The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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THE ODE AND THE RIDDLE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
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THE ODE AND THE RIDDLE.
THE RIDDLE.
While his head my friend Ode in obscurity shrowds,Or perhaps is set out on a trip to the clouds,
With humble submission I'll take up the fiddle,
And scrape, if I can, a few bars on the Riddle.
THE ODE.
[The Senior as recollecting himself.]What sudden voice assaults mine ear?
Comes there some minstrel of the sphere,
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Tunes to my touch th' obedient string?
And bids me play, and bids me sing,
What all the Nine inspire?
THE RIDDLE.
No minstrel, nor muse, neighbour Ode, has appear'd:It was me, little Riddle-me-ree, whom you heard;
Who meant nothing more, than to stand in the gap,
And keep up the ball,—while you slept out your nap.
THE ODE.
I.
From the still surface of the smooth lake's verge,Abruptly steep the wat'ry sheet descends;
Rebounds a torrent of tremendous surge;
And in broad floods along the vale extends:—
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When down flush'd Fancy's tide the fleet ideas roll!
II.
Full on his thought bursts Valour's hardy deed;He sees the patriot Chief's uplifted steel;
Glories t' announce the laurell'd Victor's meed;
And stamp on Virtue's claim the Muse's seal;
Pursue Truth's triumph, sanction Honour's pride,
In struggles nobly born; and perilous chance defy'd!
III.
Or crowns the Genius, whose exertions callThe public wonder, gratitude and applause;
Intelligence, freed from slavish error's thrall;
And Science, sanctified in Humanity's cause:
Or to the shade, where suffering manhood pines,
The wreath of honest praise from Poësy's bow'r assigns!
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IV.
Or prone to rapturous glow, where'er shine forthSympathies of heart, or energies of mind,
Gives and receives renown, from private worth;
Its cares benign, its sentiment refin'd:
Irregularly sublime! and bold to bring
The tributary palm, on Ardour's eagle-wing!
THE RIDDLE.
Bravo! Bravo!—methinks you have ventur'd a flight,
Where mere common sense could scarce keep you in sight:
And therefore, permit me my theme to pursue,
While you get fresh breath, and your auditors too!
Attention, strain'd up to the sharps of your key,
Will enjoy the piano of Riddle-me-ree!
Where mere common sense could scarce keep you in sight:
And therefore, permit me my theme to pursue,
While you get fresh breath, and your auditors too!
Attention, strain'd up to the sharps of your key,
Will enjoy the piano of Riddle-me-ree!
I cannot, 'tis true, introduce in a set,
All the figures of fun, at a riddling bout met;
From the dame, whose experience, her spectacles speak,
Whose wisdom, each wrinkle that furrows her cheek;
To the tittering young romps, whose whole mischievous wish
Is to non-plus the lads, till they're mute as a fish;
And the swains, who the hearts of the hoydens to hit,
Come arm'd with two strings to their bow, love and wit:
Neither can I describe (as I wonder who cou'd)
Every look, every laugh, every droll attitude;
Their inquisitive frowns; their intelligent nods;
How vivacity frets; how stupidity plods;
How clamorous their joy, when the knot they undo!—
O! what would I give to bring all to your view!
But, as that may not be, I must hope and request,
You'll accept will, for deed,—and imagine the rest.
All the figures of fun, at a riddling bout met;
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Whose wisdom, each wrinkle that furrows her cheek;
To the tittering young romps, whose whole mischievous wish
Is to non-plus the lads, till they're mute as a fish;
And the swains, who the hearts of the hoydens to hit,
Come arm'd with two strings to their bow, love and wit:
Neither can I describe (as I wonder who cou'd)
Every look, every laugh, every droll attitude;
Their inquisitive frowns; their intelligent nods;
How vivacity frets; how stupidity plods;
How clamorous their joy, when the knot they undo!—
O! what would I give to bring all to your view!
But, as that may not be, I must hope and request,
You'll accept will, for deed,—and imagine the rest.
All the learned, however they differ elsewhere,
That example is better than precept, declare:
And to prove I myself with their doctrine agree,
In a Riddle I'll show what a Riddle should be.
That example is better than precept, declare:
And to prove I myself with their doctrine agree,
In a Riddle I'll show what a Riddle should be.
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In the form of inquiry it still must begin;
For question and riddle are cousin and kin.
For question and riddle are cousin and kin.
What is that, which in see-saw description convey'd,
The more hints it displays, the more puzzling is made?
Which seems leading you home, while it carries you round;
And pretending to help, runs you farther aground;
A dark lantern of wit, which tho' black in the face,
Bursts point blank on your eyes, if the screen you displace;
Which the moment you see, you're surpris'd you could miss?
—Say what, but a Riddle on Riddles is this?—
The more hints it displays, the more puzzling is made?
Which seems leading you home, while it carries you round;
And pretending to help, runs you farther aground;
A dark lantern of wit, which tho' black in the face,
Bursts point blank on your eyes, if the screen you displace;
Which the moment you see, you're surpris'd you could miss?
—Say what, but a Riddle on Riddles is this?—
What is that situation, whose limits, I trow,
Like an isthmus of land, lie between aye and no?
Whose variable atmosphere makes on the spot,
The hottest, most cool; and the coolest, most hot?
'Tis the Riddle of State, past all shadow of doubt:
And means only the odds, between in place and out.
Like an isthmus of land, lie between aye and no?
Whose variable atmosphere makes on the spot,
The hottest, most cool; and the coolest, most hot?
'Tis the Riddle of State, past all shadow of doubt:
And means only the odds, between in place and out.
What is that, which in prospect appears to the sight
As certain as fate; and as clear as the light?
Draws us on step by step, thro' demurs and delays;
And at last when our hopes to their summit we raise,
While we think ourselves safe, ruins all with some flaw?
—Why this is, and please you, the Riddle of Law.
As certain as fate; and as clear as the light?
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And at last when our hopes to their summit we raise,
While we think ourselves safe, ruins all with some flaw?
—Why this is, and please you, the Riddle of Law.
What is that, which in every direction is found?
East; west; north; and south; while a man can turn round?
What to-day it admires, will to-morrow deem strange?
And whose changes prompt only fresh reasons for change?
Which grinds judgments, styles, modes, in the mill of Virtù;
Till the new come out old, and the old come out new?
—This is Taste, to be sure;—and such taste, you must own,
Is as arrant a Riddle, as ever was known.
East; west; north; and south; while a man can turn round?
What to-day it admires, will to-morrow deem strange?
And whose changes prompt only fresh reasons for change?
Which grinds judgments, styles, modes, in the mill of Virtù;
Till the new come out old, and the old come out new?
—This is Taste, to be sure;—and such taste, you must own,
Is as arrant a Riddle, as ever was known.
And now, wishing Ode well, thro' the rest of his song,
And thanking all friends for indulgence so long,
I'll play off my finalè to this Hey-down diddle;
And so ends my Ditty; and so—Exit Riddle.
And thanking all friends for indulgence so long,
I'll play off my finalè to this Hey-down diddle;
And so ends my Ditty; and so—Exit Riddle.
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THE ODE.
I.
In milder mood the Lyric MuseDeigns oft, her spirit to infuse;
When sprightlier themes, or softer cares,
Invoke her aid to lighter airs;
Whether tumultuous transports raise
Successful Love's devoted lays;
Or Friendship's interchange of soul
Mellows convivial freedom's bowl;
Or festive Exultation's proud acclaim
Appropriates popular joy; and echoes National Fame!
II.
Awful reverse! when Harmony's tearBedews departed Merit's bier!
When warm Imagination's glow
Saddens the gloom of Memory's woe!
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How just its moan!—yet, ah! how vain!
More vigorous verse may round the tomb
Strew every flower of brighter bloom;
Tho' the brief brightness of the bloom, it strews,
But proves, how much! how soon! Affection had to lose!
III.
Nor yet, ev'n there, does grief, howe'er profound,Th' exalted Ode's immense excursions bound:
From mortal frailty's universal doom
It springs:—it lifts the pregnant thought on high;
To heavenly prospects turns Devotion's eye,
And wings aspiring Hope with ampler plume:
While frankly faithful in Religion's cause,
Arm'd with her truths, and champion of her laws,
It consecrates to God, from whom it came,
Its fairest excellence, and its purest flame!
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |