sometimes, when morning o'er [the] plain
Her radiant mantle throws,
I'll mark the clouds where sweet Lorraine
His orient colours chose;
Her radiant mantle throws,
I'll mark the clouds where sweet Lorraine
His orient colours chose;
Or, when the sun to noontide climbs,
I'll hide me from his view
By such green plats and cheerful limes
As [OMITTED] Rysdael drew.
I'll hide me from his view
By such green plats and cheerful limes
As [OMITTED] Rysdael drew.
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Then on some heath, all wild and bare,
With more delight I'll stand
Than he who sees with wondering air
The works of Rosa's hand:
With more delight I'll stand
Than he who sees with wondering air
The works of Rosa's hand:
There where some rock's deep cavern gapes
Or in some tawny dell,
I'll seem to see the wizard shapes
That from his pencil fell.
Or in some tawny dell,
I'll seem to see the wizard shapes
That from his pencil fell.
But when soft evening o'er the plain
Her gleamy mantle throws,
I'll mark the clouds whence sweet Lorraine
His [OMITTED] colours chose;
Her gleamy mantle throws,
I'll mark the clouds whence sweet Lorraine
His [OMITTED] colours chose;
Or from the vale I'll lift my sight
To some [OMITTED]
Where'er the sun withdraws his light,
The dying lustre falls.
To some [OMITTED]
Where'er the sun withdraws his light,
The dying lustre falls.
Such [OMITTED] will I keep
Till [OMITTED]
The modest moon again shall peep
Above some eastern hill.
Till [OMITTED]
The modest moon again shall peep
Above some eastern hill.
All tints that ever picture used
Are lifeless, dull and mean,
To paint her dewy light diffused
[OMITTED]
Are lifeless, dull and mean,
To paint her dewy light diffused
[OMITTED]
What art can paint the modest ray,
So sober, chaste and cool,
As round yon cliffs it seems to play
Or skirts yon glimmering pool?
So sober, chaste and cool,
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Or skirts yon glimmering pool?
The tender gleam her orb affords
No poet can declare,
Although he choose the softest words
That e'er were sighed in air.
No poet can declare,
Although he choose the softest words
That e'er were sighed in air.
29 To Simplicity
O Fancy, altered maid,
Who now, too long betrayed,
To toys and pageant wedd'st thy cheated heart,
Yet once with chastest thought
Far nobler triumphs sought,
Thrice gentle guide of each exalted art!
Who now, too long betrayed,
To toys and pageant wedd'st thy cheated heart,
Yet once with chastest thought
Far nobler triumphs sought,
Thrice gentle guide of each exalted art!
Too [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
No more, sweet maid, the enfeebling dreams prolong.
Return, sweet maid, at length
In all thy ancient strength
And bid our Britain hear thy Grecian song.
[OMITTED]
No more, sweet maid, the enfeebling dreams prolong.
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In all thy ancient strength
And bid our Britain hear thy Grecian song.
For thee, of loveliest name,
That land shall ever claim
And laid an infant on her favoured shore,
Soft bees of Hybla's vale
To age attests the tale
To feed thy youth [OMITTED] their s[OMITTED] store.
That land shall ever claim
And laid an infant on her favoured shore,
Soft bees of Hybla's vale
To age attests the tale
To feed thy youth [OMITTED] their s[OMITTED] store.
From that [OMITTED] hour
Thou knew'st the gentle power
To charm her matrons chaste and virtuous youth;
For Wisdom learned to please
By thy persuasive ease
And simplest sweetness more ennobled Truth.
Thou knew'st the gentle power
To charm her matrons chaste and virtuous youth;
For Wisdom learned to please
By thy persuasive ease
And simplest sweetness more ennobled Truth.
Nor modest Picture less
Declined the wild excess,
Which frequent now distracts her wild design:
The modest Graces laid
Each soft, unboastful shade,
While feeling Nature drew the impassioned line!
Declined the wild excess,
Which frequent now distracts her wild design:
The modest Graces laid
Each soft, unboastful shade,
While feeling Nature drew the impassioned line!
O chaste, unboastful guide,
O'er all my heart preside
And, midst my cave in breathing marble wrought,
In sober musing near
With Attic robe appear
And charm my sight and prompt my temperate thought.
O'er all my heart preside
And, midst my cave in breathing marble wrought,
In sober musing near
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And charm my sight and prompt my temperate thought.
And when soft maids and swains
Reward my native strains
With flowers that chastest bloom and sweetest breathe,
I, loveliest nymph divine,
Will own the merits thine
And round thy temples bind the modest wreath.
Reward my native strains
With flowers that chastest bloom and sweetest breathe,
I, loveliest nymph divine,
Will own the merits thine
And round thy temples bind the modest wreath.
30 ‘No longer ask me, gentle friends’
549
No longer ask me, gentle friends,
Why heaves my constant sigh,
Or why my eye for ever bends
To yon fair eastern sky.
Why view the clouds that onward roll?
Ah, who can fate command?
While here I sit, my wandering soul
Is in a distant land.
Why heaves my constant sigh,
Or why my eye for ever bends
To yon fair eastern sky.
Why view the clouds that onward roll?
Ah, who can fate command?
While here I sit, my wandering soul
Is in a distant land.
Did ye not hear of Delia's name,
When on a fatal day
O'er yonder northern hills she came
And brought an earlier May?
Or if the month her bloomy store
By gentle custom brought,
She ne'er was half so sweet before
To my delighted thought.
When on a fatal day
O'er yonder northern hills she came
And brought an earlier May?
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By gentle custom brought,
She ne'er was half so sweet before
To my delighted thought.
She found me in my southern vale,
All in her converse blest:
My [OMITTED] heart began to fail
Within my youngling breast.
I thought when as her
To me of lowly birth,
There lived not aught so good and kind
On all the smiling earth.
All in her converse blest:
My [OMITTED] heart began to fail
Within my youngling breast.
I thought when as her
To me of lowly birth,
There lived not aught so good and kind
On all the smiling earth.
To Resnel's banks, again to greet
Her gentle eyes, I strayed,
Where once a bard with infant feet
Among the willows played:
His tender thoughts subdue the fair
And melt the soft and young,
But mine I know were softer there
Than ever poet sung.
Her gentle eyes, I strayed,
Where once a bard with infant feet
Among the willows played:
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And melt the soft and young,
But mine I know were softer there
Than ever poet sung.
I showed her there the songs of one
Who, done to death by pride,
Though Virtue's friend and Fancy's son,
In love unpitied died.
I hoped when to that shepherd's truth
Her pity should attend,
She would not leave another youth
To meet his luckless end.
Who, done to death by pride,
Though Virtue's friend and Fancy's son,
In love unpitied died.
I hoped when to that shepherd's truth
Her pity should attend,
She would not leave another youth
To meet his luckless end.
Now tell me, you who hear me sing
And prompt the tender theme,
How far is Lavant's little spring
From Medway's mightier stream.
Confined within my native dells,
The world I little know,
But in some tufted mead she dwells,
Where'er those waters flow.
And prompt the tender theme,
How far is Lavant's little spring
From Medway's mightier stream.
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The world I little know,
But in some tufted mead she dwells,
Where'er those waters flow.
There too resorts a maid, renowned
For framing ditties sweet:
I heard her lips [OMITTED]
Her gentle lays repeat.
They told how sweetly in her bower
A greenwood nymph complained,
Of Melancholy's gloomy power,
And joys from Wisdom gained.
For framing ditties sweet:
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Her gentle lays repeat.
They told how sweetly in her bower
A greenwood nymph complained,
Of Melancholy's gloomy power,
And joys from Wisdom gained.
Sweet sung that muse and fair befall
Her life, whose happy art,
What other bards might envy all,
Can touch my Laura's heart.
Sweet oaten reeds for her I'll make
And chaplets for her hair,
If she, for friendly pity's sake,
Will whisper Damon there.
Her life, whose happy art,
What other bards might envy all,
Can touch my Laura's heart.
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And chaplets for her hair,
If she, for friendly pity's sake,
Will whisper Damon there.
Her strain shall dim, if aught succeeds
From my applauding tongue,
Whate'er within her native meads
The tuneful Thyrsis sung:
Less to my love shall he be dear,
Although he earliest paid
Full many a soft and tender tear
To luckless Collins's shade!
From my applauding tongue,
Whate'er within her native meads
The tuneful Thyrsis sung:
Less to my love shall he be dear,
Although he earliest paid
Full many a soft and tender tear
To luckless Collins's shade!
31 [Lines on the Music of the Grecian Theatre]
555
Recitative Accompanied
When glorious Ptolemy, by merit raised,
Successive sat on Egypt's radiant throne,
Bright Ptolemy, on whom while Athens gazed,
She almost wished the monarch once her own:
Then virtue owned one royal heart,
For, loathing war, humanely wise,
For all the sacred sons of art,
He bade the dome of science rise.
The Muses knew the festal day
And, called by power, obsequant came
With all their lyres and chaplets gay:
They gave the fabric its immortal name.
556
The monarch sat and, at his side,
His favourite bards, his Grecian choir,
Who, while the roofs responsive rung,
To many a fife and many a tinkling lyre,
Amid the shouting tribes in sweet succession sung.
557
LOST AND DOUBTFUL POEMS
561
36 On the Use and Abuse of Poetry
562
ANTISTROPHE. II.
Such was wise Orpheus' moral song,The lonely cliffs and caves among;
From hollow oak, or mountain-den,
He drew the naked, gazing men,
Or where in turf-built sheds, or rushy bowers,
They shiver'd in cold wintry showers,
Or sunk in heapy snows;
Then sudden, while his melting music stole
With powerful magic o'er each softening soul,
Society, and law, and sacred order rose.
EPODE II.
Father of peace and arts! he first the city built;No more the neighbour's blood was by his neighbour spilt;
He taught to till, and separate the lands;
He fix'd the roving youths in Hymen's myrtle bands;
Whence dear domestic life began,
And all the charities that soften'd man:
The babes that in their father's faces smil'd,
With lisping blandishments their rage beguil'd,
And tender thoughts inspir'd!—&c.
37 The Bell of Arragon
563
The bell of Arragon, they say,
Spontaneous speaks the fatal day, &c. [OMITTED]
Whatever dark aerial power,
Commission'd, haunts the gloomy tower. [OMITTED]
Spontaneous speaks the fatal day, &c. [OMITTED]
Whatever dark aerial power,
Commission'd, haunts the gloomy tower. [OMITTED]
38 On a Quack Doctor
Seventh son of Doctor John,
Physician and Chirurgeon,
Who hath travelled wide and far,
Man-Midwife to a Man of War,
In Chichester hath ta'en a house,
Hippocrates, Hippocratous.’
Physician and Chirurgeon,
Who hath travelled wide and far,
Man-Midwife to a Man of War,
In Chichester hath ta'en a house,
Hippocrates, Hippocratous.’
| The poems (1969) | |