 | Poems to Thespia |  |
XXXV.
[Yet once again I quit the strand]
December 20, 1784.
Yet once again I quit the strand,
And leave the calm and peaceful land.
Thro treacherous seas my canvas spread,
Or watchful drop the sounding lead.
Prepared to brave the storms of life,
To shun the dangerous rocks of strife,
And wind (if possible) my course
With ready art, or stedfast force.
No novice on the inconstant main
It's surging waves I plough again.
Should calumny her lightnings dart,
They cannot reach a vital part,
Tho friendship should once more betray,
While liberal candour points the way
I view her with disdainful eye,
View her, and pass uninjured by.
And leave the calm and peaceful land.
Thro treacherous seas my canvas spread,
Or watchful drop the sounding lead.
Prepared to brave the storms of life,
To shun the dangerous rocks of strife,
And wind (if possible) my course
With ready art, or stedfast force.
No novice on the inconstant main
It's surging waves I plough again.
Should calumny her lightnings dart,
They cannot reach a vital part,
Tho friendship should once more betray,
While liberal candour points the way
117
View her, and pass uninjured by.
Hail to the generous and the kind
Of upright thought and purer mind!
By whom encouraged, from the bowers
Where leisure tends her dewy flowers,
Where with their not unwelcome strain
The muses soothed the bed of pain,
Where by reflection's voice subdued
Sunk pride of heart, and passion rude,
Where love by pious friendship blest
With genuine sun-shine cheer'd the breast,
My station uncompell'd I take,
And sloth's obscurer haunts forsake;
For their's is truth's and reason's tone,
“Man lives not for himself alone.”
Nor unless Health her aid denies,
Should he renounce the social ties.
Of upright thought and purer mind!
By whom encouraged, from the bowers
Where leisure tends her dewy flowers,
Where with their not unwelcome strain
The muses soothed the bed of pain,
Where by reflection's voice subdued
Sunk pride of heart, and passion rude,
Where love by pious friendship blest
With genuine sun-shine cheer'd the breast,
My station uncompell'd I take,
And sloth's obscurer haunts forsake;
For their's is truth's and reason's tone,
“Man lives not for himself alone.”
Nor unless Health her aid denies,
Should he renounce the social ties.
118
Farewell then every study light!
To every muse a long good night!
Imagination's fairy store
Charms my determined soul no more.
My ears are closed, her Siren train
Sit on the cliffs, and sing in vain.
To every muse a long good night!
Imagination's fairy store
Charms my determined soul no more.
My ears are closed, her Siren train
Sit on the cliffs, and sing in vain.
While health is mine, at duty's call
Not the severest tasks appall;
Nature's entangled wilds to try,
And stretch distinction's nicest eye.
With observation, faithful guide
Who casts each prejudice aside,
And where she fails, through every age
Consults with toil the learned page;
While from the toil a pleasure flows,
Which well the conscious bosom knows.
Not the severest tasks appall;
Nature's entangled wilds to try,
And stretch distinction's nicest eye.
With observation, faithful guide
Who casts each prejudice aside,
And where she fails, through every age
Consults with toil the learned page;
While from the toil a pleasure flows,
Which well the conscious bosom knows.
Nor did I fly e'er sickness came,
From this, the nobler path of fame.
But strove with all my skill and might
To tread the steep and slippery height,
Or, as my native powers allow'd,
At least to ascend above the croud.
From this, the nobler path of fame.
119
To tread the steep and slippery height,
Or, as my native powers allow'd,
At least to ascend above the croud.
Farewell then to retirement's cell!
To every Muse a long farewell!
But not to love—No Thespia, still
That cordial balm our cup shall fill;
That cordial balm, which shed around
Can heal each accidental wound:
Which still the lamp of action feeds,
And prompts the mind to arduous deeds.
Let that be our's; let that inspire
The mute, and else unheeded lyre,
That be a theme to last till death,
And quiver on our latest breath.
That must be our's; and when the waves
And threatening floods my vessel braves,
Should tempests raise them to the sky,
Oh! lift it's sacred beacon high!
Which, when it's friendly rays appear,
Shall dissipate each anxious fear:
And hope revived think labour sport,
Till resolution gains the port.
To every Muse a long farewell!
But not to love—No Thespia, still
That cordial balm our cup shall fill;
That cordial balm, which shed around
Can heal each accidental wound:
Which still the lamp of action feeds,
And prompts the mind to arduous deeds.
Let that be our's; let that inspire
The mute, and else unheeded lyre,
That be a theme to last till death,
And quiver on our latest breath.
That must be our's; and when the waves
And threatening floods my vessel braves,
120
Oh! lift it's sacred beacon high!
Which, when it's friendly rays appear,
Shall dissipate each anxious fear:
And hope revived think labour sport,
Till resolution gains the port.
| Poems to Thespia | |