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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HYMN TO SILENCE,
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 | Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric |  |
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
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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
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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.
| Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric | |