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BOOK 1.
ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK.
The subject proposed, viz, the pleasures of the Village—The Village itself described—The pleasure of rural spectacles— The peasant's funeral—Description of the Author's house— of the hills near it—and of one lofty eminence in particular —the prospect from it—The pleasures of early Summer first described—the sight of haymaking—of the bull—of the close of evening—of the whirlwind—of the thunder-storm—of the country after it—The pleasure of looking over corn-fields in July—of bathing in the sea—of beholding the sea in a storm —during a calm, &c.
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Place of my birth, O fondly let me sing
Thy pleasures multifarious, pass the sun
Through what fair sign it will. Around a pool
In a deep vale assemble thy warm huts,
All overhung by intermingling elms,
Save where the steep-ascending street (if street
May yon loose chain of tenements be deem'd)
Girds the contiguous hill, roof above roof,
And terminates above in farmer's close,
Or sawyer's pit with frequent boards beset.
Hard by, o'ertopping fair the nether elms,
But little shewing of the verdant hill
That underprops his columns, stands the Church.
A cheerful look athwart the vale he casts,
Smiles at the distant ocean half-eclips'd
Behind yon sudden intervening down,
And blesses the proud eminence, whose steep,
For ever flock-fed, shelters his lov'd elms
Scatter'd wherever in the vale below.
Fast by him stands, and not, like modern dome,
To the poor mansion of the Lord of Hosts
Abhors propinquity, the rural seat
Of one whom Britain hail'd erewhile her chief
Of princely ministers, Newcastle's Duke.
Pertains to Pelham still the rural spot,
Its pious site to his religious mind
Convenient, proper. Musing let me pass
Thy silent door and unfrequented walks,
Mansion deserted, and with pond'ring heart
Think, what is greatness in this world below!
Where is thy rich possessor, whose warm heart
Peopled the vale with his unnumber'd guests;
Who spread profusion round the hall within,
And to the border of the lawn without?
All, all is hush'd. The airy vision's fled.
The mighty master and his host of friends
Are well nigh melted all into the grave.
A shadow are they, an expiring sound,
Reverberated oft from hill to hill,
Till now but seldom and but faintly heard.
Soon must the whole depart, and other names
Possess the echo, till their hour is spent,
And future tongues 'gin prate of future days.
So press we all into the yawning gulf
Of vast eternity. These leaning stones,
Which gird with cincture ruinous the church,
What preach they but of youth and age deceas'd,
And sexes mingled in the populous soil,
Till it o'erlooks with swoln and ridgy brow
The smoother croft below? A little hour,
A moment, and the fretful miner Death
Shall delve again with implement severe
Into the bowels of this restless plot,
And bid a generation couch beneath.
Thy pleasures multifarious, pass the sun
Through what fair sign it will. Around a pool
In a deep vale assemble thy warm huts,
All overhung by intermingling elms,
Save where the steep-ascending street (if street
May yon loose chain of tenements be deem'd)
Girds the contiguous hill, roof above roof,
And terminates above in farmer's close,
Or sawyer's pit with frequent boards beset.
Hard by, o'ertopping fair the nether elms,
But little shewing of the verdant hill
58
A cheerful look athwart the vale he casts,
Smiles at the distant ocean half-eclips'd
Behind yon sudden intervening down,
And blesses the proud eminence, whose steep,
For ever flock-fed, shelters his lov'd elms
Scatter'd wherever in the vale below.
Fast by him stands, and not, like modern dome,
To the poor mansion of the Lord of Hosts
Abhors propinquity, the rural seat
Of one whom Britain hail'd erewhile her chief
Of princely ministers, Newcastle's Duke.
Pertains to Pelham still the rural spot,
Its pious site to his religious mind
Convenient, proper. Musing let me pass
Thy silent door and unfrequented walks,
Mansion deserted, and with pond'ring heart
Think, what is greatness in this world below!
Where is thy rich possessor, whose warm heart
Peopled the vale with his unnumber'd guests;
Who spread profusion round the hall within,
And to the border of the lawn without?
59
The mighty master and his host of friends
Are well nigh melted all into the grave.
A shadow are they, an expiring sound,
Reverberated oft from hill to hill,
Till now but seldom and but faintly heard.
Soon must the whole depart, and other names
Possess the echo, till their hour is spent,
And future tongues 'gin prate of future days.
So press we all into the yawning gulf
Of vast eternity. These leaning stones,
Which gird with cincture ruinous the church,
What preach they but of youth and age deceas'd,
And sexes mingled in the populous soil,
Till it o'erlooks with swoln and ridgy brow
The smoother croft below? A little hour,
A moment, and the fretful miner Death
Shall delve again with implement severe
Into the bowels of this restless plot,
And bid a generation couch beneath.
Say, ancient edifice, thyself with years
Grown grey, how long upon the hill has stood
Thy weather-braving tower, and silent mark'd
The human leaf inconstant bud and fall?
The generations of deciduous man—
How often hast thou seen them pass away?
How often has thy still surrounding sward
Yawn'd for the fathers of the peopled vale,
And clos'd upon them all? Thy during fane,
How often has it shed the dew of grace
On the mute infant, and receiv'd him soon
A coffin'd elder silver-lock'd with age?
O tell me, rev'rend structure, what events
Of awful import on the tide of time
Have floated by thee, as the bubble vain?
What armies on that distant hill engag'd,
To leave those scars of war upon its brow?
What blood was shed, and why? and where sleep now
The wrathful combatants of either host?
Saw'st thou the hill its hungry entrails ope
To swallow the pale dead, which reason deems
Beneath the still sward slumber of yon mounts?
Princes and peoples, (would'st thou make report)
Armies and fleets hast thou seen pass away,
Transient as vapour; and in thy esteem
All things are yesterday and recent change.
Speak, thou sage preacher, and, to make me wise,
Tell but that ancient secret, where sleeps now
He who thy aisles design'd, or they who built?
“Deep, deep in earth, nor shall thy life suffice
“The mingled generations to remove,
“Whose bones and ashes have envelop'd their's.
“These my profound and monitory bell
“All to their still graves summon'd, as it calls
“Now to his narrow everlasting couch
“Yon villager departed. Ask no more.
“Ere long I toll for thee. Away, prepare.”
Grown grey, how long upon the hill has stood
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The human leaf inconstant bud and fall?
The generations of deciduous man—
How often hast thou seen them pass away?
How often has thy still surrounding sward
Yawn'd for the fathers of the peopled vale,
And clos'd upon them all? Thy during fane,
How often has it shed the dew of grace
On the mute infant, and receiv'd him soon
A coffin'd elder silver-lock'd with age?
O tell me, rev'rend structure, what events
Of awful import on the tide of time
Have floated by thee, as the bubble vain?
What armies on that distant hill engag'd,
To leave those scars of war upon its brow?
What blood was shed, and why? and where sleep now
The wrathful combatants of either host?
Saw'st thou the hill its hungry entrails ope
To swallow the pale dead, which reason deems
Beneath the still sward slumber of yon mounts?
Princes and peoples, (would'st thou make report)
Armies and fleets hast thou seen pass away,
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All things are yesterday and recent change.
Speak, thou sage preacher, and, to make me wise,
Tell but that ancient secret, where sleeps now
He who thy aisles design'd, or they who built?
“Deep, deep in earth, nor shall thy life suffice
“The mingled generations to remove,
“Whose bones and ashes have envelop'd their's.
“These my profound and monitory bell
“All to their still graves summon'd, as it calls
“Now to his narrow everlasting couch
“Yon villager departed. Ask no more.
“Ere long I toll for thee. Away, prepare.”
Lo the procession! Let me pause intent,
And first drink pleasure at the peasant's grave.
Humane and christian is the muse, and fond
Of ev'ry object, cheerful or sedate,
Which rural scenes afford. She nor contemns
The nuptial holiday, nor views untouch'd
The sad solemnity of rustic woe,
What time the white-frock'd mourner slowly moves,
And brings with mute reluctance to the grave
The dear remains of some departed friend.
The decent sheet that overspreads the bier!
How well becomes it sorrow neat as their's,
Pure, and unsullied by the shameless tear
Of wrung hypocrisy! Steel were the heart
That could this passing spectacle survey,
Nor feel the touch of sympathy within.
Me it well pleases to the holy sward
To follow pitying, nor disowns my muse
The feminine sensations of a heart
That often vibrates at another's woe.
The tear that trickles down the manly cheek,
The burst of grief that braves control, the sigh
Which baffles interception, and escapes
Soon as the solemn pause bids lift the pall,
And ease the dead into his kindred earth,
Send many a tingling arrow through this breast,
Though the reluctant eye no grief betray,
And tearless silence in her deepest gloom
The decent pleasurable secret hide.
But often as my sated soul surveys
The sable funeral of city pomp,
Methinks life human is a play indeed,
And the poor player man, exhausted, spent,
Has made his exit, and now comes the farce.
'Tis pantomimic shew—the nodding plume,
The proud escutcheon'd hearse, and long parade
Of dry-eyed mourners clad in inky cloaks,
The streaming crape, and dismal aisle behung
With sable manufacture ill-applied.
To see such idle waste, and childish shew,
I smile, and nothing grieve. Not so, when death
Calls for the hind, and undissembled grief
Of father, widow, offspring, to the grave
His decent corpse attends. Then through my soul
Exquisite sympathy's vibration thrills;
It sorrows freely, breathes the grateful sigh,
Nor scorns to utter from a heart subdued
The mourner's luxury, the deep “alas!”
And first drink pleasure at the peasant's grave.
Humane and christian is the muse, and fond
Of ev'ry object, cheerful or sedate,
Which rural scenes afford. She nor contemns
The nuptial holiday, nor views untouch'd
The sad solemnity of rustic woe,
What time the white-frock'd mourner slowly moves,
And brings with mute reluctance to the grave
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The decent sheet that overspreads the bier!
How well becomes it sorrow neat as their's,
Pure, and unsullied by the shameless tear
Of wrung hypocrisy! Steel were the heart
That could this passing spectacle survey,
Nor feel the touch of sympathy within.
Me it well pleases to the holy sward
To follow pitying, nor disowns my muse
The feminine sensations of a heart
That often vibrates at another's woe.
The tear that trickles down the manly cheek,
The burst of grief that braves control, the sigh
Which baffles interception, and escapes
Soon as the solemn pause bids lift the pall,
And ease the dead into his kindred earth,
Send many a tingling arrow through this breast,
Though the reluctant eye no grief betray,
And tearless silence in her deepest gloom
The decent pleasurable secret hide.
But often as my sated soul surveys
The sable funeral of city pomp,
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And the poor player man, exhausted, spent,
Has made his exit, and now comes the farce.
'Tis pantomimic shew—the nodding plume,
The proud escutcheon'd hearse, and long parade
Of dry-eyed mourners clad in inky cloaks,
The streaming crape, and dismal aisle behung
With sable manufacture ill-applied.
To see such idle waste, and childish shew,
I smile, and nothing grieve. Not so, when death
Calls for the hind, and undissembled grief
Of father, widow, offspring, to the grave
His decent corpse attends. Then through my soul
Exquisite sympathy's vibration thrills;
It sorrows freely, breathes the grateful sigh,
Nor scorns to utter from a heart subdued
The mourner's luxury, the deep “alas!”
Enough of painful pleasure. Now alive,
Thee let me sing, still mansion of my birth.
The swelling instep of the mountain's foot
Above the vale just lifts thee. Thy trim gate,
Thy candid aspect and pale-chimney'd roof
Some eminence bespeak, and mark thee chief
Of the lone hamlet that behind thee squats.
Thou seem'st a bride, and this thy nuptial day,
And these thy mute attendants less attir'd.
Graceful to them thy fair ingenuous face
And bolder footstep, but not less to thee
Their modest air becoming. Ev'ry roof,
Or farm or cottage, ev'ry tree and shrub,
Pasture and garden-plot, which tread thy heel
Descending from the hill, thy charms improve.
I see where Flora her full lap of sweets
Has strew'd before thee, prodigally kind.
I mark the wreath laburnum without hand
Weaves for thy brow, the lilac tuft sublime
That shades thy temples, and the nodding flowers
Of rose and woodbine which his leaf o'ertop,
To screen thine eyelids from the western beam.
Beauty conceal'd is beauty thrice improv'd;
And plainness self, if plainness be thy lot,
Is not to be reprov'd, when nature thus
Adorns deformity with flowery charm.
Thee let me sing, still mansion of my birth.
The swelling instep of the mountain's foot
Above the vale just lifts thee. Thy trim gate,
Thy candid aspect and pale-chimney'd roof
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Of the lone hamlet that behind thee squats.
Thou seem'st a bride, and this thy nuptial day,
And these thy mute attendants less attir'd.
Graceful to them thy fair ingenuous face
And bolder footstep, but not less to thee
Their modest air becoming. Ev'ry roof,
Or farm or cottage, ev'ry tree and shrub,
Pasture and garden-plot, which tread thy heel
Descending from the hill, thy charms improve.
I see where Flora her full lap of sweets
Has strew'd before thee, prodigally kind.
I mark the wreath laburnum without hand
Weaves for thy brow, the lilac tuft sublime
That shades thy temples, and the nodding flowers
Of rose and woodbine which his leaf o'ertop,
To screen thine eyelids from the western beam.
Beauty conceal'd is beauty thrice improv'd;
And plainness self, if plainness be thy lot,
Is not to be reprov'd, when nature thus
Adorns deformity with flowery charm.
Welcome, dear mansion of repose and ease,
Still nurse of letters. To the studious mind
The vale of solitude is world enough;
A world of many pleasures, many friends,
Of bustle, and resort without fatigue.
E'en the slow-marching sabbath, by the gay
Devoted ill to frivolous excess,
Or dedicated fondly by the grave
To endless exercise of pious toil,
Has here no hurried and no loit'ring foot.
Abridg'd of levity, and indispos'd
To make salvation slavery, and yawn
Till latest midnight o'er the long discourse,
It interdicts not recreation sweet;
But, holy worship and the preacher's saw
Duly attended, gives to sacred song,
To conversation, anthem, slight research,
Or loud perusal of ill-printed news,
The sacred residue of ambling day.
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The vale of solitude is world enough;
A world of many pleasures, many friends,
Of bustle, and resort without fatigue.
E'en the slow-marching sabbath, by the gay
Devoted ill to frivolous excess,
Or dedicated fondly by the grave
To endless exercise of pious toil,
Has here no hurried and no loit'ring foot.
Abridg'd of levity, and indispos'd
To make salvation slavery, and yawn
Till latest midnight o'er the long discourse,
It interdicts not recreation sweet;
But, holy worship and the preacher's saw
Duly attended, gives to sacred song,
To conversation, anthem, slight research,
Or loud perusal of ill-printed news,
The sacred residue of ambling day.
Alone, of men, dwells here the thoughtful bard.
Here, on the mountain station'd, to the deep,
That proudly thund'ring on his one hand foams,
The lyre's indignant chorus sweeps he now;
Now to the peaceful variegated weald,
That underlies his other, tinkles soft
Descriptive admiration of her charms.
He sings her every steeple, farm, and field,
Till, like the prospect, his expiring song,
Mellow'd and soften'd, steals away from sense,
And ill-perceiv'd runs melting into air.
Here, on the mountain station'd, to the deep,
That proudly thund'ring on his one hand foams,
The lyre's indignant chorus sweeps he now;
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That underlies his other, tinkles soft
Descriptive admiration of her charms.
He sings her every steeple, farm, and field,
Till, like the prospect, his expiring song,
Mellow'd and soften'd, steals away from sense,
And ill-perceiv'd runs melting into air.
How awful this proud height, this brow of brows,
Which every steep surmounts, and awes sublime
The subject downs below! Nature wears here
Her boldest countenance. The tumid earth
Seems as of yore it had the phrenzy fit
Of ocean caught, and its uplifted sward
Perform'd a billowy dance, to whose vast wave
The proudest surges of the bellowing deep
Are little, as to his profounder swell
The shallow rippling of the wrinkled pool.
Enormous family, gigantic host,
Nation of mountains, sublime people, say,
At what great festival did your high brows
And ample foreheads dignify the dance?
When welcom'd ye rebounding the great God
In mercy present? Or, if wrath came down,
When boil'd so furiously your molten sward,
Fus'd at the touch of his indignant foot?
When did the God, departing, with a frown
Congeal and frost-fix your prodigious limbs,
Leaving remembrance, which no time shall 'rase,
Of ire omnipotent here dealt around?
Or if at first with wonder-working hand
He form'd you thus, say where is the vast scoop,
By which these ample vales and combs profound
Were hollow'd? Where is the stupendous axe
Which cleft the shoulders of yon bulky cliffs?
Who the vast host of precipices link'd,
To fetter frantic ocean to his seat?
Where is the mighty delving tool that pil'd
High as the clouds this lofty mount supreme,
And yon his twin companion, way between
To the neat stream permitting, as she trips
To wed her sober spouse the tranquil Ouse?
Where is the car that bore the hills away
To make yon ample basin, bowl immense,
Vast amphitheatre of sky-crown'd downs,
Where oft the hurried waters lose their way,
And spreading wide become an inland sea
Land-lock'd by mountains? Where is the strong bar
Which loosen'd seaward the contiguous hills,
Hove them aside, and gave to Ouse between
Sufficient space for his meand'ring stream
To wind and wander, and to many a farm,
Village, and steeple, visitation pay,
Or e'er he pours into the distant deep,
Through the wide fauces of yon hiant cliffs,
Th' obsequious lake that urges him along?
Which every steep surmounts, and awes sublime
The subject downs below! Nature wears here
Her boldest countenance. The tumid earth
Seems as of yore it had the phrenzy fit
Of ocean caught, and its uplifted sward
Perform'd a billowy dance, to whose vast wave
The proudest surges of the bellowing deep
Are little, as to his profounder swell
The shallow rippling of the wrinkled pool.
Enormous family, gigantic host,
Nation of mountains, sublime people, say,
At what great festival did your high brows
And ample foreheads dignify the dance?
When welcom'd ye rebounding the great God
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When boil'd so furiously your molten sward,
Fus'd at the touch of his indignant foot?
When did the God, departing, with a frown
Congeal and frost-fix your prodigious limbs,
Leaving remembrance, which no time shall 'rase,
Of ire omnipotent here dealt around?
Or if at first with wonder-working hand
He form'd you thus, say where is the vast scoop,
By which these ample vales and combs profound
Were hollow'd? Where is the stupendous axe
Which cleft the shoulders of yon bulky cliffs?
Who the vast host of precipices link'd,
To fetter frantic ocean to his seat?
Where is the mighty delving tool that pil'd
High as the clouds this lofty mount supreme,
And yon his twin companion, way between
To the neat stream permitting, as she trips
To wed her sober spouse the tranquil Ouse?
Where is the car that bore the hills away
To make yon ample basin, bowl immense,
Vast amphitheatre of sky-crown'd downs,
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And spreading wide become an inland sea
Land-lock'd by mountains? Where is the strong bar
Which loosen'd seaward the contiguous hills,
Hove them aside, and gave to Ouse between
Sufficient space for his meand'ring stream
To wind and wander, and to many a farm,
Village, and steeple, visitation pay,
Or e'er he pours into the distant deep,
Through the wide fauces of yon hiant cliffs,
Th' obsequious lake that urges him along?
Here let me stand, and wonder at my God,
Nor look with insolent disdain on man;
Since, feeble as his efforts are, his works
Puny and ill-distinguish'd, yet e'en they
Add grace and beauty to the noblest scene.
What were the deep, if his cerulean swathe
Bound only, as a girdle, unadorn'd,
The hills that baffle his circumfluent wave?
Owes he no beauty to the passing fleet
With swelling canvass o'er his steril void
Tilting triumphant, intercepted oft
By the white promontory's brow sublime,
And oft apparent where the cultur'd vale
'Tween cliff and cliff with ample op'ning yawns?
Owes he no majesty, when ev'ning sooths
The tranquil waters, and dun quiet reigns,
To the stout convoy's peremptory flash,
Distinct precursor of a voice profound
Enforcing mandate not pronounc'd in vain,
But soon assembling her disparted fleet;
As (if to great things small may be compar'd)
Troops to the partridge at her ev'ning call
Her scatter'd brood Septembrian, thunder-scar'd?
Owes he no grandeur to the warrior bark,
With sail impetuous as the falcon's wing
Chasing her foe, and blazing from her side
The smoky thunder-peal, awhile sustain'd,
Awhile replied to, till her ensign couch'd
Implies submission and a foe subdu'd?
Yes, these have dignity, and much delight,
And cheat of length and weariness the way,
As from this eminence my foot descends
Homeward to roam o'er intervenient hills.
Nor look with insolent disdain on man;
Since, feeble as his efforts are, his works
Puny and ill-distinguish'd, yet e'en they
Add grace and beauty to the noblest scene.
What were the deep, if his cerulean swathe
Bound only, as a girdle, unadorn'd,
The hills that baffle his circumfluent wave?
Owes he no beauty to the passing fleet
With swelling canvass o'er his steril void
Tilting triumphant, intercepted oft
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And oft apparent where the cultur'd vale
'Tween cliff and cliff with ample op'ning yawns?
Owes he no majesty, when ev'ning sooths
The tranquil waters, and dun quiet reigns,
To the stout convoy's peremptory flash,
Distinct precursor of a voice profound
Enforcing mandate not pronounc'd in vain,
But soon assembling her disparted fleet;
As (if to great things small may be compar'd)
Troops to the partridge at her ev'ning call
Her scatter'd brood Septembrian, thunder-scar'd?
Owes he no grandeur to the warrior bark,
With sail impetuous as the falcon's wing
Chasing her foe, and blazing from her side
The smoky thunder-peal, awhile sustain'd,
Awhile replied to, till her ensign couch'd
Implies submission and a foe subdu'd?
Yes, these have dignity, and much delight,
And cheat of length and weariness the way,
As from this eminence my foot descends
Homeward to roam o'er intervenient hills.
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Oft on the sunny upland let me pause,
That overlooks the hamlet, and, with tube
Improving vision to the brow applied,
Take my last farewel of the fleet remote,
Ere I descend into the vale beneath.
With sight still aided let me home survey,
Well pleas'd if Madam at her door appear
Watching her son's return with double eyes,
Twain supplemental, striding o'er the nose,
And with affectionate extended arm
Clasping the temple and superior ear.
Pleas'd also, if but puss upon the sill
Be seen adorning, with assiduous tongue
Cleansing her taper shank, her dappled coat
And furry bosom, or with gentle paw
Laving her countenance and hindmost ear.
Thus, thou dear village, sometimes let me stand,
The ding-dong peal of thy twain bells remote
To hear, and see thy Sunday cottager
In his white frock, thy scarlet-mantled dame,
Thy lusty farmer in his brown surtout,
And all thy mingled people, well-attir'd,
Church-ward repairing from their scatter'd homes.
Prudent assemblers, warmly shall the muse
Your piety applaud, and would to God
None ever linger'd in the haunts obscene
Of lewd ebriety, for ever lost
To the still voice of truth; and would to God
Of you that hear the word none heard in vain,
But all obedient at the holy board
Assembled duly at their pastor's call.
Would too, that none, preferring draff to grain,
On the fond cobler's conventicle drawl
With admiration fed, and the full cup
Of barbarous intoxication swill'd.
That overlooks the hamlet, and, with tube
Improving vision to the brow applied,
Take my last farewel of the fleet remote,
Ere I descend into the vale beneath.
With sight still aided let me home survey,
Well pleas'd if Madam at her door appear
Watching her son's return with double eyes,
Twain supplemental, striding o'er the nose,
And with affectionate extended arm
Clasping the temple and superior ear.
Pleas'd also, if but puss upon the sill
Be seen adorning, with assiduous tongue
Cleansing her taper shank, her dappled coat
And furry bosom, or with gentle paw
Laving her countenance and hindmost ear.
Thus, thou dear village, sometimes let me stand,
The ding-dong peal of thy twain bells remote
To hear, and see thy Sunday cottager
In his white frock, thy scarlet-mantled dame,
Thy lusty farmer in his brown surtout,
And all thy mingled people, well-attir'd,
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Prudent assemblers, warmly shall the muse
Your piety applaud, and would to God
None ever linger'd in the haunts obscene
Of lewd ebriety, for ever lost
To the still voice of truth; and would to God
Of you that hear the word none heard in vain,
But all obedient at the holy board
Assembled duly at their pastor's call.
Would too, that none, preferring draff to grain,
On the fond cobler's conventicle drawl
With admiration fed, and the full cup
Of barbarous intoxication swill'd.
My native vale, in loveliness array'd,
Now let me paint thee, while the mower's scythe
Thine herbage levels, harvest first conferr'd
And least solicited, spontaneous gift,
Abundance for the beast that toils for man.
Thick swarms the field with tedders, tossing high
And spreading thin upon the sunny sward
The lock dishevell'd. Frequent is the maid
That trails the rake, and he that builds the cock,
Or, plunging deep his fork in every hill,
Bears it aloft uplifted to the load.
The team alternate to the peopled rick
Moves in procession, soon reliev'd, and soon
Alert returning to be fraught anew.
Now let me paint thee, while the mower's scythe
Thine herbage levels, harvest first conferr'd
And least solicited, spontaneous gift,
Abundance for the beast that toils for man.
Thick swarms the field with tedders, tossing high
And spreading thin upon the sunny sward
The lock dishevell'd. Frequent is the maid
That trails the rake, and he that builds the cock,
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Bears it aloft uplifted to the load.
The team alternate to the peopled rick
Moves in procession, soon reliev'd, and soon
Alert returning to be fraught anew.
Now is it sometimes pleasure to steal forth
At sultry midnoon, when the busy fly
Swarms multitudinous, and the vex'd herd
Of milch-kine slumber in yon elm-grove shade,
Or unrecumbent exercise the cud
With milky mouths. 'Tis pleasure to approach,
And, by the strong fence shielded, view secure
Thy terrors, Nature, in the savage bull.
Soon as he marks me, be the tyrant fierce—
To earth descend his head—hard breathe his lungs
Upon the dusty sod—a sulky leer
Give double horror to the frowning curls.
Which wrap his forehead—and ere long be heard
From the deep cavern of his lordly throat
The growl insufferable. Not more dread
And not more sullen the profoundest peal
Of the far-distant storm, which o'er the deep,
Cloth'd in the pall of midnight premature,
At ev'ning hangs, and jars the solid earth
With its remote explosion. Tramples then
The surly brute, impatient of disdain,
And spurns the soil with irritated hoof,
Himself inhaler of the dusty cloud,
Himself insulted by the pebbly shower
Which his vain fury raises. Nothing fear'd,
Let him incens'd from agitated lungs
Blow his shrill trump acute, till echo ring,
And with a leer of malice steal away,
Assault and vengeance swearing ere be long.
At sultry midnoon, when the busy fly
Swarms multitudinous, and the vex'd herd
Of milch-kine slumber in yon elm-grove shade,
Or unrecumbent exercise the cud
With milky mouths. 'Tis pleasure to approach,
And, by the strong fence shielded, view secure
Thy terrors, Nature, in the savage bull.
Soon as he marks me, be the tyrant fierce—
To earth descend his head—hard breathe his lungs
Upon the dusty sod—a sulky leer
Give double horror to the frowning curls.
Which wrap his forehead—and ere long be heard
From the deep cavern of his lordly throat
The growl insufferable. Not more dread
And not more sullen the profoundest peal
Of the far-distant storm, which o'er the deep,
73
At ev'ning hangs, and jars the solid earth
With its remote explosion. Tramples then
The surly brute, impatient of disdain,
And spurns the soil with irritated hoof,
Himself inhaler of the dusty cloud,
Himself insulted by the pebbly shower
Which his vain fury raises. Nothing fear'd,
Let him incens'd from agitated lungs
Blow his shrill trump acute, till echo ring,
And with a leer of malice steal away,
Assault and vengeance swearing ere be long.
When the bright orb of ruddy eve is sunk,
And the slow day-beam takes its last farewel,
Retiring leisurely, how sweet to mark
The watery scintillation of the star
That first dares penetrate its flimsy skirt,
And, as the subtil medium steals away
Refin'd to nothing, bright and brighter glows!
How cheerful to behold the host of night,
Encourag'd by example, fast revive,
And splendid constellations long extinct
In quick succession kindle! Summer's night
Yields many a pleasure to the poet's eye.
He loves to ramble when the vale is hush'd,
What time the preying owl with sleepy wing
Swims o'er the corn-field studious, unannoy'd
By the fleet swallow to his chimney slunk,
Or marten to his eave; what time the bat
Hurries precipitous on leathern wing,
Brisk evolution in the dusky air
With sudden wheel performing. With delight
He sees the recent moon with horn acute
Fast by the star of ev'ning glow, to grace
The crimson exit of departing day;
And ever with affection hails her beam,
Whether her kindled cheek appear on high,
As tranquil twilight dwindles, half illum'd,
And, westward tending, down the steep of heaven
The chariot of retreating day pursue,
Or full-fac'd meet him on yon eastern hill,
Veil'd if the sun be present, or with meek
Uncurtain'd aspect if his orb be sunk.
Or whether, with reverted horn, her bow
Look eastward as the break of morning dawns,
And hide its slender elegance, abash'd
At the bright egress of effulgent day.
Yes, the fond poet can with joy behold
Eve's dappled vesture in the rosy beam
Twice-dyed, and with the ruddier hues of light
In fold and border saturated well;
A rich illuminated crimson stole
With sanguine furbelow of molten gold.
With equal transport views his cheerful eye
The cloud of morning shot with purple streaks;
Nor void of ecstasy observes on high
The fleece of silver, in which decent night
Scarce veils her smiling orb, betraying oft
Through its dishevell'd border transient glimpse
Of the pure studded azure, or sweet day
Of moonbeam unrestrain'd. Some taste of bliss
May haply be deriv'd from lurid night,
In dismal weeds of saddest sorrow dress'd,
And shedding fast from her maternal eye
Afflicted widowhood's celestial tear,
If unexpected the rent cloud display
The pure cerulean cupola of heaven,
With dewy gems serene of ev'ry size
And ev'ry lustre sow'd, not faint, nor few,
As when the horned moon shines clear, but bright
And numberless as the well-winnow'd grain
The ploughman scatters, or the silky fall
Of the soft vernal show'r that bids it spring,
Or dew-drops cherishing autumnal meads.
And the slow day-beam takes its last farewel,
Retiring leisurely, how sweet to mark
The watery scintillation of the star
That first dares penetrate its flimsy skirt,
And, as the subtil medium steals away
Refin'd to nothing, bright and brighter glows!
How cheerful to behold the host of night,
Encourag'd by example, fast revive,
And splendid constellations long extinct
74
Yields many a pleasure to the poet's eye.
He loves to ramble when the vale is hush'd,
What time the preying owl with sleepy wing
Swims o'er the corn-field studious, unannoy'd
By the fleet swallow to his chimney slunk,
Or marten to his eave; what time the bat
Hurries precipitous on leathern wing,
Brisk evolution in the dusky air
With sudden wheel performing. With delight
He sees the recent moon with horn acute
Fast by the star of ev'ning glow, to grace
The crimson exit of departing day;
And ever with affection hails her beam,
Whether her kindled cheek appear on high,
As tranquil twilight dwindles, half illum'd,
And, westward tending, down the steep of heaven
The chariot of retreating day pursue,
Or full-fac'd meet him on yon eastern hill,
Veil'd if the sun be present, or with meek
Uncurtain'd aspect if his orb be sunk.
Or whether, with reverted horn, her bow
75
And hide its slender elegance, abash'd
At the bright egress of effulgent day.
Yes, the fond poet can with joy behold
Eve's dappled vesture in the rosy beam
Twice-dyed, and with the ruddier hues of light
In fold and border saturated well;
A rich illuminated crimson stole
With sanguine furbelow of molten gold.
With equal transport views his cheerful eye
The cloud of morning shot with purple streaks;
Nor void of ecstasy observes on high
The fleece of silver, in which decent night
Scarce veils her smiling orb, betraying oft
Through its dishevell'd border transient glimpse
Of the pure studded azure, or sweet day
Of moonbeam unrestrain'd. Some taste of bliss
May haply be deriv'd from lurid night,
In dismal weeds of saddest sorrow dress'd,
And shedding fast from her maternal eye
Afflicted widowhood's celestial tear,
If unexpected the rent cloud display
76
With dewy gems serene of ev'ry size
And ev'ry lustre sow'd, not faint, nor few,
As when the horned moon shines clear, but bright
And numberless as the well-winnow'd grain
The ploughman scatters, or the silky fall
Of the soft vernal show'r that bids it spring,
Or dew-drops cherishing autumnal meads.
Sometimes the whirlwind's eddy let me see
The highway march, and with cylindric tube
The worried dust inhaling lift it high,
A turbid vortex, swelling as it mounts,
And soon dispers'd in the wide field of heaven.
The highway march, and with cylindric tube
The worried dust inhaling lift it high,
A turbid vortex, swelling as it mounts,
And soon dispers'd in the wide field of heaven.
Anon the candent thunderbolt delights,
That tears the bosom of the sultry cloud,
And from its watery lap prone deluge sheds.
Let the tempestuous Angel quit his hold
Upon the swealing fork, and pour sublime
His thund'ring volley through the deep of heaven.
With vivid repetition gleam the flash,
And ever, as it kindles, sally forth,
Abrupt and ruinous, the rolling peal,
As if, by lightning lash'd, at ev'ry blaze
Shot forth a chariot from the throne of heaven,
And headlong bounded o'er the cloudy waste.
That tears the bosom of the sultry cloud,
And from its watery lap prone deluge sheds.
Let the tempestuous Angel quit his hold
Upon the swealing fork, and pour sublime
His thund'ring volley through the deep of heaven.
With vivid repetition gleam the flash,
And ever, as it kindles, sally forth,
Abrupt and ruinous, the rolling peal,
77
Shot forth a chariot from the throne of heaven,
And headlong bounded o'er the cloudy waste.
The storm subsided, and fair day return'd,
Up to yon summit, that with haughty grace
Its wither'd turban wears of perish'd heath,
On its rude forehead, filleted around,
Bearing distinct the trench of ancient war,
With slow and painful footsteps let me climb.
At length ascended, on the central mount,
Erewhile perhaps the military throne
Of some proud monarch, and the spot rever'd
Whence the pavilion'd conqueror survey'd
His tented host around him, lost awhile
And musing let me stand, to think, where now
The leader and his army? prey alike
To the none-sparing appetite of time.
Then let me feed with never-sated eye
Upon the downy prospect wide outspread.
It shall not grieve me if the gust be free,
And to withstand its overbearing gale
I lean upon the tide of air unseen.
For pleasant then across the vale below
Fleet the thin shadows of the sever'd cloud,
Unwearied race performing. The blue deep
Wears wrinkled laughter, and exulting bounds
The shore along, with sycophantic air
Welcoming fashion to her lov'd retreat
Yon distant steeple, where she sits and smiles,
And dips her foot into the wholesome wave.
Up to yon summit, that with haughty grace
Its wither'd turban wears of perish'd heath,
On its rude forehead, filleted around,
Bearing distinct the trench of ancient war,
With slow and painful footsteps let me climb.
At length ascended, on the central mount,
Erewhile perhaps the military throne
Of some proud monarch, and the spot rever'd
Whence the pavilion'd conqueror survey'd
His tented host around him, lost awhile
And musing let me stand, to think, where now
The leader and his army? prey alike
To the none-sparing appetite of time.
Then let me feed with never-sated eye
Upon the downy prospect wide outspread.
It shall not grieve me if the gust be free,
And to withstand its overbearing gale
I lean upon the tide of air unseen.
78
Fleet the thin shadows of the sever'd cloud,
Unwearied race performing. The blue deep
Wears wrinkled laughter, and exulting bounds
The shore along, with sycophantic air
Welcoming fashion to her lov'd retreat
Yon distant steeple, where she sits and smiles,
And dips her foot into the wholesome wave.
Thus on the July down in summer's noon
Let me lounge often, when the whiffling breeze,
The sear hill sweeping, sings among the bents
That brush my footsteps, and make brighter still
The polish'd sandal and its slippery sole.
For then how beauteous lies the vale below,
Chequer'd with various harvest, light and shade,
As o'er it sails th' unnumber'd cloud of heaven!
How whispers, as it stoops, the blooming ear
Of the tall wheat-field slenderly erect,
And bows obsequious to the passing gale!
It seems a troubled sea, that swells, and rolls,
And pours its green wave merrily along,
Or up the steep, or down the smiling slope,
Or o'er the plain, or through the valley's lap.
Let me lounge often, when the whiffling breeze,
The sear hill sweeping, sings among the bents
That brush my footsteps, and make brighter still
The polish'd sandal and its slippery sole.
For then how beauteous lies the vale below,
Chequer'd with various harvest, light and shade,
As o'er it sails th' unnumber'd cloud of heaven!
How whispers, as it stoops, the blooming ear
Of the tall wheat-field slenderly erect,
And bows obsequious to the passing gale!
It seems a troubled sea, that swells, and rolls,
And pours its green wave merrily along,
Or up the steep, or down the smiling slope,
79
If noon be fervid, and no zephyr breathe,
What time the new-shorn flock stands here and there
With huddled head, impatient of the fly—
What time the snuffling spaniel, as he runs,
Pants freely, and laps often at the brook,
To slake the fervour of his feverous tongue—
What time the cow stands knee-deep in the pool,
Lashing her sides for anguish, scaring oft,
With sudden head revers'd, the insect swarm
That basks and preys upon her sunny hide—
Or when she flies with tufted tail erect
The breeze-fly's keen invasion, to the shade
Scampering madly—let me wind my way
Tow'rd the still lip of ocean. Seated there,
Soon let me cast habiliment aside,
And to the cool wave give me. Transport sweet!
Pleasure thrice-delicate! Oh, let me plunge
Deep in the lucid element my head,
And, rising, sportful on its surface play.
Oh joy, to quit the fervid gleam of earth,
Leave a faint atmosphere, and soon recruit
Exhausted energy, suspended thus
Upon the bosom of a cooler world!
Oh recreation exquisite, to feel
The wholesome waters trickle from the head,
Oft as its saturated locks emerge!
To feel them lick the hand, and lave the foot!
And when the playful and luxurious limb
Is satiated with pastime, and the man
Rises refresh'd from the voluptuous flood,
How rich the pleasure to let Zephyr chill
And steal the dew-drops from his panting sides!
Let e'en the saucy and loud Auster blow,
Be but his sea not fierce, nor, save at shore,
The frothy breaker of displeasure shew,
Yet will I court the turbulent embrace
Of thee, thou roaring deep: yes, and will share
The bather's richest pleasure, when the foot
Of fear might hesitate, nor dare invade
The thund'ring downfal of the billowy surge.
How joys the bold intruder, then, at large
To flounder porpoise-like, wave after wave
Mounting triumphant, hoisted by the swell—
How climbs with ease, descends, and climbs again
Th' uplifted summit, high as it may seem,
Of the sublimest wave! What if lost earth
Each moment disappear, as the sunk head
Swims through the yawning hollow of the flood;
As often shall it greet the watchful eye,
Seen from the wave-top eminent. And when
Landward with weary stroke the patient arm
Oars him again in safety, how alert
Shall the strand meet him, and his streaming limbs
Rescue from boist'rous ocean's foamy jaws;
Defiance bidding to his savage howl,
His ivory tooth unsheath'd, his sullen bark,
And fiery look delirious, symptoms all
Of madness imminent! Lo! as we speak,
The wolfish monster kindles into rage!
Enormous mastiff, how he gnaws his chain,
And struggles to be free, fast bound by fate,
And never more to be let loose on man!
Aloud he bellows, with indignant paw
Dances uprear'd, and menaces the foot
Of earth with trembling diffidence protruded.
Lo! the saliva of his deafening tongue
Her pebbled instep stains! his rugged coat
Is whiten'd o'er with foam, wasted amiss
In the vain effort of his hoarse assault!
Chain'd tyrant, spare thy fury, or unfear'd
Growl the long night away. To-morrow's sun
Shall find thee gentler, and a second dawn
Shall quell thy raving fit, and make thee calm,
Tame, and obsequious as the fondest cur
That cringing fawns and licks the steps of man.
What time the new-shorn flock stands here and there
With huddled head, impatient of the fly—
What time the snuffling spaniel, as he runs,
Pants freely, and laps often at the brook,
To slake the fervour of his feverous tongue—
What time the cow stands knee-deep in the pool,
Lashing her sides for anguish, scaring oft,
With sudden head revers'd, the insect swarm
That basks and preys upon her sunny hide—
Or when she flies with tufted tail erect
The breeze-fly's keen invasion, to the shade
Scampering madly—let me wind my way
Tow'rd the still lip of ocean. Seated there,
Soon let me cast habiliment aside,
And to the cool wave give me. Transport sweet!
Pleasure thrice-delicate! Oh, let me plunge
Deep in the lucid element my head,
And, rising, sportful on its surface play.
Oh joy, to quit the fervid gleam of earth,
Leave a faint atmosphere, and soon recruit
80
Upon the bosom of a cooler world!
Oh recreation exquisite, to feel
The wholesome waters trickle from the head,
Oft as its saturated locks emerge!
To feel them lick the hand, and lave the foot!
And when the playful and luxurious limb
Is satiated with pastime, and the man
Rises refresh'd from the voluptuous flood,
How rich the pleasure to let Zephyr chill
And steal the dew-drops from his panting sides!
Let e'en the saucy and loud Auster blow,
Be but his sea not fierce, nor, save at shore,
The frothy breaker of displeasure shew,
Yet will I court the turbulent embrace
Of thee, thou roaring deep: yes, and will share
The bather's richest pleasure, when the foot
Of fear might hesitate, nor dare invade
The thund'ring downfal of the billowy surge.
How joys the bold intruder, then, at large
To flounder porpoise-like, wave after wave
Mounting triumphant, hoisted by the swell—
81
Th' uplifted summit, high as it may seem,
Of the sublimest wave! What if lost earth
Each moment disappear, as the sunk head
Swims through the yawning hollow of the flood;
As often shall it greet the watchful eye,
Seen from the wave-top eminent. And when
Landward with weary stroke the patient arm
Oars him again in safety, how alert
Shall the strand meet him, and his streaming limbs
Rescue from boist'rous ocean's foamy jaws;
Defiance bidding to his savage howl,
His ivory tooth unsheath'd, his sullen bark,
And fiery look delirious, symptoms all
Of madness imminent! Lo! as we speak,
The wolfish monster kindles into rage!
Enormous mastiff, how he gnaws his chain,
And struggles to be free, fast bound by fate,
And never more to be let loose on man!
Aloud he bellows, with indignant paw
Dances uprear'd, and menaces the foot
Of earth with trembling diffidence protruded.
82
Her pebbled instep stains! his rugged coat
Is whiten'd o'er with foam, wasted amiss
In the vain effort of his hoarse assault!
Chain'd tyrant, spare thy fury, or unfear'd
Growl the long night away. To-morrow's sun
Shall find thee gentler, and a second dawn
Shall quell thy raving fit, and make thee calm,
Tame, and obsequious as the fondest cur
That cringing fawns and licks the steps of man.
Not such thy frenzy, when the northern gale,
Borne softly seaward, the tyrannic surge
Here first assuaging, sooths into a smile
Thy frantic countenance, thy surly frown
Appeases, thy white tooth and snarling jaw
Foamy with vengeance closes, and thy tongue
Bids spaniel-like with parasitic kiss
Lave inoffensive the long peaceful shore.
How placid then beneath the midday sun
Shines thy pure azure level undisturb'd!
How smooth and oily seems the path of Ouse,
As unmolested round the western cliff
He winds his way, nor mingles with the wave!
How steady sails the bark, her every sheet
Fill'd with the breeze! how fearless on the brink
Of the vast watery field, erewhile so rude,
Lets drop her anchor, furls her pliant sail,
And waits the hour when thy more lifted plain,
And Ouse retiring o'er the perilous bar,
Shall bear her smoothly up the brimful port!
Borne softly seaward, the tyrannic surge
Here first assuaging, sooths into a smile
Thy frantic countenance, thy surly frown
Appeases, thy white tooth and snarling jaw
Foamy with vengeance closes, and thy tongue
Bids spaniel-like with parasitic kiss
Lave inoffensive the long peaceful shore.
How placid then beneath the midday sun
Shines thy pure azure level undisturb'd!
How smooth and oily seems the path of Ouse,
As unmolested round the western cliff
83
How steady sails the bark, her every sheet
Fill'd with the breeze! how fearless on the brink
Of the vast watery field, erewhile so rude,
Lets drop her anchor, furls her pliant sail,
And waits the hour when thy more lifted plain,
And Ouse retiring o'er the perilous bar,
Shall bear her smoothly up the brimful port!
Nor such thy frenzy, when the breeze at east
Round yon tall promontories, you vast chain
Of cliffs sublime that gird Britannia's breast,
Than which her stedfast rock-encircled waist
Owns none more lofty, to the Thames-bound fleet
Blows adverse. Safe beneath the muzzled mouths
Of yon twin parapets, whose weighty tubes
Menace the deep below, they moor secure,
And ride expectant of the prosp'rous gale.
Oft from yon hill superior let me see
The peaceful anchorage of this wide bay
Thus by the wind-bound mariner posses'd;
And chiefly, when the natal hour of George
Revolves well welcome in the wheel of time.
What pleasure then to number one by one,
Floating in honour of the regal day,
Their lifted ensigns! to behold more near
On either parapet its furnish'd staff
Superbly waving; on the western fort,
That from the cliffy precipice down looks,
And war-locks imminent the mouth of Ouse,
His standard flaming; while the port beneath
On every stern a silken meteor shews!
How marks exulting then th' impatient eye
Where blazes first the sulphur-breathing tube
Redundant cloud forth sending, unctuous smoke,
Ere long succeeded by explosion vast:
Earth-shaking gratitude, which bark to bark
Kindles in turn, till every deck is lost
In brief eclipse of its own thund'ring cloud!
Round yon tall promontories, you vast chain
Of cliffs sublime that gird Britannia's breast,
Than which her stedfast rock-encircled waist
Owns none more lofty, to the Thames-bound fleet
Blows adverse. Safe beneath the muzzled mouths
Of yon twin parapets, whose weighty tubes
Menace the deep below, they moor secure,
And ride expectant of the prosp'rous gale.
Oft from yon hill superior let me see
The peaceful anchorage of this wide bay
Thus by the wind-bound mariner posses'd;
And chiefly, when the natal hour of George
Revolves well welcome in the wheel of time.
84
Floating in honour of the regal day,
Their lifted ensigns! to behold more near
On either parapet its furnish'd staff
Superbly waving; on the western fort,
That from the cliffy precipice down looks,
And war-locks imminent the mouth of Ouse,
His standard flaming; while the port beneath
On every stern a silken meteor shews!
How marks exulting then th' impatient eye
Where blazes first the sulphur-breathing tube
Redundant cloud forth sending, unctuous smoke,
Ere long succeeded by explosion vast:
Earth-shaking gratitude, which bark to bark
Kindles in turn, till every deck is lost
In brief eclipse of its own thund'ring cloud!
| Poems | |