Poems, moral and descriptive By the late Richard Jago ... (Prepared for the press, and improved by the author, before his death.) To which is added, some account of the life and writings of Mr. Jago |
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BOOK II. NOON.
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Argument to Book the Second:
Noon. The Mid-Scene from the Castle on Ratley-Hill. More particular Account of the several Parts of this Scene, and of whatever is most remarkable in it. Warwick. Its Antiquity. Historical Account of the Earls of Warwick. Story of Guy. Guy's-Cliffe. Kenelworth. Its Castle. History of it. Balsal. Wroxal. Coventry. Its Environs. Manufactures. Story of Godiva. Peroration.
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The Sun, whose eastern ray had scarcely gilt
The mountain's brow, while up the steep ascent,
With early step, we climb'd, now wide displays
His radiant orb, and half his daily stage
Hath nearly measur'd. From th'illumin'd vale
The soaring mists are drain'd, and, o'er the hill,
No more breathes grateful the cool, balmy air,
Chearing our search, and urging on our steps
Delightful. See, the languid herds forsake
The burning mead, and creep beneath the shade
Of spreading tree, or shelt'ring hedge-row tall:
Or, in the mant'ling pool, rude reservoir
Of wintry rains, and the slow, thrifty spring!
Cool their parch'd limbs, and lave their panting sides.
The mountain's brow, while up the steep ascent,
With early step, we climb'd, now wide displays
His radiant orb, and half his daily stage
Hath nearly measur'd. From th'illumin'd vale
The soaring mists are drain'd, and, o'er the hill,
No more breathes grateful the cool, balmy air,
Chearing our search, and urging on our steps
44
The burning mead, and creep beneath the shade
Of spreading tree, or shelt'ring hedge-row tall:
Or, in the mant'ling pool, rude reservoir
Of wintry rains, and the slow, thrifty spring!
Cool their parch'd limbs, and lave their panting sides.
Let us too seek the shade. Yon' airy dome,
Beneath whose lofty battlements we found
A covert passage to these sultry realms,
Invites our drooping strength, and well befriends
The pleasing comment on fair Nature's book,
In sumptuous volume, open'd to our view.
Beneath whose lofty battlements we found
A covert passage to these sultry realms,
Invites our drooping strength, and well befriends
The pleasing comment on fair Nature's book,
In sumptuous volume, open'd to our view.
Ye sportive nymphs! that o'er the rural scene
Preside, you chief! that haunt the flow'ry banks
Of Avon, where, with more majestic wave,
Warwick's illustrious Lord, thro' the gay meads
His dancing current guides, or round the lawn
Directs th'embroider'd verge of various dyes,
O! teach me all its graces to unfold,
And, with your praise, join his attendant fame.
Preside, you chief! that haunt the flow'ry banks
Of Avon, where, with more majestic wave,
Warwick's illustrious Lord, thro' the gay meads
His dancing current guides, or round the lawn
Directs th'embroider'd verge of various dyes,
O! teach me all its graces to unfold,
And, with your praise, join his attendant fame.
'Tis well! Here shelter'd from the scorching heat,
At large we view the subject vale sublime,
And unimpeded. Hence its limits trace
Stretching, in wanton bound'ry, from the foot
Of this green mountain, far as human ken
Can reach, a theatre immense! adorn'd
With ornaments of sweet variety,
By Nature's pencil drawn—the level meads,
A verdant floor! with brightest gems inlaid,
And richly-painted flow'rs—the tillag'd plain,
Wide-waving to the sun a rival blaze
Of gold, best source of wealth!—the prouder hills,
With outline fair, in naked pomp display'd,
Round, angular, oblong; and others crown'd
With graceful foliage. Over all her horn
Fair Plenty pours, and Cultivation spreads
Her height'ning lustre. See, beneath her touch,
The smiling harvests rise, with bending line,
And wavy ridge, along the dappled glebe
Stretching their lengthen'd beds. Her careful hand
Piles up the yellow grain, or rustling hay
Adust for wintry store—the long-ridg'd mow,
Or shapely pyramid, with conic roof,
Dressing the landscape. She the thick-wove fence
Nurses, and adds, with care, the hedge-row elm.
Around her farms and villages she plans
The rural garden, yielding wholesome food
Of simple viands, and the fragrant herb
Medicinal. The well-rang'd orchard now
She orders, or the shelt'ring clump, or tuft
Of hardy trees, the wintry storms to curb,
Or guard the sweet retreat of village-swain,
With health, and plenty crown'd. Fair Science next,
Her offspring! adds towns, cities, vaulted domes,
And splendid palaces, and chases large,
With lake, and planted grove. Hence Warwick, fair
With rising buildings, Coventry's tall spires,
And Kenelworth! thy stately castle rose,
Which still, in ruin, charms th'astonish'd sight.
To crown the beauteous scene, the curtain'd sky,
Its canopy divine of azure tint,
Spreads heav'nly fair, and softens ev'ry charm.
At large we view the subject vale sublime,
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Stretching, in wanton bound'ry, from the foot
Of this green mountain, far as human ken
Can reach, a theatre immense! adorn'd
With ornaments of sweet variety,
By Nature's pencil drawn—the level meads,
A verdant floor! with brightest gems inlaid,
And richly-painted flow'rs—the tillag'd plain,
Wide-waving to the sun a rival blaze
Of gold, best source of wealth!—the prouder hills,
With outline fair, in naked pomp display'd,
Round, angular, oblong; and others crown'd
With graceful foliage. Over all her horn
Fair Plenty pours, and Cultivation spreads
Her height'ning lustre. See, beneath her touch,
The smiling harvests rise, with bending line,
And wavy ridge, along the dappled glebe
Stretching their lengthen'd beds. Her careful hand
Piles up the yellow grain, or rustling hay
Adust for wintry store—the long-ridg'd mow,
Or shapely pyramid, with conic roof,
Dressing the landscape. She the thick-wove fence
46
Around her farms and villages she plans
The rural garden, yielding wholesome food
Of simple viands, and the fragrant herb
Medicinal. The well-rang'd orchard now
She orders, or the shelt'ring clump, or tuft
Of hardy trees, the wintry storms to curb,
Or guard the sweet retreat of village-swain,
With health, and plenty crown'd. Fair Science next,
Her offspring! adds towns, cities, vaulted domes,
And splendid palaces, and chases large,
With lake, and planted grove. Hence Warwick, fair
With rising buildings, Coventry's tall spires,
And Kenelworth! thy stately castle rose,
Which still, in ruin, charms th'astonish'd sight.
