Eidyllia or, miscellaneous poems; On losing Milton: an Ode. To Isabella: an Ode. The Fair Matron: an Ode. Virtue's Expostulation: an Ode. To Adversity: an Ode. Philocles: a Monody. The Muses triumphant over Venus: a Tale. With a hint to the British Poets. By the Author of Animadversions upon the Reverend Doctor Brown's three essays on the Characteristicks; and of a Criticism on the late Reverend Mr Holland's Sermons [by Robert Colvill] |
 | EIDYLLIA |
 | Eidyllia |  |
21
EIDYLLIA
Upon losing Milton's Paradise Lost,
at Luss situate upon Loch-Lomond at the foot of Ben-Lowman and a group of other vast mountains:
An ODE.
Fool that I was! My Milton lost!
Old Homer's youngest son!
Old Homer's youngest son!
Luss! be for ever sunk beneath
Ben's horrors pil'd around.
Ben's horrors pil'd around.
Sun's 'livening ray ne'er pierce thy gloom.
Thy hideous deep be drain'd.
Thy hideous deep be drain'd.
Fishes to devilish snakes be turn'd:
Boatman to Cerberus.
Boatman to Cerberus.
Mouth of the hellish gulf be thou:
Its mortal damp thy air.
Its mortal damp thy air.
All o'er thy plains Vulcanos thick
Their burning sands disgorge.
Their burning sands disgorge.
Birds never warble chearful note;
Nor roam the humming bee.
Nor roam the humming bee.
Herds never graze, nor sheep, nor goats;
Nor human voice be heard.
Nor human voice be heard.
22
Crags other echo ne'er repeat
Than dismal Furies' yell.
Than dismal Furies' yell.
Mercury laugh'd; and jeering cried,
I Milton from thee filch'd.
I Milton from thee filch'd.
So did Apollo bid; and, see!
For thee a laurel holds.
For thee a laurel holds.
To the blooming Isabella:
An ODE.
Cloe you know, have heard her talk.
I'll tell you what she thinks, my Dear.
I'll tell you what she thinks, my Dear.
Oh! for the man, deserves my love:
Me, like Queen Juno who adores,
Like Venus, in a rapture eyes.
His fixed gaze, or downward look,
Or starting wildness speaks desire.
Yet fears t'approach; or at my feet
His passion pleads, and in my eye
Like trembling prisoner seeks his fate.
I deign a smile. Intranc'd in love
He rivals Jove in Juno's arms.
I frown. He lightning-blasted shrinks.
My horrors drive his soul aghast.
Again I smile. He thanks his Stars,
And me his Goddess for the grace.
I on the rack of my disdain
May torture him a thousand times:
As oft he whines, and vows, and prays,
And readmitted thinks me kind.
Me, like Queen Juno who adores,
Like Venus, in a rapture eyes.
His fixed gaze, or downward look,
Or starting wildness speaks desire.
Yet fears t'approach; or at my feet
His passion pleads, and in my eye
Like trembling prisoner seeks his fate.
I deign a smile. Intranc'd in love
He rivals Jove in Juno's arms.
I frown. He lightning-blasted shrinks.
My horrors drive his soul aghast.
Again I smile. He thanks his Stars,
And me his Goddess for the grace.
23
May torture him a thousand times:
As oft he whines, and vows, and prays,
And readmitted thinks me kind.
Him would I love: o'er him wou'd rule,
As, Juno! thou the heart of Jove.
Such husband, oh! dear Hymen! give.
Nay do. And soon. Or I despair.
As, Juno! thou the heart of Jove.
Such husband, oh! dear Hymen! give.
Nay do. And soon. Or I despair.
Let her despair, and warning be
To you, my blooming Isabel!
In beauty's sunshine as you sail,
All gay and pleasant! to beware
The rocks and shelves of hated pride.
To you, my blooming Isabel!
In beauty's sunshine as you sail,
All gay and pleasant! to beware
The rocks and shelves of hated pride.
Upon seeing a fair Matron with her Husband and Daughter at the Theatre;
in answer to a young Officer, who very wittily broke out, Venus! by God:
An ODE.
Venus, d'ye say? For beauty not unlike.
But where's, my friend! the wish-inspiring glance?
The ambiguous aspect, lure and rack of love?
Pale, flushing languish? Or the scornful frown,
Ending repentant in a luscious smile?
But where's, my friend! the wish-inspiring glance?
The ambiguous aspect, lure and rack of love?
Pale, flushing languish? Or the scornful frown,
Ending repentant in a luscious smile?
24
No. Virtue inspiriting that noble form
Than Venus ever boasted more divine
Sure has on earth descended to reveal
Herself. How lovely! Made thus visible!
That shape how just! In that complection, fair
As innocence unspotted, sweetly glow
The mingled delicacies. In her eye
Sparkles her soul. Her features and her mien
High dignity yet goodness more express;
All-beautifying and immortal grace.
And in her gesture each new attitude
Borrowing from her Guardian-Angel's Form
Still some new charm, as Iris from the Sun
The varying beauties of the light, reflects.
In crouded theatre by all admir'd,
With eyes untwinkling as in rapture fix'd,
Unconscious and compos'd she looks around:
Or on her Lord, or their Joint Image smiles,
Fair fruit and blessing of connubial love.
Than Venus ever boasted more divine
Sure has on earth descended to reveal
Herself. How lovely! Made thus visible!
That shape how just! In that complection, fair
As innocence unspotted, sweetly glow
The mingled delicacies. In her eye
Sparkles her soul. Her features and her mien
High dignity yet goodness more express;
All-beautifying and immortal grace.
And in her gesture each new attitude
Borrowing from her Guardian-Angel's Form
Still some new charm, as Iris from the Sun
The varying beauties of the light, reflects.
In crouded theatre by all admir'd,
With eyes untwinkling as in rapture fix'd,
Unconscious and compos'd she looks around:
Or on her Lord, or their Joint Image smiles,
Fair fruit and blessing of connubial love.
Such, Holy Matrimony! are thy joys!
Ye blooming Fair! like her, you too admire,
Beauty and Virtue ever think the same.
One with your love, all with your goodness bless:
And bloom immortal in a lovely Race.
Ye blooming Fair! like her, you too admire,
Beauty and Virtue ever think the same.
One with your love, all with your goodness bless:
And bloom immortal in a lovely Race.
25
VIRTUE's Expostulation with the British Poets:
An ODE.
Britannia's Genius! who alone enjoy'st
Fair Liberty well-balanc'd and secure,
Best nurse of arts and sciences divine:
Why dost thou thankless thy poetic fire,
In subjects so unworthy, why mispend?
Satyr, on objects as itself mis-shap'd
Nature's abortions feasting, grins unblest
Fell joy. Pretended Zeal for truth reveal'd,
But with an air and spirit, how reverse!
Monopolizing bounds the Sovereign Grace:
In darkest mystery gropes, yet science vaunts;
And rancour-swollen e'en conscience wou'd enslave.
Romance, that goodly world in vain beheld
With all its gay enlivening scenes around,
Frantic in visionary chaos roams:
Or with some sickly lovetale courts applause,
Transient as the low appetite inflam'd.
Fair Liberty well-balanc'd and secure,
Best nurse of arts and sciences divine:
Why dost thou thankless thy poetic fire,
In subjects so unworthy, why mispend?
Satyr, on objects as itself mis-shap'd
Nature's abortions feasting, grins unblest
Fell joy. Pretended Zeal for truth reveal'd,
But with an air and spirit, how reverse!
Monopolizing bounds the Sovereign Grace:
In darkest mystery gropes, yet science vaunts;
And rancour-swollen e'en conscience wou'd enslave.
Romance, that goodly world in vain beheld
With all its gay enlivening scenes around,
Frantic in visionary chaos roams:
Or with some sickly lovetale courts applause,
Transient as the low appetite inflam'd.
What! Have I then no charms? No images
O'er the intellectual creation spread,
To inchant the wandering fancy with delight,
And warm the generous heart? This wide expanse
Of glory see! Where I, the Holy Nine,
Truth, and these Graces, my unnumber'd train,
Harmonious moving as the tuneful spheres,
From the Supream our borrow'd light diffuse
On spirits elect, as on my Blessed Bards
Of old or late, prophetic or profane:
Whom panting I led up Parnassus' Height
Aloft to Fame. Dare you their guide reject?
Without me hope to immortalize your name?
Me, Universal Nature's boast, the source
Of Beauty's self. Why then to you estrang'd?
Why unadmir'd? Unsung? But, Britons! know,
None Poets are but as by me inspir'd.
O'er the intellectual creation spread,
To inchant the wandering fancy with delight,
And warm the generous heart? This wide expanse
Of glory see! Where I, the Holy Nine,
Truth, and these Graces, my unnumber'd train,
26
From the Supream our borrow'd light diffuse
On spirits elect, as on my Blessed Bards
Of old or late, prophetic or profane:
Whom panting I led up Parnassus' Height
Aloft to Fame. Dare you their guide reject?
Without me hope to immortalize your name?
Me, Universal Nature's boast, the source
Of Beauty's self. Why then to you estrang'd?
Why unadmir'd? Unsung? But, Britons! know,
None Poets are but as by me inspir'd.
Virtue's remonstrance, Hume in vision heard:
Awe-struck awak'd, obey'd, and Douglas sung.
Awe-struck awak'd, obey'd, and Douglas sung.
To ADVERSITY:
An ODE.
How changeable is Man! Where now my joys?
My wonted ecstacies? Presumptuous hopes,
Still on the wing to imaginary bliss,
Horizon-like still flying as pursued?
Where now my admiration of this world,
Fond as the infant's gaze on spiring flames,
And with it fled? Few now are my desires:
Nor longer feverish; but, if granted, please,
Yet, if denied, they ne'er my peace disturb.
Since doubtful are all mortal good and ill;
Known only by th'event ourselves ordain,
As Wisdom guides the soul, or Folly drives.
No mildew-fears my enjoyment ever blast,
Nor shall affliction gratitude eraze,
Or cut the nerves of enterprising hope:
And if past remedy my faith pervades
These earthly mists to that All-ruling Love,
Which like the Sun still blesses tho' unseen.
With heart-strings brac'd I now can view serene;
And humbly smile at Fortune's mighty threats,
Sweet pity shed, and, whom I can, relieve:
Waiting secure the dawn of heavenly light,
That soon this midnight-darkness shall dispell,
And faith reward with vision more enlarg'd
Of Nature's works. How faultless! How compleat!
As their Creator God supreamly fair!
Eternal! Infinite! Yet all are one!
Pure now my pleasures: heart humane and blest:
My hopes immortal. Thanks, Adversity!
Heaven's gentle Angel! tho' of visage stern.
Whose power all mortals feel, yet few they grace.
My wonted ecstacies? Presumptuous hopes,
Still on the wing to imaginary bliss,
Horizon-like still flying as pursued?
Where now my admiration of this world,
Fond as the infant's gaze on spiring flames,
And with it fled? Few now are my desires:
Nor longer feverish; but, if granted, please,
Yet, if denied, they ne'er my peace disturb.
Since doubtful are all mortal good and ill;
27
As Wisdom guides the soul, or Folly drives.
No mildew-fears my enjoyment ever blast,
Nor shall affliction gratitude eraze,
Or cut the nerves of enterprising hope:
And if past remedy my faith pervades
These earthly mists to that All-ruling Love,
Which like the Sun still blesses tho' unseen.
With heart-strings brac'd I now can view serene;
And humbly smile at Fortune's mighty threats,
Sweet pity shed, and, whom I can, relieve:
Waiting secure the dawn of heavenly light,
That soon this midnight-darkness shall dispell,
And faith reward with vision more enlarg'd
Of Nature's works. How faultless! How compleat!
As their Creator God supreamly fair!
Eternal! Infinite! Yet all are one!
Pure now my pleasures: heart humane and blest:
My hopes immortal. Thanks, Adversity!
Heaven's gentle Angel! tho' of visage stern.
Whose power all mortals feel, yet few they grace.
28
PHILOCLES:
A Monody.
Well. Now my conscious heart is lighter grown
For Plato read, as Philocles advis'd:
With whom, as closely may I Virtue's Mount,
As from our cloyster'd study oft I climb'd
This Constitution-Hill, to ope our breasts;
To brace our nerves, and strengthen inward powers;
To drink like nectar mid-day's wholesome air;
To enjoy, all-blessing Sun! thy chearful rays
In center of the blue expanse, or feel
Thy influence, tho' in flying clouds conceal'd.
Winter retiring, but by slow degrees,
As loth its power and horrors to resign:
Such was the season, when, as now alone,
I with him often hither came, and us'd
This way to walk these whistling firs among.
Here was our path, just here, tho' now o'ergrown;
Since that, O Friendship! by thy foot untrod.
For Plato read, as Philocles advis'd:
With whom, as closely may I Virtue's Mount,
As from our cloyster'd study oft I climb'd
This Constitution-Hill, to ope our breasts;
To brace our nerves, and strengthen inward powers;
To drink like nectar mid-day's wholesome air;
To enjoy, all-blessing Sun! thy chearful rays
In center of the blue expanse, or feel
Thy influence, tho' in flying clouds conceal'd.
Winter retiring, but by slow degrees,
As loth its power and horrors to resign:
Such was the season, when, as now alone,
I with him often hither came, and us'd
This way to walk these whistling firs among.
Here was our path, just here, tho' now o'ergrown;
Since that, O Friendship! by thy foot untrod.
29
Since last we here together stood retir'd,
Seven years, seven happy years flew o'er our heads;
And five years more have I my loss deplor'd,
In learning's maze unguided by his clue.
Ah! Little did I then, what now I feel,
Expect. Ah! Little thought this solitude,
To me so grateful then, cou'd e'er become
The cause of heaviness and sighs renew'd.
Why do I foolish hither come so oft,
To stir up by each trivial circumstance,
The sad remembrance, sad yet ever dear,
Of my Instructor and my faithful Friend?
Seven years, seven happy years flew o'er our heads;
And five years more have I my loss deplor'd,
In learning's maze unguided by his clue.
Ah! Little did I then, what now I feel,
Expect. Ah! Little thought this solitude,
To me so grateful then, cou'd e'er become
The cause of heaviness and sighs renew'd.
Why do I foolish hither come so oft,
To stir up by each trivial circumstance,
The sad remembrance, sad yet ever dear,
Of my Instructor and my faithful Friend?
I recollect
Much of his moralizing on this spot:
None that to forlorn friendship gives relief.
Our eye once that way turn'd, says he, Behold
That Gothic building, emblem, undesign'd
I deem yet just, of Hierarchal Pride:
Which on yon clouded summit looking sat,
Down on the layman's soul as on a worm;
Who gaping strains his neck, and staring eye,
And trembles at the spire, which to high heaven
Seems reaching, as the Priestly Pow'r rever'd.
Or else with that stupendous weight compar'd
His little cottage, and himself contemns.
Still more the paintings when his eye revolves,
Or awful vestments of deem'd sanctity;
Or organ's solemn sound his sense o'erpow'rs;
And other decorations of the arts
Amusing, then alone to men indulg'd:
All better science and free thought unknown;
Which late, but, God be thank'd! at last arose,
And with them fure attendant Gospel-Light
Unclouded, as now shine thy smiling beams,
O sun! Thus he fair Liberty wou'd sing
Religious, Civil. And for principles,
So blest! wou'd oft his generous Father thank,
And for his Father thank his gracious God.
Much of his moralizing on this spot:
None that to forlorn friendship gives relief.
Our eye once that way turn'd, says he, Behold
That Gothic building, emblem, undesign'd
I deem yet just, of Hierarchal Pride:
Which on yon clouded summit looking sat,
Down on the layman's soul as on a worm;
Who gaping strains his neck, and staring eye,
And trembles at the spire, which to high heaven
Seems reaching, as the Priestly Pow'r rever'd.
Or else with that stupendous weight compar'd
His little cottage, and himself contemns.
30
Or awful vestments of deem'd sanctity;
Or organ's solemn sound his sense o'erpow'rs;
And other decorations of the arts
Amusing, then alone to men indulg'd:
All better science and free thought unknown;
Which late, but, God be thank'd! at last arose,
And with them fure attendant Gospel-Light
Unclouded, as now shine thy smiling beams,
O sun! Thus he fair Liberty wou'd sing
Religious, Civil. And for principles,
So blest! wou'd oft his generous Father thank,
And for his Father thank his gracious God.
He left me musing, musing with delight,
On his not noisy forward party-strains
Of specious liberty misunderstood:
But modest, gentle, friendly, and sincere,
Benevolent to all. He soon return'd.
I had been scribbling. Pray, Sir! lend your ear,
He understood not for my faultering tongue,
And quivering lips; then took it, Let me read.
My chilling fears at his approving smile,
Blush'd into conscious worth, till then unknown.
For ne'er wou'd he the embrio-genius crush;
He'd, as with parent-bill, pick th'opening shell.
He'd never snarle, my wildness ne'er deride;
But overlook, or soften as he read:
My fervour check, but, as he check'd, inflame:
My feeble judgment teach to apprehend,
Truth in simplicity how best adorn'd,
Fair Nature loveliest faithfully describ'd.
On his not noisy forward party-strains
Of specious liberty misunderstood:
But modest, gentle, friendly, and sincere,
Benevolent to all. He soon return'd.
I had been scribbling. Pray, Sir! lend your ear,
He understood not for my faultering tongue,
And quivering lips; then took it, Let me read.
My chilling fears at his approving smile,
Blush'd into conscious worth, till then unknown.
For ne'er wou'd he the embrio-genius crush;
He'd, as with parent-bill, pick th'opening shell.
31
But overlook, or soften as he read:
My fervour check, but, as he check'd, inflame:
My feeble judgment teach to apprehend,
Truth in simplicity how best adorn'd,
Fair Nature loveliest faithfully describ'd.
Rules, how reverse! now my officious Friends
With kindness surfeiting cram down my throat;
Which, like a vomit work, 'till quite disgorg'd:
Vaunted Authority: or varying Taste,
Elaborate, fine, so delicately smooth,
It ne'er the judgment nor the heart disturbs:
Sly Caution whispering, Sir! it may offend.
Best be advis'd. Then take the consequence,
Unknowing of the world, to me ingrate:
Or Slavish Imitation tho' of Greeks;
Whose Names so sacred on thy wide-spread wings.
Thou, Memory! bear'st thro' immortality,
And, fluttering o'er this Island pleas'd, salut'st
Us happy, but for liberty abus'd.
Free as thy person, be thy genius free,
Earth's Envy, my Britannia, Heaven's Delight!
