Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric by the Revd. H. Boyd ... containing the following dramatic poems: The Helots, a tragedy, The Temple of Vesta, The Rivals, The Royal Message. Prize Poems, &c. &c |
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| PRIZE, POEMS, ODES, ELEGIES, &c. &c. |
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 | Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric |  |
447
PRIZE, POEMS, ODES, ELEGIES, &c. &c.
449
HYMN TO SILENCE,
THE PRIZE POEM FOR THE YEAR ONE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE, T. C. D.
Thy genial influence in the lonely hourI hail, O sacred silence! lo, the muse
In thy kind lap matur'd, now grateful pays
Her song of retribution! May it flow
With unoffending softness to thine ear!—
No more let discord, thy rude foe of old
With inroad wild and desolating hand
The measur'd descant mar! forbid his feet
Bland goddess! from that hallowed haunt, where late
My ravish'd eyes thy hermit steps beheld
Tracing the lawn at eve, while all around
The marshall'd dew obey'd thy potent rod
With soft invasion o'er'the fairy scene
450
Pleas'd thy dominion saw! Oh thou most lov'd
Of all the pensive nymphs! vouchsafe once more
That theme, which with an energy, divine
Above aught vocal, thine enchanting power
Did late impart! For to the arduous task
Of perfect recollection thou alone
Art equal. By thy kind conducting hand
Weak Memory led, unravels all the path
Where late she trode bewilder'd, whilst thy veil
Excludes th'annoyance of a busy world!
Or, if this great boon be deny'd, permit
The mighty spirit of some Memphian sage
Who tended erst thy temple on the shores
Of Nile, and now, perhaps, with wonted guard
Watches thy midnight throne, distinct and loud
To chant thine awful legend. Let him tell
How, tendant on the deity, you rode
Far into chaos, and, with potent charm
(Felt thro' his stormy confines,) still'd the roar
Of fighting elements confus'd, and woke
Order, at last, with thy soft touch, the foe
Of the old Anarch, whom in viewless chains
He held so long beneath th'oblivious pool,
Ten thousand fathom down. For this, of old
In less degenerate times, thy deity
With fanes was honour'd, and the mystic pomp
Of ceremonies, by no ruffian noise
451
Let him not leave unsung. How on the hour
The genial hour of vacant revelry
An unremitting guard thou satest, nor oft
Did the quick sally of ungovern'd joy
Or vagrant shaft of keen, corroding wit
Escape the sacred door, to scatter wide
The seeds of future rancour and affray,
Then bid his notes swell with the Samian sage
Pythagoras, and his school of old renown
Where the green years of tender youth unform'd
Heavenly Instructress! pass'd beneath thy sway
Great Queen of Silence, thine was all the train
Whose converse by the quick, alternate glance
Was shot from soul to soul, disdaining use
Of clamorous organ, till, mature and full,
Nurtur'd by thee, at length, they deign'd to ope
The treasures, hoarded in thy golden reign
And bless, with speech a long expecting world.
But, in a gloomy and degenerate age
When Virtue, by her long exerted task
Fatigued, and downward menacing, at last
To superstition sunk, inglorious then
452
To watch in convents dim the leaden look
Of barren contemplation, or the hand
Tracing a spiritless detail of facts
Misnamed History, and oft thy guise
By sacrilegious dullness was usurp'd
In hooded majesty, to spread an awe
O'er the unthinking crowd, misled with ease
By semblance vain of cogitation deep.
Yet not unuseful was thy steady care
Even then.—That power omniscient (who surveys
The gradual forming of the human race
From savage to refin'd,) on thee bestow'd
An office of high import, to preserve
Those nobler monuments that bore the stamp
Of wisdom, by a length of years sublim'd
Far, far secluded from the scrutiny
Of eyes profane, and apprehension's rude
Lest, madd'ning with the strong ideas, thence
Imbib'd, their zeal, all immature and wild
Should prompt them to disdain their lowly plight
And, aiming at perfection, idly mar
The certain, slow procedure of that hand
Which, with improvement, joins stability.
453
And restless, daring with unlicens'd eye
Thy yet forbidden treasures to profane
Quickly, with more than Telamonian strength
Dulness, thy new ally, step'd forth, and wide
Display'd her deadly Medusean shield
A mirrour, by a necromancer's art
With a strange, fascinating power replete.
By this the forms august of ancient times
Illum'd, all sudden, as by some foul blast
They seem'd to lose each fair primæval grace
And all appear'd a rude and shapeless mass
Unlovely to the quick, disdainful eye
Of disappointed Fancy. Hence arose
That cold contempt for every noble form
Delineated there by hands divine .
But the Saturnian period saw, at last
Thy gates flung open by the scept'red hand
And all the Arts, in order, issuing forth
Like the first rosy progress of the morn
From chaos, when the new-made planet rose
And at their head, with port of eminence
In pristine bloom renew'd, fair Poetry
454
By soft'ning strains to take a nobler form.
Hail! nurse of holy Contemplation! hail
Mother of Science, thee the pensive sage
In moral musings as absorpt he sits
Darkling, invites to heal the mental flaws
Caus'd by th'invading passions of the day!
And much thou canst! for thine is Reason cool
Thine is Resolve. To thee, fair virtue owes
Her soarings most sublime—Thou, and the night
Alone were conscious, when the moral field
Was by the magic hand of Socrates
Fenc'd with a mound of Amaranthine green
Thou saw'st in Newton's mind, the figur'd world
Arise, in fair idea. Thine are all
The secrets, to our prison'd faculties
Denied. O virgin of the modest lip!
All unelate with learned pride, thou know'st
The freight of those rich squadrons of the sky
That steer their golden voyage overhead,
And the nocturnal Heaven with glory fill!
Descending here, thy wounded ear imbibes
The lonely voice of Sorrow, and the sigh
Of love-lorn youths and maids, with the deep groan
Of him, sore smitten by the midnight hand
Of Conscience, who his bosom's gem has sold
For pomp untasted, riches unenjoy'd!
Goddess! I see thee hang the pensive head
455
How he broods over his eternal wound!
Thence, borne on wing obscure, the sullen growth
Of lurid rancour thou art bound to mark
Yet Destiny's eternal law forbids
One hint the death-devoted wretch to save.
Still doom'd to watch, thou hear'st with dread alarm
The ruthless, deep, repeated stroke of time
Mining the mundane wall. Thou hear'st beneath
The fiery deluge as it ebbs and flows
Forming new dungeons in the solid globe
Conflicting to and fro; and sending oft
Th'giant warnings to the trembling world.
Not destin'd yet to burst abroad in rage
Till the last trumpet blows the solemn knell
Of sad vicissitude, depos'd, and led
Captive, to grace the long, majestic pomp
Of consummation, on her burning throne.
FINIS.
The laws of the Symposrum, among the ancients, which subjected the person to infamy who disclosed the conversation that passed at their banquets.
The silence of the school of Pythagoras is well known, which his pupils were obliged to observe during the first five years.
During the middle ages, the more valuable remains of ancient writings were generally unknown, or despised; the final cause of which seems to have been what is mentioned above, viz. the prevention of premature innovation.
It was a common practice of the Monks, in the dark ages, to erase from an old manuscript, a decad of Livy, or an oration of Cicero, and supply its place with some Saint's legend, or the decretals, when the materials for writing were difficult to be procured; hence many ancient books were lost. Mem. Petrarque.
457
THE GENIUS OF THE WHITE ROSE,
THE PRIZE POEM FOR THE YEAR ONE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX.
458
[_]
The subject of this piece is the resignation of Richard Duke of York, to his uncle the Duke of Glo'ster, by his mother. It opens with a soliloquy of the Genius of the York family, on the morning of Edward the Fifth's supposed coronation.
459
“On this glad scene what mortal change impends?
Why mourns the pomp along the public way?
What fun'ral gloom its baleful shadow sends
To blast the hopes of this distinguish'd day?
Why mourns the pomp along the public way?
What fun'ral gloom its baleful shadow sends
To blast the hopes of this distinguish'd day?
“And see! amid yon venerable train,
Rank after rank, that form the moving state,
Two spectres dim the herald's garb profane,
And marshal Edward to the field of fate!
Rank after rank, that form the moving state,
Two spectres dim the herald's garb profane,
And marshal Edward to the field of fate!
“Half sunk, and deadly pale, the royal boy,
The sick plume trembling o'er his faded brow,
Seems to recoil from the tumultuous joy,
And mourns the boon the wayward fates bestow.
The sick plume trembling o'er his faded brow,
Seems to recoil from the tumultuous joy,
And mourns the boon the wayward fates bestow.
460
“The fraudful pomp the stern Vicegerent leads,
Cov'ring his deep deceit in fair disguise;
And tho' the sov'reign call of nature pleads,
The cruel victor scorns her potent voice.”
Cov'ring his deep deceit in fair disguise;
And tho' the sov'reign call of nature pleads,
The cruel victor scorns her potent voice.”
“May not a solitary life suffice?
Still further shall the waste of carnage spread!
And must the sovereign stem be wounded twice,
And twice the royal blood by ruffians shed?”
Still further shall the waste of carnage spread!
And must the sovereign stem be wounded twice,
And twice the royal blood by ruffians shed?”
“It must—for lo! another hand unseen,
With veil funereal shrowds the awful dome,
Where, with her younger hope, the widow'd queen
Claims the protection of a sacred home.”
With veil funereal shrowds the awful dome,
Where, with her younger hope, the widow'd queen
Claims the protection of a sacred home.”
“Less doubtful still and deadlier signs ensue:
Lo! severing in the midst, the cloudy veil
Leaves to the sun, in broad portentous view,
A window, fraught with that disast'rous tale:”
Lo! severing in the midst, the cloudy veil
Leaves to the sun, in broad portentous view,
A window, fraught with that disast'rous tale:”
“How jealous Ire in infant blood was dy'd,
And all the Jewish tyrant's fruitless rage;
When, waging war with Heaven, he vainly try'd
To quell the glory of the rising age.”
And all the Jewish tyrant's fruitless rage;
When, waging war with Heaven, he vainly try'd
To quell the glory of the rising age.”
“The holy infant soon a refuge found;
Soon was his mighty father's arm display'd:
But thee, fair branch of Edward's stem renown'd,
Ev'n in those sacred walls shall fate invade!”
Soon was his mighty father's arm display'd:
461
Ev'n in those sacred walls shall fate invade!”
“And see! Heav'n's omens aid the sign beneath!
See! beaming on the twins an influence dire!
The warrior planet looks debate and death,
And wayward Saturn joins his sullen fire!
See! beaming on the twins an influence dire!
The warrior planet looks debate and death,
And wayward Saturn joins his sullen fire!
“'Tis done—my charge for ever I resign!—
But what avails the various fields of blood?
The many triumphs of the mighty line?
The combinations by their arms withstood?
But what avails the various fields of blood?
The many triumphs of the mighty line?
The combinations by their arms withstood?
“Ah! race renown'd in vain! in vain elate
With many a trophy won by matchless might!
If by thine own fell hand, the pow'r of fate
Sinks thy proud glories in eternal night!”
With many a trophy won by matchless might!
If by thine own fell hand, the pow'r of fate
Sinks thy proud glories in eternal night!”
Thus mourn'd the Genius of the Paler Rose,
As hov'ring o'er the pompous, deep array,
He saw young Edward, by his deadly foes,
Led to his fate, a dumb defenceless prey.
As hov'ring o'er the pompous, deep array,
He saw young Edward, by his deadly foes,
Led to his fate, a dumb defenceless prey.
Sorrowing, he saw his tender pupillage
Their blooming hopes to early fate resign:
When, his fast-rising anguish to assuage,
Appear'd the genius of th'ascending line.
Their blooming hopes to early fate resign:
When, his fast-rising anguish to assuage,
Appear'd the genius of th'ascending line.
“Behold me sent,” he said, “to clear away
The ominous night that clouds thy hopes and thee:
And end the feuds of many a bloody day,
When civil discord rag'd from sea to sea.