To crown the beauteous scene, the curtain'd sky,
Its canopy divine of azure tint,
Spreads heav'nly fair, and softens ev'ry charm.
Now yet again, with accurate survey,
The level plain, hills rising various, woods,
And meadows green, the simple cot, and towns,
Nurs'ries of arts, and commerce! Warwick, fair
With rising buildings, Coventry's tall spires,
Magnificent in ruin Kenelworth!
And still more distant scenes, with legends strange,
And smoaky arts, taught in the dusky schools
Of Tubal's sons, attentive let us scan,
And all their charms, and mysteries explore.
The level plain, hills rising various, woods,
And meadows green, the simple cot, and towns,
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With rising buildings, Coventry's tall spires,
Magnificent in ruin Kenelworth!
And still more distant scenes, with legends strange,
And smoaky arts, taught in the dusky schools
Of Tubal's sons, attentive let us scan,
And all their charms, and mysteries explore.
First view, but cautious, the vast precipice;
Lest, startled at the giddy height, thy sense
Swimming forsake thee, and thy trembling limbs,
Unnerv'd, and fault'ring, threaten dang'rous lapse.
Along th'indented bank, the forest-tribes,
The thin-leav'd ash, dark oak, and glossy beech,
Of polish'd rind, their branching boughs extend,
With blended tints, and amicable strife,
Forming a checker'd shade. Below, the lawns,
With spacious sweep, and wild declivity,
To yellow plains their sloping verdure join.
Lest, startled at the giddy height, thy sense
Swimming forsake thee, and thy trembling limbs,
Unnerv'd, and fault'ring, threaten dang'rous lapse.
Along th'indented bank, the forest-tribes,
The thin-leav'd ash, dark oak, and glossy beech,
Of polish'd rind, their branching boughs extend,
With blended tints, and amicable strife,
Forming a checker'd shade. Below, the lawns,
With spacious sweep, and wild declivity,
To yellow plains their sloping verdure join.
There, white with flocks, and, in her num'rous herds
Exulting, Chadsunt's pastures, large, and fair
Salute the sight, and witness to the fame
Of Lichfield's mitred saint . The furzy heaths
Succeed; close refuge of the tim'rous Hare,
Or prowling Fox, but refuge insecure!
From their dark covert oft the hunter-train
Rouse them unwilling, and, o'er hill, and dale,
With wild, tumultuous joy, their steps pursue.
Just vengeance on the midnight thief! and life
With life aton'd! But that poor, trembling wretch!
‘Who doubts if now she lives,’ what hath she done
Guiltless of blood, and impotent of wrong?
How num'rous, how insatiate yet her foes!
Ev'n in these thickets, where she vainly sought
A safe retreat from man's unfeeling race,
The busy hound, to blood, and slaughter train'd,
Snuffs her sweet vapour, and, to murth'rous rage,
By mad'ning sounds impell'd, in her close seat,
With fury tears her, and her corse devours:
Or scares her o'er the fields, and, by the scent,
With keen desire of reeking gore inflam'd,
Loud-bellowing tortures her with deathful cries.
Nor more secure her path! Man even there,
Watching, with foul intent, her secret haunts,
Plants instruments of death, and round her neck
The fatal snare entwines. Thus Innocence,
In human things, by wily Fraud ensnar'd,
Oft helpless falls, while the bold Plund'rer 'scapes.
Next the wide champaign, and the cheerful downs
Claim notice; chiefly thine, O Chesterton !
Pre-eminent. Nor 'scape the roving eye
Thy solemn wood, and Roman vestiges,
Encampment green, or military road!
Amusive to the grave, historic mind.
Thee Tachbroke joins with venerable shade.
Nor distant far, in Saxon annals fam'd,
The rural court of Offa, Mercian King!
Where, sever'd from its trunk, low lies the head
Of brave Fermundus, slain by coward hands,
As on the turf supine in sleep he lay,
Nor wist it sleep from which to wake no more!
Exulting, Chadsunt's pastures, large, and fair
48
Of Lichfield's mitred saint . The furzy heaths
Succeed; close refuge of the tim'rous Hare,
Or prowling Fox, but refuge insecure!
From their dark covert oft the hunter-train
Rouse them unwilling, and, o'er hill, and dale,
With wild, tumultuous joy, their steps pursue.
Just vengeance on the midnight thief! and life
With life aton'd! But that poor, trembling wretch!
‘Who doubts if now she lives,’ what hath she done
Guiltless of blood, and impotent of wrong?
How num'rous, how insatiate yet her foes!
Ev'n in these thickets, where she vainly sought
A safe retreat from man's unfeeling race,
The busy hound, to blood, and slaughter train'd,
Snuffs her sweet vapour, and, to murth'rous rage,
By mad'ning sounds impell'd, in her close seat,
With fury tears her, and her corse devours:
Or scares her o'er the fields, and, by the scent,
With keen desire of reeking gore inflam'd,
49
Nor more secure her path! Man even there,
Watching, with foul intent, her secret haunts,
Plants instruments of death, and round her neck
The fatal snare entwines. Thus Innocence,
In human things, by wily Fraud ensnar'd,
Oft helpless falls, while the bold Plund'rer 'scapes.
Next the wide champaign, and the cheerful downs
Claim notice; chiefly thine, O Chesterton !
Pre-eminent. Nor 'scape the roving eye
Thy solemn wood, and Roman vestiges,
Encampment green, or military road!
Amusive to the grave, historic mind.
Thee Tachbroke joins with venerable shade.
Nor distant far, in Saxon annals fam'd,
The rural court of Offa, Mercian King!
50
Of brave Fermundus, slain by coward hands,
As on the turf supine in sleep he lay,
Nor wist it sleep from which to wake no more!
Now Warwick claims the song; supremely fair
In this fair realm; conspicuous rais'd to view
On the firm rock, a beauteous eminence
For health, and pleasure form'd. Full to the south
A stately range of high, embattled walls
And lofty tow'rs, and precipices vast,
Its guardian worth, and ancient pomp confess.
The northern hills, where Superstition long
Her gloomy rites maintain'd, a tranquil scene
Of gentler arts, and pleasures more refin'd
Displays. Lawns, parks, and meadows fair,
And groves around their mingled graces join,
And Avon pours his tributary stream.
In this fair realm; conspicuous rais'd to view
On the firm rock, a beauteous eminence
For health, and pleasure form'd. Full to the south
A stately range of high, embattled walls
And lofty tow'rs, and precipices vast,
Its guardian worth, and ancient pomp confess.
The northern hills, where Superstition long
Her gloomy rites maintain'd, a tranquil scene
Of gentler arts, and pleasures more refin'd
Displays. Lawns, parks, and meadows fair,
And groves around their mingled graces join,
And Avon pours his tributary stream.
On thee contending kings their bounty pour'd,
And call'd the favour'd city by their names.
Thy worth the Romans publish'd, when to thee
Their legions they consign'd. Thee Ethelflede ,
Thy guardian Fair! with royal grace restor'd,
When Pagan foes had raz'd thy goodly streets.
A monarch's care, those walls to learning rais'd,
These an asylum to declining age
A Leicester's love proclaim. Nor pass unsung
The train of gallant chiefs, by thy lov'd name
Distinguish'd, and by deeds of high renown
Gracing the lofty title. Arthgal first,
And brave Morvidus, fam'd in Druid song,
And British annals. Fair Felicia's sire,
Rohand! and with her join'd in wedded love,
Immortal Guy! who near Wintonia's walls
With that gigantic braggard Colebrand hight!
For a long summer's day sole fight maintain'd.
But huge gigantic size, and braggart oaths,
And sword, or massy club dismay'd thee not.
Thy skill the stroke eluded, or thy shield
Harmless receiv'd, while on his batter'd sides
Fell thick thy galling blows, till from his hands
Down dropp'd the pond'rous weapon, and himself
Prostrate, to thy keen blade his grizly head
Reluctant yielded. Lamentations loud,
And shouts victorious, in strange concert join'd,
Proclaim the champion's fall. Thee Athelstan
His great deliverer owns, and meditates
With honours fair, and festive pomp to crown.
But other meed thy thoughtful mind employ'd,
Intent in heav'nly solitude to spend
The precious eve of life. Yet shall the Muse
Thy deed record, and on her patriot list
Enrol thy name, tho' many a Saxon chief
She leaves unsung. A Norman race succeeds,
To thee, fair town
! by charitable deeds,
And pious gifts endear'd. The Beauchamps too
Thou claim'st, for arms, and courtly manners fam'd!
Him chief, whom three imperial Henrys crown'd
With envied honours. Mirror fair was he
Of valour, and of knightly feats atchiev'd
In tilt, and tournament. Thee Nevil boasts
For bold exploits renown'd, with civil strife
When Britain's bleeding realm her weakness mourn'd,
And half her nobles in the contest slain
Of York, and Lancaster. He, sworn to both,
As int'rest tempted, or resentment fir'd,
To Henry now, and now to Edward join'd
His pow'rful aid; now both to empire rais'd,
Now from their summit pluck'd, till in the strife
By Edward's conquering arms at length he fell.
Thou, Clarence, next, and next thy hapless son,
The last Plantagenet awhile appears
To dignify the list; both sacrific'd
To barb'rous policy! Proud Dudley now
From Edward's hand the bright distinction bore,
But soon to Mary paid his forfeit head,
And in his fate a wretched race involv'd:
Thee chief, thee wept by ev'ry gentle Muse,
Fair Jane! untimely doom'd to bloody death,
For treason not thy own. To
Rich's line
Was then transfer'd th'illustrious name, to thine
O Greville! last. Late may it there remain!
With promise fair, as now, (more fair what heart
Parental craves?) of long, transmissive worth,
Proud Warwick's name, with growing fame to grace,
And crown, with lasting joy, her castled hill.
And call'd the favour'd city by their names.
51
Their legions they consign'd. Thee Ethelflede ,
Thy guardian Fair! with royal grace restor'd,
When Pagan foes had raz'd thy goodly streets.
A monarch's care, those walls to learning rais'd,
These an asylum to declining age
A Leicester's love proclaim. Nor pass unsung
The train of gallant chiefs, by thy lov'd name
Distinguish'd, and by deeds of high renown
Gracing the lofty title. Arthgal first,
And brave Morvidus, fam'd in Druid song,
And British annals. Fair Felicia's sire,
Rohand! and with her join'd in wedded love,
52
With that gigantic braggard Colebrand hight!
For a long summer's day sole fight maintain'd.
But huge gigantic size, and braggart oaths,
And sword, or massy club dismay'd thee not.
Thy skill the stroke eluded, or thy shield
Harmless receiv'd, while on his batter'd sides
Fell thick thy galling blows, till from his hands
Down dropp'd the pond'rous weapon, and himself
Prostrate, to thy keen blade his grizly head
Reluctant yielded. Lamentations loud,
And shouts victorious, in strange concert join'd,
Proclaim the champion's fall. Thee Athelstan
His great deliverer owns, and meditates
With honours fair, and festive pomp to crown.
But other meed thy thoughtful mind employ'd,
Intent in heav'nly solitude to spend
The precious eve of life. Yet shall the Muse
Thy deed record, and on her patriot list
Enrol thy name, tho' many a Saxon chief
She leaves unsung. A Norman race succeeds,
53
And pious gifts endear'd. The Beauchamps too
Thou claim'st, for arms, and courtly manners fam'd!
Him chief, whom three imperial Henrys crown'd
With envied honours. Mirror fair was he
Of valour, and of knightly feats atchiev'd
In tilt, and tournament. Thee Nevil boasts
For bold exploits renown'd, with civil strife
When Britain's bleeding realm her weakness mourn'd,
And half her nobles in the contest slain
Of York, and Lancaster. He, sworn to both,
As int'rest tempted, or resentment fir'd,
54
His pow'rful aid; now both to empire rais'd,
Now from their summit pluck'd, till in the strife
By Edward's conquering arms at length he fell.
Thou, Clarence, next, and next thy hapless son,
The last Plantagenet awhile appears
To dignify the list; both sacrific'd
To barb'rous policy! Proud Dudley now
From Edward's hand the bright distinction bore,
But soon to Mary paid his forfeit head,
And in his fate a wretched race involv'd:
Thee chief, thee wept by ev'ry gentle Muse,
Fair Jane! untimely doom'd to bloody death,
55
Was then transfer'd th'illustrious name, to thine
O Greville! last. Late may it there remain!
With promise fair, as now, (more fair what heart
Parental craves?) of long, transmissive worth,
Proud Warwick's name, with growing fame to grace,
And crown, with lasting joy, her castled hill.
Hail, stately pile; fit mansion for the great!
Worthy the lofty title! Worthy him ,
To Beauchamp's gallant race allied! the friend
Of gentle Sidney! to whose long desert,
In royal councils prov'd, his sov'reign's gift
Consign'd the lofty structure: Worthy he!
The lofty structure's splendor to restore.
Worthy the lofty title! Worthy him ,
To Beauchamp's gallant race allied! the friend
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In royal councils prov'd, his sov'reign's gift
Consign'd the lofty structure: Worthy he!
The lofty structure's splendor to restore.
Nor less intent who now, by lineal right,
His place sustains, with reparations bold,
And well-attemper'd dignity to grace
Th'embattled walls. Nor spares his gen'rous mind
The cost of rural work, plantation large,
Forest, or fragrant shrub; or shelter'd walks,
Or ample, verdant lawns, where the sleek deer
Sport on the brink of Avon's flood, or graze
Beneath the rising walls; magnificence
With grace uniting, and enlarg'd delight
Of prospect fair, and Nature's smiling scenes!
His place sustains, with reparations bold,
And well-attemper'd dignity to grace
Th'embattled walls. Nor spares his gen'rous mind
The cost of rural work, plantation large,
Forest, or fragrant shrub; or shelter'd walks,
Or ample, verdant lawns, where the sleek deer
Sport on the brink of Avon's flood, or graze
Beneath the rising walls; magnificence
With grace uniting, and enlarg'd delight
Of prospect fair, and Nature's smiling scenes!
Still is the colouring faint. O! cou'd my verse,
Like their Louisa's pencil'd shades describe
The tow'rs, the woods, the lawns, the winding stream,
Fair like her form, and like her birth sublime!
Not Windsor's royal scenes by Denham sung,
Or that more tuneful bard on Twick'nam's shore
Should boast a loftier strain, but in my verse
Their fame shou'd live, as lives, proportion'd true,
Their beauteous image in her graven lines.
Like their Louisa's pencil'd shades describe
The tow'rs, the woods, the lawns, the winding stream,
Fair like her form, and like her birth sublime!
57
Or that more tuneful bard on Twick'nam's shore
Should boast a loftier strain, but in my verse
Their fame shou'd live, as lives, proportion'd true,
Their beauteous image in her graven lines.
Transporting theme! on which I still cou'd waste
The ling'ring hours, and still protract the song
With new delight; but thy example, Guy!
Calls me from scenes of pomp, and earthly pride,
To muse with thee in thy sequester'd cell .
The ling'ring hours, and still protract the song
With new delight; but thy example, Guy!
Calls me from scenes of pomp, and earthly pride,
To muse with thee in thy sequester'd cell .
Here the calm scene lulls the tumultuous breast
To sweet composure. Here the gliding stream,
That winds its watry path in many a maze,
As loth to leave th'enchanted spot, invites
To moralize on fleeting time, and life,
With all its treach'rous sweets, and fading joys,
In emblem shewn, by many a short-liv'd flow'r,
That on its margin smiles, and smiling falls
To join its parent Earth. Here let me delve,
Near thine, my chamber in the peaceful rock,
And think no more of gilded palaces,
And luxury of sense. From the till'd glebe,
Or ever-teeming brook, my frugal meal
I'll gain, and slake my thirst at yonder spring.
Like thee, I'll climb the steep, and mark the scene
How fair! how passing fair! in grateful strains
Singing the praises of creative love.
Like thee, I'll tend the call of mattin bell
To early orisons, and latest tune
My evening song to that more wond'rous love,
Which sav'd us from the grand Apostate's wiles,
And righteous vengeance of Almighty ire,
Justly incens'd. O pow'r of grace divine!
When mercy met with truth, with justice, peace.
Thou, holy Hermit! in this league secure,
Did'st wait Death's vanquish'd spectre as a friend,
To change thy mortal coil for heav'nly bliss.
To sweet composure. Here the gliding stream,
That winds its watry path in many a maze,
As loth to leave th'enchanted spot, invites
To moralize on fleeting time, and life,
With all its treach'rous sweets, and fading joys,
In emblem shewn, by many a short-liv'd flow'r,
That on its margin smiles, and smiling falls
To join its parent Earth. Here let me delve,
Near thine, my chamber in the peaceful rock,
58
And luxury of sense. From the till'd glebe,
Or ever-teeming brook, my frugal meal
I'll gain, and slake my thirst at yonder spring.
Like thee, I'll climb the steep, and mark the scene
How fair! how passing fair! in grateful strains
Singing the praises of creative love.
Like thee, I'll tend the call of mattin bell
To early orisons, and latest tune
My evening song to that more wond'rous love,
Which sav'd us from the grand Apostate's wiles,
And righteous vengeance of Almighty ire,
Justly incens'd. O pow'r of grace divine!
When mercy met with truth, with justice, peace.
Thou, holy Hermit! in this league secure,
Did'st wait Death's vanquish'd spectre as a friend,
To change thy mortal coil for heav'nly bliss.
Next, Kenelworth! thy fame invites the song.
Assemblage sweet of social, and serene!
But chiefly two fair streets, in adverse rows,
Their lengthen'd fronts extend, reflecting each
Beauty on each reciprocal. Between,
A verdant valley, slop'd from either side,
Forms the mid-space, where gently-gliding flows
A crystal stream, beneath the mould'ring base
Of an old abbey's venerable walls.
Still further in the vale her castle lifts
Its stately tow'rs, and tott'ring battlements,
Drest with the rampant ivy's uncheck'd growth
Luxuriant. Here let us pause awhile,
To read the melancholy tale of pomp
Laid low in dust, and, from historic page,
Compose its epitaph. Hail, Clinton! hail!
Thy Norman founder still yon' neighb'ring Green,
And massy walls, with stile Imperial grac'd,
Record. The Montforts thee with hardy deeds,
And memorable siege by
Henry's arms,
And senatorial acts, that bear thy name
Distinguish. Thee the bold Lancastrian line,
A royal train! from valiant Gaunt deriv'd,
Grace with new lustre; till Eliza's hand
Transferr'd thy walls to Leicester's favour'd Earl.
He long, beneath thy roof, the maiden Queen,
And all her courtly guests, with rare device
Of mask, and emblematic scenery,
Tritons, and sea-nymphs, and the floating isle,
Detain'd. Nor feats of prowess, joust, or tilt
Of harness'd knights, nor rustic revelry
Were wanting; nor the dance, and sprightly mirth
Beneath the festive walls, with regal state,
And choicest lux'ry serv'd. But regal state,
And sprightly mirth, beneath the festive roof,
Are now no more. No more assembled crowds
At the stern porter's lodge admittance crave.
No more, with plaint, or suit importunate,
The thronged lobby echoes, nor with staff,
Or gaudy badge, the busy pursuivants
Lead to wish'd audience. All, alas! is gone,
And Silence keeps her melancholy court
Throughout the walls; save, where, in rooms of state,
Kings once repos'd! chatter the wrangling daws,
Or screech-owls hoot along the vaulted isles.
No more the trumpet calls the martial band,
With sprightly summons, to the guarded lists;
Nor lofty galleries their pride disclose
Of beauteous nymphs in courtly pomp attir'd,
Watching, with trembling hearts, the doubtful strife,
And, with their looks, inspiring wond'rous deeds.
No more the lake displays its pageant shows,
And emblematic forms. Alike the lake,
And all its emblematic forms are flown,
And in their place mute flocks, and heifers graze,
Or buxom damsels ted the new-mown hay.
Assemblage sweet of social, and serene!
But chiefly two fair streets, in adverse rows,
59
Beauty on each reciprocal. Between,
A verdant valley, slop'd from either side,
Forms the mid-space, where gently-gliding flows
A crystal stream, beneath the mould'ring base
Of an old abbey's venerable walls.
Still further in the vale her castle lifts
Its stately tow'rs, and tott'ring battlements,
Drest with the rampant ivy's uncheck'd growth
Luxuriant. Here let us pause awhile,
To read the melancholy tale of pomp
Laid low in dust, and, from historic page,
Compose its epitaph. Hail, Clinton! hail!
Thy Norman founder still yon' neighb'ring Green,
And massy walls, with stile Imperial grac'd,
Record. The Montforts thee with hardy deeds,
60
And senatorial acts, that bear thy name
Distinguish. Thee the bold Lancastrian line,
A royal train! from valiant Gaunt deriv'd,
Grace with new lustre; till Eliza's hand
Transferr'd thy walls to Leicester's favour'd Earl.
He long, beneath thy roof, the maiden Queen,
And all her courtly guests, with rare device
Of mask, and emblematic scenery,
Tritons, and sea-nymphs, and the floating isle,
Detain'd. Nor feats of prowess, joust, or tilt
Of harness'd knights, nor rustic revelry
Were wanting; nor the dance, and sprightly mirth
Beneath the festive walls, with regal state,
And choicest lux'ry serv'd. But regal state,
61
Are now no more. No more assembled crowds
At the stern porter's lodge admittance crave.
No more, with plaint, or suit importunate,
The thronged lobby echoes, nor with staff,
Or gaudy badge, the busy pursuivants
Lead to wish'd audience. All, alas! is gone,
And Silence keeps her melancholy court
Throughout the walls; save, where, in rooms of state,
Kings once repos'd! chatter the wrangling daws,
Or screech-owls hoot along the vaulted isles.
No more the trumpet calls the martial band,
With sprightly summons, to the guarded lists;
Nor lofty galleries their pride disclose
Of beauteous nymphs in courtly pomp attir'd,
Watching, with trembling hearts, the doubtful strife,
And, with their looks, inspiring wond'rous deeds.
No more the lake displays its pageant shows,
And emblematic forms. Alike the lake,
And all its emblematic forms are flown,
And in their place mute flocks, and heifers graze,
Or buxom damsels ted the new-mown hay.
62
What art thou, Grandeur! with thy flatt'ring train
Of pompous lies, and boastful promises?
Where are they now, and what's their mighty sum?
All, all are vanish'd! like the fleeting forms
Drawn in an evening cloud. Nought now remains,
Save these sad relicks of departed pomp,
These spoils of time, a monumental pile!
Which to the vain its mournful tale relates,
And warns them not to trust to fleeting dreams.
Of pompous lies, and boastful promises?
Where are they now, and what's their mighty sum?
All, all are vanish'd! like the fleeting forms
Drawn in an evening cloud. Nought now remains,
Save these sad relicks of departed pomp,
These spoils of time, a monumental pile!
Which to the vain its mournful tale relates,
And warns them not to trust to fleeting dreams.
Thee too, tho' boasting not a royal train,
The Muse, O Balshal! in her faithful page
Shall celebrate: for long beneath thy roof
A band of warriors bold, of high renown,
To martial deeds, and hazardous emprize
Sworn, for defence of Salem's sacred walls,
From Paynim-foes, and holy pilgrimage.
Now other guests thou entertain'st,
A female band, by female charity
Sustain'd. Thee,
Wroxal! too, in fame allied,
Seat of the Poet's, and the Muse's friend!
My verse shall sing, with thy long-exil'd Knight,
By Leonard's pray'rs, from distant servitude,
To these brown thickets, and his mournful mate,
Invisibly convey'd. Yet doubted she
His speech, and alter'd form, and better proof
Impatient urg'd. (So Ithaca's chaste queen
Her much-wish'd lord, by twice ten absent years,
And wise Minerva's guardian care disguis'd,
Acknowledg'd not: so, with suspended faith,
His bridal claim repress'd.) Strait he displays
Part of the nuptial ring between them shar'd,
When in the bold crusade his shield he bore.
The twin memorial of their plighted love
Within her faithful bosom she retain'd.
Quick from its shrine the hallow'd pledge she drew,
To match it with its mate, when, strange to tell!
No sooner had the separated curves
Approach'd each other, but, with sudden spring,
They join'd again, and the small circle clos'd.
So they, long sever'd, met in close embrace.
The Muse, O Balshal! in her faithful page
Shall celebrate: for long beneath thy roof
A band of warriors bold, of high renown,
To martial deeds, and hazardous emprize
Sworn, for defence of Salem's sacred walls,
From Paynim-foes, and holy pilgrimage.
Now other guests thou entertain'st,
A female band, by female charity
63
Seat of the Poet's, and the Muse's friend!
My verse shall sing, with thy long-exil'd Knight,
By Leonard's pray'rs, from distant servitude,
To these brown thickets, and his mournful mate,
Invisibly convey'd. Yet doubted she
His speech, and alter'd form, and better proof
Impatient urg'd. (So Ithaca's chaste queen
Her much-wish'd lord, by twice ten absent years,
And wise Minerva's guardian care disguis'd,
Acknowledg'd not: so, with suspended faith,
His bridal claim repress'd.) Strait he displays
Part of the nuptial ring between them shar'd,
When in the bold crusade his shield he bore.
The twin memorial of their plighted love
Within her faithful bosom she retain'd.
Quick from its shrine the hallow'd pledge she drew,
To match it with its mate, when, strange to tell!
No sooner had the separated curves
64
They join'd again, and the small circle clos'd.
So they, long sever'd, met in close embrace.
At length, O Coventry! thy neighb'ring fields,
And fair surrounding villas we attend,
Allesley, and Whitley's pastures, Stivichale,
That views with lasting joy thy green domains,
And Bagington's fair walls, and Stonely! thine,
And Coombe's majestic pile, both boasting once
Monastic pomp, still equal in renown!
And, as their kindred fortunes they compare,
Applauding more the present, than the past.
Ev'n now the pencil'd sheets, unroll'd, display
More sprightly charms of beauteous lawn, and grove,
And sweetly-wand'ring paths, and ambient stream,
To chear with lasting flow th'enamell'd scene,
And themes of song for future bards prepare.
And fair surrounding villas we attend,
Allesley, and Whitley's pastures, Stivichale,
That views with lasting joy thy green domains,
And Bagington's fair walls, and Stonely! thine,
And Coombe's majestic pile, both boasting once
Monastic pomp, still equal in renown!
And, as their kindred fortunes they compare,
Applauding more the present, than the past.
65
More sprightly charms of beauteous lawn, and grove,
And sweetly-wand'ring paths, and ambient stream,
To chear with lasting flow th'enamell'd scene,
And themes of song for future bards prepare.
Fair City! thus environ'd! and thyself
For royal grants, and silken arts renown'd!
To thee the docile youth repair, and learn,
With sidelong glance, and nimble stroke, to ply
The flitting shuttle, while their active feet,
In mystic movements, press the subtle stops
Of the loom's complicated frame, contriv'd,
From the loose thread, to form, with wond'rous art,
A texture close, inwrought with choice device
Of flow'r, or foliage gay, to the rich stuff,
Or silky web, imparting fairer worth.
Nor shall the Muse, in her descriptive song,
Neglect from dark oblivion to preserve
Thy mould'ring Cross, with ornament profuse
Of pinnacles, and niches, proudly rais'd,
Height above height, a sculptur'd chronicle!
Less lasting than the monumental verse.
Nor scornful will she flout thy cavalcade,
Made yearly to Godiva's deathless praise,
While gaping crowds around her pageant throng,
With prying look, and stupid wonderment.
Not so the Muse! who, with her virtue fir'd,
And love of thy renown, in notes as chaste
As her fair purpose, from memorials dark,
Shall, to the list'ning ear, her tale explain.
For royal grants, and silken arts renown'd!
To thee the docile youth repair, and learn,
With sidelong glance, and nimble stroke, to ply
The flitting shuttle, while their active feet,
In mystic movements, press the subtle stops
Of the loom's complicated frame, contriv'd,
From the loose thread, to form, with wond'rous art,
A texture close, inwrought with choice device
Of flow'r, or foliage gay, to the rich stuff,
Or silky web, imparting fairer worth.
Nor shall the Muse, in her descriptive song,
Neglect from dark oblivion to preserve
Thy mould'ring Cross, with ornament profuse
66
Height above height, a sculptur'd chronicle!
Less lasting than the monumental verse.
Nor scornful will she flout thy cavalcade,
Made yearly to Godiva's deathless praise,
While gaping crowds around her pageant throng,
With prying look, and stupid wonderment.
Not so the Muse! who, with her virtue fir'd,
And love of thy renown, in notes as chaste
As her fair purpose, from memorials dark,
Shall, to the list'ning ear, her tale explain.
When
Edward, last of Egbert's royal race,
O'er sev'n united realms the sceptre sway'd,
Proud Leofric, with trust of sov'reign pow'r,
The subject Mercians rul'd. His lofty state
The loveliest of her sex! a noble dame
Of Thorold's ancient line, Godiva shar'd.
But pageant pomp charm'd not her saintly mind
Like virtuous deeds, and care of others weal.
Such tender passions in his haughty breast
He cherish'd not, but with despotic sway,
Controul'd his vassal tribes, and, from their toil,
His luxury maintain'd. Godiva saw
Their plaintive looks; with grief she saw thy sons,
O Coventry! by tyrant laws oppress'd,
And urg'd her haughty lord, but urg'd in vain!
With patriot-rule, thy drooping arts to chear.
Yet, tho' forbidden e'er again to move
In what so much his lofty state concern'd,
Not so from thought of charitable deed
Desisted she, but amiably perverse
Her hopeless suit renew'd. Bold was th'attempt!
Yet not more bold than fair, if pitying sighs
Be fair, and charity which knows no bounds.
What had'st thou then to fear from wrath inflam'd
At such transcendent guilt, rebellion join'd
With female weakness, and officious zeal?
So thy stern lord might call the gen'rous deed;
Perhaps might punish as befitted deed
So call'd, if love restrain'd not: yet tho' love
O'er anger triumph'd, and imperious rule,
Not o'er his pride; which better to maintain,
His answer thus he artfully return'd.
O'er sev'n united realms the sceptre sway'd,
Proud Leofric, with trust of sov'reign pow'r,
The subject Mercians rul'd. His lofty state
The loveliest of her sex! a noble dame
Of Thorold's ancient line, Godiva shar'd.
But pageant pomp charm'd not her saintly mind
Like virtuous deeds, and care of others weal.
Such tender passions in his haughty breast
67
Controul'd his vassal tribes, and, from their toil,
His luxury maintain'd. Godiva saw
Their plaintive looks; with grief she saw thy sons,
O Coventry! by tyrant laws oppress'd,
And urg'd her haughty lord, but urg'd in vain!
With patriot-rule, thy drooping arts to chear.
Yet, tho' forbidden e'er again to move
In what so much his lofty state concern'd,
Not so from thought of charitable deed
Desisted she, but amiably perverse
Her hopeless suit renew'd. Bold was th'attempt!
Yet not more bold than fair, if pitying sighs
Be fair, and charity which knows no bounds.
What had'st thou then to fear from wrath inflam'd
At such transcendent guilt, rebellion join'd
With female weakness, and officious zeal?
So thy stern lord might call the gen'rous deed;
Perhaps might punish as befitted deed
So call'd, if love restrain'd not: yet tho' love
O'er anger triumph'd, and imperious rule,
68
His answer thus he artfully return'd.
Why will the lovely partner of my joys,
Forbidden, thus her wild petition urge?
Think not my breast is steel'd against the claims
Of sweet humanity. Think not I hear
Regardless thy request. If piety,
Or other motive, with mistaken zeal,
Call'd to thy aid, pierc'd not my stubborn frame,
Yet to the pleader's worth, and modest charms,
Wou'd my fond love no trivial gift impart.
But pomp and fame forbid. That vassalage,
Which, thoughtless, thou wou'dst tempt me to dissolve,
Exalts our splendor, and augments my pow'r.
With tender bosoms form'd, and yielding hearts,
Your sex soon melts at sights of vulgar woe;
Heedless how glory fires the manly breast
With love of rank sublime. This principle
In female minds a feebler empire holds,
Opposing less the specious arguments
For milder rule, and freedom's popular theme.
But plant some gentler passion in its room,
Some virtuous instinct suited to your make,
As glory is to ours, alike requir'd
A ransom for the vulgar's vassal state,
Then wou'dst thou soon the strong contention own,
And justify my conduct. Thou art fair,
And chaste as fair; with nicest sense of shame,
And sanctity of thought. Thy bosom thou
Did'st ne'er expose to shameless dalliance
Of wanton eyes; nor, ill-concealing it
Beneath the treach'rous cov'ring, tempt aside
The secret glance, with meditated fraud.
Go now, and lay thy modest garments by:
In naked beauty, mount thy milk-white steed,
And through the streets, in face of open day,
And gazing slaves, their fair deliv'rer ride:
Then will I own thy pity was sincere,
Applaud thy virtue, and confirm thy suit.
But if thou lik'st not such ungentle terms,
And sure thy soul the guilty thought abhors!
Know then that Leofric, like thee, can feel,
Like thee, may pity, while he seems severe,
And urge thy suit no more. His speech he clos'd,
And, with strange oaths, confirm'd the sad decree.
Forbidden, thus her wild petition urge?
Think not my breast is steel'd against the claims
Of sweet humanity. Think not I hear
Regardless thy request. If piety,
Or other motive, with mistaken zeal,
Call'd to thy aid, pierc'd not my stubborn frame,
Yet to the pleader's worth, and modest charms,
Wou'd my fond love no trivial gift impart.
But pomp and fame forbid. That vassalage,
Which, thoughtless, thou wou'dst tempt me to dissolve,
Exalts our splendor, and augments my pow'r.
With tender bosoms form'd, and yielding hearts,
Your sex soon melts at sights of vulgar woe;
Heedless how glory fires the manly breast
With love of rank sublime. This principle
In female minds a feebler empire holds,
Opposing less the specious arguments
For milder rule, and freedom's popular theme.
69
Some virtuous instinct suited to your make,
As glory is to ours, alike requir'd
A ransom for the vulgar's vassal state,
Then wou'dst thou soon the strong contention own,
And justify my conduct. Thou art fair,
And chaste as fair; with nicest sense of shame,
And sanctity of thought. Thy bosom thou
Did'st ne'er expose to shameless dalliance
Of wanton eyes; nor, ill-concealing it
Beneath the treach'rous cov'ring, tempt aside
The secret glance, with meditated fraud.
Go now, and lay thy modest garments by:
In naked beauty, mount thy milk-white steed,
And through the streets, in face of open day,
And gazing slaves, their fair deliv'rer ride:
Then will I own thy pity was sincere,
Applaud thy virtue, and confirm thy suit.
But if thou lik'st not such ungentle terms,
And sure thy soul the guilty thought abhors!
Know then that Leofric, like thee, can feel,
Like thee, may pity, while he seems severe,
70
And, with strange oaths, confirm'd the sad decree.
Again, within Godiva's gentle breast
New tumults rose. At length her female fears
Gave way, and sweet humanity prevail'd.
Reluctant, but resolv'd, the matchless fair
Gives all her naked beauty to the sun:
Then mounts her milk-white steed, and, thro' the streets,
Rides fearless; her dishevell'd hair a veil!
That o'er her beauteous limbs luxuriant flow'd,
Nurs'd long by Fate for this important day!
Prostrate to earth th'astonish'd vassals bow,
Or to their inmost privacies retire.
All, but one prying slave! who fondly hop'd,
With venial curiosity, to gaze
On such a wond'rous dame. But soul disgrace
O'ertook the bold offender, and he stands,
By just decree, a spectacle abhorr'd,
And lasting monument of swift revenge
For thoughts impure, and beauty's injur'd charms.
New tumults rose. At length her female fears
Gave way, and sweet humanity prevail'd.
Reluctant, but resolv'd, the matchless fair
Gives all her naked beauty to the sun:
Then mounts her milk-white steed, and, thro' the streets,
Rides fearless; her dishevell'd hair a veil!
That o'er her beauteous limbs luxuriant flow'd,
Nurs'd long by Fate for this important day!
Prostrate to earth th'astonish'd vassals bow,
Or to their inmost privacies retire.
All, but one prying slave! who fondly hop'd,
With venial curiosity, to gaze
On such a wond'rous dame. But soul disgrace
O'ertook the bold offender, and he stands,
By just decree, a spectacle abhorr'd,
And lasting monument of swift revenge
For thoughts impure, and beauty's injur'd charms.
71
Ye guardians of her rights, so nobly won!
Cherish the Muse, who first in modern strains
Essay'd to sing your lovely Patriot's fame,
Anxious to rescue from oblivious time
Such matchless virtue, her heroic deed
Illustrate, and your gay procession grace.
Cherish the Muse, who first in modern strains
Essay'd to sing your lovely Patriot's fame,
Anxious to rescue from oblivious time
Such matchless virtue, her heroic deed
Illustrate, and your gay procession grace.
END OF BOOK THE SECOND.
A seat of the Right Honourable Lord Willoughby de Broke, so called from its being a Roman station on the Foss-Way.
Called Caer-Leon from Guth-Leon, also Caer-Gwayr, or Guaric, from Gwar, two British Kings. Its present name is said to be taken from Warremund, a Saxon.
Henry de Novo Burgo, the first Norman Earl, founded the priory at Warwick, and Roger his son built and endowed the church of St. Mary.
Richard Earl of Warwick, in the reigns of K. Henry IV. V. and VI. was Governor of Calais, and Lieutenant General of France. He founded the Lady's Chapel, and lies interred there under a very magnificent monument.
Greville Lord Brook, first created Earl Brook of Warwick Castle, and afterwards Earl of Warwick, by K. George II.
Sir Fulke Greville, made Baron Brook of Beaucamp's-court, by James I. had the Castle of Warwick, then in a ruinous condition, granted to him; upon which he laid out 20,000 l. He lies buried in a neat octagon building, on the north side of the chancel at Warwick, under a fine marble monument, on which is the following very significant, laconic inscription,
“TROPHOEVM PECCATI!
Fulke Greville, Servant to Queen Elizabeth, Counsellor to King James, and Friend to Sir Philip Sidney.”
Here was anciently an oratory, where tradition says, Guy spent the latter part of his life in devotional exercises.
The Montforts, Earls of Leicester, of which Simon de Montfort, and his son Henry, were killed at the battle of Evesham.
Henry III. who besieged this Castle, and call'd a convention here, which passed an act for redeeming forfeited estates, called Dictum de Kenelworth.
Formerly a seat of the Knights Templars, now an Almshouse for poor widows, founded by the Lady Katharine Levison, a descendant of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.
The seat of Christopher Wren, Esq; once a nunnery, dedicated to St. Leonard.—See Dugdale's Antiquities.
The seat of William Bromley, Esq; one of the Representatives in Parliament for the county of Warwick.
See Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire.
It is pleasant enough to observe, with what gravity the above-mentioned learned writer dwells on the praises of this renown'd lady. “And now, before I proceed,” says he, “I have a word more to say of the noble Countess Godeva, which is, that besides her devout advancement of that pious work of his, i. e. her husband Leofric, in this magnificent monastery, viz. of Monks at Coventry, she gave her whole treasure thereto, and sent for skilful goldsmiths, who, with all the gold and silver she had, made crosses, images of saints, and other curious ornaments.” Which passages may serve as a specimen of the devotion and patriotism of those times.
| Poems, moral and descriptive | |