The world is boundless. Nor has all its scenes,
Nor ever will the human pencil draw.
Bold Freedom's mighty Spirit uncontroul'd,
In bards of heav'n or earth, prolific works,
Sure as the Genial Sun, the same effects
For ever. Beauty's fresh perpetual streams
Still flow as from an inexhausted source,
To bathe the glowing fancy in new delight.
See! These my Sons! I mean not to o'erawe.
Mark well their steps. Be reverent. Yet pursue.
Than copy servile, rather emulate.
Fear not by your ambition to offend.
For Fathers love to see their Sons excel.
With kindness surfeiting cram down my throat;
Which, like a vomit work, 'till quite disgorg'd:
Vaunted Authority: or varying Taste,
Elaborate, fine, so delicately smooth,
It ne'er the judgment nor the heart disturbs:
Sly Caution whispering, Sir! it may offend.
Best be advis'd. Then take the consequence,
Unknowing of the world, to me ingrate:
Or Slavish Imitation tho' of Greeks;
Whose Names so sacred on thy wide-spread wings.
Thou, Memory! bear'st thro' immortality,
And, fluttering o'er this Island pleas'd, salut'st
Us happy, but for liberty abus'd.
Free as thy person, be thy genius free,
Earth's Envy, my Britannia, Heaven's Delight!
The world is boundless. Nor has all its scenes,
Nor ever will the human pencil draw.
Bold Freedom's mighty Spirit uncontroul'd,
32
Sure as the Genial Sun, the same effects
For ever. Beauty's fresh perpetual streams
Still flow as from an inexhausted source,
To bathe the glowing fancy in new delight.
See! These my Sons! I mean not to o'erawe.
Mark well their steps. Be reverent. Yet pursue.
Than copy servile, rather emulate.
Fear not by your ambition to offend.
For Fathers love to see their Sons excel.
Ah! Now,
My faithful Friend! I feel my fatal loss.
What death denies, wou'd fancy cou'd supply;
Thy presence with me as when real, to catch
Thy modesty, thy firmness, gentle fire:
As when we rising here together stood
To take, as I do now, my last farewel.
Thou did'st invoke this solitary grove,
Yon sacred place, where to reside you love,
Long may you love, ye Muses ever blest!
Farewel, this peaceful happy scene, farewel!
Not forward inclination me at least
Into the world, but filial duty calls;
Or duty's inclination sweetly draws.
What we have learn'd, oh! may we ne'er forget!
May we be ever learning, tho' employ'd
In busy scenes to study less benign!
For Science, like the Soul, is ever free,
Not bound by charters, nor to place confin'd.
Nor do ye, Muses! on yon top alone
Up that steep brow above our ken abide:
(Or we in never-ending sighs despair:)
But sweetly deck the flowery plain below
At your Parnassus' Foot; nor there alone.
Of rural seats and fountains not asham'd,
You visit, wheresoe'er pure heart invokes.
Nor as we hope e'en palaces decline,
But bless the world with men, yourselves inspire.
From hence, but not from you, wou'd we depart.
Desert not us, nor fly our wish'd embrace.
Oh! May some spark of your celestial fire
With love of virtue our young hearts inflame;
And howsoever distant still unite.
Some Genius too we wou'd. How else admire
Your beauties shou'd we, or your pleasures taste?
Whatever portion, more or less, you deign,
As you command shall ever be improv'd:
And if Sincerity might swear, we'd swear.
Increase our portion then: since not our hearts
For wealth or pleasure pant, or wide renown.
Other attachments dear that wish extort.
Much to my Father I, to Mothers both,
To Brothers and to Sisters much we owe.
Shall senseless earth be grateful to his toil?
Shall his paternal orchards, or fair trees
Of his own planting, bear him fruit? I none?
Might he but ever say, I thank thee, Son;
Their anxious pains our Mothers ne'er repent;
Nor none, who love us, ever be asham'd;
This, for more happiness we cannot crave.
My faithful Friend! I feel my fatal loss.
What death denies, wou'd fancy cou'd supply;
Thy presence with me as when real, to catch
Thy modesty, thy firmness, gentle fire:
As when we rising here together stood
To take, as I do now, my last farewel.
Thou did'st invoke this solitary grove,
Yon sacred place, where to reside you love,
Long may you love, ye Muses ever blest!
Farewel, this peaceful happy scene, farewel!
Not forward inclination me at least
Into the world, but filial duty calls;
Or duty's inclination sweetly draws.
What we have learn'd, oh! may we ne'er forget!
33
In busy scenes to study less benign!
For Science, like the Soul, is ever free,
Not bound by charters, nor to place confin'd.
Nor do ye, Muses! on yon top alone
Up that steep brow above our ken abide:
(Or we in never-ending sighs despair:)
But sweetly deck the flowery plain below
At your Parnassus' Foot; nor there alone.
Of rural seats and fountains not asham'd,
You visit, wheresoe'er pure heart invokes.
Nor as we hope e'en palaces decline,
But bless the world with men, yourselves inspire.
From hence, but not from you, wou'd we depart.
Desert not us, nor fly our wish'd embrace.
Oh! May some spark of your celestial fire
With love of virtue our young hearts inflame;
And howsoever distant still unite.
Some Genius too we wou'd. How else admire
Your beauties shou'd we, or your pleasures taste?
Whatever portion, more or less, you deign,
As you command shall ever be improv'd:
And if Sincerity might swear, we'd swear.
Increase our portion then: since not our hearts
For wealth or pleasure pant, or wide renown.
Other attachments dear that wish extort.
34
To Brothers and to Sisters much we owe.
Shall senseless earth be grateful to his toil?
Shall his paternal orchards, or fair trees
Of his own planting, bear him fruit? I none?
Might he but ever say, I thank thee, Son;
Their anxious pains our Mothers ne'er repent;
Nor none, who love us, ever be asham'd;
This, for more happiness we cannot crave.
Such pious strains I heard, with what delight!
Yet did not thank him; cou'd not. Pulse alone
High-beating everlasting friendship swore.
Yes, everlasting: nor did I reflect,
That he was mortal. Else nor then my joy,
Nor grief at Leedyate else, had been extreme.
Me, there on friendship's happiness intent,
Delightful theme! in hope of my reward
His generous ear to please, the news surpriz'd.
Down drop'd my trembling pen: nor since resum'd.
Scarce, what I'd written, cou'd I more believe.
Now I may stay at home. My summer-jaunts,
Said I, for health, instruction now are o'er.
Past joys or griefs, how painful to review!
Yet did not thank him; cou'd not. Pulse alone
High-beating everlasting friendship swore.
Yes, everlasting: nor did I reflect,
That he was mortal. Else nor then my joy,
Nor grief at Leedyate else, had been extreme.
Me, there on friendship's happiness intent,
Delightful theme! in hope of my reward
His generous ear to please, the news surpriz'd.
Down drop'd my trembling pen: nor since resum'd.
Scarce, what I'd written, cou'd I more believe.
Now I may stay at home. My summer-jaunts,
Said I, for health, instruction now are o'er.
Past joys or griefs, how painful to review!
As some to Bath, I to my Friend retir'd,
An annual visit paid: found other smiles,
Than they I deem, more constant, more sincere.
We chatted, walk'd, or wou'd together read;
With critical severity chastise,
Truth undisguis'd, and freedom unreserv'd.
Sometimes he'd say, This, Sir! I had from you.
'Twas by reflection then all from yourself.
United so in heart and sentiment,
All property was lost. Nor was the praise,
Of what one wrote, to th'other e'er denied.
An annual visit paid: found other smiles,
35
We chatted, walk'd, or wou'd together read;
With critical severity chastise,
Truth undisguis'd, and freedom unreserv'd.
Sometimes he'd say, This, Sir! I had from you.
'Twas by reflection then all from yourself.
United so in heart and sentiment,
All property was lost. Nor was the praise,
Of what one wrote, to th'other e'er denied.
'Twas long the mournful visit I defer'd,
In hope to find Parental Grief allay'd.
Not salutation's smile I then receiv'd,
As wont, but friendly welcome and compos'd,
Chearfully grave. Few were our words, and low;
Clock's pendulum too often heard: And, ah!
How slower now, than once, the heavy time
It measures out, in moments all perceiv'd!
In hope to find Parental Grief allay'd.
Not salutation's smile I then receiv'd,
As wont, but friendly welcome and compos'd,
Chearfully grave. Few were our words, and low;
Clock's pendulum too often heard: And, ah!
How slower now, than once, the heavy time
It measures out, in moments all perceiv'd!
Next morn desir'd to play, I'd brought no lute.
But play I must on one, by chance I'd left.
Than sinless Infant's smile, than Beauty's bloom,
Youth's gaiety, or Man's meridian strength,
I, modest aged chearful Piety
For due respect too thankful, more admire.
And loth to play, yet to oblige inclin'd,
As Easy Friendship easily o'ercome.
I'd stole a grace. She turning drop'd a tear:
Then smil'd complacence, Sir! so sung my Son.
But play I must on one, by chance I'd left.
Than sinless Infant's smile, than Beauty's bloom,
Youth's gaiety, or Man's meridian strength,
I, modest aged chearful Piety
For due respect too thankful, more admire.
And loth to play, yet to oblige inclin'd,
36
I'd stole a grace. She turning drop'd a tear:
Then smil'd complacence, Sir! so sung my Son.
Damætas from his morning-care return'd:
We took a walk. In silence sad, or sounds
Of chitchat forc'd scarce inwardly perceiv'd,
Well as we cou'd suppressing we conceal'd
His anguish he, and I my grief, reviv'd
By every little circumstance around.
We took a walk. In silence sad, or sounds
Of chitchat forc'd scarce inwardly perceiv'd,
Well as we cou'd suppressing we conceal'd
His anguish he, and I my grief, reviv'd
By every little circumstance around.
Full-loaden then the pear-tree; where reclin'd
Us'd Philocles and I together read.
When first he brought me to his favourite tree,
For so he call'd it, Taste this pear, how sweet,
Not over luscious; nor on palate leaves
A sickly relish. Such should pleasure be.
This moral on it smiling he ingrafts.
Us'd Philocles and I together read.
When first he brought me to his favourite tree,
For so he call'd it, Taste this pear, how sweet,
Not over luscious; nor on palate leaves
A sickly relish. Such should pleasure be.
This moral on it smiling he ingrafts.
Here as we pass'd. He calmly look'd around;
Now on our wonted seat; then on the tree:
Then upward turn'd his eye. I blush'd at sight
Of so much piety. He sigh'd: and seem'd,
As he wou'd speak. Now shall my longing ear,
Said I, his consolations blest partake:
With hanging head long listen'd; nothing heard:
Then stole a glance: and knew not whether more
To pity or congratulate. He sigh'd;
But sigh'd, as Saints for immortality:
Nor spoke; save what the scene, a Father's look,
Silence, in deep solemnity combin'd,
Grief-healing strains to me like these address'd.
Now on our wonted seat; then on the tree:
Then upward turn'd his eye. I blush'd at sight
Of so much piety. He sigh'd: and seem'd,
As he wou'd speak. Now shall my longing ear,
Said I, his consolations blest partake:
With hanging head long listen'd; nothing heard:
37
To pity or congratulate. He sigh'd;
But sigh'd, as Saints for immortality:
Nor spoke; save what the scene, a Father's look,
Silence, in deep solemnity combin'd,
Grief-healing strains to me like these address'd.
See this, of all that in my orchard grow,
The fairest, my own planting, fragrant shade
Wide-spreading once o'er its young Lord my Son.
It stands. It flourishes. From waxen bole,
It shoots thick branches upwards and around:
And earlier fruit than common bore, still bears.
Beneath its cumbrous bounty, how it bends!
Where's He then, we with sweet solicitude
And still-increasing satisfaction nurs'd?
Who, with whatever joy can bless parental hearts,
All our fond labours dutiful o'erpaid.
In him I strength and prudence felt renew'd.
Nor fear'd I age, nor life's infirmities.
But he is gone. And Age! How fast it comes!
With its infirmities, how hideous grown!
Ah! such a Son! And is he then destroy'd?
Blasted my Son by angry lightning-flash?
Up by the root from God's creation tore?
Nor is transplanted to some kindlier soil?
And Virtue then a shadow? Heaven a dream?
His life and mine in a delusion spent?
To this whole world the future give the lie?
Here Goodness smile? Confusion there destroy?
Flat contradiction! impious disbelief!
Thy cordial drops into a Father's heart,
Thy powerful drops, sweet Hope divine! instill.
O God!
In all thy ways alike thy Goodness shines
Clear in my faith; tho' dark to mortal eye.
The fairest, my own planting, fragrant shade
Wide-spreading once o'er its young Lord my Son.
It stands. It flourishes. From waxen bole,
It shoots thick branches upwards and around:
And earlier fruit than common bore, still bears.
Beneath its cumbrous bounty, how it bends!
Where's He then, we with sweet solicitude
And still-increasing satisfaction nurs'd?
Who, with whatever joy can bless parental hearts,
All our fond labours dutiful o'erpaid.
In him I strength and prudence felt renew'd.
Nor fear'd I age, nor life's infirmities.
But he is gone. And Age! How fast it comes!
With its infirmities, how hideous grown!
Ah! such a Son! And is he then destroy'd?
Blasted my Son by angry lightning-flash?
Up by the root from God's creation tore?
Nor is transplanted to some kindlier soil?
And Virtue then a shadow? Heaven a dream?
38
To this whole world the future give the lie?
Here Goodness smile? Confusion there destroy?
Flat contradiction! impious disbelief!
Thy cordial drops into a Father's heart,
Thy powerful drops, sweet Hope divine! instill.
O God!
In all thy ways alike thy Goodness shines
Clear in my faith; tho' dark to mortal eye.
In pious equanimity serene
Such arguments a Father found. I none?
Oft have I heard, oft from my Mother heard,
That friendship is immortal. So my heart,
My beating heart and upward eyes persuade.
But friendship mutual is, or not at all.
Therefore both parties live. Then lives my Friend.
Who was his Father's Glory, Mother's joy:
Of his Relations, Friends the dear delight:
To me a faithful guide. Was, did I say?
Art still thy Father's glory, Mother's joy:
Of thy Relations, Friends the dear delight:
My guide thou art: still shalt be, Faithful Guide!
Ah! Cruel Air! Of life and death alike
The cause, if thro' thee fevers are convey'd.
Where wast thou Wholesome Air? For purer breast
Thou coud'st not fill; nor play about a heart,
With sentiments more generous e'er inflam'd.
Where wast thou then? Sure not at thy command,
Veil'd Modesty! Or didst thou thy fair Charge
Neglect? Thou never didst thy Charge neglect.
Did then the Nine, or some Angelic Choir,
Join in request to the Almighty Lord?
Obtain? And thee dispatch to rob the earth?
E'en this poor earth? In Angels' bosom then
Dwells envy? Or is Heaven itself too, poor?
Or did ye mean to punish us mankind;
As if he was not here enough esteem'd?
Ah! Ye mistook. We were not so ingrate.
Him all who knew, or lov'd him, or rever'd:
I, as a Father and a Friend, lament:
In learning's school my Partner, Spur and Guide.
If ye my words, nor these my sighs, believe;
Ask that Transparent Form, who on me smiles,
And may'st thou ever smile, Sincerity!
Into my tongue then, Modesty! inspire
Some tender, not despairing epitaph.
Such arguments a Father found. I none?
Oft have I heard, oft from my Mother heard,
That friendship is immortal. So my heart,
My beating heart and upward eyes persuade.
But friendship mutual is, or not at all.
Therefore both parties live. Then lives my Friend.
Who was his Father's Glory, Mother's joy:
Of his Relations, Friends the dear delight:
To me a faithful guide. Was, did I say?
Art still thy Father's glory, Mother's joy:
Of thy Relations, Friends the dear delight:
My guide thou art: still shalt be, Faithful Guide!
Ah! Cruel Air! Of life and death alike
The cause, if thro' thee fevers are convey'd.
Where wast thou Wholesome Air? For purer breast
Thou coud'st not fill; nor play about a heart,
39
Where wast thou then? Sure not at thy command,
Veil'd Modesty! Or didst thou thy fair Charge
Neglect? Thou never didst thy Charge neglect.
Did then the Nine, or some Angelic Choir,
Join in request to the Almighty Lord?
Obtain? And thee dispatch to rob the earth?
E'en this poor earth? In Angels' bosom then
Dwells envy? Or is Heaven itself too, poor?
Or did ye mean to punish us mankind;
As if he was not here enough esteem'd?
Ah! Ye mistook. We were not so ingrate.
Him all who knew, or lov'd him, or rever'd:
I, as a Father and a Friend, lament:
In learning's school my Partner, Spur and Guide.
If ye my words, nor these my sighs, believe;
Ask that Transparent Form, who on me smiles,
And may'st thou ever smile, Sincerity!
Into my tongue then, Modesty! inspire
Some tender, not despairing epitaph.
Philoclis cineres infra Præconis Iesu.
Scripta legas: illum si vere agnoscere velles.
Præclara illa quidem! Sed quam præclarior ipse!
Quem Deus innocuum juvenem summisque benignus
Florentem studiis loca transtulit in meliora.
Scripta legas: illum si vere agnoscere velles.
Præclara illa quidem! Sed quam præclarior ipse!
Quem Deus innocuum juvenem summisque benignus
Florentem studiis loca transtulit in meliora.
40
The Muses Triumphant over Venus.
Or, The Poetical Vision seen one Summer-evening beside the River at Elgin.
A TALE.
What means this strange commotion? pleasing pain!
What this impatience fluttering in my breast?
This boiling blood, as it wou'd burst the veins?
These shiverings thick as those successive waves?
This leaping heart? These glowings? Bathing sweats?
Forehead uprising? Bristled hairs erect?
Eyes swollen, gushing into sudden tears?
Sight how confus'd! How lost! Or how transform'd!
Matter refining into thought. Thus you,
Blind Thamyris! and blind Mæonides!
And justly equal to 'em in renown
Thou, modest Milton! Virtue's sweetest Bard!
Pure air who always, now how purer draw'st!
Ranging as here on Fancy's wing, th'Immense
Of various Beauty, there on thought intuitive,
Cou'd I to thee be ------!
Ye venerable Names! forgive my tongue
Thus uncontroul'd, for what can thought controul?
As well you know; forgive my trembling tongue's
Presumption: did not you too, thus intranc'd
In heavenly, lose your mortal sight. These Forms
How beauteous! springing from material things,
As out of chaos rose that solar sphere.
In thick procession fly these Images
Ideal, yet substantial, fair, divine,
Each faculty distending with excess
Of rapturous joy. What may this phrenzy mean!
Is it love, ye Muses! or poetic fire?
What this impatience fluttering in my breast?
This boiling blood, as it wou'd burst the veins?
These shiverings thick as those successive waves?
This leaping heart? These glowings? Bathing sweats?
Forehead uprising? Bristled hairs erect?
Eyes swollen, gushing into sudden tears?
Sight how confus'd! How lost! Or how transform'd!
Matter refining into thought. Thus you,
Blind Thamyris! and blind Mæonides!
And justly equal to 'em in renown
Thou, modest Milton! Virtue's sweetest Bard!
Pure air who always, now how purer draw'st!
Ranging as here on Fancy's wing, th'Immense
Of various Beauty, there on thought intuitive,
Cou'd I to thee be ------!
Ye venerable Names! forgive my tongue
Thus uncontroul'd, for what can thought controul?
As well you know; forgive my trembling tongue's
Presumption: did not you too, thus intranc'd
In heavenly, lose your mortal sight. These Forms
41
As out of chaos rose that solar sphere.
In thick procession fly these Images
Ideal, yet substantial, fair, divine,
Each faculty distending with excess
Of rapturous joy. What may this phrenzy mean!
Is it love, ye Muses! or poetic fire?
The Nine descending heard; and with a smile,
Fear not, dear Boy! it is poetic fire.
Fear not, dear Boy! it is poetic fire.
Then towards me lower still the Heavenly Choir,
Sweeping from south to north a round career,
All over glowing fann'd me as they flew.
Not to the parch'd and fainting traveller,
Alone, despairing, if his eye dismay'd
Wandering along the vast Arabian sands,
Lights on some pool: to him not cooling draught
Is so reviving as that sacred breeze,
Your wings, ye heavenly Muses! o'er me spread.
Then up the ether sprung. My eye pursu'd
Your rapid, ah! too rapid flight away:
My listening ear your wondrous harmony.
Fix'd were my eye and ear: soon fix'd in vain.
Ear first, then eye, as to the earth confin'd,
My infirmity upbraided. Pensive sat
I long: and your departure, Muses! mourn'd.
Ah! Pleasing transport! Glorious vision that!
Ah! Why so transient? Why like lightning-flash,
Why did ye, Muses! shine and disappear?
I thought myself in your sweet influence blest.
Why so indulg'd? Does Heaven then tantalize?
Sweeping from south to north a round career,
All over glowing fann'd me as they flew.
Not to the parch'd and fainting traveller,
Alone, despairing, if his eye dismay'd
Wandering along the vast Arabian sands,
Lights on some pool: to him not cooling draught
Is so reviving as that sacred breeze,
Your wings, ye heavenly Muses! o'er me spread.
Then up the ether sprung. My eye pursu'd
Your rapid, ah! too rapid flight away:
My listening ear your wondrous harmony.
Fix'd were my eye and ear: soon fix'd in vain.
Ear first, then eye, as to the earth confin'd,
My infirmity upbraided. Pensive sat
42
Ah! Pleasing transport! Glorious vision that!
Ah! Why so transient? Why like lightning-flash,
Why did ye, Muses! shine and disappear?
I thought myself in your sweet influence blest.
Why so indulg'd? Does Heaven then tantalize?
Long mourn'd my fainting powers, and sunk asleep.
But from sleep's troubled chaos soon awak'd.
When, lo! descending Queen Urania alights,
Towards me advancing moves with grace divine,
Yet with an air, that still'd my blushing fears:
Then, sweetest mildness softening her sublime,
Nor letting my frail organs overpower;
The Holy Nine do never those forsake,
Who with a pure affection us pursue,
With thee, O Virtue! our best gift inspir'd.
Their strains, their sighs, from such ambitious zeal
As all good spirits and ourselves approve,
On circling waves float each way thro' the air,
E'en into Pluto's realm spread silence, awe,
Self-hate, and wheresoe'er we are above,
Reach our not undelighted ears, from earth
Tho' come. Sometimes our music we suspend,
Listening with ravishment. Or Chorus-like
We catch, and swell your feebler notes aloft
Into full melody thro' Heaven's concave,
Which rings, and makes immortal spirits blest:
Blest with the symphony, yet more the hope,
Their numbers to increase, tho' infinite,
Soon from your earth. For yon your mansions are,
Prepar'd. This cordial take. I drank. She flew:
And airy-sandal'd Mercury dispatch'd
All that had pass'd to Cupid to relate.
Cupid enrag'd strait to the Cyprian Queen
Faster than e'er flew arrow from his bow:
Lights whining on her lap, Mama! They've robb'd
Me. Who has? and of what? my Dear! And stroaks
His feathers flat bedew'd with sweating rage.
Urania, he said, or Clio, or 'em all,
Were in the plot. What plot? To rob my game,
Which long ago, dead as a sparrow dead,
I kill'd, and had it in possession fair.
You know, 'twas so. Be more particular.
Him that I talk'd of yesterday. You laugh'd;
Yet not, as usual, thank'd this faithful bow.
But time was, thro' his heart this dazzling point,
Bright beams reflecting from your beauty, Ma'am!
I shot with all my might. Nor is it small;
As men and Gods, e'en Jove himself well knows,
And shall know too. Say Muses, what they will;
With whom we share the world, and better half
Will have, Mama! It split his heart in two.
The halves together hung, but by a thread,
Weak single thread. Too strong it prov'd, my Dear!
Mama too my misfortunes then deride?
And to Urania's join her cruel jeer?
Smile at my wrongs, mock at her Cupid's tears?
Patience, my Dear! Cease, cease that piteous squall.
It tears my bowels. Know, the Gods, and We,
To Fate Inexplicable all submit.
And Cupid is a God. Yes, so I am.
And up he springs, and hugs her yielding breasts.
With head reclin'd she flatters in his ear,
Then to High Fate must Cupid too submit.
Too long, my Dear! hast thou the knave mistook.
No more on bed of floth he lies supine,
In hopeless love's soul-melting dreams dissolv'd,
Beneath night's sable curtain, or the rays
Of Sol, who smiles around, but cannot chear
Without our gracious leave. Such once our power.
For other flame his heart has long possess'd.
And other wings, than thine, have bore aloft.
Come. The mysterious cause I'll now unfold,
Of thy diversion, and my vengeance due.
Why ne'er before? Lie down. He fell supine.
With nectar'd linen soft his eyes, ears, face,
She wip'd, and look'd, and kiss'd his dimpled cheek.
Not thee, sweet Child! more than myself they wrong'd.
My vengeance thou unknowing execut'st
As oft, so then. For prithee what offence
Against thy honour did he e'er commit?
Me, impious from his childhood, he despis'd.
Yet lisping did the little urchin sing,
Above me raising Sophia forsooth,
Nay smile, fair Archetype!
Whence Jove his Venus form'd.
Such an affront to Majesty divine
Unpunish'd never fell from human tongue:
Nor ever shall. Severe is my revenge:
And love, a torture, with My Smile unblest.
Implacable yet none but Pluto's rage
Of all the Gods; and therefore I relent:
Since Fate will have it so. Let Cupid learn,
When his Mama forgives, he must forgive.
But from sleep's troubled chaos soon awak'd.
When, lo! descending Queen Urania alights,
Towards me advancing moves with grace divine,
Yet with an air, that still'd my blushing fears:
Then, sweetest mildness softening her sublime,
Nor letting my frail organs overpower;
The Holy Nine do never those forsake,
Who with a pure affection us pursue,
With thee, O Virtue! our best gift inspir'd.
Their strains, their sighs, from such ambitious zeal
As all good spirits and ourselves approve,
On circling waves float each way thro' the air,
E'en into Pluto's realm spread silence, awe,
Self-hate, and wheresoe'er we are above,
Reach our not undelighted ears, from earth
Tho' come. Sometimes our music we suspend,
Listening with ravishment. Or Chorus-like
We catch, and swell your feebler notes aloft
43
Which rings, and makes immortal spirits blest:
Blest with the symphony, yet more the hope,
Their numbers to increase, tho' infinite,
Soon from your earth. For yon your mansions are,
Prepar'd. This cordial take. I drank. She flew:
And airy-sandal'd Mercury dispatch'd
All that had pass'd to Cupid to relate.
Cupid enrag'd strait to the Cyprian Queen
Faster than e'er flew arrow from his bow:
Lights whining on her lap, Mama! They've robb'd
Me. Who has? and of what? my Dear! And stroaks
His feathers flat bedew'd with sweating rage.
Urania, he said, or Clio, or 'em all,
Were in the plot. What plot? To rob my game,
Which long ago, dead as a sparrow dead,
I kill'd, and had it in possession fair.
You know, 'twas so. Be more particular.
Him that I talk'd of yesterday. You laugh'd;
Yet not, as usual, thank'd this faithful bow.
But time was, thro' his heart this dazzling point,
Bright beams reflecting from your beauty, Ma'am!
I shot with all my might. Nor is it small;
As men and Gods, e'en Jove himself well knows,
And shall know too. Say Muses, what they will;
With whom we share the world, and better half
44
The halves together hung, but by a thread,
Weak single thread. Too strong it prov'd, my Dear!
Mama too my misfortunes then deride?
And to Urania's join her cruel jeer?
Smile at my wrongs, mock at her Cupid's tears?
Patience, my Dear! Cease, cease that piteous squall.
It tears my bowels. Know, the Gods, and We,
To Fate Inexplicable all submit.
And Cupid is a God. Yes, so I am.
And up he springs, and hugs her yielding breasts.
With head reclin'd she flatters in his ear,
Then to High Fate must Cupid too submit.
Too long, my Dear! hast thou the knave mistook.
No more on bed of floth he lies supine,
In hopeless love's soul-melting dreams dissolv'd,
Beneath night's sable curtain, or the rays
Of Sol, who smiles around, but cannot chear
Without our gracious leave. Such once our power.
For other flame his heart has long possess'd.
And other wings, than thine, have bore aloft.
Come. The mysterious cause I'll now unfold,
Of thy diversion, and my vengeance due.
Why ne'er before? Lie down. He fell supine.
With nectar'd linen soft his eyes, ears, face,
She wip'd, and look'd, and kiss'd his dimpled cheek.
45
My vengeance thou unknowing execut'st
As oft, so then. For prithee what offence
Against thy honour did he e'er commit?
Me, impious from his childhood, he despis'd.
Yet lisping did the little urchin sing,
Above me raising Sophia forsooth,
Nay smile, fair Archetype!
Whence Jove his Venus form'd.
Such an affront to Majesty divine
Unpunish'd never fell from human tongue:
Nor ever shall. Severe is my revenge:
And love, a torture, with My Smile unblest.
Implacable yet none but Pluto's rage
Of all the Gods; and therefore I relent:
Since Fate will have it so. Let Cupid learn,
When his Mama forgives, he must forgive.
Tale ended, Mother preach'd. He drop'd asleep:
Nor, that I know, has ever since awak'd.
Nor, that I know, has ever since awak'd.
47
To the late Lord Shaftsbury's Ghost;
spoken after the above Poems, before him early one Morning, in a Vision:
An ODE.
My Muse her fate from your decision waits.
Her talent, Sir! tho' slender you'll approve,
As still devoted, Virtue! to thy cause.
And Awful Virtue bids, Let that suffice,
Stopping Ambition's voice, yet not her sigh
To win Apollo's laurel, your applause;
For your applauding Smiles immortalize.
Oh! Say, you hope at least, I may excell.
That friendly Hope, conspiring with my own,
Shall, like this rising Sun, the dewy damps
Of the Soul's midnight indolence disperse:
Shall to the zenith snatch my strengthen'd eye,
To view Fair Nature's universal glow;
And with her genial heat my heart inspir'd,
Delightful sympathy! shall to my lips
Instinctive prompt th'involuntary song.
Her talent, Sir! tho' slender you'll approve,
As still devoted, Virtue! to thy cause.
And Awful Virtue bids, Let that suffice,
Stopping Ambition's voice, yet not her sigh
To win Apollo's laurel, your applause;
For your applauding Smiles immortalize.
Oh! Say, you hope at least, I may excell.
That friendly Hope, conspiring with my own,
Shall, like this rising Sun, the dewy damps
Of the Soul's midnight indolence disperse:
Shall to the zenith snatch my strengthen'd eye,
To view Fair Nature's universal glow;
And with her genial heat my heart inspir'd,
Delightful sympathy! shall to my lips
Instinctive prompt th'involuntary song.
FINIS.
| Eidyllia | |