The ominous night that clouds thy hopes and thee:
And end the feuds of many a bloody day,
When civil discord rag'd from sea to sea.
462
“Mourn not the royal boy's untimely doom;
But hear the dread designs of sovereign fate;
Who, provident of ages yet to come,
Ends the mad tumults of the guilty great.
But hear the dread designs of sovereign fate;
Who, provident of ages yet to come,
Ends the mad tumults of the guilty great.
“The blooming males of Edward's regal brood,
Each in his turn to destiny shall yield;
That Mars no more may keep the isle in blood,
Nor Discord wave her flag in ev'ry field.
Each in his turn to destiny shall yield;
That Mars no more may keep the isle in blood,
Nor Discord wave her flag in ev'ry field.
“Long by her cruel uncle woo'd in vain,
The virgin heiress of the royal line;
Shall see young Richmond cross the Gallic main,
And on one stem the mingled roses join.
The virgin heiress of the royal line;
Shall see young Richmond cross the Gallic main,
And on one stem the mingled roses join.
“See! where on Bosworth's plain the victor tow'rs;
The battle swerves beneath his proud controul:
And see! th'usurper hem'd by hostile pow'rs:
How he breathes out his fell, indignant soul!
The battle swerves beneath his proud controul:
And see! th'usurper hem'd by hostile pow'rs:
How he breathes out his fell, indignant soul!
“Nor thou, intent on partial views, repine
The triumphs of a rival to survey
See! where in one their mingled glories join,
And golden years succeed the dreadful day?
The triumphs of a rival to survey
See! where in one their mingled glories join,
And golden years succeed the dreadful day?
“Mean while, obedient to the stern commands
Of fate, I go to claim the younger born
Of Edward, from his weeping mother's hands,
The widow'd Queen, of ev'ry hope forlorn!
Of fate, I go to claim the younger born
Of Edward, from his weeping mother's hands,
The widow'd Queen, of ev'ry hope forlorn!
463
“With bloody meaning to invade those bounds,
Where hov'ring angels tremble as they gaze,
Me, tho' no mortal born, with pity wounds,
And the firm purpose of my soul betrays.”
Where hov'ring angels tremble as they gaze,
Me, tho' no mortal born, with pity wounds,
And the firm purpose of my soul betrays.”
This said, in semblance of a prelate hoar,
The great upholder of the Cestrian state,
Approach'd, with fatal speed, the sacred door,
And enter'd, where the royal mother sate.
The great upholder of the Cestrian state,
Approach'd, with fatal speed, the sacred door,
And enter'd, where the royal mother sate.
With reverence meek, began the seeming saint
“Hail! royal mother of a mighty line,
So may kind Heav'n your last petition grant,
As you with gentle heart accord to mine!”
“Hail! royal mother of a mighty line,
So may kind Heav'n your last petition grant,
As you with gentle heart accord to mine!”
“By me Heav'n claims the royal, guiltless child,
Souls pure as his no low asylum need:
Meet are those walls to screen the blood-defil'd,
Not him who never knew unholy deed.”
Souls pure as his no low asylum need:
Meet are those walls to screen the blood-defil'd,
Not him who never knew unholy deed.”
“Here, brooding over his eternal wounds,
Let the sad felon his lone hours employ;
But never be it said, those hallow'd bounds
From fancy'd evil screen'd a blameless boy.
Let the sad felon his lone hours employ;
But never be it said, those hallow'd bounds
From fancy'd evil screen'd a blameless boy.
“Shall every fear of wayward fancy's brood
Give to this mansion a desponding guest?
Shall sacrilegious passions here intrude,
And break upon the temple's holy rest?
Give to this mansion a desponding guest?
Shall sacrilegious passions here intrude,
And break upon the temple's holy rest?
464
“Shall guilt and innocence promiscuous here
Find an asylum? Hence the thought profane!
Shall each alike the garb of penance wear,
And pious fraud the holy presence stain;
Find an asylum? Hence the thought profane!
Shall each alike the garb of penance wear,
And pious fraud the holy presence stain;
“Here let remorse and sorrow wake to weep,
And purge their stains with penitential tears;
But let not hate her sullen sabbath keep;
Nor squint suspicion tell her fancy'd fears!”
And purge their stains with penitential tears;
But let not hate her sullen sabbath keep;
Nor squint suspicion tell her fancy'd fears!”
“Ask him who sent thee if my fears be true,
(With royal scorn the lonely Queen reply'd);
Ask him who Pomfret's deadly secret knew,
Why her sad streets with noble blood were dy'd?
(With royal scorn the lonely Queen reply'd);
Ask him who Pomfret's deadly secret knew,
Why her sad streets with noble blood were dy'd?
“Ask him, who with his ruffians holds in awe
My son, yet mocks him with a royal name?
And, while his fell assassins o'er him draw
Their snares, deep lulls him in a golden dream.
My son, yet mocks him with a royal name?
And, while his fell assassins o'er him draw
Their snares, deep lulls him in a golden dream.
“Yes! let that artful tyrant tell with pride,
How o'er the church he stretch'd his iron rod,
And bade her sons in him alone confide,
Daring with dreadless front to mock their God.
How o'er the church he stretch'd his iron rod,
And bade her sons in him alone confide,
Daring with dreadless front to mock their God.
“That God, who bids a mother's trembling heart
Outreason all the sages learned pride;
Bids nature drown the feeble voice of art,
And menac'd lives from real dangers hide.
Outreason all the sages learned pride;
Bids nature drown the feeble voice of art,
And menac'd lives from real dangers hide.
465
“But what avails a mother's trembling heart?
Ah! what avails a mother's feeble pow'r?
I see the close approach of murd'rous art,
I see, alas! my Richard's fatal hour!”
Ah! what avails a mother's feeble pow'r?
I see the close approach of murd'rous art,
I see, alas! my Richard's fatal hour!”
“Yet with my son I'll meet the stroke of fate!
Together will we meet the tyrant's frown!
Our fall will raise his savage pride elate,
And all his cruel machinations crown.”
Together will we meet the tyrant's frown!
Our fall will raise his savage pride elate,
And all his cruel machinations crown.”
“And yet, ev'n yet, I'll trust the bounteous pow'r,
That rais'd me humble to a royal bed;
That o'er my child, in this disastrous hour,
His kind paternal arm shall still be spread.”
That rais'd me humble to a royal bed;
That o'er my child, in this disastrous hour,
His kind paternal arm shall still be spread.”
“Trust in him still,” the mitred form reply'd;
“Trust him for better seasons to ensue:
His messenger, I bid thy fears subside,
And open fairer prospects to thy view.”
“Trust him for better seasons to ensue:
His messenger, I bid thy fears subside,
And open fairer prospects to thy view.”
“Not Gloster's vassal I, nor his command
Sways me this holy task to undergo:
Accept a pledge of faith, this spotless hand;
I come to his designs a deadly foe.”
Sways me this holy task to undergo:
Accept a pledge of faith, this spotless hand;
I come to his designs a deadly foe.”
“I come to save thy son! for hov'ring nigh
The tyrant's guards, on some black errand bent,
Seem to regard those walls with savage eye:
Then haste! fair mourner! and thy foes prevent!”
The tyrant's guards, on some black errand bent,
Seem to regard those walls with savage eye:
Then haste! fair mourner! and thy foes prevent!”
466
“Full little would those walls”—He scarce had said:
The trumpet blew the loud concerted sign.
“Oh! save my son!” exclaim'd the Queen dismay'd,
“They come! Oh! save the last of Edward's line!”
The trumpet blew the loud concerted sign.
“Oh! save my son!” exclaim'd the Queen dismay'd,
“They come! Oh! save the last of Edward's line!”
She spoke: and, swooning, fell a lifeless corse;
In dark oblivion long entranc'd she lay:
And when her vital pow'rs resum'd their force,
The victor's hand had borne the Prince away.
In dark oblivion long entranc'd she lay:
And when her vital pow'rs resum'd their force,
The victor's hand had borne the Prince away.
467
WOODSTOCK.
THE PRIZE POEM FOR THE YEAR ONE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN.
468
[_]
The scene of the following little piece is laid at Woodstock, during the captivity of Elizabeth, who was confined there by her sister Queen Mary.
469
Ye lonely shades, where Rosamond allur'd
Her Henry's steps from Glory's paths to stray;
Where, in the roseate bow'r of bliss immur'd,
Reckless, he saw his laurel'd pride decay.
Her Henry's steps from Glory's paths to stray;
Where, in the roseate bow'r of bliss immur'd,
Reckless, he saw his laurel'd pride decay.
How brook'd the genius of yon solemn grove,
His ancient haunts by lawless love profan'd?
Disdain'd not his pure feet those lawns to rove,
Till late the lyre once more his presence gain'd!
His ancient haunts by lawless love profan'd?
Disdain'd not his pure feet those lawns to rove,
Till late the lyre once more his presence gain'd!
His magic lyre the mighty minstrel ply'd;
The list'ning Dryads to their haunts return'd:
A fresher verdure cloath'd the prospect wide,
And brighter hues the flow'ry banks adorn'd.
The list'ning Dryads to their haunts return'd:
A fresher verdure cloath'd the prospect wide,
And brighter hues the flow'ry banks adorn'd.
470
No trivial purpose bids his numbers flow;
No trivial guest those hallow'd bounds await:
—Meek virtue here shall shun th'impending blow,
And here religion lodge her sacred freight.
No trivial guest those hallow'd bounds await:
—Meek virtue here shall shun th'impending blow,
And here religion lodge her sacred freight.
Hark! superstition lifts her savage voice!
See! kindred bands dissolve, and love recede!
The pastor's hand th'imploring flock destroys;
And persecution bares her ruffian blade!
See! kindred bands dissolve, and love recede!
The pastor's hand th'imploring flock destroys;
And persecution bares her ruffian blade!
Ev'n mercy's self forsakes the bloody throne;
The Queen, relentless, sees a sister led
By alien hands, unfriended and alone,
Where he rude prison rears her awful head.
The Queen, relentless, sees a sister led
By alien hands, unfriended and alone,
Where he rude prison rears her awful head.
Thy gates, O Woodstock! ope with sullen sound;
In dismal view thy haggard walls appear!
Starting, the royal captive gaz'd around,
And down her pale cheek stole th'unheeded tear.
In dismal view thy haggard walls appear!
Starting, the royal captive gaz'd around,
And down her pale cheek stole th'unheeded tear.
The jarring valves the stern attendants close!
Her dreary lot the silent Princess eyes;
And as her fancy teem'd with future woes,
Thus burst her passion intermix'd with sighs:
Her dreary lot the silent Princess eyes;
And as her fancy teem'd with future woes,
Thus burst her passion intermix'd with sighs:
“Look down, great Henry! from the realms above,
If earthly cares can reach thy holy rest,
Behold the fruits of thine ill-omen'd love,
Friendless, forlorn, by causeless hate opprest!”
If earthly cares can reach thy holy rest,
Behold the fruits of thine ill-omen'd love,
Friendless, forlorn, by causeless hate opprest!”
471
“Oh! would to Heav'n, thy unrelenting rage
Had erst involv'd me in a mother's doom;
How easy death in that unthinking age,
How soft the passage to an early tomb?”
Had erst involv'd me in a mother's doom;
How easy death in that unthinking age,
How soft the passage to an early tomb?”
“But now reflection points the coming blow,
And mem'ry joins her keen, malignant light;
I see the deadly purpose of the foe,
And deprecate in vain the dreadful sight!”
And mem'ry joins her keen, malignant light;
I see the deadly purpose of the foe,
And deprecate in vain the dreadful sight!”
“But who shall dare her private woes to mourn,
When bleeding England pours the gen'ral groan?
When pale religion points to Cranmer's urn,
And holy frenzy guards the bloody throne?”
When bleeding England pours the gen'ral groan?
When pale religion points to Cranmer's urn,
And holy frenzy guards the bloody throne?”
“Ill-fated England! unsubdu'd before!
'Tis thine to suffer, and 'tis mine to weep;
In vain the frowning cliffs protect thy shore,
And vain, with all her storms, thy circling deep.”
'Tis thine to suffer, and 'tis mine to weep;
In vain the frowning cliffs protect thy shore,
And vain, with all her storms, thy circling deep.”
“Thine inbred foe, the demon of the soul,
Converts thy sceptre to an iron rod;
Soft pity sinks beneath his dire controul,
And the proud Hierarch dares belie his God.”
Converts thy sceptre to an iron rod;
Soft pity sinks beneath his dire controul,
And the proud Hierarch dares belie his God.”
“Rome's abject hirelings now infest the coast,
Where erst the hardy Roman learn'd to fear;
Where Gaul's proud victor saw the British host
Mock the keen light'ning of the lifted spear.”
Where erst the hardy Roman learn'd to fear;
Where Gaul's proud victor saw the British host
Mock the keen light'ning of the lifted spear.”
472
“But now, even hope forsakes the mourning plain,
No friendly ray pervades the settled gloom;
The prospect lours beneath the frown of Spain,
And silent nations wait th'impending doom.”
No friendly ray pervades the settled gloom;
The prospect lours beneath the frown of Spain,
And silent nations wait th'impending doom.”
While thus the royal maid her sorrow spoke,
Night stole unheeded on her rising woes;
And slumber lock'd her sense, but fancy woke,
And, in her dreams, an aged minstrel rose.
Night stole unheeded on her rising woes;
And slumber lock'd her sense, but fancy woke,
And, in her dreams, an aged minstrel rose.
A tuneful harp of antique form he bore,
Drest like the bards of old, a quaint attire!
And tho' long years had snow'd his temples o'er,
His eye preserv'd the poet's genuine fire.
Drest like the bards of old, a quaint attire!
And tho' long years had snow'd his temples o'er,
His eye preserv'd the poet's genuine fire.
And this the awful prelude of his song:
“Hope shall revisit soon the mourning plain;
Even now thy name yon heav'nly choirs among
Resounds, the future sov'reign of the main.
“Hope shall revisit soon the mourning plain;
Even now thy name yon heav'nly choirs among
Resounds, the future sov'reign of the main.
“Heav'n-sent, those once-lov'd bounds my steps invade;
Thy causeless grief commission'd to expel!
Of old a tenant of this fairy shade,
Where oft my wood-notes wild were heard to swell.
Thy causeless grief commission'd to expel!
Of old a tenant of this fairy shade,
Where oft my wood-notes wild were heard to swell.
“Here,
warlike Henry his unhelmed brow
Would oft recline to listen to my lyre;
Oft would his
son his genuine race avow,
And shew faint glimm'rings of his future sires.
Would oft recline to listen to my lyre;
473
And shew faint glimm'rings of his future sires.
“Yet to have pleas'd the royal ear of old
Seems poor ambition to my present charge;
Of fate the glorious purpose to unfold,
And shew the counsels of the sky at large.
Seems poor ambition to my present charge;
Of fate the glorious purpose to unfold,
And shew the counsels of the sky at large.
“Trac'd by the awful counsels of the sky,
Two paths of glory to thy choice are giv'n;
Mark! as the visions flit before thine eye,
And may thine option meet the smile of Heav'n.”
Two paths of glory to thy choice are giv'n;
Mark! as the visions flit before thine eye,
And may thine option meet the smile of Heav'n.”
He said; and soon, obedient to his wand,
Wide o'er the prospect spread an iron gleam;
The throng'd pavilions hide the martial strand,
And in the air unnumber'd ensigns stream.
Wide o'er the prospect spread an iron gleam;
The throng'd pavilions hide the martial strand,
And in the air unnumber'd ensigns stream.
But lo! the cross of England waves afar;
The banded millions mix in mortal fight;
And, hov'ring o'er the wide-extended war,
The foe of mankind soars with stern delight.
The banded millions mix in mortal fight;
And, hov'ring o'er the wide-extended war,
The foe of mankind soars with stern delight.
Those
to sustain, and these to overthrow
Th'imperial ensign, toil in bloody fray;
And still the deadly contest seems to grow
Where'er the winds its crimson folds display.
Th'imperial ensign, toil in bloody fray;
474
Where'er the winds its crimson folds display.
Where'er the fiery meteor seems to wave,
In civil rage the broken bands disjoin;
Loud discord's voice is heard around to rave,
And busy fiends the social tyes untwine.
In civil rage the broken bands disjoin;
Loud discord's voice is heard around to rave,
And busy fiends the social tyes untwine.
Then the stern ruler of the azure deep,
Seem'd o'er the scene his triple mace to wield;
The wild waves spread around, with murm'ring sweep,
And ocean hid the late ensanguin'd field.
Seem'd o'er the scene his triple mace to wield;
The wild waves spread around, with murm'ring sweep,
And ocean hid the late ensanguin'd field.
Around the stormy capes the fleets, far seen
Advancing in a line, for battle form;
And now, a narrow interval between,
They meet with loud salute and dire alarm!
Advancing in a line, for battle form;
And now, a narrow interval between,
They meet with loud salute and dire alarm!
The flash, abrupt, foreruns the brazen roar;
Responsive thunders roll around the bay;
The sulph'rous vapour spreads from shore to shore,
Hiding the horrors of the doubtful day.
Responsive thunders roll around the bay;
The sulph'rous vapour spreads from shore to shore,
Hiding the horrors of the doubtful day.
The curtain'd clouds divide; a scene appears
Of flames, and driving wrecks, and recent gore!
Eliza's name the gale in triumph bears!
Eliza's name resounds from shore to shore!
Of flames, and driving wrecks, and recent gore!
Eliza's name the gale in triumph bears!
Eliza's name resounds from shore to shore!
475
Distant at length the martial notes decay,
And soon the whit'ning sails are lost to view;
With silent ebb retires the peaceful sea,
And smiling summer clothes the fields anew.
And soon the whit'ning sails are lost to view;
With silent ebb retires the peaceful sea,
And smiling summer clothes the fields anew.
Fair seem'd the scene, but unsubdu'd and wild,
With, here and there reclin'd, an uncouth swain,
Who, with rude songs, the vacant hours beguil'd,
Or, musing, hear'd the pebbled rill complain.
With, here and there reclin'd, an uncouth swain,
Who, with rude songs, the vacant hours beguil'd,
Or, musing, hear'd the pebbled rill complain.
Sudden the deep and lonely woods among
Was heard the solemn music of the lyre;
The rude tribes crowd around the magic song,
And rapture seem to catch the heav'nly sire.
Was heard the solemn music of the lyre;
The rude tribes crowd around the magic song,
And rapture seem to catch the heav'nly sire.
Nor caught in vain; for o'er the savage sense
Mild reason seem'd to steal with gentle pace:
New habits grow, and new designs commence,
As on the nymph the thronging rustics gaze.
Mild reason seem'd to steal with gentle pace:
New habits grow, and new designs commence,
As on the nymph the thronging rustics gaze.
Alma her name, her golden locks betray'd;
Her race deriv'd from him who rules the day;
A pearly zone her azure vest upstay'd,
Giv'n by the sov'reign whom the floods obey.
Her race deriv'd from him who rules the day;
A pearly zone her azure vest upstay'd,
Giv'n by the sov'reign whom the floods obey.
Her voice explain'd the lessons of her lyre;
Her sainted look enforc'd the heav'nly song:
Her lectures seem'd new wisdom to inspire,
And mould the instinct of th'admiring throng.
Her sainted look enforc'd the heav'nly song:
Her lectures seem'd new wisdom to inspire,
And mould the instinct of th'admiring throng.
476
Soon o'er the fields the congregation spread;
A milder aspect soon adorn'd the plain;
Instant before their steps disorder fled,
And arts and culture follow'd in her train.
A milder aspect soon adorn'd the plain;
Instant before their steps disorder fled,
And arts and culture follow'd in her train.
Scatter'd around, the jocund hamlet rose,
And, girt with harvests boon, the village gay,
Wide-stretching mounds the echoing main oppose,
And cities far their spiry pride display.
And, girt with harvests boon, the village gay,
Wide-stretching mounds the echoing main oppose,
And cities far their spiry pride display.
Above the rest a stately pile was seen,
And issuing radiant thence a chosen band,
Who mark'd in measur'd lots the smiling green,
And portion'd to the swains their destin'd land.
And issuing radiant thence a chosen band,
Who mark'd in measur'd lots the smiling green,
And portion'd to the swains their destin'd land.
Some, when rude contests rose the swains among,
With healing words dispell'd the rising jar;
And some were taught with soft mellifluous song,
To chear their toils beneath the sultry star.
With healing words dispell'd the rising jar;
And some were taught with soft mellifluous song,
To chear their toils beneath the sultry star.
Some taught the seaman to direct his prow
O'er the broad Main, by mild Arcturus led;
And some explor'd the secret depths below,
To find what nature there in silence bred.
O'er the broad Main, by mild Arcturus led;
And some explor'd the secret depths below,
To find what nature there in silence bred.
Some o'er the glebe induc'd the kindly show'r,
Hast'ning the tardy spring with potent pray'r;
And when the wintry sky began to lour,
With Heav'n-taught voice beguil'd the pangs of care.
Hast'ning the tardy spring with potent pray'r;
477
With Heav'n-taught voice beguil'd the pangs of care.
The scene smil'd lovely, and in smiles withdrew;
The bard alone remain'd, and thus began:
“These future prospects op'ning to thy view,
'Tis thine, with Heav'n-directed eye to scan.”
The bard alone remain'd, and thus began:
“These future prospects op'ning to thy view,
'Tis thine, with Heav'n-directed eye to scan.”
“Either on conquest's purple wing to rise,
Or deck with peaceful hand the savage plain;
To raise Old England's flag in hostile skies,
Or nobler realms, with peaceful arts, to gain.”
Or deck with peaceful hand the savage plain;
To raise Old England's flag in hostile skies,
Or nobler realms, with peaceful arts, to gain.”
“'Tis thine to chuse”—“Nor be the choice delay'd,”
Sudden, tho' still entranc'd, the maid reply'd;
“Be mine to triumph in the peaceful shade,
Far from the dazzling pomp of martial pride.”
Sudden, tho' still entranc'd, the maid reply'd;
“Be mine to triumph in the peaceful shade,
Far from the dazzling pomp of martial pride.”
“His captive legions let the victor shew;
Be mine the empire o'er the willing soul;
The veteran bands of vice to overthrow,
And ignorance and error to controul.”
Be mine the empire o'er the willing soul;
The veteran bands of vice to overthrow,
And ignorance and error to controul.”
“Be mine to rule the silent, studious train,
Who form the manners and the man refine:
Whose milder glories own no guilty stain,
Whose peaceful brows no bloody wreath entwine.
Who form the manners and the man refine:
Whose milder glories own no guilty stain,
Whose peaceful brows no bloody wreath entwine.
“Thus myriads yet unborn shall gladly own,
With unbought praise, my long remember'd sway,
And, plausive, hail my academic throne,
When trophied arches fall, and urns decay.”
With unbought praise, my long remember'd sway,
478
When trophied arches fall, and urns decay.”
“Some new Pythagoras then may boast an eye
To trace the deeper wonders of the sphere;
Some Tully's thunder shake the northern sky,
And pour conviction on the gen'ral ear.”
To trace the deeper wonders of the sphere;
Some Tully's thunder shake the northern sky,
And pour conviction on the gen'ral ear.”
“Some kindly hand may bid the laurel spring,
Even in yon drear uncultivated soil;
Some friendly patron teach the muse to sing,
And deathless strains reward the gen'rous toil.”
Even in yon drear uncultivated soil;
Some friendly patron teach the muse to sing,
And deathless strains reward the gen'rous toil.”
She spoke: and thus the gentle bard reply'd:
“Still may you thus protect the gentle muse;
Lo! Heav'n, by me, hath thus thy judgment try'd,
And mark'd, well pleas'd, thy far-extended views.
“Still may you thus protect the gentle muse;
Lo! Heav'n, by me, hath thus thy judgment try'd,
And mark'd, well pleas'd, thy far-extended views.
“Alike in arts of peace and martial might,
Old England's genius dooms thee to excell:”
He spoke—and mingled with the shades of night;
His lyre symphonious sent a sweet farewell.
Old England's genius dooms thee to excell:”
He spoke—and mingled with the shades of night;
His lyre symphonious sent a sweet farewell.
FINIS.
Success of Elizabeth in sowing dissention among the French and Scots, her enemies. See Hume and Robertson.
483
THE WANDERER,
A LYRIC POEM, IN FOUR IRREGULAR ODES.
485
ODE THE FIRST. THE SHEPHERD'S DREAM.
I.
“Trench the turf, and delve it deep“Raise my camp's eternal mound
“Build the long embattled sweep
“Flanking wide the vale profound!
“Point the passes, dark and dread
“Where my free-born sons afar
“Thund'ring down, with measur'd tread
“Oft shall turn the tide of war
“Encamp ye storms! on yonder brow
“Tow'ring o'er the Leman wave
“Doom'd to whelm the hostile prow
“That dares her sacred flood to brave.”
Freedom thus to Nature spoke
When the Alpine range arose
486
O'er their height his virgin snows.
II.
Cradle of heroes! hail!Hail, proud hills, whose giant arms
Of marble mold, repell the storms
From the high-favour'd vale.
All hail! ye cloud-capt mounds, which nature gave
To check the proud barbarians headlong range.
To stem the northern tide's impulsive wave
And save the happy tribes from sudden change!
There like thy blue expanded lake
That drinks the Arar and the Rhone,
Thy native tribes a tincture take
Of those who from a colder zone
In daring search of sunnier vales
In thy deep glens a shelter found.
And yet, the dauntless stock prevails
Old Leman's lawny borders round
Before, the frontier lake extends
Swept ever by the mountain gale,
Rude ranger of her awful deep,
Whose high-commission'd whirlwinds keep
From the vext wave the hostile sail.
Behind the Alpine barrier bends,
Here Jura from his high cerulean brow
Surveys an hundred realms below
There Sion lifts his cloudy cone
Aspiring to the midnight moon
487
O'er thy proud ramparts to the welkin pil'd
The awful sound of revolution goes,
Oft, shadowing their eternal snows
Fell Tyranny hath wing'd her vulture flight
Nor on thy green vales dar'd to light
Scar'd at Freedom's dauntless eye
That flash'd defiance thro' the sky.
Southward she wheel'd, from her undaunted foes
On tamer tribes to prey.
When ancient Rome, with wild affray
Saw her new-rais'd temples fall.
Thou Helvetia! lent thine aid,
From thy vales, fermenting deep
Revolting from their iron sleep
O'er thy hills, the living tide
Swept the astonish'd vales in surging pride.
Desponding mute and still
Jove trembled for his hill,
Supprest his thund'ring pride,
And laid his bolts aside.
To them what were his mimic sires
Who from old Cenis awful spires
Or from Pennino's breezy brow
Heaven's light'ning oft had seen with dauntless eye
Glance along the frozen sky,
488
Nor had the Tullian thunders more prevail'd
The fate of Rome, by Heaven withheld
Had yet the start of yon revolving sphere
Before the destin'd year,
But Tyranny with wild alarm
Beheld the coming storm
And sent mistrust and breach of faith
(Her favourite ministers of old)
The bold confederates, bent on death
Disband, by Roman arts controll'd.
She call'd her Cæsar from his dark retreat,
Not “in loose numbers wildly sweet,”
And sent him forth to search the source
Whence those ills deriv'd their force.
He, as a chief whose troops invest the wall
Of some beelaguered castle strong,
Wanders, the shelving hills among
To find the spring, whose subterranean maze
The garrison's fierce thirst allays,
And keeps alive the war.
Thus, to the climes that front the Boreal star
He took his dauntless way.
489
From Berne and Uris' watry dales,
And Bafil's meads, and Leman's strand,
Burst away the countless band.
Pent in their narrow glens they long had mourn'd,
And for an ampler range of glory burn'd.
The demons of despotic sway,
With stern regard, from Sion's height
Saw the torrent burst away,
And bade their Cæsar check its flight.
Back to its source he bade the living torrent flow,
Back to its source the living torrent flow'd
The smother'd flame indignant glow'd
Ages long of torpid woe—
III.
Long centuries of chearless gloomLike a live lamp laid in a tomb,
It burn'd, and now the raging north
Had call'd again the conflagration forth.
But ere it blew, the demon of the soul
Had stretch'd his sway from pole to pole
And, not content, with iron rod
To sink to slaves the sons of God.
His Mulciberian arts refin'd
Forg'd the fetters of the mind,
490
Profane at will the curtain'd sleep
Display the blest Elysian bowers
The sentenc'd dead, the burning shores.
The silver fee, the sanguine scourge
That rescued from the flaming surge
And Mammon kept the door
Disguis'd in humble fisher's weed.
Like him of old by Heaven decreed,
To call the Gentile world from Jordan's hallow'd shore.
And here the demons too were found
Who on Bœotia's flow'ry bound
And Athens, erst with mystic rite
And orgies wild profan'd the night.
The archimage in saintly stole array'd
And she, like Una, heavenly maid
By wicked wiles, seductive art
Allur'd the crowd of simple heart.
They, in the symbols given to memorize
The dread event on which they built their faith.
Behold with fascinated eyes
Like Egypt's sons, a vegetable god
Spring in the green blade, flourish in the stem
And load, with seeming life, the bending ear.
At the lying wizard's word
A spell-wrought banquet crown'd the board,
491
Streaming from their Saviour's side.
Bland Ceres' gifts, by holy fraud
Instinct, with mystic life, became
Emanuel's rent, and agonizing frame
The living cates, receiv'd within
They taught, had power to cleanse the taint
Of new-committed sin
And of a murtherer make a saint.
The crowd in fancy, saw their bounteous Lord
And, hoodwink'd by the charm, they swallow'd and ador'd.
Repentance chang'd to mimic rites
To mutter'd prayers, and easy slights
The penal maze they trode with pain
And hasten'd back to sin again.
Or, was the penitent of wealth possest
The pious magian sooth'd his holy fears
With sovereign touch, the silver wand
Dry'd the salt spring of salutary tears
And calm oblivion touch'd his wounds with torpid hand.
The magic rites the fancy sir'd
Of the initiate train inspir'd
With visions new of op'ning glory
And, show'r'd like manna, heav'nly grace
Like him who erst in fabled story
At Jove's own banquets found a place.
Cemented now by magic slight
492
Despotic o'er the soul.
Beneath the moon the fabric rose
Sacred to Hades and old Night
And low'r'd defiance on her ancient foes.
But lo! the turns of fate
By night it rose and by a dream it fell,
The edifice of hell!
'Twas something more than fancy's plastic power
That fir'd the slumb'ring boy's extatic thought
(Whether in him the soul of Athens' sage
Walk'd again this earthly stage,
Or old Elijah's wrath at rites profane
Led him to leave the starry plain)
And held him high, by holy rapture caught
Above the haunted vale
Unfam'd by many an hideous tale
Of midnight spectres seen
Sweeping o'er the dewy green.
There many a baleful simple grew
Batt'ning in the midnight dew,
Two spectral forms he there beheld
Wand'ring round in vapours blue
The powers they seem'd, whose names of old
The Pagan world ador'd
The harvest Queen, the vineyard's Lord,
His bowl's red juice the Bromian King
Temper'd at Lethe's lurid spring
493
Portentous from the nether skies)
The wizard thus, and in her shadowy lap
The witch was seen to crop
The seeds of Lotos where it seem'd to grow
In many a goodly row.
She mixt it with the golden grain,
She fann'd it with her mystic vane.
IV.
A gorgeous temple in his dream appear'dAnd there an altar high was rear'd
And there the magic cup, the venom'd feast
Inviting every guest.
The suppliants came, they gorg'd, they quaff'd
And Folly rav'd and Frenzy laught,
Bland Superstition's trickling balm
Shed o'er each mind an holy calm.
Conscience felt the deadly wound
And sunk in vap'ry trance profound.
He wakes—he hears the fancy'd bell
That call'd the madding crowd
Distinct and loud
Again he hears
And hardly trusts his trembling ears
Again the brazen summons sounds
Again his trembling ear it wounds
494
He enters now the opening fane
He sees the magic bowl once more
The cates prepar'd with mystic lore
Where, as he gorg'd the magic food
The haughty mortal seem'd a God.
Heaven had purg'd the stripling's eyes,
Or active fancy drew
Again to his astonish'd view
The natives of the nether skies.
Flashing anger, pale surprize,
Alternate froze, alternate glow'd
On his pale cheek as he stood
And “oh,” he cry'd, “forbear, forbear!”
(The crowd their orisons withheld)
“See the fraudful phantoms there
“Whose sway the ancient world bewail'd
“They mix their dark spells with the saintly rite
“And haunt the holy roof in Heaven's despite
“See Ceres there, and Bacchus stand
“The magian with commission'd wand
“Deals on this forbidden ground
“His fell demonian charms around.”
“In league with fell despotic sway
“He bends your free-born souls to tremble and obey.
“Seize him,” the Flamen cry'd
(His bosom burning with pontific pride)
“Haste, bring that youth! some imp of hell
495
“Haste, exorcise the latent pest
“That harbours in his heaving breast
“And interrupts our heavenly rite!
“Hurl him to Hades and old Night.”
The Ministers obey'd the stern command
And seiz'd the youth with potent hand
The Priest his mutter'd spells began
And o'er his incantations ran.
The sacring bell began to toll
To disengage the lab'ring soul.
In vain—his eyes began to glow
His giant nerve repell'd the foe
While, from the full vase sprinkled frore
The sacred lymph bedew'd the floor.
With vigorous arm he dash'd around
The lifted cross,—the vase profound.
The magic book he hurls afar
And all the sacerdotal war.
Prostrate on earth in wild affray
Around the pale assistants lay
Sudden, the strange contagion spread
Revolt and faction rais'd its head
The madding crowd, as well as he
Clearly saw, or seem'd to see
The demon gods of ancient days
Partners of celestial praise.
496
Following their youthful guide, like Moses, to the wild.
V.
With more than moonstruck rage tyrannic powerBann'd aloud the luckless hour.
“Oh! had I been content,” he cry'd,
“With war and slaughter by my side
“To trust the trenchant sword alone
“Nor call for succour to the gown
“Nor let their cobweb arts essay
“To lead the multitude astray,
“Even ignorance, to thought unus'd
“Feels its implicit faith abus'd.
“But haste, ye Ministers of mine, who wield
“Far other and more deadly arms
“Nor vainly trust to futile charms!
“Pursue the fugitives, pursue
“While yet the bold revolt is new
“While yet it lies in woods conceal'd
“Ere thro' the long Helvetian vales
“This home-bred lunacy prevails.
“Call to the Tiber, Seine, and Loire
“To quench the rising flame, to join their liquid store
“And bid my favour'd Elbe and Rhine
“To aid my cause their force combine.”
Instant, his legions heard their Lord
Havock rous'd her northern horde
Discord fires the kindred trains
And Leman's lake with crimson stains.
497
'Mongst the shadowy cliffs combining
Feed the fray with magic breath
Bright conquest now to this, now that enclining.
Murther now, with stealthy pace
Wand'ring thro' the midnight gloom
The bold reformer holds in chace
To mark him for the tomb.
Safety is there for him no more
Tho' his faction still survives
And the blest energy to other realms derives.
Yet still by civil conflicts tost
Religion's patron seeks a safer coast
And in the northern ocean dips his oar.
Expedition of Cæsar in Gaul, his prevention of the Helvetic migration and conquest of that warlike people. Cæsar Com. l. 1.
Effects of papal superstition, which in some respects, prevented the good consequences which might have attended the irruption of the Goths.
There is, it is owned, something of anachronism in the foregoing ode. Religion had very little immediate influence on the first commencement of Helvetic liberty, which happened near a century before the reformation; whatever share the latter revolution might have had in the subsequent establishment of the Helvetic constitution.
498
ODE THE SECOND. THE SHEPHERD'S NUPTIALS.
I.
Citadel of freedom, hail!Majestic rising o'er the tempest-beaten main
Who to the persecuted train
On every blast, from every shore
Where regal frenzy dips his foot in gore
Giv'st an asylum in thy wave-worn pale
And beckonest with dumb welcome o'er
The far-discovered sail!
And not for nought,—for soon at hand
Yon pinace furls her sail, the Exile seeks the land.
Oh England! if thou lik'st to sleep
In tranquil slumbers folded deep
And hatest proud innovation's name,
Her lifted ax, her brandish'd flame,
499
The moody wanderer far from thee!
For this is he whose chanted psalm
Broke old Uris holy calm
In Berne the flag of freedom wav'd
And Rome's cowl'd squadrons singly brav'd
Loos'd the charms that lock'd the mind
And from thick films the mental eye refin'd
The chief to thee is fled, but leaves behind
Discord's rage that drowns the wind
Fierce debates, and wordy wars
Faction's feuds and kindred jars.
Till dear-bought freedom sends again
Her holy calm to bless her mountain reign.
II.
Has no sign his coming toldNo cause the refluent surge controll'd
No meteor fir'd the angry air
No comet stream'd a length of hair?—
Time should now affrighted stand
His idle weapon in his hand
The sun should halt in mid career
To see the wond'rous birth appear.—
His coming by no sign is told
The refluent surge is uncontroll'd.
No meteor fires the angry air,
No comet streams a length of hair,
Nor Time astonish'd seems to stand
Nor holds his scythe with idle hand,
500
To see the wond'rous birth appear.—
The simple train, that sees him land
With rustic welcome line the strand.
Nor, tho' he wears a look severe
His unthought coming seem to fear.
For not on them his coming lours
Who pass their spotless hours
In hamlets poor, an harass'd train
Up the hill, or o'er the plain.
No—yonder Flamen's proud abode
Fanes, which belie the name of God
Cloister'd cells, where prison'd deep
The mental powers in Lethes' sleep
Repose, or pamper'd passions rave
Like pent up storms in Æol's cave
Where Luxury pants, and oft by stealth
Draws a blinded nation's wealth,
They may fear, but they are drown'd
By wayward Fate in sleep profound
Nor mind (by torpid Sloth subdued,)
The menace of the mountain flood
Fed by many a secret rill
As the dews of evening still.
But soon the thund'ring tide will sweep
Their golden harvests to the deep
501
For many a winter seem to lye
Shall join the torrent's rapid flow
And lay your haughty fabrics low
For now the stranger in the wild
Late from Uris' bounds exil'd
Far within a sacred glade
Where hawthorns grew, a fenceful shade
Found a weeping widow, late
Sever'd from her faithful mate,
Her faithful mate, by cleric spite
(She thought) had sunk to endless night,
And now resolv'd to quit the shore
The reliques of their ancient store
They glean'd, resolv'd to cross the main
With her young blooming orphan train
Of these, a maid with heav'nly charms
The stranger's rugged bosom warms.
His suit the young Helvetian prest
And form'd an interest in her breast.
The matron heard the lover's prayer
And soon consenting blest the pair.
She seem'd her longing to retain
Of following Fate across the main,
502
And the blest exile clasp'd a son,
Short liv'd joy, to anguish turn'd!
Soon his loss the parents mourn'd.
Whether by vagrant thieves purloin'd
Who chanc'd the wand'ring boy to find,
Or moonlight fays (from bless exil'd)
Who fear'd the fortunes of the child
Not yet was known, And loud and long
His parents wail'd, by anguish stung
And both at once devoutly swore
To leave that sad, ill-omen'd shore,
They hoist the sail and court the wind
Leaving their eldest hope behind.
III.
Their eldest hope, an ancient croneHad borne away to glins unknown.
Skill'd in witching love was she
Her cot was by the ancient Dee,
Ancient Dee, of wizard name
Where still the fays their sabbath claim,
There, beneath the moony light
O'er the watry mirrour bright
Oft he saw his sires advance
Gleaming in the lunar glance,
Warriours old of Saxon brood
Who the tyrant sway withstood.
Now in wild, expressive strains
Bloody fields and broken chains.
503
Circling round in mazy ring.
The boy attends with sparkling eyes
To dauntless deeds of high emprize,
The glorious visions haunt his sleep
And shed th'infusion full and deep.
Now of heavenly truths she tells
Taught in hamlets, and in cells
By the Arimathæan old
Wafted here in times of gold.
Nothing now he seems to breathe
But ancient freedom, ancient faith,
Ancient laws, and ancient tales
And spreads them thro' the list'ning vales,
Like his restless sire of yore
Round old Leman's winding shore.
Soon the simple swains began
To crowd around the wond'rous man
And propagate his rapt'rous strains
O'er Britannia's list'ning plains.
Despotic power, with wild alarm
Call'd her levied bands to arm,
And bar'd her blade, and wav'd her brand
To drive the rebels from the land.
Captivity disclos'd her glooms
And peopled all her noisome rooms.
504
To crush the still encreasing train,
Who claim'd their rights, and knew their force,
Their bard had taught the sacred source
From which they drew their charters old
By ancient Monemon's care enroll'd.
But ah! too feeble is my song
To sing the conflict stern and strong,
The stratagems, the rage employ'd
The mighty quarrel to decide.
And now the roving muse the flight explores
Of that desponding pair who left Britannia's shores.
Origin of the puritanic spirit occasionally augmented by a communication with Geneva, and from a dislike of ecclesiastical government, causing frequent emigrations to New England and Pennsylvania, during the reigns of James the First and Charles.
The epithet despotic will not be thought too severe for the 12 first years of Charles First's reign, distinguished by arbitrary taxation, and a difuse of Parliament.
505
ODE THE THIRD. THE SHEPHERD'S VOYAGE.
I.
Should some strong hand unmoon the skyAnd spread from Demogorgon's loom
The curtain deep of Stygian gloom,
Nor leave a star, with twinkling eye
Our wand'ring planet to illume,
(Except some meteor broke the sable woof,
Shot thro' Heaven's umbrageous roof)
'Twould shew, our world's lamented plight,
Sunk in Slavery's thickest night,
When Freedom's ever-moving tide
From our sadden'd shores retir'd
Except one favour'd land, where fate conspir'd
To bid the doubtful blessing still abide,
Like the star that rules the flood
She bade her retinue obey
506
And mov'd in order west away.
Hesperia's groves obedient bow'd
As the pomp aerial past,
As o'er Oswego's tranquil flood
Her breezy robe the goddess cast,
With murmurs low the foamy waters curl'd
And hail'd the mistress of the we stern world.
The genii of the woods and waves
The spirits of the hills and caves
Her presence felt; the savage tribes
Each the sacred power imbibes,
But intellectual light alone
Could give the Queen a stedfast throne
Cecropia's old and equal laws
Rome's well digested code, and Alfred's ancient saws.
II.
Religion too, seraphic maidThe goddess call'd to aid,
Then to the climes from whence the day-spring flows
Where the confed'rate powers of heaven and earth
Matur'd of old the intellectual birth,
Where blooms the citron, and, the palm tree blows
She look'd for aid, for with the rising sun
The dawn of science first begun,
And with slow progress verging west
The world's revolving shores like travelling summer blest
507
Ordain'd from shore to shore to cull her precious freight,
The broad Atlantic first she skims,
Zibalterras sea-beat brims
She leaves, and many a far fam'd isle
To where Emanuel clos'd his earthly toil—
Thence, North by West the winged vessel steers
And from each Dorian, each Ionian coast,
Climes renown'd in ancient days
Themes of everlasting lays
A willing exile bears.
Thro' seas, by many a Land emboss'd
To Luna's port she plows her liquid road
Thence, by Massilia, thro' the midland flood
Then stems the tide to Calpes strand
To Britain thence, by Fate's command
Where on the shore the youthful stranger stood
Desponding on his wayward fate
With him his young and lovely mate
Ready to pass the foaming flood,
The vessel moor'd
They haste aboard,
The last of that heaven-destin'd freight.
III.
Now, 'twixt the old world and the newSuspended, like that favour'd crew
508
To save the last remains of mans' devoted seed,
They hover on the Atlantic deep.
Ah! would the banded West but rise
And drive them back to Dover's steep
Ere old Columbus gain the prize!
In vain the wish, in vain the prayer!
They go, transplanted to a kindlier mold
Where warmer suns sublime the year
Before our vales their blooms unfold!—
As Egypt fabled, from the west
Forgetful of his Indian bed
In new-born state triumphant drest
Another sun shall lift his head
And eastward turn his ardent face
And backward tread th'ecliptic way
The muses shall attend his race
And all the arts in bright array.
Hyperion's son shall wond'ring view
His glittering rival cross his car,
His steeds of mere ethereal hue
Whose footsteps sire the ambient air.
Of ripen'd fruits Hyperion boasts
The spreading palm, the sparkling gem
The golden hoard, the spicy coast
The offspring of his potent beam.
Not so, the lord of intellectual light
He bids the purest germs of genius bloom
509
And bids Virginia's warriours equal Rome.
See! how the rising zephyrs breathe away
Yon envious clouds that hide his sapphire throne!
See, Tyranny beholds with dire dismay,
And flies before the God from zone to zone.
IV.
But oh! presumptuous muse! detainThe frenzy of the rising strain—
—Yet, but the dubious dawn is seen
O'er th'Atlantic wavy green,
Columbus' world in soft repose
Yet no startling signal knows.
For yet her heavenly guests on alien ground
Roam in disguise like weary pilgrims round,
Yet, where they walk, the lawns extend
Desolation leaves the path
And, with less savage wreath
The woods around the hills their less'ning umbrage bend
The wood nymphs forc'd to leave the strand
Left a fearful curse behind,
And see it settles o'er the land
It blackens in the wind!
Hovering o'er the old world far
Brews the stygian storm
The god of battles climbs his car
Oppression, avarice, factious rage
Fanatic feuds, by many an age
510
See! where their victims crowd the strand
Some from the pressure of the tyrant's hand
Some by the spectre Want pursue'd
Some, by the restless spark within
Impell'd the watry world to roam
Impatient of a settled home,
Or by some stroke of cruel fate,
Hapless love, or ruthless hate,
Doom'd to trust the fickle wind
And leave their loves, their cares behind.
Each fiery spirit check'd at home
Or pent in deep oblivion's gloom,
There hop'd an ample range to find
For th'excursions of the mind.
With joy Oppression saw them go
And smooth'd his formidable brow
When those, he deem'd the demons of the storm
Who us'd to spread the wild alarm
And oft unsettled all his schemes
And often broke his golden dreams
Were gone, she hoped again to know
The halcyon days of bliss below,
As when Assyria felt his rod
And Persia own'd an earthly God.
Nor more the Spartan fife to hear
Deadly music to her ear.
511
In Lydian measure breath'd to soothe his tyrant reign.
V.
Oh! ill advis'd! because the parched valeRises in dust beneath the Orient blast.
To think the western storm no more will swell
To lay at once thy waving harvest waste?
That power which keeps the air in equal poise
And bids the viewless current ebb and flow,
Who now bids Auster load the humid skies
And now Aquilon sift his virgin snow.
That power, for wiser ends has sent the scourge
Of lawless power this weeping planet round,
He'll waft again his exile o'er the surge
And nations tremble at her Clarion's sound.
When he would call some great event to birth
To startle heaven, and shake the sons of earth,
He bids men's selfish views the fabric raise
And from his stormy rage elicits praise.
He calls the mental beam away
To the source of endless light
The passions hail the welcome night
And domineer with furious sway.
Then drives the vessel of the state
On the rocks of mad debate.
Despotic power, in the fierce conflict spent,
To fill her faint, exhausted veins
Quaffs the life-blood of the swains.
512
And their rous'd vengeance sweeps away
At once the plunder and the prey.
Thus man, by others harm untaught
Learns moderation from his own disastrous lot.
