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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| 4. | ODE THE FOURTH. THE SHEPHERD'S RETURN. |
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 | Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric |  |
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.
| Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric | |