Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition |
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Say then (Ethereal Patron of my Song!—
My soul's best guide!) for what mysterious end
His worth, unstaid by interposing Heav'n,
Thus mourn'd disastrous?
My soul's best guide!) for what mysterious end
His worth, unstaid by interposing Heav'n,
Thus mourn'd disastrous?
For a nation's weal—
For Albion's glory; yet in barbarous gloom
Involv'd, and savage violence, and wrongs—
Unknown to arts and polity—till he
(Sage from well-during sufferance) shall arise—
Freedom's first prototype: the first to found
The sacred dome of Justice. Thence his youth
And spring of early manhood, unsustain'd
By prop or ministry (save one weak old man—
His sometime guardian,) bends beneath the wrath
Of adverse Destiny: what time his mind,
School'd by The Chastening Seraph, spreads, enlarg'd
In wisdom as in virtue; and attains
Ingenuous fortitude: alternate taught
To pity and to dare.
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Involv'd, and savage violence, and wrongs—
Unknown to arts and polity—till he
(Sage from well-during sufferance) shall arise—
Freedom's first prototype: the first to found
The sacred dome of Justice. Thence his youth
And spring of early manhood, unsustain'd
By prop or ministry (save one weak old man—
His sometime guardian,) bends beneath the wrath
Of adverse Destiny: what time his mind,
School'd by The Chastening Seraph, spreads, enlarg'd
In wisdom as in virtue; and attains
Ingenuous fortitude: alternate taught
To pity and to dare.
But now, awhile,—
As tho some kindly power, from astral heights
Beam'd brief benignity, his wearied worth
In Redowald's court respires. Red'wald the good—
Might goodness without fortitude reside
In human bosom. He the East-Anglian throne
Fill'd with a patriot's wish; and many a plan
Of wisdom and beneficence devis'd
In meditation's hour: but his weak grasp
Pois'd not the sceptre's weight—on favourites oft
Or female hands devolv'd. Such was the chief
To whom (since now twelve chang'ling moons had fill'd
Their horns, as oft retiring) Ælla's Son
Had fled for refuge, that no roof beside
Nor Earth, nor Ocean, nor the cavern's depth,
Might to his sorrows yield. [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
As tho some kindly power, from astral heights
Beam'd brief benignity, his wearied worth
In Redowald's court respires. Red'wald the good—
Might goodness without fortitude reside
In human bosom. He the East-Anglian throne
Fill'd with a patriot's wish; and many a plan
Of wisdom and beneficence devis'd
In meditation's hour: but his weak grasp
Pois'd not the sceptre's weight—on favourites oft
Or female hands devolv'd. Such was the chief
To whom (since now twelve chang'ling moons had fill'd
Their horns, as oft retiring) Ælla's Son
Had fled for refuge, that no roof beside
Nor Earth, nor Ocean, nor the cavern's depth,
Might to his sorrows yield. [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
| Poems | |