VI.
And thou, perfidious GaulThat lend'st thy weak hand to thy neighbour's ponderous fall
And swell'st the loud alarm afar
Where Boston breathes revenge and war
Ill does thy feeble pipe, with tuneful strife
Aspire to join its sounds with Sparta's fife.
Yet long enur'd to themes of glory
Soon it leaves the Lydian measure
Learn'd in scenes of courtly pleasure
Ere freedom op'd her wond'rous leaf of story.
O brainsick men! to think each slavish tool
Will come from this tremendous school,
With the same habitudes he felt before
On your voluptuous, smooth, seductive shore.
No—like the fam'd Trophonian grot
Where oft the sons of dance and song
At their first entrance frisk'd along
Then visited the world with alter'd sober thought.
Thy merry slaves are taught another mood
In yonder solemn groves beyond the flood.
Like Britons now they learn to think and feel,
And in the tyrant's face to lift the light'ning steel!
513
Felt by that Helvetian swain,
The Leman lake's resounding shore
Mourn'd thro' all her wide domain.
Him tho' thy dark, pernicious arts annoy'd,
And drove to Britain, thence to Georgia's wild;
And thought the spirit-stirring race destroy'd,
The parent lives, transplanted in the child.
Machinations of the French against the liberties and religion of Switzerland; and the persecutions of the puritans in England; set on foot partly by French politics.
514
ODE THE FOURTH. THE SHEPHERD'S RETURN.
I.
Who yon fated pipe bestow'dOn that wayward shepherd boy?
Hark! he charms the list'ning crowd
Where yon hill salutes the sky!
From Helvetian race he comes,
Of that haughty line is he
Which relentless Fortune dooms
Still to range from sea to sea.
On yon hill he takes his post,
Where advancing, van to van,
Leagu'd against the freeborn host
England's legions sweep the lawn.
515
Freedom beats the jocund round,
While, unsinew'd by his lays
Britain stands in torpor bound.
Soon the tints of memory fade,
Glory warms her sons no more;
Factious feuds their ranks invade,
Selfish aims, and pleasures lore.
Strange effects of mingled strains!
Here in phalanx firm unite,
Levied new, the rustic swains,
And like veterans, brave the fight.
Blindfold there their foes invade,
Thoughtless march, and thoughtless fall;
In the gloomy ambuscade,
Like a net, surrounding all.
Rouse, Britannia, rouse to arms!
See another foe appear,
Gallia joins the loud alarms,
Point anew thy dreadful spear!
Again, old England's native courage glows,
She pours vindictive on her ancient foes.
Hastings draws the lineal sword,
By brave Plantagenet, in slaughter dy'd.
516
And drop'd her libid pride.
But all in vain,
The wily train,
Avoids the coming foe;
His rage beguiles
And mocks his toils,
And wards the lifted blow.
Rest of her conquests, by their usual art,
Britannia mounts the deck with vengeful heart;
Resolv'd, since all her toils by land are vain,
To vindicate the waves, and chace them from the main.
II.
And now, perfidious Gaul, to vast designsExpands the powers of her ambitious soul;
In fancy now she grasps Potosi's mines,
And rules the western world from pole to pole:
And many a province, for her equal meed,
In thought she claims, rapacious as of old,
When sad Alsatia saw her shepherds bleed
And Belgia's plains a tale of carnage told.
But when the Guardian of the clime,
Heard from her cloudy throne, afar,
The murmurs of the sinking war;
From her seat sublime
She watch'd the future births of time,
And saw the dangers dread, and near
To her nacent realm appear:
517
To the fount of Niagar,
As the pale night's witching noon,
The mighty mother bent her car.
She call'd the Power who sends the flood
Down the loud resounding steep,
Before her face the vision stood,
Like blue mist steaming from the deep.
“Haste,” she cry'd, “your parent power
“Seek beneath the briny wave,
“Revolutions charge the hour
“Man's best rights his aidance crave.
“Tell the floods, when you convene
“In the palace of your sire,
“Rapid Rhone, imperial Seine,
“Reed-crown'd Scheld, and viny Loire.
“Tell what Freedom here has done,
“And give to each this sovereign juice
“Gather'd in the night's pale noon
“And bid him in his streams infuse.
“Mingled with the nation's bowl,
“Soon their fervent sons shall feel
518
“And proudly grasp the Freeman's steel.”
III.
The spectre stretch'd his shadowy hand,And the magic mixture took;
Of potent drugs, from many a land,
Flowers from fair Ilyssus' brook.
Roots that love the rocky mound,
When the royal Spartan bled,
Herbs that spring on sacred ground
Where the soul of Brutus fled.
Pansies pale that love the bourne
Where Eurotas' naiads stray,
Daffodils, that ever mourn,
Where the slaughter'd Wallace lay.
King-cups fair, profusely fed,
By the chiding brook that flows
Round the skirts of Runnimede,
Where Britannia's Freedom rose.
Thus, surcharg'd, he left the steep,
And sunk beneath the beating brine,
Where the seniors of the deep
Round their hoary King combine.
Then he dealt the limpid prize
To his brethren, first decreed,
When they sought the upper skies,
Freedom's nascent stem to feed.
519
By the fierce influx of domestic woes,
And break the purple tyrant's golden dreams,
By the dire tale of subjects turn'd to foes.
IV.
Hence the goddess to her chargeOver forest, over plain
Hastens to the sea-beat verge
Of her wide Atlantic reign.
Thence the shepherd boy she brought
Viewless to her shady grot,
Bade his ringlets flow with grace,
Breathed the cherub in his face;
Taught his pipe a softer sound,
The ear to soothe, but not to wound.
Then, amid the Gallic train
Led the blooming boy again,
The victor Gaul resigns his arms
And clasps the minstrels heavenly charms:
See the vett'rans thronging round
All caress the wond'rous boy;
Soon his pipe's enchanting sound,
Fills their hearts with frantic joy.
Ah! the soldiers little know
While upon his charms they gaze.
520
And his mien's ethereal grace.
Little do they dream what ills
His infectious presence brings;
What a charm his pipe instills,
Fierce revolt, and hate of Kings!
Cupid, not so fierce a flame,
Wak'd in fair Eliza's breast,
When the fair Sidonian dame
That insidious child carest!
Now the groaning deck he climbs,
Her proud charge the vessel bears,
While his pipe and rustic rhyme,
Soothes the seamens raptur'd ears.
Now the fated vessel moors
On fair Gaul's unconscious strand;
Fashion's vot'ries crowd the shores,
Fashion hails him come to land.
Fashion! proud fantastic Queen
Fond of every foreign toy,
Wilt thou dote upon his mein,
Canst thou clasp a shepherd boy?
Soon upon the banks of Seine
Royal eyes shall weep the day
When thine ear, fantastic Queen
Listen'd to the shepherd's lay!
Yet, ye Nobles! tho' his lay
521
Drive suspicion far away,
Show no dastard signs of fear.
No, ah no—with gentle words,
Soothe the wayward boy awhile;
Dream no more of binding cords,
Open force, or latent guile!
Let him wander at his will,
Let him chant his simple song
And from thicket, glade, or hill
Charm at large the rustic throng!
For he is of that wand'ring race
Blest with unsuppressive might,
Erst they gain'd that sovereign grace
From the source of life and light.
Dungeon deep, nor castle strong
E'er shall see him brook the chain;
Soon the base intended wrong
Viewless aid shall render vain.
See! like attraction's world-pervading might,
Soon as the general ear has drunk his lay,
Regardless of their tenements of clay
Their spirits press to him with fierce delight!
V.
But now the Monarch's jealousy is rous'd,The royal lips pronounce his doom;
The wand'rer from his simple cot unhous'd
Is borne to sigh amid the dungeon's gloom.
522
When first the swain was lodg'd below;
And some beheld the turrets quake
Presageful of their overthrow.
And to the moon, full many a martyr'd sprite,
Wan tenants of her cells, in ancient days,
Stole a short respite from the realms of night,
And sung in ghostly quires, a song of solemn praise.
The morning came, the pipe was mute,
That us'd to wake the new-born beam;
The crowd who lov'd to hear his flute,
By spreading oak, or falling stream;
Trac'd his steps, nor sought him long
By instinct led, or black surmise,
To those imperial rampires strong,
Where, shut from day, the captive lies.
Within they heard, or thought they heard,
The shepherd's morning roundelay;
Whether their hopes some spirit chear'd,
Or Fancy charm'd their doubts away.
As when old Æol's signal shrill
Awakes the wind's intestine rage,
And heard from high Olympus' hill
Breathes the loud summons to engage.
So the tide of frenzy rose,
So the haughty wall they scale,
Soon their oft repeated blows
Shake the proud relentless jail.
523
“Bring the engines, bring the flame.”
Freedom thus her cohorts chear'd
Hurrying on with loud acclaim.
Soon the simple strain is lost,
In Bellona's thund'ring sound;
Soon these walls, the tyrant's boast,
In long ruin spread the ground.
Now the shepherd swain is free,
Loud resounds the plausive strain,
From the bounds of Normandy
To the Scandinavian main!
When the sun begins his race
Cynthia sinks in western gloom—
Soon a King shall take his place
And in woe his days consume.
Soon a Queen shall mourn the day,
Doom'd in durance long to sigh.
Ah! how dear a price ye pay,
Ye who scorn'd the shepherd boy!—
VI.
But he that loves the wild extreme,To swell the soft breeze to a storm,
And bid the gently winding stream
With giant sweep the sylvan scene deform.
Combin'd with him, whose jaundic'd eye,
Hates ascending worth to spy;
524
To blast the great design.
One in the cup of Freedom throws
That infernal drug, which grows
In the verge of Stygian gloom;
Foster'd by Cerberean foam,
(Mingled with Echidna's gall,
'Tis quaffed in Demogorgon's hall.
Where by the gleam of moon-struck eyes
Flashing o'er the nether skies.
Riot's griesly bands advance,
And Anarchy conducts the dance.
Chaos with his hundred choirs,
Still the moody maze inspires.)
The nations pledge it round and round,
And deem the cup with blessings crown'd;
'Till the poison fires the veins,
Strings the nerves and seethes the brains.
VII.
His brother fiend, to loose the tiesThat fasten mankind to the skies,
Hastes the shepherd boy to find,
Where, under shade, the youth reclin'd,
Sitting, like a rural King;
His brother captives in a ring,
Hail the hand that struck the blow
Which laid the house of bondage low!
525
“Never will the rights of man
“Find a basis deep and broad,
“While the sons of holy fraud
“Hold their title by the charm;
“Whose narcotic powers disarm
“Every function of the soul.
“By terrours feign'd above the pole,
“See them in their station high,
“Pretended Lords of earth and sky;
“Dispensing life, dispensing death,
“In a breeze of mortal breath.
“Then they range in black array
“Guardians of despotic sway.
“Haste and drive them from their post,
“Haste! or Liberty is lost!”
VIII.
The swain believ'd, his pipe he blew,And soon appear'd the frantic crew.
(For now the deep envenom'd bowl
Had fir'd to madness every soul.)
The fiend that came in Freedom's mask,
Urg'd them to the bloody task.
Rapine shew'd the glittering spoil,
The fruit of many an ages toil.
526
Beneath the glimpses of the moon,
Their deeds profane the sacred light
And add new horrours to the night.—
But wand'ring muse, resign the lyre,
Such deeds would fright the virgin quire,
They ask a deeply plaintive string,
Strains that the hardest heart could wring.
Old Avon's matchless bard could paint alone
The bloody pall that hovers o'er the throne!—
Opposite effects of the same education and sentiments of liberty, in the English invaders and the American defenders.
The present Earl of Moira, then Lord Rawdon, descended from the Royal Family of Plantagenet, by the line of Clarence.
From the restless spirit of the French, it may well be supposed that if their former government had continued the jealousy of despotism might have induced them, at some period, to endeavour to weaken the power of the American Union, by open or secret means, if Providence had not interfered in favour of the United States, by giving the French liberty.
527
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
APRIL 10th, 1791.
The tempests late, whose giant callAwoke the furies of the deep,
When Quiet fled, with ruffled pall
And wild Amazement banish'd sleep.
Are gone—and now, the white-wing'd hours
In peace pursue their trackless course.
No more the found'ring crews' dispairing cry,
Nor woods resounding fall, nor torrents roar,
Nor the loud tumult of the plaintive shore
The chorus of the midnight hour supply.
Ill would those sounds and scenes become
That sacred, calm, and vernal night,
(Brooding o'er the tender bloom)
When first Eliza saw the light.
528
No darkness clothes that tranquil scene,
In halcyon calm her moments roll
And all is light and peace within:
Except when Sympathy's too poignant dart
Invades, with barbed shaft, the feeling heart.
For, not in listless ease reclin'd
This sublunary scene she views,
But studies still to make, or find
Fit means her virtues to diffuse:
And tho' in dignity retir'd
No more she deigns an earthly court to grace,
Tho' stationary, still admir'd,
The habitant adorns the place.
Tho' lonely now, Eliza seems to mourn,
Her sphere, of kindred minds, disperst afar,
Soon shall the radiant lights again return
And circle round the bright, maternal star.
Yet, starting from its lucid sphere,
One lamp of love has found its way
(Selina! check the falling tear!)
To the fair dawn of heavenly day.
Soon shall the constellation glow
Attendant on the central throne.
529
Light on a system of their own.
Then each in honour's radiant sphere enshrin'd,
May their sweet influence far, like her's, extend
Still bright'ning on from kindred mind to mind,
Till, like yon orbs above, their kindling virtues blend.
530
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
APRIL 10th, 1792.
I.
While yet the messenger of springFaintly hails the rising year,
While yet with storms the forests ring
And the pale pleiads from their sphere,
For Nature's tints of vernal hue
Blank scenes of desolation view;
While Discord loads the passing gale,
Or Sorrow's plaintive tones prevail:
While many a Prince of Bourbon's line
Lamenting roams along the Rhine,
531
And calls his tardy legions on.
Fate smiles severe, and mocks their trust,
For Cæsar's ear is stop'd with dust.—
The pitying muse the fading prospect sees,
And from th'unreal scene her pinions plies
To find where living virtue warms the breeze,
And baffling the bleak year, perfumes the northern skies.
II.
While Bourbon, yet a petty thane,Was lost in Gallia's martial train,
And Austria's sires, unnam'd, unknown
Their homage paid to Suevia's throne;
Champions of Heaven, renown'd in days of yore,
Eliza's regal fathers brav'd the sield,
And sheath'd in arms, to Jordan's hallow'd shore,
Led the long triumphs of the Red Cross shield;
Or by the claims of honour fir'd,
Or in their country's cause inspir'd;
532
Against some tyrant's lawless might.
Their mild munificence, of heavenly birth,
The fosterer of neglected worth,
With all the kindred virtues, rais'd, refin'd,
By circling Time's despotic sway,
Are centred in their noble daughter's mind,
Like gems, that drink abstracted light,
Dawning thro' the waste of night;
Or round the flowing robe display'd,
Or midst the locks of some distinguish'd maid,
With mingled beams, salute the eye,
The absence of the sun supply;
Or in his presence make a double day.
III.
And, while the fairies of the mineBelow, shall course the wand'ring beam,
And with the breded light combine
The central, deep, chrystalline stream;
Still thine honour'd line shall live
And propagate her worth along.
Fair theme of many a future song!
It boasts no frail, material source,
Nor Nature's blind, and plastic force
The genial power, that forms the mind,
The unspent energy assign'd.
Thro' civil discord, calm repose,
Thro' Nature's harmony and strife,
533
And gains new powers of light and life;
And, with accelerated speed
Along the path, by Heaven decreed.
Still may the circling pomp its lustre lend
To many a plausive age to come!
Then, (when yon sun has quench'd his fires)
'Mongst the full empyreal choirs
In Heaven's eternal dome;
At the dread consummating hour
Claiming their everlasting power,
May Heaven's great jubilee behold its winged virtues blend.
The first notice we find, in history, of the family of the Bourbon, is in the year 1381; when James de Bourbon, Count de la Marche, was sent against the Gascons, by John, King of France, and defeated. Their union with the Royal Family of Navarre (which opened their way to the crown of France) did not commence till about the end of the 15th century; whereas the branch of Hastings, by the medium of the family of Navarre, are descended in a right line from Charlemagne. —For an account of the family of Austria, see Sully's Memoirs, vol. I. b. 1. Notes.
534
ON THE BIRTH DAY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF MOIRA, BARONESS HASTINGS, &c. &c.
APRIL 10th, 1793.
In midnight pomp, in Tamor's fairy hall,(Her green stole for a mourning pall
Exchang'd) the queen of Eirin sate,
Pond'ring her isle's impending fate.
Her tuneless lyre was hung on high
Like a pale meteor in a gloomy sky;
Her mute attendants stood around,
List'ning with dread the distant sound,
Where, must'ring all his factious tribes afar,
The sire of tempest call'd his sons to war;
Mad Rebellion rode the flaw,
And loud Misrule, and scorn of law;
535
Their westward course the demons bent,
And sent the foaming surge before
Dashing on Ierne's shore.
“Fling your spells! ye sylphid train!
“O'er the land, and o'er the main.
“Concord! on your halcyon car,
“Mount, and meet the coming war.
“Ere yon loud Æolian band
“Smite my harp with frantic hand,
“And rudely wakes the descant loud
“That calls to arms the madding crowd.”
In vain the Queen her prayers addrest,
Howling o'er the starless waste,
The coming tempest wing'd with fate,
Wafts along its gloomy freight;
And round the roof, with awful sweep
Sends its voice, in cadence deep.
Yelling thro' the rocking dome,
Faction's fiend, on sounding wing,
Twangs the high-suspended string,
The signal to his sister Gnome.
His sister Gnome the signal heard,
And soon the flag of mischief rear'd;
While Stygian lungs the pipe inspir'd,
Which the rude revolters fir'd.
Around in gloomy ambuscade,
Peopling thick the waving shade
536
Or sweep the plain, an hideous throng.
The frighted moon their march beholds
And in deep clouds her vestal charms enfolds.
To Tamor's hall, with mast'ring powers
The rebels point their midnight course;
The Queen beheld, with terrour pale,
Their ensigns, fluttering to the gale,
And heard them, round the 'leaguer'd wall
With menace loud for entrance call.
“Oh! reach yon harp,” with loud exclaim
The Queen began, “its magic frame
“Shall echo that imperial strain,
“At whose deep charm the rebel train
“Shall drop their arms, and speed away
“Like night, before the shafts of day!—
“Touch the soul-commanding string,
“Ye fairies! form a shadowy ring,
“And chant those names, whose potent spell
“The deadly pest can yet dispell;
“Can rescue the insulted laws,
“And bid the march of Horrour pause!—
“Their virtues guard the threat'ned land,
“Their worth arrests the flaming brand!
“Eliza first, for her alone
“The humanizing arts their lov'd protectress own;
“Those favour'd arts, which charm'd of yore
“The savage tribes on Hebrus shore.
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“And the wild passions own'd his lyre.
“Her name perfumes the northern air,
“Where sav'd from want and chill despair,
“By the bounteous plans design'd
“In her bright expansive mind.
“ The swains, who mourn'd their way-ward lot,
“New tracks of industry are taught;
“Where her ready steps she turns,
“Deep distress no longer mourns.
“Where her smiles the prospect clear,
“Anguish dries the falling tear.
“The muse in her protection slumbers,
“Time shall wake her magic numbers;
“When the fated round complete
“Shall bid awake the descant sweet,
“Echoing thro' this gladsome hall
“When other tribes shall hear the call,
“And at the charm, the nameless clan,
“Shall drop the savage, and resume the man!”
Soon, ere half the song was heard,
The dark invasion disappeared;
Faction's hand her banner furls
Discord all her snakes uncurls.
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And back, “with many twink'ling feet,”
They scud along the moonlight lawn
Like elves before the rosy dawn.
Plans for new manufactures in the linen branch, recommended and encouraged by the Countess of Moira.
539
TO CHARLES WILLIAM BURY, ESQ. ON HIS RETURN FROM ITALY, 1789.
I.
Beneath some mould'ring wall's imperial frown,Or, by some river's flow'ry side,
Of old, in Punic crimson dy'd.
While, thro' the umbrage of the vale,
In liquid accents sweet
Dancing on silver feet,
Her naiads tell the glorious tale;
And, as they seek the neighb'ring deep,
Some ancient warriour seem to weep,
And many a martial form, of gray renown,
Seen by Fancy's kindling eye,
Sweeps in shadowy cohorts by;
Where the mimic eagles gleam
O'er the broad, translucent stream,
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Late, Imagination view'd
Your gently winding footsteps bend.
Then when thy generous grief began to swell
O'er these fair scenes, by Gothic rage defac'd,
O'er the depopulated waste
Where tyranny delights to dwell.
While deeper pangs the bosom wrung,
Of thy sad friend, forbid, with liberal tongue,
His native scandal to proclaim
And propagate Hesperia's shame,
And patriot schemes in vivid colouring wrought,
Engag'd thy kindling thought.
Tracing thy steps, from land to land,
The hasty courier to thy hand
At last, the welcome mandate bore,
That call'd thee to thy native shore.
Thy friend, with sympathetic joy
Thy transport seem'd to share;
But sad Remembrance, to his eye,
Recall'd the bitter tear.
“Thee, perhaps, thy country claims,
“To rank among those noble names,
“Whom the free voice of millions call,
“To think, and act, and speak for all;
“To bless the state with equal laws,
“And earn a people's just applause:
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“Lords of the balance and the sword;
“Who crush'd the proud, the suppliant sav'd,
“And in his cause the despot brav'd,
“In vain the awful name assume,
“In vain, the pride of ancient Rome,
“Tho' doom'd to muse, in deep despair
“On those proud signs of what we were.”—
—Go then, my friend! to glory go,
Our flowery lawns yield to your hills of snow.
“Old Aneo's wreaths, on other shores bestow'd,
“Perhaps, shall grace the power that rules the Libnian flood.”—
II.
By no vain hope inspir'd, we hail,The winds that brought thee to thy native shores;
Already to the vernal gale
We saw thy virtues spread their blooming stores.—
—Thy former day of triumph long is past,
Since mounted on the dry and rigorous blast
Which all the congregated vapours hurl'd,
Voluminous, o'er the vast Atlantic world;
And left behind a cloudless ray
That flash'd intolerable day.
The minister of vengeance rode sublime,
Changing our genial skies to Gombroon's arid clime.
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He view'd our fields of fading green;
And heard the gentle naiads mourn,
Their tuneless banks, and dusty urn;
But, when on that devoted town
Doom'd to flames, an instant prey,
He cast a look of sorrow down,
He would have flung his phial far away.
He would have wept—the burning sky
Forbade the streaming grief to flow,
He would have bade the zephyrs blow,
To bring the welcome glooms again
Settling o'er the azure plain;
And many a look he cast around
The wide horizon's sea-girt bound,
To spy the showery bow—
—But Fate forbade—for now beneath,
By Eurus' unrelenting breath
Conceiving life; the seeds of fire
O'er the crackling roofs aspire;
And high the fumy columns rise
Dark'ning half the radiant skies,
While shrieks of matrons rend the air,
And hurrying crowds, in deep despair,
Some, from the scene of horrour fly
Some, the scanty stream supply;
Some, by love, or friendship led
The blazing beams undaunted tread,
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Or bear the precious bales away.—
When, o'er the desolated scene
The melancholy morning springs
But “not with healing on her wings,”
Thro' the late jocund street, with rueful mein
The bankrupt crowd dejected strays,
And each the hideous change surveys;
And each—with many a mournful pause between—
His loss recounts—and not in vain,
Soon the prospect smiles again;
Soon their Lord's benignant hand
Bids their former hopes expand.
With better omens bids the roofs ascend,
With better hopes, the peopled streets extend.—
—Of burning towns let venal poets sing,
When blood and ruin marks the victor's way,
But Fame, exulting, as she spreads the wing,
Towards the realms of empyrean day
Dips thy medallion in the rising flame
And to succeeding times anneals her Bury's name!
IV.
Breathe no more! thou vengeful blast!The fiery tryal now is past!
544
See—elate with awful brow,
Where the great Milesian Nile
Leaning on his sculptur'd urn
Broods o'er his future sway,
And calls his subject founts to day
To bid the various prospect smile.
From every green hill round
They hear the potent sound,
And meditate their glittering march afar
In humble tendance on his pearly car.
While, far within his deep majestic grot,
With all his blue-ey'd race, in council nigh,
He shows the watry powers, with wonder caught
Their future course beneath a distant sky
In magic mirrour seen, the shadowy prospect charms;
They see the progress of the humid train;
Thro' the deep glen, o'er the plain;
Thro' solemn groves, and smiling farms
Slowly glides the welcome sail,
Changing the produce of the vale,
For all the variegated store
That commerce wafts from every distant shore.
Yon walls, that felt the dire vulcanian blast
Where erst the flame-rob'd God in vengeance past,
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Heal her disastrous scars, and close the fiery wound.
Gladly the sedge-crown'd God shall grant the boon,
Won by the charms of that sequester'd maid,
Who rests at noon in yonder glade;
Or steals away, beneath the rising moon,
To tend her Clodia's deep romantic stream;
Or, from yon dewy rising lawn
To mark, beneath the purpling dawn
The sister lakes responsive gleam,
Or, low reclin'd in yonder cave
List'ning to the dashing wave,
When the red autumnal star
Calls her dark levies to the watry war.
FINIS.
546
VERSES, LEFT AT THE REV. PETER TURPIN'S,
AT BROOKVILLE, IN HIS ABSENCE, Feb. 7th, 1792.
Ah! Flora! why this dead repose?Awake and leave thy wintry tomb!
And will no breathing sweets disclose
To welcome Love and Hymen home?
How would I bribe (if songs could buy)
The seasons blessings here to join,
I'd proudly share the owner's joy,
For he would sympathize with mine!
Did I possess Golconda's store,
And all the wealth of rich Cathay,
I'd wish him neither less nor more,
Than what would give his virtues play.
547
No breeze I'd call, no genial show'r,
Yet soon a green alcove should rise
To vie with Adam's nuptial bow'r.
Yon beeches should expel the day,
Yon borders long should breathe perfume,
Yon mount that mourns the sun's delay
Should rival Hybla's May-morn bloom.
Yon elmy skreen that skirts the lawn,
Should wave aloft, a solemn grove
And seem an ample curtain drawn,
To shield the seat of peace and love.
Had I Astolfo's magic horn
That chac'd the fiends with potent sound,
No pest, on blighting pinion borne
Should ever pass the hallow'd bound.
“Check thy poetic flights, my friend,”
Quintilio cry'd, and press'd my hand,
“No magic bow'rs need here ascend,
“No visionary blooms expand.
“Here some perennials still remain,
“If poets would vouchsafe to mind 'em:
“Yonder they deck your friend's demesne,
“Had you but eyes, you'd quickly find 'em.
“Here Gilead's balm, and Sharon's rose,
“Mingle, at morn, their fragrant breath;
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“Like Piety and spotless Faith.
“That flower, which never opes its breast,
“Till dews descend, and stars appear,
“Is pity for the wretch distrest,
“Unfolding at the falling tear.
“In colours warm; exuberant, full,
“Here friendship meets the ruffling gale.”
And there in sober tints, and cool,
Judgment, the pansie of the dale,
From Tyber and Ilyssus brought;
Some noble Scions deck the soil
Assembled in yon shelter'd spot,
They cast around a general smile.
Here Roman spirit, Attic sense,
Innoxious wit, and social mirth
Around their mingled sweets dispense,
Nor shame their old, illustrious birth.
Would summer's transient blooms compose
Connubial crowns with these to vie?
Then chide not Flora's dead repose
Nor blame the rigour of the sky.
When driving winds and beating rain,
The wintry prospect round deform
Their vivid tints will still remain,
Their scent exhaustless ever charm.
FINIS.
549
TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ. M. R. I. A.
AND MEMBER OF THE ACADEMIES OF PERTH, CORTONA, AND ROME,
ON HIS EMBARKING FOR ITALY, 1791.
Sic te Diva potens Cypri
Sic fratres Helenæ, lucida Sidera
Ventorumque regat Pater, &c.
Hor. Lib. 1. Ode 3.
Sic fratres Helenæ, lucida Sidera
Ventorumque regat Pater, &c.
Hor. Lib. 1. Ode 3.
May the
twin sons of Music, and Empress of Love,
The genii of Eirin, preside o'er your way;
May your vessel be built from Calliope's grove,
And her sisters, turn'd sea-nymphs, the pageant convey.
The genii of Eirin, preside o'er your way;
May your vessel be built from Calliope's grove,
And her sisters, turn'd sea-nymphs, the pageant convey.
May the sovereign of storms, in his gloomy bastile,
Confine every gale, but the soft-breathing west,
Till gentle Parthenope lave the swift keel,
And the green shores of Italy hail their new guest.
Confine every gale, but the soft-breathing west,
Till gentle Parthenope lave the swift keel,
And the green shores of Italy hail their new guest.
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May the
minstrels of Eirin, from Lethe's lone strand,
By you re-conducted, to Virgil resign,
In a full sounding pæan, that elegant hand,
Whose well-woven chaplet their temples entwine!
By you re-conducted, to Virgil resign,
In a full sounding pæan, that elegant hand,
Whose well-woven chaplet their temples entwine!
For, not like a thoughtless, young spendthrift he goes,
For trifles, to barter his morals, or fame,
But to find, where the sisters of science repose
And relume on our shores, the Pierian flame.
For trifles, to barter his morals, or fame,
But to find, where the sisters of science repose
And relume on our shores, the Pierian flame.
The humblest of bards, but the warmest of friends,
For many a social, and classical day
This slender memorial of amity sends,
Where friendship, not genius, awakens the lay.
For many a social, and classical day
This slender memorial of amity sends,
Where friendship, not genius, awakens the lay.
Castor and Pollux, the sons of Leda and Jupiter, in the form of a swan, supposed, in the Mythological System, to preside over voyages.
551
TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ. M. R. I. A. &c. &c.
ON HIS RETURN FROM THE CONTINENT, Oct. 1792.
I.
The muse, that on thy parting prow,Her votive tablet laid,
And fill'd the gale, that on thy streamers play'd,
With many a fervent, heartfelt vow.—
Like the night-warbling bird, that 'plains
Her absent mate, in melting strains;
Now, as the soaring lark that meets the morn,
(Had she her fluent note,) would sing thy wish'd return!
II.
You saw the martial pageant spread,Along proud Rhine's pavilion'd shore;
You saw the tempest lift its head,
Where, in terrific slumbers glowing,
(The sullen East the signal blowing)
You spy'd th'exterminating fire;
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To roll the trembling nations o'er.—
While vengeance seem'd to load the gale,
Which brought the threat'ning gloom afar;
And, while o'er Belgia's wat'ry pale
In rude shock of alternate war.
Contending nations, won and lost,
The batter'd wall, the bloody post;
And death, between the Maese and Rhone,
O'er gasping legions roll'd his moving throne.
III.
What spell, by gifted wizard wrought,Thro' that long pass of perils brought
My friend?—What secret prayers had power
To ward the dangers of the hour?—
What still, small voice was heard so high,
When Discord shook the vaulted sky;
When royal threats, and clamours loud,
Sent from the wild, misgovern'd crowd,
In general peal was heard to swell,
And Blasphemy, with Stygian yell,
Seem'd to call down the bolt of Fate
To sweep from earth the guilty state?—
—It was the orphans pious prayer,
That rose, like incense, on the air,
553
Fraught with woe, and clogg'd with crimes,
(Where millions seem'd to read their doom)
Sprung up to those Elysian climes,
Where high above the mad debate,
Virtue's guardian holds his state;
Nor was the seraph slow to send
A convoy to the orphans' friend.
IV.
'Cross the martial pomp it goes,Thro' horrent spears, and glittering files,
And where the Suevian ensign glows,
Nor at the dreaded scene recoils.
The Red Cross Knight the vanward leads,
A train of sainted dames succeeds;
While Britomart, with awful charms,
Moves behind, in lucid arms.
The trumpets pause, the clarions cease,
Bellona sinks in sullen peace,
While, amid the transient calm
Rises the slowly chanted psalm.
Th'unbodied choirs respondent share
The praise of him, whose pious care,
For their forsaken, friendless race,
Life's various chart has deign'd to trace,
554
And currents, with a master's hand.
Such was your guard, thro' fields of gore,
With you they left the Celtic shore,
And with mild gales thy canvass bend
Propitious to the orphans' friend.
V.
Ere yet to graver tasks confin'd,Thy nascent energy of mind
Reviv'd the harmony of Tamor's hall,
(Silent for many an age)
And in thy classic page
O'er her fallen poets flung a richly figur'd pall.
Why need I tell the plans thy genius drew
To rouse her slumbering sister at the view.
What scenes, to charm her from the tomb?—
What spells, to break her cloister'd gloom?—
O may thy public spirit, fraught
With all that Florence knew and taught;
With all that Buonarotti dar'd,
With all of Heaven that Raffaelle shar'd.
With Guido's grace, and Rosa's fire,
Brood o'er the formless mass,
The noble outline trace,
And bid the glowing seeds of genuine art conspire!
555
TO WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ. ON HIS TRAGEDY, ENTITLED DEMOCRATIC RAGE.
I.
What mighty spirit wing'd thy wayThro' mingling storms of loud misrule,
And bade thee send the shaft of day
Thro' the deep gloom of Faction's school?—
Who taught thy keen and stedfast eye,
The orgies of the fiends to spy;
And catch the forms, with rapid glance,
Circling in the moon-struck dance?
Who gave the power, with “ken profound,”
The gulf of Bourbon's soul to sound;
His bosom fiend, and stern Marat,
Exulting o'er dismember'd law?
556
That swept, of old, the Stygian gloom,
Where, thron'd amidst the eternal jar,
Chaos calls his clans to war.
Thy friend, who mark'd of old, thy matin ray,
The splendour of thy noon exults to view;
Long may the radiance of thy coming day,
With propagated light its course pursue!
II.
The muse that trenchant weapon gave(Temper'd in Aganippe's stream,
And edg'd with Truth's eternal beam)
That mark'd Medusa for the grave.
Like Perseus, on his plumy steed,
On Pegasæan wing you soar'd,
When late, from lasting durance freed,
The monster rear'd her form abhorr'd.
And (as the fiend's petrific glance,
Was not for mortal eye to view)
From that pure buckler's bright expanse,
(Which Fancy gave) the veil you drew.
And there the Gorgon image caught,
Then, (how to aim the speeding blow,
557
Dismist her to the shades below.
Thy daring hand the snaky tresses held,
And hung the pale, expiring features high,
A warning to those favour'd isles reveal'd,
Like a dire comet, in an evening sky.
III.
'Twas not alone to foster Mirth,Or sooth a dull and vacant hour,
The muse was sent to visit earth,
Gifted with more than mortal power.
(Tho' such is deem'd her humble trade,
Among the sordid sons of Clay,)
But when soul mists the mind invade,
And passions cloud the mental day.
When Licence lifts her Gorgon face,
In the fair mask of Freedom drest;
And calls her miscreated race
To share the Bacchanalian feast.
When torpid Reason seems to stand,
Deploring her insulted laws,
The muse with light'ning arms her hand,
And bids her vindicate her cause.
This was her boast, in years of yore,
When honours due adorn'd her name;
And, shall she wake on Liffey's shore,
Without her meed, the patriot's flame?
558
With due esteem the muses boon to prize;
Seldom such blessings come, and part in haste,
The rarest bounty of the frugal skies.
| Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric | |