University of Virginia Library

In Russia's frozen clime some ages since
There dwelt, historians say, a worthy prince,
Who to his people's good confin'd his care,
And fix'd the basis of his empire there;
Inlarg'd their trade, the lib'ral arts improv'd,
Made nations happy, and himself belov'd;
To all the neighb'ring states a terror grown,
The dear delight, and glory of his own.
Not like those kings who vainly seek renown
From countries ruin'd, and from battles won;
Those mighty Nimrods, who mean laws despise,
Call murder but a princely exercise,
And if one bloodless sun shou'd steal away,
Cry out with Titus, they have lost a day;
Who, to be more than men, themselves debase
Beneath the brute, their Maker's form deface,
Raising their titles by their God's disgrace.
Like fame to bold Erostratus we give,
Who scorn'd by less than sacrilege to live;
On holy ruins rais'd a lasting name,
And in the temple's fire diffus'd his shame.
Far diff'rent praises, and a brighter fame,
The virtues of the young Porsenna claim;
For by that name the Russian king was known,
And sure a nobler ne'er adorn'd the throne.
In war he knew the deathful sword to wield,
And sought the thickest dangers of the field,
A bold commander; but, the storm o'erblown,
He seem'd as he were made for peace alone;
Then was the golden age again restor'd,
Nor less his justice honour'd than his sword.
All needless pomp, and outward grandeur spar'd,
The deeds that grac'd him were his only guard;
No private views beneath a borrow'd name;
His and the publick interest were the same.
In wealth and pleasure let the subject live,
But virtue is the king's prerogative;
Porsenna there without a rival stood,
And wou'd maintain his right of doing good.
Nor did his person less attraction wear,
Such majesty and sweetness mingled there;
Heav'n with uncommon art the clay refin'd,
A proper mansion for so fair a mind;
Each look, each action bore peculiar grace,
And love itself was painted on his face.
In peaceful time he suffer'd not his mind
To rust in sloth, tho' much to peace inclin'd;
Nor wanton in the lap of pleasure lay,
And lost to glory loiter'd life away;
But active rising ere the prime of day,
Thro' woods and lonely desarts lov'd to stray;
With hounds and horns to wake the furious bear,
Or rouze the tawny lion from his laire;
To rid the forest of the savage brood,
And whet his courage for his country's good.

One day, as he pursued the dang'rous sport,
Attended by the nobles of his court,
It chanced a beast of more than common speed
Sprang from the brake, and thro' the desart fled.
The ardent prince impetuous as the wind
Rush'd on, and left his lagging train behind.
Fir'd with the chace, and full of youthful blood,
O'er plains, and vales, and woodland wilds he rode,
Urging his courser's speed, nor thought the day
How wasted, nor how intricate the way;
Nor, till the night in dusky clouds came on,
Restrain'd his pace, or found himself alone.
Missing his train, he strove to measure back
The road he came, but cou'd not find the track;
Still turning to the place he left before,
And only lab'ring to be lost the more.
The bugle horn, which o'er his shoulders hung,
So loud he winded, that the forest rung;
In vain, no voice but Echo from the ground,
And vocal woods, made mock'ry of the sound.

And now the gath'ring clouds began to spread
O'er the dun face of night a deeper shade;
And the hoarse thunder growling from afar,
With herald voice proclaim'd th'approaching war;
Silence awhile ensued,—then by degrees
A hollow wind came mutt'ring thro' the trees.
Sudden the full-fraught sky discharg'd its store,
Of rain and rattling hail a mingled show'r;
The active lightning ran along the ground;
The fiery bolts by fits were hurl'd around,
And the wide forests trembled at the sound.
Amazement seiz'd the prince;—where cou'd he fly?
No guide to lead, no friendly cottage nigh.
Pensive and unresolv'd awhile he stood,
Beneath the scanty covert of the wood;
But drove from thence soon sallied forth again,
As chance directed, on the dreary plain;
Constrain'd his melancholy way to take
Thro' many a loathsome bog, and thorny brake,
Caught in the thicket, flound'ring in the lake.
Wet with the storm, and wearied with the way,
By hunger pinch'd, himself to beasts a prey;
Nor wine to cheer his heart, nor fire to burn,
Nor place to rest, nor prospect to return.
Drooping and spiritless, at life's despair,
He bade it pass, not worth his farther care;
When suddenly he spied a distant light,
That faintly twinkled thro' the gloom of night,
And his heart leap'd for joy, and bless'd the welcome fight.
Oft-times he doubted, it appear'd so far,
And hung so high, 'twas nothing but a star,
Or kindled vapour wand'ring thro' the sky,
But still press'd on his steed, still kept it in his eye;
Till, much fatigue, and many dangers past,
At a huge mountain he arriv'd at last.
There lighting from his horse, on hands and knees
Grop'd out the darksome road, by slow degrees,
Crawling or clamb'ring o'er the rugged way;
The thunder rolls above, the flames around him play.
Joyful at length he gain'd the steepy height,
And found the rift whence sprang the friendly light.
And here he stopp'd to rest his wearied feet,
And weigh the perils he had still to meet;
Unsheath'd his trusty sword, and dealt his eyes
With caution round him to prevent surprize;
Then summon'd all the forces of his mind,
And ent'ring boldly cast his fears behind:
Resolv'd to push his way, whate'er withstood,
Or perish bravely as a monarch shou'd.

While he the wonders of the place survey'd,
And thro' the various cells at random stray'd,
In a dark corner of the cave he view'd
Somewhat, that in the shape of woman stood;
But more deform'd than dreams can represent
The midnight hag, or poet's fancy paint
The Lapland witch, when she her broom bestrides,
And scatters storms and tempests as she rides.
She look'd as nature made her to disgrace
Her kind, and cast a blot on all the race;
Her shrivel'd skin with yellow spots besmear'd
Like mouldy records seem'd; her eyes were blear'd;
Her feeble limbs with age and palsy shook;
Bent was her body, haggard was her look.
From the dark nook outcrept the filthy crone,
And propp'd upon her crutch came tott'ring on.

The prince in civil guise approach'd the dame,
Told her his piteous case, and whence he came,
And till Aurora shou'd the shades expel,
Implor'd a lodging in her friendly cell.
Mortal, whoe'er thou art, the fiend began,
And as she spake a deadly horror ran
Thro' all his frame; his cheeks the blood forsook,
Chatter'd his teeth, his knees together struck.
Whoe'er thou art, that with presumption rude
Dar'st on her sacred privacy intrude,
And without licence in our court appear,
Know, thou'rt the first that ever enter'd here.
But since thou plead'st excuse, thou'rt hither brought
More by thy fortune than thy own default,
Thy crime, tho' great, an easy pardon finds,
For mercy ever dwells in royal minds;
And wou'd you learn from whose indulgent hand
You live, and in whose aweful presence stand,
Know farther, thro' yon wide extended plains
Great Eolus the king of tempests reigns,
And in this lofty palace makes abode,
Well suited to his state, and worthy of the God.
The various elements his empire own,
And pay their humble homage at his throne;
And hither all the storms and clouds resort,
Proud to increase the splendor of his court.
His queen am I, from whom the beauteous race
Of winds arose, sweet fruit of our embrace!
She scarce had ended, when, with wild uproar,
And horrid din, her sons impetuous pour
Around the cave; came rushing in amain
Lybs, Eurus, Boreas, all the boist'rous train;
And close behind them on a whirlwind rode
In clouded majesty the blust'ring God.
Their locks a thousand ways were blown about;
Their cheeks like full-blown bladders strutted out;
Their boasting talk was of the feats th'had done,
Of trees uprooted, and of towns o'erthrown;
And when they kindly turn'd them to accost
The prince, they almost pierc'd him with their frost.

The gaping hag in fix'd attention stood,
And at the close of ev'ry tale cried—good,
Blessing with outstretch'd arms each darling son,
In due proportion to the mischief done.
And where, said she, does little Zephyr stray?
Know ye, my sons, your brother's rout to-day?
In what bold deeds does he his hours employ?
Grant heav'n no evil has befall'n my boy!
Ne'er was he known to linger thus before.
Scarce had she spoke, when at the cavern door
Came lightly tripping in a form more fair
Than the young poet's fond ideas are,
When fir'd with love, he tries his utmost art
To paint the beauteous tyrant of his heart.

A satin vest his slender shape confin'd,
Embroider'd o'er with flow'rs of ev'ry kind,
Flora's own work, when first the goddess strove
To win the little wanderer to her love.
Of burnish'd silver were his sandals made,
Silver his buskins, and with gems o'erlaid;
A saffron-colour'd robe behind him flow'd,
And added grace and grandeur as he trod.
His wings than lillies whiter to behold,
Sprinkled with azure spots, and streak'd with gold;
So thin their form, and of so light a kind,
That they for ever danc'd, and flutter'd in the wind.
Around his temples with becoming air,
In wanton ringlets curl'd his auburn hair,
And o'er his shoulders negligently spread;
A wreath of fragrant roses crown'd his head.

Such his attire, but O! no pen can trace,
No words can shew the beauties of his face;
So kind! so winning! so divinely fair!
Eternal youth and pleasure flourish there;
There all the little loves and graces meet,
And ev'ry thing that's soft, and ev'ry thing that's sweet.

Thou vagrant, cried the dame in angry tone,
Where could'st thou loiter thus so long alone?
Little thou car'st what anxious thoughts molest,
What pangs are lab'ring in a mother's breast.
Well do you shew your duty by your haste,
For thou of all my sons are always last;
A child less fondled wou'd have fled more fast.
Sure 'tis a curse on mothers, doom'd to mourn,
Where best they love, the least and worst return.

My dear mamma, the gentle youth replied,
And made a low obeisance, cease to chide,
Nor wound me with your words, for well you know,
Your Zephyr bears a part in all your woe;
How great must be his sorrow then to learn
That he himself's the cause of your concern!
Nor had I loiter'd thus had I been free,
But the fair princess of Felicity,
Intreated me to make some short delay,
And ask'd by her who cou'd refuse to stay?

Surrounded by the damsels of her court
She sought the shady grove, her lov'd resort;
Fresh rose the grass, the flow'rs were mix'd between,
Like rich embroid'ry on a ground of green,
And in the midst, protected by the shade,
A crystal stream in wild meanders play'd;
While in its banks, the trembling leaves among,
A thousand little birds in concert sung.
Close by a mount with fragrant shrubs o'ergrown,
On a cool mossy couch she laid her down;
Her air, her posture, all conspir'd to please;
Her head, upon her snowy arm at ease
Reclin'd, a studied carelessness express'd;
Loose lay her robe, and naked heav'd her breast.
Eager I flew to that delightful place,
And pour'd a show'r of kisses on her face;
Now hover'd o'er her neck, her breast, her arms,
Like bees o'er flow'rs, and tasted all her charms;
And then her lips, and then her cheeks I tried,
And fann'd, and wanton'd round on ev'ry side.
O Zephyr, cried the fair, thou charming boy,
Thy presence only can create me joy;
To me thou art beyond expression dear,
Nor can I quit the place while thou art here.
Excuse my weakness, madam, when I swear
Such gentle words join'd with so soft an air,
Pronounc'd so sweetly from a mouth so fair,
Quite ravish'd all my sense, nor did I know
How long I staid; or when, or where to go.

Mean while the damsels debonnair and gay,
Prattled around, and laugh'd the time away:
These in soft notes address'd the ravish'd ear,
And warbled out so sweet, 'twas heav'n to hear;
And those in rings, beneath the greenwood shade,
Danc'd to the melody their fellows made.
Some studious of themselves, employ'd their care
In weaving flow'ry wreaths to deck their hair;
While others to some fav'rite plant convey'd
Refreshing show'rs, and cheer'd its drooping head.
A joy so general spread thro' all the place,
Such satisfaction dwelt on ev'ry face,
The nymphs so kind, so lovely look'd the queen,
That never eye beheld a sweeter scene.

Porsenna, like a statue fix'd appear'd,
And, wrapp'd in silent wonder, gaz'd and heard;
Much he admir'd the speech, the speaker more,
And dwelt on ev'ry word, and griev'd to find it o'er.
O gentle youth, he cried, proceed to tell,
In what fair country does this princess dwell;
What regions unexplor'd, what hidden coast
Can so much goodness, so much beauty boast?

To whom the winged god with gracious look,
Numberless sweets diffusing while he spoke,
Thus answer'd kind—These happy gardens lie
Far hence remov'd, beneath a milder sky;
Their name—The kingdom of Felicity.
Sweet scenes of endless bliss, enchanted ground,
A soil for ever sought, but seldom found;
Tho' in the search all human kind in vain
Weary their wits, and waste their lives in pain.
In diff'rent parties, diff'rent paths they tread,
As reason guides them, or as follies lead;
These wrangling for the place they ne'er shall see,
Debating those, if such a place there be;
But not the wisest, nor the best can say
Where lies the point, or mark the certain way.
Some few, by Fortune favour'd for her sport,
Have sail'd in sight of this delightful port;
In thought already seiz'd the bless'd abodes,
And in their fond delirium rank'd with gods.
Fruitless attempt! all avenues are kept
By dreadful foes, sentry that never slept.
Here fell Detraction darts her pois'nous breath
Fraught with a thousand stings, and scatters death;
Sharp-sighted Envy there maintains her post,
And shakes her flaming brand, and stalks around the coast.
These on the helpless bark their fury pour,
Plunge in the waves, or dash against the shore;
Teach wretched mortals they were doom'd to mourn,
And ne'er must rest but in the silent urn.

But say, young monarch, for what name you bear
Your mien, your dress, your person, all declare;
And tho' I seldom fan the frozen north,
Yet I have heard of brave Porsenna's worth.
My brother Boreas thro' the world has flown,
Swelling his breath to spread forth your renown;
Say, wou'd you choose to visit this retreat,
And view the world where all these wonders meet?
Wish you some friend o'er that tempestuous sea
To bear you safe! behold that friend in me.
My active wings shall all their force employ,
And nimbly waft you to the realms of joy;
As once, to gratify the god of Love,
I bore fair Psyche to the Cyprian grove;
Or as Jove's bird, descending from on high,
Snatch'd the young Trojan trembling to the sky.
There perfect bliss thou may'st for ever share,
'Scap'd from the busy world, and all its care;
There in the lovely princess shalt thou find
A mistress ever blooming, ever kind.
All ecstacy on air Porsenna trod,
And to his bosom strain'd the little god;
With grateful sentiments his heart o'erflow'd,
And in the warmest words millions of thanks bestow'd.

When Æolus in surly humour broke
Their strict embrace, and thus abruptly spoke.
Enough of compliment; I hate the sport
Of meanless words; this is no human court;
Where plain and honest are discarded quite,
For the more modish title of polite;
Where in soft speeches hypocrites impart
The venom'd ills that lurk beneath the heart;
In friendship's holy guise their guilt improve,
And kindly kill with specious shew of love.
For us,—my subjects are not us'd to wait,
And waste their hours to hear a mortal prate;
They must abroad before the rising sun,
And hie 'em to the seas: there's mischief to be done.
Excuse my plainness, Sir, but business stands,
And we have storms and shipwrecks on our hands.

He ended frowning, and the noisy rout,
Each to his several cell went puffing out.
But Zephyr, far more courteous than the rest,
To his own bow'r convey'd the royal guest;
There on a bed of roses neatly laid,
Beneath the fragrance of a myrtle shade,
His limbs to needful rest the prince applied,
His sweet companion slumb'ring by his side.