Juvenilia or, A collection of poems. Written between the ages of twelve and seventeen, by J. H. L. Hunt ... Fourth Edition |
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185
CANTO II.
The horrors and tremendous scenes,
Which sad Sir Guyon shent;
Till from above Religion fair
Brought Glory and Content.
Which sad Sir Guyon shent;
Till from above Religion fair
Brought Glory and Content.
I
Ah me! how Pleasure doth the soul enthrall!How lure mankind with her accursed charms!
How bid the learned and the hero fall;
And teach the strong to melt within her arms!
E'en modesty, sweet maiden fair, she warms,
If once she kiss her lovely blushing cheek,
Away th' endearment chaster thought alarms,
And soon the senses joys untasted seek;
Till this heav'n-moulded frame sinks down unnerv'd and weak!
186
II
Ask ye a witness this lament to prove?Roam where Italia boasts her heav'nly sky;
There o'er the tombs of Death and Mem'ry rove,
Till the sad sculptur'd marble meet thine eye,
In which Urbino's mould'ring relics lie!
Then pause and weep! O weep to think how low
Great Raphael fell, and from a throne how high
To shameful death! O let the tear-drops flow,
For ne'er before was known such cause of wail and woe!
III
Full sev'n bright months the knight in joying spent,Feasts, and gay dances, and rich masquerade,
And unchaste Love's delicious merriment,
That maketh strength to flag and cheeks to fade:
Now thro' some bow'ring copse or leafy glade
He tripp'd with lovely nymphs in sprightly round,
To the soft sound that flute enchanting made;
Now lay on velvet spread along the ground,
While music swell'd on high, that Orpheus might astound.
IV
Soon as the morning o'er the verdant islePour'd the bright rays from forth her splendid eyne,
And waken'd Nature all around 'gan smile
To see her offspring dight so gay and fine,
187
Of dawning day, did on Sir Guyon show'r
Around the couch where sleep did him recline;
Eftsoons then rose he to salute the hour,
Or still yslumber'd on with his fair paramour.
V
When 'twas his pleasure to be rous'd, I ween,Melodious voices 'gan salute his ear
Of lively Nymphs, yclad in mantles sheen,
Who round the bed, where with his leman dear
He wanton laid, in dances play'd yfere;
While, from unseen musicians there arose
Sweet mingled sounds, repelling grief severe,
Of shepherd pipes, that cheer the mountain brows,
And golden lyres renown'd for soothing royal woes.
VI
Then walking forth, in lukewarm bath he dipp'd,Still cheer'd by gentle voice of lyric muse,
Whiles a sweet nymph that sung as on she tripp'd,
Came with a cup, in which she did infuse
Oblivion's soothing balm, that bids us lose
All thought of what fell out the day before:
So that the present hour, when Pleasure woos,
Doth seem to bring fresh glee unto our door,
And ev'ry taste of joy enraptures more and more.
188
VII
Now from his side by velvet sash she hungA glitt'ring sword, but not for hardy fight:
For it was neither large, ne sharp, ne strong,
But made of rubies rare and jewels bright,
To grace the wearer, and to daze the sight.
And ah! in these degen'rate days, alas!
Full many a useless youth, pert, vain and light,
We see in warlike toys all gaily pass,
Laughing with vacant stare, like any trifling lass.
VIII
Thus proudly dight, fair Pleasure led him onTo dainty feasting spread on silken say,
Where Bacchus' richest treasures sparkling shone,
And all Pomona's juicy presents lay:
Whiles ev'ry flow'r in Maia's scented sway,
Breathing sweet odours all the dainties crown'd;
And eke above their heads did Zephyr play
Among the whisp'ring foliage with sweet sound,
And flutes, pipes, lyres, and zephyrs mix'd their warblings round.
IX
Anon, when ended this delicious meal,An hundred sprightly nymphs, as fair as Morn,
Mov'd in the graceful dance, or tripp'd the reel,
Whose waving curls gay chaplets did adorn:
189
Of forest Windsor hight, renown'd in song
By Twick'nam's gentle swain. Ah knight forlorn!
By Pleasure's bright allurements led along,
Soon wilt thou shake thy head, and say that all was wrong.
X
Through this enchanting spot there gently flow'dA crystal river, hight the Stream of Bliss,
On whose mild waves if any mortal rode,
Soft breathing airs his thrilling cheek would kiss,
That seem'd to rise from underneath, I wis;
And whilst the waters 'gainst the shore did move,
(A verdant shore, such as of Thamus is,)
They made sweet melody, and sounds of love,
As if some poet swain was chanting thro' the grove.
XI
And on its lovely shores with verdure green,A thousand flow'rs in painted splendour grew,
The blushing rose, of floral plains the queen,
The modest lily of angelic hue,
The gorgeous sun-flow'r, vi'let gaily blue,
Tulip, that boasts the rainbow's varied streaks,
The speckled pink, heart's-ease for lovers true,
Primrose, as fair as lovesick maiden's cheeks,
And serious poppy, sweet to him that quiet seeks.
190
XII
Eke where each winding bank turn'd graceful round,A cooling bow'r entic'd with verdant shew,
Where fanning airs and whisp'ring leaves were found,
And other blandishments that cares forego:
For there young Zephyr ay doth gently blow,
Waving his wings and warbling all the while
To the sweet, saunt'ring, soothing, stream below;
And on its top did sprightly Flora smile,
Wreathing her garlands gay to deck th' enchanting isle.
XIII
And round the beauteous landscape graceful shone,Shaded above with green o'er waving bow'rs,
Delightful temples, white with Parian stone;
This the bright dwelling of the dancing hours,
That of dame Venus and the wanton powr's;
One where fair Beauty held her blooming sway,
On which celestial odour ever show'rs;
Another where gay Fancy's fairies play,
With rainbow-colour'd wings and eyes of glitt'ring day.
XIV
On this delicious stream, when Noon's bright godPour'd flaming radiance o'er the cloudless sky,
His tender feet with velvet sandal shod,
Sir Guyon rode, while Pleasure satten nigh:
191
Beneath the silver oars, to whose clear sound
Responsive lutes form'd tender minstrelsy;
Enraptur'd breezes bore the charm around,
And in one chain of joy all nature's works were wound.
XV
And nodding graceful o'er the gurgling streamThe quiv'ring trees yform'd a trembling shade,
Dancing like airy vision of a dream,
That ne'er one lasting fix'd impression made;
And in their waving boughs the feather'd choir
Chanted sweet carols from the bending spray:
While others glitt'ring in the noon-tide fire,
Spread broad their painted plumage to the day,
And twitt'ring high in air skimm'd far from earth away.
XVI
Thus glorious all with gold and carvings rare,The pois'nous goblet, mix't for black'ning death,
Invites the soul to quaff away its care,
Whiles Fate and Torment lie unseen beneath:
Quick draughts are drawn: then groans the heaving breath;
Down falls the cup; and fall e'en monarchs must;
Strength, pow'r, pomp, wealth, and ah! the floral wreath
Of festive joy is trampled in the dust;
And man, the lord of earth, of all her slaves the worst.
192
XVII
Alluring smiles fair Pleasure's lips array'd,More pleas'd she seem'd than e'er she had before;
Yet ev'ry smile mysterious thoughts betray'd,
And her smooth aspect joy unusual wore:
In her white hand a silken fan she bore,
Which ever and anon, with head inclin'd
She held up to her eyes, that glanc'd the more
At the charm'd knight, as soft and slow the wind
Mov'd the gay boat along, who nought amiss could find.
XVIII
Still at the helm he sat with tott'ring frame,For Bacchus had absorb'd his manly soul,
And still he thought her lovely looks the same,
On whom was fix'd his strong affection whole:
Now high th' encreasing waves began to roll,
Yet so diverted was his fetter'd eye,
He thought himself ne hast'ning to his goal,
Ne once abated the gay symphony
Of heav'nly music round, that did the waves belie.
XIX
Loose reel'd the boat; Sir Guyon, fast enchain'dBy the bright beauty of th' enchanting fair,
Mov'd not, ne turn'd, ne look'd about, ne plain'd
Of the big swelling of the stream so rare,
193
Ne saw the tempest gath'ring o'er his head,
Or the black frown the stormy skies 'gan wear;
While dreadful glooms around the isle were spread,
And clouds and thunder swell'd, all dreary, dark, and dread.
XX
Sudden a direful noise re-echoed round;The vengeful dæmons of the tempest roar;
The waters foam, upheaves the trembling ground,
And all th' enchanting harmony is o'er!
Pleasure's gay veil, that once in pride she wore,
Starts from her face; Hell rages in her eye;
Upon her shoulders dragon wings she bore;
And loud and fierce was her hyæna cry!
He falls, he sinks! the storm roars loud, and passes by.
XXI
O ye who e'er “with passions boiling highQuaff with delight th' intoxicating bowl,”
That asks the lip, and sparkles in the eye,
Dash from your sight the poison of the soul:
From gay deceit the borrow'd splendour stole
Was mix'd by luring Pleasure's fatal hand
With deadlier venom than the noisome hole
Of the fierce viper breathes upon the land,
Or Araby's black wind that whirls the parching sand.
194
XXII
Tho' wooing smiles once deck her painted cheek,Frowns will succeed that blacken e'en the night;
Frowns that can make the hardy warrior weak,
And smiling Beauty's vermil flow'ret blight!
Tho' warm her wooing, and her look tho' light,
Cold Care and icy Horror lurk beneath,
And Weariness, and Want with visage white,
And ev'ry dæmon with envenom'd breath,
That weaves the web of Woe, and digs the grave of Death!
XXIII
Dark rolling waves oppress'd Sir Guyon's head;In vain he flounder'd in the whelming tide;
The waters breaking from their troublous bed
In roar confus'd along his temples glide!
Eftsoons the mighty swelling did subside,
Low groan'd the hollow caverns deep below!
The bursting ground yawn'd hideously wide;
Down sinks the hapless knight; the billows flow
Unheeded o'er his head, and rage and roar ne moe.
XXIV
Anon his eyne wide op'ning, and his breastGath'ring its scatter'd thoughts, he sees before
His tott'ring feet, that look'd in vain for rest,
A gloomy wilderness, where tempests roar,
195
Of fiery vengance pouring all around
Wind, storm, and hail, and rain of dropping gore,
Thunder, yshaking all the desart ground,
And lightning's flaming shafts, that sin and vice astound!
XXV
Ne blooming flow'r the dreary landscape knew,Ne cheerful tree, ne streamlet gurgling slow,
Ne quiet glade, ne sky of azure blue,
Ne level lawn, ne meadow green and low,
Ne any sweet that fields delightful know.
Here spare and ragged, fate to mortal taste,
The deadly nightshade to the daylight foe,
Wav'd still and solemn to the howling blast,
And the dark cypress bow'd amid the joyless waste!
XXVI
And where the middle of this desart stood,A languid stream with sullen murm'rings flow'd,
Like that black river by the hero view'd
Benempt Æneas, when the shades he trod,
With Sybil wand'ring from her dark abode,
Ycleped Lethe, of oblivion hight
The gentle river, on which he who rode,
To quaff the water, quick forgotten quite
All past, and o'er again could sip the same delight.
196
XXVII
But ah! diverse of these dire waves the taste;Which, when the lip had touch'd the nauseous stream,
Call'd to the mind each ill that had gone past,
Each vice once slipt from mem'ry as a dream:
Then fierce Repentance rising slowly came,
The genius of the river, from beneath,
And with rude scourges whipp'd the tortur'd frame;
Till, wond'rous, all the soul was calm and eath,
And blest Heav'ns just decrees, and grew resign'd to death.
XXVIII
Before that mortal man escapes this placeThese heavy waters dull must passed be;
Nathless they started at its horrid face,
Who went to pass, and often back would flee,
Afraid its horrid aspect e'en to see:
But bolder wights who held the other shore,
Gain'd from its terrors nought but liberty,
And reach'd a sky that fadeless splendour wore,
Where storms ne beat and blow, ne waters rage and roar.
XXIX
Much thought the knight upon the gloomy scene,When sudden yelling thro' the darken'd air,
As if all Tartarus dissolv'd had been,
Legions of dæmons howl'd within his ear,
197
From whom the horrid wilderness was hight,
To torture souls with vice that conquer'd were,
Hideous with scorpion tails and faces white
On coal-black bodies, fierce and horrid to the sight!
XXX
Now with rude talon sharp they pierc'd his breast,Or his side tortur'd with deep-goring horn:
First one, more grim and loathsome than the rest,
Shaking his ragged locks and cheeks forlorn,
A fiend of Filth and Dissipation born,
Benempt Disease, from jaws all pois'nous shed
Venom so black, that it would darken morn,
Which pierc'd his marrow, and shot thro' his head,
And o'er the air around a foul contagion spread!
XXXI
And him behind, another imp of hell,With faded eyne, and face of sallow hue,
While ever and anon a hollow yell
Shriek'd on the wind, upon his body flew,
With tiger claws ypinching it all blue:
And he was hight infernal Want, I ween,
Begot of the hag Pleasure, mortal view
Deceiving, and th' inchanter, whose house sheen,
By him, the rural bard , so sweet describ'd hath been.
198
XXXII
And next him started on the knight, I wot,A most surprising fiend, whose visage pale
Was branded all about with dusky spot
Made by the fiery iron, heavy bale
To him that doth with impious hand assail
The laws of righteous Justice; and he hight
Foul Infamy, ay driv'n by Woe and Wail,
And pointing Scorn of moderation light,
And brazen-tongu'd Reproach, ne silent in the night.
XXXIII
Broad from the shoulders of this monster rareWings, such as hold in air the wabbling bat,
Cast round a dreadful gloom upon the air,
The which beneath if mortal body sat,
Cold shiv'rings seiz'd him, spirits waxed flat,
A thousand noises bellow'd in his ear,
And mov'd he ay to this side and to that;
Nathless he ne escap'd the shadow drear,
Unless high pow'r came down his sinking soul to chear.
XXXIV
His face was pallid, and had horrid beakOf owl projecting out, by which two eyes
That wink'd at light of day, roll'd on his cheek:
O'er them, if e'er he saw the morning skies,
199
And eke his head was full of ears behind,
That nought Reproach's curses mote disguise,
Ne foul abuse mote be dissolv'd in wind;
So that ne ease, ne rest, ne comfort could he find.
XXXV
And then a monstrous rabblement there pass'dOf rude mishapen wights, a horrid shew;
Till slowly pacing onward came at last
A long, lean spectre, imp of Vice and Woe,
Hight Melancholy, with deportment low,
Whose moveless eye was fix'd upon the ground,
For she was ay to light and day the foe;
And o'er her head a sweeping veil she bound,
Which trailed long below, and swept upon the ground.
XXXVI
But she, I ween, was not that virgin mild,The poet woos along sequester'd grove,
By bubbling stream or rustling tree beguil'd
To think of serious joy and heav'nly love,
Such as the songs of that high bard approve,
Dan Milton, warbler of seraphic lyre,
When in cool walk of ev'ning he would rove,
Daughter of bright-hair'd Vesta, and the Sire
Of him 'gainst whose high throne the Titans dar'd conspire.
200
XXXVII
But ne divine was her detested form,Ne sadly sweet, ne melancholy mild;
Around her howling drove the black'ning storm,
And o'er her burst the tempest tossing wild:
Ne was there ought in her that heart beguil'd
With luring grace; ne “eyne of dewy light,”
Ne soothing look; but front with frown defil'd,
Eye with wild terror hideously bright,
And steps that started quick, and wails that witch'd one white.
XXXVIII
Whene'er the knight thought, mov'd, or look'd aroundThis horrid hag was frowning in his eye;
E'en tho' the other dæmons were not found,
Still all her horrors were for ever nigh:
If e'er he wish'd, his feet refus'd to fly,
And down he sunk despairing on the earth;
In vain he begg'd with burning tears to die,
And curs'd the fatal hour that saw his birth,
And mourn'd remember'd vice, and wept forgotten worth.
XXXIX
Full oft with weary step he wander'd on,O'er the wild landscape dark with black'ning heath;
Full oft stopt sadly where the cypress lone
Caught in its leaves the blast's envenom'd breath,
201
Then crown'd his head, and sigh'd with mem'ry thought
Of the gay garlands on his temples eath
In Pleasure's luring palace, dearly bought,
With pangs that rend the heart, ne peace, ne pity taught.
XL
Then on its gloomy bark his eyne would traceCarv'd by the hand of solitary wight,
Names that once wander'd in this horrid place,
Once lay in the soft lap of gay delight,
And fell from sunshine into hideous night.
There saw he, pond'ring on their long-lost pow'r,
Those of the queen, who Cleopatra hight,
And famous Antony, her paramour,
Whose sloth ylost so oft Rome's greenest, gayest flow'r!
XLI
Then Nero's name abhorred caught his eyeStamp'd in red characters of human blood:
Him, the wild wretch of wanton cruelty,
Gay Pleasure toss'd within her whelming flood,
When to her arms the sanguine tyrant woo'd
With joyous breast her glitt'ring goblet quaff'd,
While by his side his weeping country stood:
Yet still his lips drew in the rapt'rous draught,
Nor stopt he once, unless when at her woes he laught.
202
XLII
Next knew he fierce Domitian's hand, I wot,Unmanly tort'rer of the harmless fly;
And him that in Thalia's colour'd grot
Raptur'd with pencil gay the feasted eye,
And that lamented youth , whose hand could vie
With soft Italia's Prince of Painters gay:
O'er these two last full oft the tender sigh,
That mourn'd their tempted youth and heedless play,
Breath'd o'er the gloomy heath, and brought the tear away.
XLIII
Tir'd of the mournful task the weeping knightCast on the earth his pale and ling'ring form,
When lo, bright bursting from the realms of light,
An angel figure stream'd before the storm!
Where'er she flew, the clouds no more deform
The clear blue sky; all smiling was the scene;
Upon her cheek youth's blushes gay and warm
Were mixt with matron gravity; her mien
Bespoke the seraph soul, majestic, sweet, serene.
XLIV
O'er her fair shoulders hung a robe of white,Not gaudy, gay, or glitt'ring in the air,
But chaste and plain it pleas'd the tasteful sight,
And to the modest made its owner dear;
203
Type of grave judgment and exalted thought;
Upon her arm, like alabaster fair,
Hung the blest Cross, which peace and comfort brought,
And she had eyes from which pain mote have pleasure caught.
XLV
By her right side a lovely gentle maidSmil'd like a cherub on the raptur'd scene;
In attic robe her polish'd form array'd
Mov'd modest on; and from her easy mien
A thousand winning graces, charms serene,
Raptur'd th' admiring soul; her graceful arm
Bore a smooth vase with crystal water sheen
Fill'd to the brim: health gave her ev'ry charm,
And call'd her name Content, wise, humble, fair, and calm.
XLVI
And on her left a radiant figure shone,Ycleped Glory, clad in robes of light,
Upon her temples beam'd a golden crown,
Dazzling with pointed rays the shrinking sight;
And her fair hands with strings of silver bright
A lyre celestial held; from which whene'er
Call'd by the first fair virgin rob'd in white,
She pour'd such rapt'rous numbers on the ear,
That Phœbus burst his clouds, and all the sky was clear.
204
XLVII
Behind the beaming trio flew alongA beauteous band, all fair, all mildly gay;
Ne'er was there seen so bright a virgin throng,
Not e'en when Vesta held her sacred day
On Rome's glad hills, and call'd her maids away
In slow procession to her sacred fane:
Around their temples nodding lilies play
In simple wreath; Temp'rance without a stain,
Grave Wisdom, chearful Health, and Peace that knows ne pain.
XLVIII
The weeping knight uprais'd his trembling form,Gazing with eye refresh'd upon the sight;
Hush'd was the howling of the dreadful storm,
And the dark heath he saw not with affright,
As erst his eyne were wont; firm and upright
His soul within did seem to bid him stand;
When sudden Glory wav'd her robe of light,
And o'er the harp swept her melodious hand,
While the fair form in white thus chaunted o'er the land.
XLIX
“Ah! where is gone gay Pleasure's luring eye?“Where gone her winning step and trancing song?
“Where fled the splendour of her summer sky?
“Where hid the sportings of her festive throng?
205
“Why loves the storm to sound his terrors here?
“Why to this air do glooms and fears belong?
“Why drops the mortal's eye the mournful tear?
“Why sighs his aching breast? Why aches that breast with care?
L
“Alas! 'twas Pleasure planted it with thorns!“Thorns hid in flow'rs, and dipt in nectar'd dew
“Flow'rs, like the rose that Maia's head adorns;
“Dew, such as studs the morning's girdle blue!
“Bright was her cup, and of resplendent hue;
“Yet gloom and horror lurk'd within the bowl!
“Love from her eyne a thousand arrows drew,
“Yet tipt with poison black, that softly stole
“Thro' all the trembling veins, then rent and rack'd the soul.
LI
“Come then—O come to this composing breast!“Come; on the Cross repose the weary head!
“Come! For this bosom soothes the tir'd to rest,
“And this hard Cross yet makes an easy bed!
“This hand can join again life's parted thread!
“This eye can animate the pallid cheek
“With one warm look, tho' health has long been fled!
“This arm can raise to strength the drooping weak,
“This arm the dart of woe, the rack of torture break!
206
LII
“My name's Religion. He who reigns above“Calls me his own: by his celestial seat,
“Where Angels hymn the God of Peace and Love,
“His chosen handmaid was I form'd to stand:
“I am the chief of all th' angelic band,
“Sent by his mercy to the son of man,
“To heal his woes with voice of comfort bland,
“To sooth the labour of his toiling span,
“And give the high reward when well his race he ran!
LIII
“Come then, thou Mourner, come to this soft breast!“Thou, whom false Pleasure taught her task of woe:
“Thou, who in vain hast sought relief and rest
“In this dark scene, this dreary waste below,
“Come shelter peaceful from the blasts that blow,
“The turbid blasts of sorrow and deceit!
“These gentle arms, ne grief, ne trouble know;
“This gentle breast did ne'er with anguish beat;
“This placid bosom ne'er the furious tempest meet!
LIV
“Yon dreaded stream where sad Repentance rears“His tort'ring scourge, my potent hand can calm,
“Sooth his fierce anger, when thy bosom fears,
“And stop his hand, and turn the destin'd harm!
207
“Of gentle Peace, Repentance racks ne moe:
“Again exerted is the rising arm;
“For true repentance virtuous actions shew:
“Content then smiles again, ne mourns returning woe!
LV
“Come then, thou mourner! here forget thy cares,“Here lay that pallid form, that trembling heart;
“See, where Content her healing draught prepares,
“And hark! how Glory, brightest of the blest,
“Strikes the loud harp! her splendours all confest,
“See where she stands, and calls thee to Renown!
“Here in my bosom ever honour'd rest!
“Come! Glory waits with her rewarding crown,
“And sweet Contentment smiles, and Nature drops “her frown!
LVI
She ceas'd! Creation's universal frameBrighten'd with joy; before the wond'ring eye
From the bright welkin beams of radiance came,
And solar splendour stream'd along the sky:
The airy glooms evaporate and die?
The barren heath with flow'ry beauty gay
Throws thousand sweets of fragrant scent on high;
Repentance rolls his turbid stream away,
Creation, skies, and fields enliven into day.
208
LVII
Here verdant plains extend their velvet green,There the awed soul surveys the rocky steep;
Here clust'ring groves o'erhang the woodland scene,
And yonder Ocean's blue-eyed Naiads sweep:
Anon wide tumbling down the valley deep,
From the grand mountain's sky-saluting height,
Where musing Solitude delights to sleep,
The foaming cat'ract, sparkling to the light,
Bounds o'er the echoing field, and dashes on the sight.
LVIII
Soft to the prattle of the rippling stream,The feather'd songsters warble from the grove;
Life's vain enjoyments seem a feverish dream,
And all the soul is lost in joy and love.
What sonnet tend'rer than the cooing dove?
What music sweeter than the throstle's song?
Ah, here, if here the pilgrim's footsteps rove,
Here where the rural graces love to throng,
Here shall he rest his hopes, nor find those hopes were wrong.
LIX
The knight enraptur'd clasp'd her bosom round;Serenest Pleasure warm'd his alter'd breast;
And, as his eyne his angel soother found,
They darted grateful glances that confest
209
Then Glory came, and fix'd upon his head
The crown of honour and the warlike crest,
And shining helm, so long that useless laid,
And to his graceful side yfix'd the deathful blade.
LX
“Go,” sung she, striking her exalted lyre,“Go lift th' oppress'd, and beat th' oppressor low;
“Go, where sad Justice sees her sons expire,
“And Tyranny quaffs down the tears of Woe!
“Eternal peace shall chear thy breast below,
“And when Heav'n calls thee to its arms above,
“Immortal splendour beam around thy brow!
“Go; Virtue calls thee; watch her guiding eye;
“When Virtue draws the sword, tempests and storms defy!
LXI
“Peace ne abides with Indolence and Ease,”Sung mild Contentment, pouring from her urn
Th' invigorating draught; while ev'ry breeze
Caught her soft lay, and whisper'd it in turn;
“Peace bids her sons the task of virtue learn,
“As great Alcides' self ythought of old;
“'Tis thro' the rock the hidden mine we earn.
“This goblet quaff; 'twill warm, tho' pure and cold,
“When Glory's crown is thine, Content will crown the bold.”
210
LXII
“Enough!” Sir Guyon cried, and from her hand,Caught to his lips th' inestimable bowl;
Full swell his veins; his breast and nerves expand,
And rising ardour heaves within his soul:
Already see his eyne the destin'd goal,
Where Glory and Content their Crowns display;
Thro' his warm heart the rapt'rous fancy stole;
He pants to bound in his advent'rous way,
And thus burst wildly forth, with inspiration gay:
LXIII
“Lead, lead along, ye Angel band divine!“Lead, lead along! I go, I leap, I fly!
“Lead, where ye list; where Phœbus ay doth shine,
“Or blust'ring tempests drive along the sky.
“Nought can affright my soul, or turn mine eye:
“Vice I despise, and opposition scorn,
“Pleasure's lewd arts, and all her crew defy;
“When night is fled, who hails not lively morn?
“O lead your Warrior on, again to glory born!
LXIV
He ceas'd; and as ybroken from the toilThe raging lion sweeps along the vale,
Call'd by the tyger howling o'er his spoil,
And pants to rob him of his bloody meal;
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And the loud tail ylash'd, and eyne of fire:
Thus the bold Knight drew forth his flaming steel,
While glory woke the grandeurs of her lyre,
And wildly rush'd along as music's swells inspire!
LXV
Bright streams of radiance mark'd his destin'd way;Where'er he trod the magic gleams appear;
His burnish'd breast-plate sparkled on the day,
And Glory's harp still roll'd along his ear:
Shame flies his path, and Doubt, and hiding Fear;
And Strength and Triumph pant within his breast;
Upon his brow sits Majesty severe;
Onward he bounds, the warrior all confest,
And high he rears his sword, and nods the waving crest!
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