The Harp of Erin Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes |
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TO
SIR JAMES BLAND BURGESS, BART.
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 | The Harp of Erin |  |
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TO SIR JAMES BLAND BURGESS, BART.
On his admirable Poem of Richard the First.
Lo! from the ruins of ‘the mighty dead,’Once more the English Genius lifts his head;
Britain once more with partial transport views
Th' appropriate honours of the epic muse.
Oft has the fervour of her genuine flame
Illum'd the Theban or the Spartan name;
Lending, with liberal grace, to chiefs unknown
Immortal wreaths, and laurels not their own:
While the brave worthies of this favour'd clime
Lay clouded in some legendary rhyme,
Whose quaint inanity presum'd to raise
A lasting theme in mockery of praise.
Not so, with unaffected splendour bright,
Meets thy First Richard our enraptur'd sight:
Emerging from oblivion's central shade,
In all the majesty of song array'd.
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So charm the hours of dignified retreat;
So, by soft sanction, tenderly impart
A new-born lustre to the tuneful art:
Still might I hope, intent on high emprize,
To see a Dorset or a Sidney rise.—
The hope is vain; that gen'rous glow divine
Which breathes in harmony from breasts like thine;
That soaring spirit which disdains to creep
Round the smooth base of the Parnassian steep,
But, hurried with the whirlwind's force along,
Grasps the rough summit of sublimest song;
Where shall I seek 'mid the degen'rate band
Who slight the beauties of their native land:
For foreign flow'rs of short duration sigh,
And scorn those hardy blooms that never die,
Nurs'd by the rigours of our northern sky?
To thy auspicious star we fondly turn,
Whose steadier rays aloft distinctly burn:
To light the minstrel through life's stormy main,
Or guide the banish'd muses back again;
Here, safe at length, to rest their pilgrim feet,
And claim their old hereditary seat.
| The Harp of Erin | |